A World Apart

1. Belvedere

Elena never saw the car coming until it was right in front of her. One minute she was rushing from the top of the subway stairs and bolting across the street before the crosswalk could finish its countdown. The next moment she saw the shine of a black sedan coming straight for her at breakneck speed. She flung herself to the sidewalk, scraping her knee and tearing her khakis when her ankle caught on the edge. From the corner of her eye, she watched as a driver wearing dark sunglasses took the corner on two wheels, rolling down his window just enough for her to hear him shouting something in Russian and catch the hand gesture he stuck out before speeding off.

Shaking her head and checking for any more damage to her clothes Elena scrambled to her feet, dusting the front of her pants off as she inspected the hole with a sigh. These pants had been a great thrift store find and now she would have to replace them. Mitch would understand she couldn't take the train all the way back to the Bronx today to change when her shift started in only a few minutes, but he would expect her back in unscuffed uniform tomorrow no excuses.

Legs still trembling from what could have happened; Elena looked down Broadway towards the upscale salad bar she'd spent the better part of two years working in. The green sign with white letters was just visible from where she'd tumbled over in her haste to avoid becoming another casualty of Manhattan drivers. She slung her purse back onto her shoulder and winced as she put weight on the ankle that had been caught on the lip of the sidewalk just moments before.

Determined not to be any later than she was already, Elena forced a grimace and managed to walk the next two blocks, gradually putting more weight with every other step until her ankle was only a dull ache compared to her mental rehashing of what had happened and what almost happened. By the time she opened the door to the salad bar, now 10 minutes late for her shift, Mitch was standing there in his maroon polo shirt with his arms crossed in front of him.

"You're late," he quipped, and Elena tried to disguise her ire as she glanced around to see there were only two customers in line. The expression on Mitch's face told her it would not be wise to point this out to him and so instead she pointed to her knee, "Sorry, some idiot almost ran over me as I was crossing the street from the station, I got here as fast as I could."

His eyes widened and he bent over slightly to see the bloody scrape and his tone softened. "Alright," he sighed, "You're on the register. Tiffany needs to take her break and when she gets back I need you chopping lettuce for the dinner rush."

Elena nodded; thankful that seemed to be the end of it, at least for now. She made her way into the backroom through the kitchen to store her purse in one of the employee lockers.

By the time she got back 5 minutes later, Tiffany was leaning on the counter with an exasperated look, loudly smacking her gum while Brenda, the middle-aged woman from Harlem was changing her gloves.

"Took you long enough," Tiffany sniffed with that nasal Brooklyn accent Elena thought sounded worse than almost anything in the world. When she described Tiffany's voice to her grandmother, the old woman had thrown her head back howling with laughter while Elena speculated she might actually prefer the sound of construction at 6 AM on a Saturday.

"Yep, sorry," she held up her hands in a gesture of innocence, "Take it up with the guy who almost ran me over as I was running here."

Tiffany rolled her eyes and scoffed dramatically, clearly not believing her story, and Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes back. If she was going to concoct a lie to get out of coming in late she certainly wouldn't have intentionally ruined her best pair of work pants. There was no point in explaining that either, Tiffany was already at the door with her purse, a pack of smokes, and a lighter in her hands.