“Jake, Jake!” someone called out, near the car. It was Christopher, a Wawa clerk, hurrying toward him. They knew each other because Jake always stopped here on the way to work. Christopher appeared at the driver’s-side window, his young face creased with concern. “Jake! Are you okay?”
Jake nodded, collected his phone and jacket, opened the door, and got out of the car, his knees suddenly wobbly. “Christopher, My God—”
“You look white as a ghost, Jake. Stay still, I’ll call 911. My phone’s in my locker, ’cause we have to lock it up during work.” Christopher turned to hurry off, but Jake touched his arm.
“No, no, stay. I’m fine.”
“For real?”
“Yes.” Jake tried to recover. “I’m just a little… upset is all. I surprised myself. It’s kind of a shock.”
“Sure, I get it. You gonna toss ’em? You look it.”
“No, I’m fine. Don’t call.”
“You sure you don’t wanna go to a hospital? My manager might want you to.” Christopher frowned, scanning him with worried eyes.
“Nah. I’m fine, thanks.”
“Coulda been worse, I guess, huh?”
“Right.” Jake dusted the airbag powder off his clothes. “I thought I hit the brake, but I must’ve hit the gas instead.”
Christopher shrugged sympathetically. “You didn’t have your coffee yet.”
“Right.” Jake walked to the front of the car, leaned on the hood, and surveyed the damage. He was thinking of Kathleen, her body broken in her running gear. It was too awful to comprehend. There was so much death and destruction, all of a sudden. He shuddered to his very bones, eyeing the car. “Damn, I really messed up, didn’t I?”
“You never know. Mike next door can fix it.”
“I’ll let him take it, it’s not drivable with that windshield anyway. My wife will pick me up.” Jake slipped into his jacket, put his cell phone in his pocket, and gestured at the Dumpster, which had a large dent in its middle. “It looks like I did a number on your Dumpster, too. Sorry about that.”
“Oh, forget about it.” Christopher waved him off, but that was the wrong answer for Jake. He felt bad manipulating the kid, but it couldn’t be helped. That was why he’d damaged their property. They would be required to make a police report for liability purposes, and he needed everything to be documented, so there would be no questions later.
“No, make a report, so my insurance will pay.”
“But it’s just a trash can. Who cares?”
“The store doesn’t own the Dumpster, the hauling company does. See?” Jake gestured at the Waste Control logo on its lid. “The store will have to pay for the damage, and you shouldn’t be in that position. I’ll put in a claim, but we’ll have to call the police.”
“Let’s see what Donna says. She’s my manager.” Christopher turned toward the store just as a ponytailed employee came hustling around the corner. She was heavyset and wore wire-rimmed glasses, her face a mask of worry.
“What happened? Are you hurt, sir?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Jake had seen her before but he didn’t know her, and he could tell from her expression that she was thinking the same thing about him. “I’m Jake Buckman, I always stop in here before work. I hit the gas instead of the brake and crashed into the Dumpster.”
Beside him, Christopher nodded. “He says he doesn’t need to go to the hospital.”
“That’s lucky. The police will be here any minute, I already called them.” Donna’s forehead relaxed, and she eyed the car and Dumpster. “Any accidents on our property need to be reported. I hope you understand, sir.”
“Yes, of course, please call me Jake.”
“Jake, are you sure you weren’t injured in any way?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Okay then. I’ll have you sign some paperwork, if that’s okay. Come with me. I have the file in the office.” Donna started walking to the front of the store, and Jake and Christopher fell into step beside her.
Christopher looked over with a smile. “How about we treat you to a cup of coffee?”
