Despite our rough patch he maintained his chivalry. I could irritate him to the point of no return and he would still treat me like a princess. That’s what I loved about him most, his forgiveness. While we waited for our meal to be served there was an awkward silence between us. The muteness made my mind race and I had to break it. He was sitting right across from me but I could tell his mind was somewhere else. In the midst of forcing casual conversation I had to try alternatives. I tried to look at him in the eyes a little harder. I stared as if the more intense I searched his eyes I could bring his mind back to me. My attempt failed just like the conversation. After so many pauses in our miniscule verbal exchange we reached a mutual agreement. Once that understanding was grasped he picked up the phone. I usually don’t mind him on his phone but not at the dinner table. Throughout the rest of the evening he couldn’t keep his phone out of his hands. Naturally this attachment made me question his fidelity. Every notification he received sent vibrations that shook the ground we occupied like an earthquake.
“Who are you talking to?” An irritated inquiry expecting a direct answer without coaxing.
“No one really.” His cavalier attitude further frustrated me.
“Well what does that mean?”
“Nothing”
“Could you at least attempt to be more thrilled about having dinner with me tonight?” I plead in an effort to enjoy what was once my favorite time of the month.
He played with his phone for a couple more minutes taking breaks to look at me. I’m pretty sure he could feel how intensely I was staring at him. I grew so anxious for him to just acknowledge how much effort I put into my appearance and this night.
Occasionally during the drive home I would glance at him with disgust. Not only was he ignoring me he was also texting while driving or just at stop lights he says. “So what’s so intriguing about your phone Alex?” he quickly glared at me with a smirk and just before he could part his lips with a slick reply I intervened. “Your face irritates me shut up!”
Silently we performed our nightly routines and prepared for bed. His hand still wrapped around his phone that emitted a light brighter than the sun at its peak. Surely our neighbors could see this beam of a light and easily assume that we have opened up a portal to a parallel universe. As I rested beside him I caught him smiling at his phone like he was enjoying a conversation without me. I rolled over snatching the duvet from over his body. In an attempt to fight my curiosity I tucked the cover under my body forming a cocoon providing a shield for my eyes from the light. I just don’t understand why his phone needed so much attention, more attention than he has been giving me the whole day. I drifted in and out of sleep with full intentions of investigating this situation.
I was Nancy Drew following the trail of leads he carelessly poured into the newsfeeds of family, friends and even strangers. A combination of peculiar tweets he released into the cyber world were so conveniently accompanied by his exact location. He was more interactive in his social media presence than he was with real people. His obsession gave me an advantage on his actions and whereabouts. His friendliness on various internet sites fueled this whole investigation. How fortunate was I to notice which cafe he was at with a simple snap. Immediately I was in the bushes directly across from him daring any female to sit across from him as if this outing was a date. He was looking rather urbane dressed from head to toe in all black. He looked like he smelled good and that made me want to jump out of the bushes to strangle him. He looked down at his phone, stood up and started walking down the street. I leaped out of the bushes leaving fragments of my clothes tangled in the fingers of the shrubbery. For some reason I received the strangest looks after leaving my hiding space. I ignored their opinionated faces that didn’t faze me I was on a mission.
The luxurious Sunset drive was thick with tourist pedestrians aimlessly roaming around. They were making it hard for me to keep up with Alex. Blue shirts blending in with red blouses. What color was he wearing again? After following him for a while he ended his foot journey in the warehouse district. What is he doing at a warehouse? 4 black Mercedes sedans set parallel alongside the building. There was a fat man sitting by the loading dock with a clipboard. Alex walked up the dock and was easily granted entry. I waited from a far to figure out how to get past the doorman. Higher ground was the only way I would be able to see what was going on. I saw a ladder alongside the glass building. I found a spot right next to an open window. Every man in the transparent structure was dressed in all black like Alex. They all stood around a desk chatting.
“Did Antonio complete the drop?” A brown man with a thick Cuban accent asked.
“The cargo is at Dixie 7, senor.”
“I expect no mistakes this time.”
“Si senor no problema, lo siento.” Alex replied to the Cuban man. The drop, a cargo what the hell is going on here? When did Alex start speaking Spanish?
“La policia stopped Marco on the greyhound Monday. Como?”
“We are trying to find the leak sir.” A younger boy replied.
The Cuban man seemed unimpressed. He raised up out of his chair and all 5 men paid close attention to him as if he was a teacher and they were students eager to learn. I scanned the room a little more and saw tables with white powder carelessly spread about the table. Behind the desk of the Cuban man rested two money counting machines. He made his way towards the tables and said “Ven a qui.” Young girls in nothing but panties flocked to him. He pointed to them like they were objects in a demonstration. “Does anyone know why they are naked?” They all stood there in silence. “They can’t wear wires. Only the people in this room knows where and when drops are made.” He paused for a long time and the uneasiness settled in. Hell I was scared for them. His head hung low as if someone had let him down and deceived him. Alex seemed awkwardly comfortable, like he knew it wasn’t him and he was immune to whatever consequence the Cuban man was going to unleash. The room was silent and everyone just stared at each other like their eyes could point out traitors.
I looked down by the loading dock and saw dread headed Haitians running into the warehouse. Pushing past the doorman leaving him on the ground paralyzed. The girls in the room all shrieked in fear tripping over one another. The men flipped the table throwing the cocaine into the air. For a second it reminded me of the first snowfall of the season making the concrete floor sparkle. They took cover behind it exchanging fire. It was just like a movie scene. Then all of a sudden I was in the room with them hiding next to the girls. Scared trying to hide but also wanting to see everything unfold. Bullets flying all over the place as if the men behind assault rifles had no training. A girl right beside me was hit from a ricochet bullet.
Suddenly my phone started ringing startling me. I scrambled for the phone to check who was trying to get in contact with me at such an inconvenient time. My surroundings became a bit hazy and that’s when I thought I had got shot. In that exact moment I noticed the sound I was hearing faded into the distance. A pulsating siren went off one that would normally jolt me out of my sleep. My phones alarm clock was going off and my heavy eyes began to open. I was in bed, back to reality, with a brew of emotions flooding my body. I turned over to Alex with a bewildered look on my face.
He just looked at me. “Are you okay? Calm down”. He pulled me in and said “It's just a dream.”
It was just a dream.
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