Falling

            “Did you see I almost fell?” she calls after him, her voice fraught with anxiety and relief.

            “No,” he shouts into the air, still barreling toward me, his only mission was to intimidate me off the sidewalk, into the street. He had the right of way? Why is that? I was on the sidewalk first, striding up 32^nd street, lost in the clouds.

            They had turned the corner and headed toward me, tall and masked.  As always, I wondered who will move first in the social distancing walk-offs. A few weeks ago, The Man in the Skirt with his Shephard mix had seen me approaching. He’d tugged at his trusty mutt, guiding them both out into the street in a wide arc to give me the sidewalk. “Thanks!” I had called out. And he’d said, “Of course, you were in the lane first. I used to be a professional bus driver and that’s how it worked. If someone was already in the lane, then they had the right of way.” And, I’d chuckled, “Wow! That makes sense then that you’d move for me. It must be second nature for you.” He’d nodded, waved goodbye, but not before telling me, conspiratorially, “Well, if it hadn’t been you, I might not have moved!”  We’d both laughed as another neighbor called out to him from across the street, “Hi Bradley, how’s it going?” “Fine, just fine…” And before leaving me, he said, “You know, I own this neighborhood.”

            Yet, there was no professional bus driver etiquette going on this morning. It was full steam ahead as Masked Man barreled toward me, a few feet ahead of his female partner. Who, of course, was moving out into the street for social distancing when she almost fell. I saw her trip and my heart stopped for a moment, the image of Mr. Ian falling on our walk in Oceanside that bright afternoon a couple years ago. I had the intrepid beagle, Beau, under control. He was sniffing and sniffing and being his Beau self on the leash. But I had him—he hadn’t tripped Ian. Ian was next to me, maybe a little behind me. Talking about something. I can’t remember what. Suddenly, he tripped. I saw him stumble, not sure what was happening even as it was happening. It was in slow motion. The shock on his face. The falling forward. His arms flailing trying to keep his balance, but it was no use. Down he went. Like a tall stiff tree felled by a lumberjack’s chainsaw.  I stood there and watched in disbelief. Why is he falling? Why can’t he stop it? What can I do?

            It all happened so fast.

            Then he was on the ground, blood spewing everywhere, his head smashing on the pavement. And I screamed. Ian lay there for a moment before trying to rise, feeling his face for his glasses. Then the tirade of “Where are my glasses? Where are my glasses? I need my glasses.”

            “Ian!!!!  Are you okay? Oh my god!!!! Can you walk? We have to get you to the hospital. We can’t look for your glasses!”

            “I won’t leave without them.”

            So, I stood, helpless for a moment, before a frantic search for the glasses. Finding them after what seemed like hours, they were smashed and bent, the frames crooked, one of the lenses gone, I handed them back to him. Blood still dripping down his face, a bruise rising on his forehead.  

            “I need to find that other lens!” Ian insisted. “I won’t leave until I find it.”

            “We can’t look for it now!” I was panicked. Why won’t he come with me? Why does he need to find his glasses? Blood was dripping down his face, onto the sidewalk. The dog got busy, lapping it up.

            “Beau! Stop that!” I yanked him away, taking Ian’s arm.

            “Please, honey, please, let’s go back to Ruth’s (We were only a few blocks from my mom’s where we were spending the afternoon. Taking the dog for a walk. Eating snacks. Visiting.)

            “We have to get you to the hospital!” I was crying, panicked. Why wouldn’t he come with me? How did he fall? Why couldn’t he have caught himself?

            It truly was one of the most horrendous moments of my life, watching him fall. And it all came tumbling back to me this morning when this lady called out to her partner, “Did you see I almost fell?”

            He hadn’t. She caught herself. I breathed again, callin’ out to her. “Are you okay? We don’t need anyone falling. Not with everything going on!”

            Maybe she was smiling at me, who knows? She was wearing a mask, but I saw her nod, march on behind him. He hadn’t seen her almost fall. He probably doesn’t see her most of the time.

            And, I have to say, I was glad I saw her. Not fall. Because, frankly, what would I have done? With social distancing? Would I have run over and helped her? Or would her partner, in all his Hostile Mask Vibe, stop me? “Stay away from her! You might have the virus!”

            Damn.

            Again, what is the world coming to? That if someone falls in front of you, because of you, you would be afraid to help her?

            Thank god, she didn’t fall.

            And thank god, Mr. Ian was okay. Ruthie took good care of him. Mopped him up. Insisted we go to the emergency room. (He didn’t want to go.) And then,  20+ stitches later, I took Ian back home.

            All was okay.

            But we never found his glasses.

            And to this day, I can still see him falling…..