How Long Does Pizza Take?

My phone chimes as an offer pops up on my food delivery app. I click “accept” and head for Penny’s Pizza. A few minutes later I pull into the parking lot and look for a space. 

My breath catches when I see it. Her Mercedes. Parked right in front by the door. With the personalized DEARMOM plates. Unmistakeable. 

I park across the lot, opposite her car. My heart pounds. My head swims. The Jeep cabin shrinks around me, squeezing the air from my lungs. 

I can’t go in there. I can’t face her. What to do? 

Unassign the order?  I don’t want to do that. It’s a good-paying order. 

Wait for her to leave? I don’t know how long it will be. A few minutes, fine. Any longer, no.

Suck it up and go into the store?

No, I can’t. I’m not a coward, but I’m not an idiot either. 

I gaze at her car, then beyond to the large storefront windows. I can’t see her through the tint. If she’s getting pizza, it shouldn’t be too long, right? 

It’s 1:41 p.m. The app says pickup time is 1:52 and delivery time 2:03. I have a few minutes. I turn on K-Roc, my favorite classic hits station, and wait. 

The Steve Miller song ends, and Van Halen begins the intro to “I’ll Wait.” 

Perfect. 

David Lee Roth’s raspy voice fills the air. 

Maybe not. 

The lyrics don’t match my situation. I don’t want to see her; I want to see her go.

I glance at my watch. 1:49 p.m. DEARMOM is still parked there, and she is nowhere in sight. Come on now! How long does pizza take anyway?

I’ll give her three more minutes. If she’s still here, I have to make a tough choice. 

“I’ll Wait” fades and a new song starts with clanging guitars and punchy drums. The Clash, “Should I Stay or Should I Go.”  

No way! What are you trying to tell me, God? 

God has nothing to do with this. This is my problem. 

1:51 p.m. I pick up my phone and press the little “unassign” bubble on the app. A message pops up. “Are you sure you want to unassign? This will affect your metrics.”

I press “Yes” and exhale. Done. 

I back out of my space and drive by her car toward the exit. Still no sign of her. No worries, I’m moving on.  

About forty-five minutes later, after delivering two orders, I drive by Penny’s Pizza on my way to Taco Tempo. The Mercedes is still there, in the same space. 

How could she still be waiting for pizza? 

Wait. As I pass, something catches my eye. The store next door. I hadn’t noticed it before. 

Sheri’s Hair and Nails.

I am an idiot.