Moment
He left work at 5:00 pm preoccupied with the faulty lock on the laundry room door. Last week his wife
assigned him a new and urgent maintenance job, “It locked by itself and I had to use my key to get into the
house. Make sure to fix it.” And he replied “I’ll have to get a new lock and replace it.” And just to be on safe
side, he hung an extra key on a hook in the garage. Every minor issue in his marriage had a potential to turn
into a big headache. “I was busy this, but I’ll get it done this weekend. In the meantime, if you get locked out,
just use the extra key by the door.”
He arrived home around 6:30. As he pulled into the alley and one house before he turned into his garage,
he waved to his backdoor neighbor and he waved back with a friendly smile. This neighbor always worked on
classic cars and his latest project was rebuilding a red 1965 Ford Mustang in his driveway. Although seeing a
dismantled engine, a fallen muffler or loose pieces of a cylinder scattered around the neighbor’s driveway was
not a pretty sight, witnessing a gradual reincarnation of an extinct species was truly exhilarating. He’d never
developed an interest in working on his cars, yet his neighbor’s perseverance and endless patience in divinely
breathing life into a corpse had earned his utmost respect.
Upon his arrival, he snatched a cold beer from refrigerator and checked his emails. The he changed his
clothes and put his cell phone in his tee-shirt pocket and went directly to the kitchen to cook dinner. His wife
once again had taken refuge in her parent’s house to be away from him after an intense argument. Judging
based on their fight history and severity of their latest clash he was certain she wouldn’t be back until Monday
and if he was lucky Tuesday. So, he was looking forward to a relaxing weekend all for himself and determined
to make the best of it. He set his laptop computer on the Kitchen counter where he could watch the UN general
assembly meeting on nuclear proliferation on You Tube while cooking. He was craving chicken curry. All he
needed was chicken, curry paste, garlic, fresh cilantro, white onions and coconut milk. His stomach was
growling, the intoxicating aroma of curry sauce lifting his spirit even before he started cooking.
He grabbed the ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator and darted out into garage to get chicken from
the freezer. He stretched his body into the garage and kept his right foot in the door to keep it open and
skillfully managed t get two pieces of chicken. As he turned to come inside, he was startled by the cell phone
ringing. He swiftly changed hands and held frozen poultry by the left and fished the phone out of his pocket with
the other. The split second before he got a chance to flip it open and as he was still keeping the door ajar with
his torso, both chickens flew out of his hand. In an effort to catch them before they hit the dirty garage floor and
answer the phone at the same time, he lost his balance and fell. In the midst of this pandemonium, he grabbed
the door frame to regain balance and seized the hinged side of the door jamb. He tumbled and the heavy
spring loaded door slammed shut on his right hand locked inside.
For a moment he felt like he’d been electrocuted. An excruciating pain zapped his entire nervous system
and knocked him out. When he deliriously gained consciousness, the garage was darker and devastating pain
had erased his memory. Four fingers were crushed inside the jammed shut door and his dark blue thumb was
swollen beyond recognition. His body had given out and his brain was not functioning. The horror of the
incident flashed through his head and once again he passed out. Next time he woke, his eyes were filled with
tears. His right hand was swollen all the way up to his arm and the throbbing pain was ravaging his entire being.
His hand was morphed to the door as if it’d been designed by an artist with a bizarre imagination. Seeing the
eerie artistry in this horrific scene made him realize that he’d never be able to paint anymore. He sobbed
silently into a coma.
Cut the chicken breasts in cubes. Add extra virgin olive oil in a wok and sprinkle a pinch of mustard seeds
and cumin and turn up the heat. In a few minutes seeds start popping in hot oil unleashing the heavenly aroma.
Now add the chicken and sauté until golden brown. While you’re doing this, empty a can of coconut milk into a
pot and bring to boil. Then add a tablespoon of curry sauce and thoroughly mix. Remove the chicken from wok
and add to the sauce and let it simmer on low heat for half hour.
The ring of his cell phone woke him. He reached to his shirt pocket but the phone was underneath car’s rear
axle. He could see the fluorescent light of its front panel. He scanned the rest of his garage and saw a host of
tools and gadgets, a medical emergency kit and a stylish oversized red panic button. So many rescue devices
conveniently placed on the shelves, mounted on the wall, or laying on his work bench, yet too far for him to
reach.
The very first time he passed by his neighbor’s garage in the alley and as he stretched his hand to push the
button on his garage door remote opener, his neighbor thought he was waving at him, so he waved back. This
unintentional gesture repeated several times until he realized that he’d inadvertently demonstrated courteous
behavior. Since then, every time he returned home, they waived at each other. Despite the fact they’d never
been introduced, they managed to establish a remote acquaintance based on a simple misunderstanding.
Blood was crusted on the door frame. As he desperately reached for the doorknob, his wife’s voice pierced
his brain and his gaze was drawn to the extra key on the wall. The small red dot on his cell phone was blinking.
The caller must’ve left a message. It wasn’t from his wife not because he didn’t recognize her distinct ring tone
but because he knew her too well. In a way, he was glad that it wasn’t her. Otherwise by not answering her call
on a Friday night he would’ve created a whole new issue in their marriage. His dying hand was still bleeding.
Timing is crucial to the artistic endeavor of cooking. Sauté onions and crushed garlic together but separately
from the chicken and before they’re fried, add to your sauce.
He stretched his neck to see the glowing numbers of the digital clock on the opposite wall. The time now was
1:30. Even if he screamed in midnight silence, he could not be heard. His corner lot house was only neighbored
by a vacant house for sale. His anemic body was in the throes of collapse. He desperately stretched his entire
body in every direction yet he reached nowhere but to a higher threshold of agony. He cried for help, but his
muffled squeal tainted with unnerving pain faded in his solitude.
Add chopped cilantro to the sauce and sprinkle some on the plate to garnish.