Word Count: 1417
2010 – Tuesday January, 19th
I closed the garage and rushed through the dancing snowflakes to my front door. The ringing of my phone was welcoming me.
Why did the keys always hide at the bottom of the shoulder bag, fall out of my hands and not fit into the lock, when I was in a hurry?
The caller could be Bobby. Today I'd found a new letter addressed to me in his letterbox, but I hadn't had a chance to read it, yet. The door swung open and I sprinted to the phone. With my left hand I freed the blue airmail envelope out of my bag and reached with my right hand for the receiver.
"Hey," I panted.
"How are you doing?" I said a bit disappointed, and peeled out of my coat.
"Okay." I sat down and nibbled at the itchy band-aid in the crook of my arm.
"Why I'm calling. I heard last week that you had left NYPD and OnePP."
"Right, back in December…after," I choked at sudden tears because Danny's face rose up before my eyes. I unconsciously fingered my coat lapel. My fingers brushed the yellow pin Dr. Rodgers had given me at his funeral.
"Yes, poor Ross," Mike cleared his throat and we felt silent. I gulped audibly and wiped the single tear from my cheek.
"Have you found something new?"
"About the captain's case?" I asked, puzzled.
"No, I mean a new job?"
I smiled and shook my head, starting to coil my ring finger around the telephone cord.
Mike continued, "Because I'll have a job vacancy in my agency in March. I need good co-workers to expand."
"Is that a job offer, Logan?" I laughed quietly, a little flattered.
"Long hours, lousy pay, I offer you the same as NYPD." I could see Mike's unique grin.
"Sorry, you're too late. I start my new job the first of February."
"Oh," I heard Mike's disappointment. "And who caught you? Homeland, DEA, NSA or the US Marshals?"
"You are good. Yes, they all knocked on my door, but in the end I decide for the ATF. I'll work as an industry operations investigator."
"Uh…?" Logan ran out of arguments, but picked up courage the next moment. "I knew you would never choose a private company."
"Right, we're a family of public servants. I can't escape."
Mike laughed heartily. "Okay, never mind. I hope you'll have success in your new work."
"But you would have much more fun in my business."
"I know Mike and I'll recollect your words when the ATF isn't nice to me." I joked playfully.
"Eames, do you know how to reach Goren? I tried to call him a few times..." I wish I did. "Oh, sorry sweetie, someone is knocking here. We should meet for a beer. Better sooner than later…bye." I heard loud noises on the other end and then a click.
"Bye," I said into the dead line, and rolled my eyes.
Do you know where Goren is? My fingertips brushed over the closed envelope. It was thicker this time but I couldn't read the postmark again and the postage stamp was in Arabic characters. Not to mention that Bobby hadn't added a return address. I propped the letter against the telephone and hung up my coat in the wardrobe.
I shuffled back to my phone and ripped off the bandage. I sat down, starring at the envelope. Bobby had written the address – again Alexandra c/o Goren. I recognize his hand writing. I reached for the letter opener.
No sister in the salutation, just a simple Alex. My lips curled to a smile.
I unfolded the sheets and flattened them as the phone rang again.
I picked up the receiver. "Okay Mike, Friday at eight at The Finest."
"Who is Mike?" I heard Brian's annoyed voice, his tone the same as it had been for weeks and my smile froze. I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes.
"Just a former colleague who wants to meet for drinks."
"I told you I arranged for you to meet my boss on Friday. You have to listen to his offer." I counted silently from ten to zero.
"And I told you, I won't join B&C Industries as security consultant." I scratched at the needle puncture. "Today I took the drug test."
"Drug test?" His voice tumbled.
"Brian, I told you a thousand times. In two weeks I start my job at the ATF. Everything is set. I signed the contract." I paced back and forth as much as the phone cord allowed.
"But Alex, B&C will pay you so much more."
"But…why do you never listen?" I sighed, and started to tremble. "I've explained to you numerous times all my arguments against B&C and why I'm choosing another civil service. I can't just be a number in a big business, even when the monthly check would be immense. I've seen so many good cops who failed…" Stash!
"Damn, Alex. What should I tell Mr. Rosenkrantz? I agreed for you."
"Do you hear yourself? You agreed for me. So get yourself out of this mess." My voice was as sharp as a knife.
He rang off without saying good bye. I moaned exhaustedly, and my shoulders slumped. I slipped down onto my couch and curled under a quilt into a ball. I couldn't stand this relationship…this farce of a relationship any longer. I sobbed a few times and as my tears dried on my cheeks I reached for Bobby's lines.
Alex, January, 11th
I miss you…
The desert-sky is endless in the night. The million sparkling stars draw your picture into the night sky and refuse to let me sleep.
The days are exhausting and each one challenges me anew. They fly like the wind, but the nights last forever. I see you, smell you and feel you. You are everywhere. It is bewitching and the wind whispers your name.
When I close my eyes, I see you on your porch, looking back at me. I see your fluttering coat, your tousled hair and your beautiful but worried face. It was easy to make this first step, but every new step which takes me farther away from you is a burden.
How much easier it would be with you here by my side. The partner I could trust with anything under the sun. The friend I would embrace in the moonlight.
I can still feel your warm skin on my lips; can sense your strong body against my frame. Your trusting eyes accompany me at every step. Alex, I won't abuse your faith.
I'm not done with my search, but I can't wait for the day I can come back, back home, back to you.
I'm curious what you're doing now. I can't imagine you not as a member of the NYPD, but I know you had made or will make a wise decision for your future plans.
Did Lewis try to get my baby? I know he sweet talks very well. I hope you are firm in that point.
I'm sending you a picture of me, so you know that I'm fine.
My eyes snapped open because I thought the second sheet of paper was also a letter, but now I realized it was a printout of a digital photo.
I saw Bobby in a sparse surrounding. He looked good, burned but healthy. My fingers touched his image. On the horizon fluttered a black red and golden flag. I frowned. To my knowledge Germany hadn't any deserts and it was still winter. Bobby couldn't get sunburn. Where was he, I took another look at the stamp. I needed to find an interpreter.
Bobby was alive – thank goddess. I giggled at his reference to his best friend. He shouldn't be that certain, that even I would give back his car. The Mustang was a dream and was amazing to drive. Also his encouragement felt so good. I didn't know that I needed his positive words. But then my eyes were magically attracted to the first line of the letter. Bobby missed me…a lot and wanted me by his side…hugs in the night. Maybe it was just the heat and the loneliness but there weren't many interpretation possibilities of his words. I gulped and stared for endless minutes at his photo. I missed him so much that it hurt and I wanted so badly to let him know that…