Splintered Dreams

I stole a quick glance at a battered 1960 Oldsmobile parked by the curb outside Benny's down the Hawthorne Boulevard. The car was bathed in mud, one of its headlights smashed, grille's ribs all messed up, front bumpers missing; a careless scrub on the windscreen which may have provided just enough visibility to the driver, was the only silver lining around this otherwise dilapidated beauty.

'What a mess!', I thought as I hurried in for breakfast.

Benny's usually overcrowded on Sundays. But as my good fortune would have it, regular buzz was missing that day. Pam cheerfully greeted and guided me to my favorite table by the window.

Pam was a war widow of charming disposition and mild manners in her late fifties. She wore her chestnut brown hair in a bun at the back of her head. Thin-rimmed reading glasses precariously perched at the tip of her rotund nose always reminded me of teachers who did not believe in sparing the rod. I often joked with her about her reading glasses, to which she cheerfully responded in her thick British accent, 'Don't kid with Mama, son.' She was the only one I liked to be served by at the restaurant. Many a times, I had walked out just because Pam was too busy to cater my service request. When Mr Bummer, the manager, learnt about this, he promised me Pam's service whenever I visited, except, obviously, on her day's off. (more...)

'Hi Pam, How's it goin'?', I asked her cheerfully.

'Good morning, dear! Today's slow', she sighed. 'Nevertheless, you'll enjoy your breakfast more as you love eating in peace and silence', she sounded peppy this time. Her dimples profounder than ever. 'Your regular - scrambles and mango pucker?', she asked while scribbling something on her notepad.

'Um...sweetheart, it's Heartland Scrambles with Strawberry Mango Pucker. No tang. Top it with English Muffins, Hearty Wheat Pancakes and hash browns; and please don't restrain yourself on cream and cheese'. Her beautiful hazelnut eyes were staring at me; she obviously looked stunned.

'Jesus Christ! Have you not eaten in years, sonny boy?! It's like I'm taking orders from Tom Hanks from Castaway.'

'I'm famished...can devour a sea lion!', I beamed.

'OK, boy. But too many calories do hurt!'

'Why do you always have to sound like my mother for Christ's sake?!', I almost pleaded.

'You got it', she grinned.

She recited my serivice request verbatim and turned to leave.

'By the way Pam, have you noticed that old Cutlass over there?', I sounded hysterical as I pointed my right forefinger at the car.

'What!' She was visibly startled.

'Sorry. Check it out...right over there...by the curb'. Her gaze followed my finger as we spoke.

'Quite a freak show, this! Don't know what's up with its owner. I got to hurry up love, otherwise Mr Bummer would get right under my skin', she laughed at her own little joke and flitted among the tables across the room.

There was something about this car that was disturbing. However, I daydreamed going on a long drive in red Cutlass convertible; speeding up on 101 and feeling the refreshing gush of cold December air. I had almost reached Alaska when Pam came in and gently placed my breakfast on the table.

'Here you go, darling. Enjoy!'

'Thank you, Pam! I was wondering if you could please watch over my breakfast while I fetch my laptop from my car in a jiffy. I just remembered I have some tight deadlines to defeat.'

'You are working too hard these days?'

'Just trying to keep my nagging boss off my back.'

'Go ahead. I'll watch over it.'

'Thank you, Pam. You are such a darling!'

I scampered out of the restaurant, passed that deformed Oldsmobile en route and darted towards my car which was parked near Bank of America, one block away. I had no intention to leave Pam waiting forever.

As I unlocked my car and pulled the door open, a deafening blast in the vicinity jolted the surroundings. I was greeted by a sudden gust of warm air whose powerful thrust lifted me off my feet and toppled me over. Shattered glass rained from nearby buildings and stationary vehicles. Pine cones scattered all over the parking lot.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a hospital. 'What happened there?', I asked the nurse.

'A bomb went off near Benny's, Sir! It was planted in an old car.'

I found myself at a loss of words, suddenly paralyzed and stunned to death.

'Calm down, Sir!'

'Any...an...any casualties', I stuttered with a lump in my throat.

'Yes, Benny's has turned to dust and none of its occupants have made it alive.'

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Disclaimer: All characters and some places (Benny's only) appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.