"Perspectives wrapped in stories that challenge your belief system, and how you see others."
In sign language, Jay explained their anguish. Adaolisa, their adopted fifteen-year-old daughter, wasn’t in her room. Jay and Veronica maintained their independence and didn’t have to live in a complex for disabled people because Adaolisa was living with them.
WC: 989
Shrill screaming woke Zelda. She scooted nearer to Beno, thinking she was dreaming. Beno put his arm around her, bringing her closer, and kept sleeping.
The shrieks came again, and this time sobs accompanied them. Zelda raised herself to look over at the clock on Beno’s nightstand. What woman would be walking around at two-thirty in the morning screaming and sobbing outside of their bedroom window? She immediately thought about the missing women from their urban neighborhood, and her heart sank.
“Not again,” she murmured. Six women had already disappeared without a trace. The police were helpless, and Zelda trembled in Beno’s arms. Was it happening again?
“Beno, wake up!” She whispered, frantically shaking his shoulder.
“What My Sweet? Can’t you sleep?” Beno said, drowsily.
“I think I heard a woman screaming and sobbing outside by our bedroom window.”
Beno took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now, come to your senses,” Zelda pleaded.
Beno released Zelda quickly and sprang out of bed. Three women, two teenage girls, and an eleven-year-old had vanished into thin air in their urban neighborhood over the past three weeks.
“Where did you hear the noise, Zelda?” Beno asked as he got dressed.
“From outside Marcus’s house that faces our bedroom. They were horrible sounds of helplessness mixed with tears.”
“I’m going to take a look outside.”
“I’m going with you,” Zelda said, getting out of bed.
“No, you’ll stay here.”
“No, I won’t,” Zelda said and put on a knee-length Mou Mou dress that he’d bought her while on a mission in Hawaii.
When they got outside, Beno thought he saw light shining in Marcus’s house. He didn’t care for Marcus since he’d caught him photographing Zelda’s derriere two or three times with a lewd nasty smile. That ended his association with him.
A chill went over him, and he took hold of Zelda’s hand. “My Sweet,” he mumbled, “stay close to me.”
They walked the entire street on the side where their house stood but saw and heard nothing. At the end, they crossed over to the opposite side to return to their home.
“My Sweet, let’s go back to bed. I’ll ride in and talk with Giovanni, who’s in charge of the precinct when we get up.”
Halfway up the stairs, their doorbell rang and Beno eyebrows furrowed. Beno walked back down with Zelda trailing behind him. Before he opened the door, he sensed that it had happened again. Their deaf neighbors from across the street stood before them anguished and distraught, and his wife was crying.
In sign language, Jay explained their anguish. Adaolisa, their adopted fifteen-year-old daughter, wasn’t in her room. Jay and Veronica maintained their independence and didn’t have to live in a complex for disabled people because Adaolisa was living with them.
Beno invited them in and called and woke up Giovanni, who was also his best friend, while Zelda made coffee.
When Gio arrived, Beno signed language and interpreted the conversation for everyone. Giovanni promised the couple he would do what he could, but he had little hope. With Adaolisa, seven females were now missing from the same urban neighborhood of upper-middle-class families. His whole precinct was puzzled about the methods used to lure the females out of their homes. In fact, the husbands of the three married women had been sleeping next to them and hadn’t noticed a thing until the next morning.
Zelda stayed overnight with the deaf couple and got up the next morning when they awoke and went home. Beno was unable to sleep for fear of Zelda disappearing. The scene with Marcus taking photographs of Zelda’s derriere kept flashing across his mind. He’d never told Zelda because he hadn’t wanted to upset her. Now, he wished he had. Zelda was his heart.
***
Zelda was cooking breakfast while Beno sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper’s digital print. The title story caused him to groan.
The picture of Adaolisa stared back at him. Her innocent eyes, short-braided hair, and dark, brown skin reminded him of Zelda.
His instinct sharpened as he studied her photo. Like a foxhound, he could hear her. Adaolisa was still in the area.
“My Sweet, watch Marcus’s house and let me know when he leaves,” Beno said as he looked at the picture.
“He’s not there. I saw him leave ten minutes ago.” Zelda said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Zelda replied. “What do you want from Marcus?”
“Nothing, my sweet Zelda. I want to break into his house and investigate his living space. Early this morning, I thought I saw light in his house when we went outside to check the street, but when I looked again, the light was out.”
“Oh Beno, do you think he’s been kidnapping the females in our area?” Zelda asked, worriedly.
“I don’t know, My Sweet. I’m acting on a hunch that won’t let loose of me,” and Beno looked again at the innocent eyes of Adaolisa.
Getting up from the table, he walked to the kitchen door, and Zelda started to follow him.
“Stay here, and that’s an order! Beno said sternly. “Call Giovanni and tell him what I’m doing. I may need his help if Marcus comes back while I’m sniffing around. And call me on my mobile and let it ring once, if you see him come home, and I’ll know to get the hell out of there.”
Zelda kept her cool. This was not the first time since Beno’s Sabbatical that he’d done some snooping around and required her help. She picked up her mobile to do as he commanded.
Afraid that she would miss something, she turned off the oven and stood alert before the window.
Fifteen minutes later, Zelda breathed a sigh of relief. Beno was coming out of Marcus’s house, talking on his mobile.
Behind him were seven females, and the first one was Adaolisa.
The End
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Since he’d slithered into their new home on her birthday to surprise her, she’d heard nothing else from him. Tears escaped her eyes. He’d received a thirty-six-hour pass and hadn’t allowed her to ask any questions about how he got it. Instead, he’d rushed her out of their home and taken her to the flea market. There, he’d shown her what he’d discovered. His face had lit up when he pointed to the chipped vase. Even though it was the ugliest vase Zelda had ever seen, Beno’s lips had kissed and caressed it while scrutinizing its damage as if it were a precious jewel.
WC: 935
Zelda tossed and turned from one side to the other in the king-size bed belonging to her and Beno. Quieting herself, she lay spooned on her right side and stared at the chipped brownish red-toned vase. As ugly as it was, it radiated the only hope she had. Like a persistent gnawing in her spirit that refused to think negatively, the vessel fanned the flame in her that Beno was alive.
Since he’d slithered into their new home on her birthday to surprise her, she’d heard nothing else from him. Tears escaped her eyes. He’d received a thirty-six-hour pass and hadn’t allowed her to ask any questions about how he got it. Instead, he’d rushed her out of their home and taken her to the flea market. There, he’d shown her what he’d discovered. His face had lit up when he pointed to the chipped antique vase. Even though it was the ugliest vase Zelda had ever seen, Beno’s lips had kissed and caressed it while scrutinizing its damages as if it were a precious jewel.
She’d asked him why that vase. There were others so much prettier.
His head had slanted slightly toward her, and his eyes had locked her in place.
“Chipped, Zelda,” he’d said. “The vase’s disfigurements display its inner beauty and its strength. Don’t you think so?”
He’d purchased it for more than it was worth and handed it to her. “For your birthday, my sweet Zelda.”
They had returned home, and he’d taken it to their bedroom and placed it on the nightstand by his side of the bed. “Think of us every time you turn toward where I sleep and see the vase,” Beno had said, and he had taken her in his arms.
Afterward, exhausted from their lovemaking, she’d fallen asleep with her head lying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Beno snuck away just as he had come. Suddenly. Since then, fresh purple and white orchids with one bloody red rose in the middle appeared on their doorsteps every two weeks with a four-word text––to fill the vase.
***
Zelda turned over and grabbed her mobile from her nightstand. Two-twenty-eight, she thought. The number twelve, a semi-perfect number.
No sleep again tonight.
She got up, removed her headscarf, picked out her fluffy afro, and went into the kitchen to make an old-fashioned cup of hot chocolate. Taking milk out of the fridge, she measured out two cups and set it on the stove to boil and went to her upper cupboard. She took out the chocolate powder she used whenever she made a German Chocolate cake for Beno. He liked the glazed, rich, creamy frosting. When she’d complain that the cake wasn’t good for her hips, he would grin and say, “Zelda, my sweet, I love your wide hips.”
She looked at the wall clock. One year and three days would be over at five-fifteen in the afternoon. She grabbed a big spoon to stir the milk before it boiled over. Once again, tears accumulated in her eyes.
Since his thirty-six-hour pass, seven months ago, she hadn’t heard from him. No letter, no email, no telegraph, and no text message. Only the flowers delivered on her doorsteps twice a month gave her some reassurance that he was out there somewhere in the world and still breathing.
Taking her box of chocolate powder, she poured enough in the milk to make it creamy and dark. The mixture bubbled, and she set it aside and went to the cupboard to pull out Beno’s cup. It was her favorite. She always used his cup when he wasn’t there. Filling the cup one-fourth full, she carried it to the bar in their living room and took out the bottle of King Louis XIII cognac that Beno had bought for special occasions.
She poured King Louis to the brim of the cup and went to sit in Beno’s recliner. Sipping slowly, her tears reappeared, flowing over the rims of her eyes and running down her face like two streams.
The hot chocolate that she drank hit her like bales of hay falling out of a loft. She sat the half-full cup on the end table beside her and closed her eyes.
***
Zelda smelled fresh coffee and bacon.
Am I dreaming?
She gripped the arms of the recliner to stand up and fell backward. Her head throbbed.
Okay, have I entered the pearly gates without knowing it?
The sound of footsteps in the kitchen alerted her. She moved to get up again, and dizziness forced her back in the recliner. Zelda groaned loudly.
“Careful, my sweet,” Beno said, walking out of the kitchen into the open dining room area with a plate of bacon. “You’ve got a very nasty hangover.”
“When did you return?”
He sat the bacon on the table and went to her and leaned over. "About an hour ago."
“No, my breath stinks.”
“Who cares?” Beno took his kiss. “Breakfast is almost ready, and I’ve run you a bath.”
Discombobulated and shocked, Zelda had so many questions, she didn’t know where to start.
“Do you have to go again?”
“Not soon.”
“How long do we have?” Zelda said, trying to assimilate in her mind that she was not dreaming. Beno was home.
“Until April 2023.”
“What?” Zelda shouted in unbelief. “How?”
“The vase, my sweet.”
“What has that vase got to do with 2023?”
“Oh, my sweet Zelda,” Beno said. “I admire that chipped vase because it reminds me of you. It has inspired me to take a sabbatical to treasure what we have.”
The End.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Jamie studied the sea as she listened to the voices in her head. What had started out as an afternoon stroll to clear her head and to think over new plans that would challenge her and affect her destiny had become a bizarre test of her courage to outlived a high tide.
WC: 593
The tide rolled in. Water covered her feet and rose ankle-deep. Jamie pivoted one hundred eighty degrees to go back the way she came. But the water was everywhere. Her footprints washed away. Trees surrounded her, and the water had now risen knee-deep, flowing through her legs, almost touching her knees.
A slow motioned about-face put her face to face with the sea, threatening to make her a forgotten fatality never to be found. Jamie stood still contemplating, trying not to panic as she considered her options. A forest thickened and darkened by leaves that restricted the light or a sea that she knew she couldn't swim across.
Jamie studied the sea as she listened to the voices in her head. What had started out as an afternoon stroll to clear her head and to think over new plans that would challenge her and affect her destiny had become a bizarre test of her courage to outlive a high tide. Jamie pondered over how long it would take the water to recede and go back to where it came from. The water sloshed against her legs, reminding her that seas and oceans remained, but the water didn't climb higher. At least the sea was not one of those angry Gods, she thought. Not wanting to appear afraid, Jamie turned again to look at the trees. She didn't want to wait for the tide to ebb or stand in one spot for what seemed like forever and never change.
Movement was what she needed, but movement toward where?
The trees, silly, she thought. People who cared for her would be worried. How could she have been so ignorant as to forget the strong tidal waves in this part of the world?
Jamie began walking, creating her own waves as she waded through the water in the forest. Stopping, she walked to one of the trees and leaned against it and took off her shoes. Deciding to walk with her bare feet, Jamie stepped forward, and her right foot sunk into something profound. She screamed and bent down to touch what she had stepped into. Wax shaped into a footprint of someone or something whose feet were more massive than hers. Jamie shook her head. Whoever would leave a wax footprint in a forest. Not being able to identify the print due to light sparsely let into the woods by leaves on the trees, Jamie tapped until she touched the next print, hoping that the footprints would lead her back to civilization and her friends.
It would soon be time for dinner. Would anyone of them miss her or would they think she needed time to be alone to herself?
Jamie sighed. She shut and opened her eyes rapidly, to make sure she was seeing correctly. No longer at her knees, the water was receding, returning slowly back to where it belonged. She looked up at the trees and noticed that more light shone through than before. She could see bits and pieces of the sky. Then, the strangest thing happened. The waxed footprints evolved into piles of sand.
No one would believe her she thought as she reached the edge of the forest and walked away. Footprints out of wax that reverted to sand as the water rolled back. Unlikely, her friends would say in a polite way and think she was nutty again.
Jamie grunted. The suspension of unbelief had bred into belief and had become a reality for her. Something that she would let no one take away. The impossible had become possible, and she would cherish the moment forever.
***
Merry Christmas Everyone and have a safe crossover into 2020.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia