Page 1 of Just Ten Seconds

Like sands through the hourglass …

I remember my mom watching the iconic daytime soap opera show when I was a kid. I’d sit at the foot of the couch, legs crossed with my chin in my palm, staring at the grains of sand passing through the glass. At seven years old, I didn’t understand how powerful those swift drops of time could be.

Seconds turn into minutes, hours to days, months to years …

The days are long, years are quick, but it’s the seconds—the seconds—that can be altered. A laugh with friends passes in a flash while a fall to the ground can last a lifetime.

For me, it was the shot of a gun.

Ten seconds.

That was all I needed for my life to change forever.

“Benjamin!” I screamed.

The gunshot echoed deafeningly in the confines of the room as he fell, clutching his chest.

My body collapsed to the floor, the blood on my skin, and the agonizing pain of watching the man you love become something else is seeped into my bones.

I stared down the barrel of a gun. I held a dying man in my arms. Yet, as the sirens blared and the tape lined the room, I realized the nightmare has only just begun. Like a game of dominoes, the first chip has fallen, and now, all I could do was stand back and watch them topple.

I was a pawn in the game of life. I just didn’t know I was playing.

Despite the pain of loss, the world keeps revolving. Your worst day is another’s boring Tuesday. So, you do what your mother has always told you to do.

You get up.

You go to work.

You live.

Well … you pretend to live.

Until one day, a man walks in and alters the course of your life but this time for the better.

“Happy Friday!” Jackie announces as she walks into the main dining room of the café holding two ceramic plates and balancing two more on her forearms.

I pull the hair in my ponytail tighter and square my shoulders. I have a smile on my face by the time she returns from placing the items on the table by the booth.

“You’re chipper,” I state as she brings two empty glasses over to where I’m standing.

“Just trying to add some sunshine to your life.”

I lean over the counter and look out the window of the Harvest Café—the quaint breakfast and lunch shop we work at in the heart of Warwick, New York. The clouds are thick in the sky as the gray gets ready to unleash a downpour.

“Looks like you should be doing the rain dance instead,” I muse.

“I can do that too.” She does a little shimmy, reminding me of one of our favorite movies.

“ ‘God wouldn’t have given you maracas if he didn’t want you to shake ’em.’ ”

She places a hand on her hip and taps her lip with the other. “Dirty Dancing?”

With a wink and a point, I let her know she guessed the quote right. It’s a game we’ve been playing since high school. Back when we were two kids in New York City, an actress and a dancer ready to take on the world. That was before marriage, mortgages, and murder wreaked havoc on our lives.

With the shake of my head, I force those thoughts to the back of my mind, a place where I can’t let myself wander right now. Not at work. Not in front of Jackie.

Nick, Jackie’s husband and our boss, pops his head through the quick-serve kitchen window and snaps his fingers. “Table two is asking for a refill.” He points with a scowl.