Born at Dawn by Nigeria Lockley Page B

Chang’s filing a claim.
    Jade must have noticed the pensive look on Marvin’s face. “Are you okay?” she entreated, rubbing his arm to coax a response out of him.
    Marvin took a deep breath, sucking in the vanilla scent Jade was wearing. Normally he would have said something fresh, but he simply replied, “I’ve just got some things on my mind, Jade.”
    â€œWhat happened, Marv?” Jade asked in a singsong voice. “Your wife finally up and leave you?” Jade chuckled.
    Marvin stared directly into her eyes. He cracked a sparse smile. He didn’t want Jade to know how true that statement was. “We had a big fight last night.” He leaned into her, brushing the hair out of her face so he could see her eyes better. “All I need right now is someone to tell me I’m a good man.”
    â€œYou’re a good man.”
    â€œGood and late,” Marvin’s supervisor, Rodney, shouted. “Are you going to tow some cars or what?” He stared at the pair and opened his flabby jaw wide, which usually marked the commencement of a speech about responsibility and the duties of a husband to his wife.
    â€œWell, Marvin?” Rodney cleared his throat.
    â€œSee you around, Jade,” Marvin said, dipping his head under the gate to enter into the garage, barely glancing in Rodney’s direction. He darted to the operator’s desk upon entering and began combing through the message book.
    â€œYou got one message from Milton,” Rodney shouted in his standing position under the gate. “Rig fourteen is broken. I think it might be the carburetor. You’re going to have to take five unless you come in early and work on fourteen before your shift starts; it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? Why didn’t you call in sooner, man?”
    Despite rig fourteen being Marvin’s favorite tow truck, he didn’t have it in him at the moment to focus on fiddling around with the insides of a truck when the insides of his own personal life were discombobulated. “I’ll take five out for a run. If Milton calls, just tell him I didn’t want to get all greasy and dirty before my shift starts, but I’ll work on it after my shift is done.”
    About three hours into his shift, Marvin radioed the garage to check if Cynthia had called but she still hadn’t. He called her cell phone nine times, and it kept going to her voicemail. He called their cell phone carrier and asked them to locate her, but the GPS application on her phone wasn’t active. They would only be able to track her if they had a court order from the police. He argued with the customer service representative for ten minutes.
    â€œI’m her husband,” he pleaded over and over.
    â€œI’m sorry, sir, but those are the rules. Besides, if you’re her husband, you would know where she was. Thank you for calling TRS Connect and have a good day, Mr. Barclay,” the customer service representative said curtly before hanging up on him.
    By the time Marvin returned to the garage, he’d given up searching for Cynthia. He’d spent his shift listening to Jeffery Jordan, an average Joe turned love doctor/ preacher, on the radio declaring to all his followers if you love someone sometimes you really have to let them go, and if it’s truly meant to be, the person would somehow make it back into your life.
    That was enough to calm down the beast inside of Marvin. He accepted the fact Cynthia might still be angry about the fight they had last night. After parking his truck at the end of his shift, Marvin used the phone in the office to reach out to his wife.
    â€œCyn, I didn’t mean those things I said last night,” he started with his message after going straight to voicemail yet again. “You know I love you. I don’t know why I said those things. You know I need you. The boys need you. Just come home and we can work it out.