The sun was shining in through the kitchen window. It looked beautiful outside, but I felt like crap. We were out of half and half, and my first cup of strong, black coffee was already working its way through my gut. But I had to get the girls fed and ready for school. I worked quickly to butter toast for one and cut up fruit for the other. My 13-year-old, Jadey, bounced in and grabbed the bowl of berries and cantaloupe just as I finished.

“She’s not going to eat that,” she quipped as she found her seat at the kitchen table. She used the bowl to push the mail and other clutter out of the way.

“What!?” I snapped. “She always does toast!”

“Not anymore,” Jadey added. “She’s intermittent fasting now.”

“Since when?” I demanded. I took a swig from my ill-advised second cup of joe.

A moment later, Johnna blew through. She didn’t slow down for the toast.

“Since when have you been intermittent fasting?” I asked, shoving the buttered toast into my mouth.

“Since, like, May,” she said flatly, stuffing a collection of books into her backpack. “I’ve gotta go. I’m gonna be late.”

She grabbed a set of car keys from the hook by the fridge and hurried out with no further dialogue.

“She’s not driving you anymore, either?” I asked Jadey, who had just finished her fruit.

“She is,” Jadey replied. “But I have that appointment today, remember?”

“Ugh!” I choked through the second slice of toast. “No, I didn’t remember.”

“Can you still take me?” she asked, replacing her disinterested tone with a worried one.

“Yeah, of course, baby,” I replied. I double-checked the calendar and let out a sigh. “Go finish getting ready.”

I poured the rest of my coffee in the kitchen sink and pulled out my phone to send my boss a text.

“Hey, Ed. I’m gonna be in late. I forgot my kid has an appointment today.”

My phone dinged just as I finished rinsing the coffee down the drain.

“No problem. Hurry up if you can, though. We’ve got a real cluster today.”

I grabbed my gun off the top of the fridge and fitted it into its holster. My badge went around my neck, and I tucked my wallet in my pocket.

“Let’s get going, Jadey!” I called up the stairs. I shot Ed back a quick message.

“What kind of cluster? Is Jake in yet?”

“Some dumbass kids are slashing a bunch of tires. Yeah – Jake and Vickie both.”

“K. I’ll be in as soon as I can. It’s just a quick check-in at the orthodontist.”

Jadey and I walked into the garage. She got in the car while I waited for the overhead door to finish opening. I walked around the backside of the car to get a peek outside. The black stain where Johnna parked was getting bigger.

”Dammit.” I muttered.

I got in and backed out, pausing at the end of the driveway to make sure the door shut completely. It had been binding up in the summer heat and triggering the safety override.

“Can we grab something from Starbucks?” Jadey asked.

“Maybe afterward,” I said absentmindedly. “Did you brush really well?”

“Yeah,” she replied half-heartedly.

“Come on, dude,” I replied as I finished pivoting and put the car in drive.

“What?” she replied. “It’s the orthodontist – not the dentist.”

“Jadey!” I shot back. “Then did you floss?”

“They’re just checking the tension and stuff,” she insisted.

I ran one hand down my face but didn’t respond. The main cross street out of the neighborhood seemed busier than usual.

“Lots of folks headed downtown,” I said.

“Probably for the tournament,” Jadey replied.

“What tournament?” I asked.

“Duh, Dad,” she groaned. “Women’s college volleyball.”

“I thought that was next weekend,” I wondered, taking my chance to accelerate into a gap.

“What’s the point of having a calendar if you don’t use it,” Jadey said. “We should get one of those screen ones. Addy’s mom has one.”

“Our calendar is fine,” I replied, waving to the guy behind me for letting me get over.

***

The orthodontist was short and sweet. As soon as we left, Jadey pointed out the drive-thru Starbucks that was in the same retail center.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I replied, maneuvering toward the drive-thru lane.

As we pulled up to the speaker, I looked toward the main road that sat just beyond some grass and a sidewalk. Traffic was at a complete standstill and was actively backing up into the next intersection. I craned my neck back over my right shoulder to try and see the cause while Jadey leaned across to look at the menu and yell at the speaker.

“What’s going on up there?” I said quietly.

“Did you want that with whipped cream?” I heard the girl ask.

“Yes, please,” Jadey replied. “Dad, do you want anything?”

“Uhh, can I get a cold brew with some half-and-half?” I stuttered without looking.

“Did you want any syrup or flavor in that?” the girl asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“What kind?” she asked.

“What?” I said, turning my full attention toward the speaker. “Oh, no. Sorry. No – just the half and half.”

“Okay. That’ll be $14.87,” she replied.

I eased my foot off the brake and let the car creep forward.

“Fifteen dollars?” I asked Jadey. “What did you get?”

“A Frappuccino,” she said. “It’s just what stuff costs, Dad.”

We were just paying when some guy in a red pickup pulled out of the standstill traffic nearby and drove up on the sidewalk and grass, passing us in the opposite direction.

“Whoa!” Jadey said. “Look at that guy!”

The Starbucks girl was also distracted by the pickup, and I had to use both hands to save my coffee from falling between my car and the building. Then, the Starbucks girl let out a full-blown horror movie scream right in my ear just before another car jumped the curb at a wild angle, flew through the air, and crashed into the car behind us, t-boning it right into the Starbucks dining room.

Matt Hebert is an engineer and self-published author. His dopamine-fueled creative pursuits have spanned from chicken keeping, sand sculpture, acting, and public speaking, but writing is nearest and dearest to his heart. He lives in Bellevue with his wife and two daughters. You can find him on Instagram at @jerkofalltradeshebert or email him at matt.hebert.books@gmail.com

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