I, Gracie - Sharon Sala Page 0,75

chit-chat. Something she hadn't done in years.

"Where do you want to go to eat?" Reba said.

"You pick," Gracie said. "I haven't lived here long enough to know which places have the quickest service and best food."

"How about Subway. Good sandwiches, quick service, and tables to sit at."

"Sounds good," Gracie said.

"I'll drive. Hop in," Reba said, and off they went.

A short while later, they were standing in line, waiting to order. Reba was texting on her phone, leaving Gracie absently listening to the chatter of diners around her.

Then suddenly, there was the slam of cars colliding, the crunch of metal, and the sound of shattering glass, bringing every conversation to a halt.

Outside, two cars were crushed with steam rising from both of them, and people were running to their aid, while inside, a good number of the diners were rushing to the windows.

The low tone of conversations had turned to excited exclamations, and then dozens of people grabbed their cell phones and started videoing while others all talked at once.

Within the cacophony of voices, Gracie heard another sound—one she'd heard dozens of times when she'd still been home with her mama. Someone was choking.

She turned, quickly scanned the people still seated, and within seconds, spotted a middle-aged man sitting alone at a table. He had a frantic look on his face and was grabbing at his throat, desperately gasping for air.

Gracie bolted toward the table.

"Are you choking?" she asked.

He nodded, his wide-eyed gaze fixed upon her face.

She dragged him up from the chair, bent him slightly forward, and with her arms around him and her fists below his ribcage, she began squeezing his stomach with quick inward and upward thrusts, until all of a sudden, the bread stuck in his throat came flying out of his mouth, and he was able to breathe again.

"We're going to sit back down now," Gracie said.

The manager had been alerted by one of her employees, and came running out of the office, concerned for her customer and praising Gracie.

"I didn't see him," she kept saying. "He could have died. Thank you. Thank you."

But Gracie's focus remained on the man as she took his pulse.

"Sir, do you take blood pressure medicine?"

He nodded shakily, still drawing in one deep gulp of air after another.

She looked at the manager. "I think you need to call an ambulance. His pulse is irregular and racing."

The manager grabbed her phone and called 9-1-1, while Gracie pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with him.

"My name is Gracie. What's yours?" she asked.

He was sweating profusely, and both his hands and his voice shook.

"Edward."

"So, Edward, is there someone we can call for you?" Gracie asked.

"Nobody to call," he mumbled.

At that point, Reba appeared.

"What can I do to help?" she asked.

"Get my food to go," Gracie said, and handed her a twenty.

"Good call," Reba said, but the manager had other ideas.

"No, ma'am," she said. "It's on me." The woman called over to a girl behind the counter. "Comp these ladies' orders, please."

"Thank you," Gracie said.

"No, thank you."

Reba got back in line. Emergency vehicles were everywhere now. Police cars arriving. Ambulances arriving. The fire department was out in the street with the Jaws of Life, trying to extract a victim from one car. Finally, the ambulance they'd called for arrived. When the EMTs ran inside, Gracie stepped back. Adrenaline was crashing, and she was starting to shake. Reba handed her a to-go cup of Coke, and a sack with her sandwich, then grabbed her by the arm and out the door they went.

Reba said nothing until they were in the car and driving.

"We're going to the park. We can sit in the shade and relax while we eat."

"Fine with me," Gracie said, and then leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to pull herself together.

"You were amazing," Reba said. "How did you learn to do that?"

"My mother had dementia. One of the problems people have as the disease progresses is choking on everything from their own spit to anything they might put in their mouths. I learned to do that for her."

"Wow," Reba said. "Did she live with you?"

"I lived with her," Gracie said.

"Is she still alive?" Reba asked.

"No," Gracie said, and then reached for her Coke and took a drink. "Thank you for getting my food."

"Of course," Reba said.

Gracie nodded. "It smells good. You made a good choice."

Reba was silent as she pulled up in the shade of some huge oaks, stopped the car, then left it running.

"I keep thinking if