It was early summer, and Emily had been at her new job for three weeks, and enjoyed it. Her mother had connections at the local government level, and nudged her resume to the top of the list for a position at a city-sponsored child care facility for low-income mothers.
The position was more bookkeeper/receptionist than anything else, but she did sometimes watch a few children while other people took breaks, or if they needed to leave work early.
Being around the small children stirred maternal instincts in Emily, and she pondered her future with Ted. He was much older, but he said he loved her and wanted to spend his life with her, as soon as he was free of his marriage. She was fairly sure he was still fertile, but sometimes pictured the age difference being a factor in the future.
She imagined their child in school: "Is that your granddad? No, he's my dad.." . Just as Ted had warned her that there would often be cases where Ted himself would be mistaken for Emily's father, not her husband. Emily dismissed all these negatives with how much she loved Ted, and was sure they could overcome any problems together. Besides, it would still be months before Ted was ready to divorce.
As she drove home, she texted Ted to ask if he was free. As many times as Ted had warned her not to text and drive, she still did it almost every time she was out, confident that she could focus on both. She always held the phone at eye level, so the road was in her range of vision, and she never did more than a few words at a time. It was during one of those words as she was driving through her neighborhood that she heard a loud "crunch", followed by a smaller, "bam" and she realized something was amiss at the right side of her car, judging by the direction from which the sound had come.
She immediately braked and looked in her right side mirror to see if she had run over a trash can or something, and was surprised to see the mirror was missing. She pulled over and walked around the car, and saw her mirror was hanging by the adjustment cable, dangling halfway to the ground. Panicked, she looked back up the street, to see a mailbox on the ground.
A combination of worry and relief filled her as she realized what had happened, and although this was a bad thing, it was just a mailbox. It could have been a car, or worse; someone's pet, or a person.
Steeling her nerve, she walked back to the house and knocked on the door.
A middle-aged woman answered, and Emily recognized her from seeing her sometimes out in her yard, working on a garden that was in front of the bay window.
"Um, I'm really, sorry, I just hit your mailbox..."
"Oh, dear, are you all right?" The woman came out to see the box in the street, knocked from its wooden post. It was dented but not badly.
"Yeah, I'm fine, but I'm really sorry, I got too close, and I didn't think I was that close and I thought there was room and..." she lied, not wanting to mention that she was looking at her phone.
"Oh, don't worry, dear, it's fine. My husband can fix it. But you're sure you're all right?"
Such a sweet woman, Emily thought. She was expecting someone to be livid about the mailbox, and here this lady was making sure she hadn't been hurt.
"Yes, really, I'm okay. But I'm really sorry. I have a job, I can pay for it if you think.."
"Nonsense, honey, if you're okay, just go on, it's nothing my husband can't fix."
"Thank you, thank you so much," Emily was genuinely grateful, as she was already playing out scenarios in her head of police reports, insurance claims, and more.
She pulled into her driveway, looked at the mirror again, and sighed. She was sure her parents would grill her about how it had happened, and she dreaded the conversation. She called Ted.
"So it's just hanging there. I don't know what to do."
"Let me come take a look; maybe I can make it look better." He was happy to get out of the house, as his wife had taken a day off and she was in a foul mood already.
"A friend just got in a minor fender-bender. I'm going over to see if I can help with their car, it's a little dinged up," he said, heading for the door. His wife was scowling into some reports and didn't even answer him.
When Ted got to Emily's house, she was still outside, looking at the car.
"You okay Angel?" Ted asked. She looked nervous and apprehensive.
"My parents are going to interrogate me for days about this, I just know it," she fretted.
"Well, let's see if we can make it look like less than it is," he said, squatting down by the door.
It was a clean break, he noticed. No damage to the door itself, which was great. The mirrors were designed to detach easily in case they were hit, reducing damage to the car, and lessening the chance of serious injury to a pedestrian.
The mirror itself was toast, though. The glass had shattered and the plastic housing was crushed beyond the point of salvage.
"Salvage," Ted said out loud.
"What?" Asked Emily. She did the thing with her head again, turning sideways, like a dog hearing an unfamiliar sound. Ted had seen it so many times it no longer got his attention like it once had.
