Chapter 131 – Robbery
Max walked to the register with the bag and set it on the counter.
She looked at Earl — the diner's longtime cook, a man who had seen most things and responded to all of them with the same level of affect.
"Earl." She kept her voice very steady. "The man in the trench coat over there is robbing us. He wants everyone's valuables in this bag."
Earl looked up at the man in the coat. His expression did not change in any discernible way. He opened the register and began efficiently transferring the bills into the bag.
"Max," he said, while packing, "I have personal experience on both sides of this particular transaction."
"Cooperating is the correct play."
"Thank you, Earl," Max said. "Your expertise is noted and valued."
She picked up the bag and turned toward the kitchen.
The kitchen.
"Caroline." Max kept her voice at the specific low register of someone delivering news that required management. "I need to tell you something, and I need you to not have a reaction before I finish the sentence."
Caroline looked at her.
"You're pregnant," Caroline said immediately.
"What—"
"Oh God." Caroline grabbed Max's arm, her expression cycling rapidly. "Max. We're going to get through this. We'll figure it out together. Is it Ethan's? Because honestly if it's Ethan's that's a silver—"
"We are being robbed," Max said. "There is a man in a coat. He may have a gun. I need you to hold it together."
Caroline looked through the pass-through.
Her expression traveled, in approximately one second, from expecting mother making peace with circumstances to passenger watching the Titanic's bow go under.
Her mouth opened.
Max stepped forward and put both hands firmly on her shoulders.
"Do not scream," Max said. "He wants money. He doesn't want us dead. Those are two very different goals, and right now they are working in our favor."
"I already put the check in the bag," she added. "Whether he can cash a business check is between him and his bank."
She pressed the bag into Caroline's arms.
"Wallet. Jewelry. Anything you think he'd be unhappy about not getting. Fast."
Caroline was already complying, stuffing things in, her breathing going erratic.
"I can't believe this is happening," she managed. "I literally just saved two dollars this week. I have those gifts from Ethan in my locker and now they're just — they're gone —"
"The gifts are in the back, he hasn't gone back there—"
"I can't die," Caroline said, her voice climbing. "I cannot die in this uniform. I look terrible in this uniform. You look fine in it, but I look like I was sentenced to it — I cannot be found dead in this by anyone who knew me before—"
She stopped.
Her body went very still.
Her eyes went slightly unfocused.
She lowered approximately three inches toward the floor, very slowly, with the specific controlled movement of someone managing a situation they cannot entirely control.
"Max," she whispered.
"What," Max whispered back.
"I'm peeing."
Max stared at her.
"Right now?"
"A little bit. Yes."
The man in the trench coat had lost patience.
He came around toward the counter, his coat pocket pointed in their direction with the specific intentionality of someone who wanted their threat to be legible.
"Both of you. Out from behind the counter. Now."
"Sir." Caroline's voice was a whisper. Her body was still. "I can't."
"Why not."
She glanced at Max.
"I'm currently — in a situation."
The man blinked.
From the kitchen, the crash-bang of a door hitting the wall announced Oleg's arrival. He came out wielding a baseball bat he'd apparently kept back there for exactly this kind of occasion, moving with the absolute conviction of a man who had decided that today was the day.
"Move, ladies! I got this son of a—"
His foot found the wet patch on the floor near Caroline's section of the counter.
He went down hard.
The bat hit the floor. Oleg did not get up.
The man in the coat was visibly agitated now. He turned back to the women.
"I said OUT—"
Caroline grabbed Max by the shoulders.
And pushed her forward.
"If you need a hostage," Caroline said, stepping behind Max, "take her."
Max was suddenly one step in front of the counter.
She stood there for a full second, facing the robber, absorbing what had just happened.
"Are you serious," she said, to the approximate location of Caroline behind her.
"I have anxiety!"
"You just used me as a human shield!"
"What's happening?"
Ethan's voice came from across the restaurant.
He had emerged from the hallway to the restrooms with the confused, assessing expression of someone who had expected to return to a meal and had instead walked into a tableau.
"Ethan!" Caroline appeared briefly from behind Max. "Someone is robbing the diner!"
The man in the coat swung toward Ethan, his hand coming up.
The shot came from somewhere to Ethan's left.
The man in the coat went down.
The restaurant held its breath.
A man who had also apparently been in the restroom hallway stood a few feet from Ethan, holding a weapon, confirming his target with the professional thoroughness of someone who had done this before. He scanned the room. Satisfied with what he found, he lowered the gun.
"Is anyone hurt?"
Silence.
Caroline raised her hand slowly.
"I have some psychological trauma," she said. "And I need different pants."
The police came. Statements were taken. The man in the coat was removed from the premises by the appropriate parties. The other man — the one who had fired the shot — had given a brief, professional statement and left before most of the customers had finished processing what had happened.
The diner settled into the specific quiet of a place that had experienced something and was now in the process of deciding what to do with that experience.
Ethan was at the register talking with Earl.
Max and Caroline were at a table. Caroline had changed — borrowing a white dishwasher's smock from the back because it was the only available option, which she was wearing with the specific dignity of someone who had given up on dignity for the evening and was managing the aftermath.
Max was going through the bag, returning its contents to their owners.
She pulled out a wallet and held it up. "Last one — yours?"
She upended the bag and shook it to confirm it was empty.
"I looked," she said, with a completely straight face, "but I could not locate your dignity in here."
"Max." Caroline pulled the smock away from her body and looked at it. "I am wearing a garment that smells like the physical manifestation of someone else's bad week. I think we've established that I've suffered enough."
Han was mopping the relevant section of floor, wearing rubber gloves, with the focused grimness of a man who had been doing unpleasant tasks for a long time and had developed a professional relationship with them.
He lifted the mop. Examined it. Looked at Caroline.
"This," he said, "was not bleach."
He put the mop back down and added, with the timing of a man who had been waiting for the right moment: "After tonight, I wonder how you'll look at yourself in the mirror."
He returned to mopping.
Caroline stared at the back of his head. "I had a trauma response! It's a neurological event! My nervous system made a decision!"
Ethan and Earl came over.
Earl put on his coat and hat with the unhurried movements of a man at the end of his shift.
"Good evening, everyone," he said. He looked around the table. "We all showed real strength tonight."
He paused at Caroline.
"Mostly," he said.
He left.
Caroline watched him go with the expression of a woman who has been specifically evaluated by someone she would prefer to have evaluated her more generously.
"I was victimized!" she said, to his retreating back.
Max, unwrapping a piece of gum with the calm of someone who had moved on: "On my way to the 'Used as a Human Shield' support group, I can swing by and drop you at a therapist."
"That was thirty minutes ago," Caroline said. "Thirty minutes. Are you going to hold this over me indefinitely?"
"The statute of limitations on being thrown at a man with a gun," Max said, "has not yet been determined by the courts."
"Max." Caroline put both hands flat on the table. "Please. I paid a real price tonight. I am wearing a dishwasher's smock. I have been evaluated unfavorably by Earl. I have experienced a genuine physiological humiliation. Can you please—"
"Twenty-four hours," Max said.
"Twelve."
"Twenty."
"Fifteen."
"Eighteen," Max said. "Final offer. And you're making coffee for a week."
Caroline exhaled. "Fine."
They sat in the specific comfortable silence of two people who had been through something together and were still sitting at the same table.
Ethan looked at both of them.
"For what it's worth," he said, "you both handled that better than most people would."
"I used Max as a human shield," Caroline said.
"I said better than most people would," Ethan said. "I didn't say well."
Max pointed at him. "See, that's the kind of honest feedback I can work with."
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