hall, then she wiggled her knees like a sprinter getting ready for the lineup to be called.
I whispered, “Thank you” into her ear and gave her a squeeze. Relief washed over me.
***
I drove an Iniquus pool car across town, past where my apartment building had stood before the fire burned it to the ground. The corner where I grew up had morphed into an office complex. Out of the ashes comes progress, sort of.
I ticked the left-hand signal down and waited for my turn at the light, checking my watch and drumming nervous fingers on the steering wheel.
Five minutes down the road, I pulled into a mall parking space, did a quick scan, dragged the bill of my baseball cap lower over my eyes, and moved to the entrance. I wondered if Spyder would be observing me like he did when I was his student, noting where I made mistakes and left myself exposed. I made sure to follow protocol for meeting a contact in public spaces. I went in and out of stores, watching for a tail. I walked with groups so it looked like I belonged and peeled off into the ladies’ room. In the stall, I changed my clothes from my backpack. With a new hat, a new gait, and my backpack stuffed into an oversized hobo bag, I headed to the food court. I scanned, but only half-heartedly. When Spyder wanted me to see him, I’d see him and not a moment before.
At the counter, I accepted my mango sorbet from the cashier and licked along the edges to smooth the sides and prevent it from dripping. I couldn’t believe the Confucius fortune had worked. Two years. I shook my head and tossed my receipt into the trash. It was that easy. I had simply forgotten how to click my ruby slippers together and transport Spyder home. I bet a psychiatrist would have a field day analyzing the whys and wherefores of that black hole.
I pretended to window shop, watching the passersby in the reflection on the glass. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a tall man with blue-black skin, long limbs, and graceful movements weave in and out of the crowd. He wore his black fedora pushed forward over his brow, disguising the part of the face that the human eye zones in on as the first point of recognition and description – the forehead and hairline. I watched him head toward the exit, and I followed at a discreet distance out to the parking lot, into the white van with the overly tinted windows, and snapped my safety belt in place.
“Hello, Lexicon.”
I stared straight ahead with a grin stretched across my face. “Hi, Spyder. Thank you for coming home.”
I rode in silence. Easy. Being with Spyder was as familiar and as comfortable as lounging around the house in pajamas. Like wrapping up in soft warm blankets on a chilly evening and feeling perfectly content.
He drove us to the Maryland shore, where we rolled up the cuffs of our pants and pulled off our shoes to walk along the water line. Though it was an almost-hot Indian summer day, and my hoodie kept me plenty warm, the water felt spiky cold. By the time we got to the large rock, our “thinking spot,” I welcomed its radiant heat.
“I can see from your eyes, Lexicon, that you have forgotten one of the most important lessons I taught you.”
I quirked my head and waited.
“You must laugh a deep belly laugh every single day, no matter how the day presents itself. Surely there is one thing in each day that is a source of joy and from which you can balance the darkness with light.”
In my mind, I became defensive. The last Spyder had heard about my welfare, I had survived the Travis Wilson attacks and was doing fine. If he knew how my life had unfolded over the months since our separation, he would be more patient with me. I lifted my chin a little; the move smacked of belligerence. I worked to take the edge off with a little shake of my head.
Spyder reached for my hand and looked at me with his steady gaze. “I left my location immediately to return to DC. Spencer and Striker both filled me in on your
I whispered, “Thank you” into her ear and gave her a squeeze. Relief washed over me.
***
I drove an Iniquus pool car across town, past where my apartment building had stood before the fire burned it to the ground. The corner where I grew up had morphed into an office complex. Out of the ashes comes progress, sort of.
I ticked the left-hand signal down and waited for my turn at the light, checking my watch and drumming nervous fingers on the steering wheel.
Five minutes down the road, I pulled into a mall parking space, did a quick scan, dragged the bill of my baseball cap lower over my eyes, and moved to the entrance. I wondered if Spyder would be observing me like he did when I was his student, noting where I made mistakes and left myself exposed. I made sure to follow protocol for meeting a contact in public spaces. I went in and out of stores, watching for a tail. I walked with groups so it looked like I belonged and peeled off into the ladies’ room. In the stall, I changed my clothes from my backpack. With a new hat, a new gait, and my backpack stuffed into an oversized hobo bag, I headed to the food court. I scanned, but only half-heartedly. When Spyder wanted me to see him, I’d see him and not a moment before.
At the counter, I accepted my mango sorbet from the cashier and licked along the edges to smooth the sides and prevent it from dripping. I couldn’t believe the Confucius fortune had worked. Two years. I shook my head and tossed my receipt into the trash. It was that easy. I had simply forgotten how to click my ruby slippers together and transport Spyder home. I bet a psychiatrist would have a field day analyzing the whys and wherefores of that black hole.
I pretended to window shop, watching the passersby in the reflection on the glass. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a tall man with blue-black skin, long limbs, and graceful movements weave in and out of the crowd. He wore his black fedora pushed forward over his brow, disguising the part of the face that the human eye zones in on as the first point of recognition and description – the forehead and hairline. I watched him head toward the exit, and I followed at a discreet distance out to the parking lot, into the white van with the overly tinted windows, and snapped my safety belt in place.
“Hello, Lexicon.”
I stared straight ahead with a grin stretched across my face. “Hi, Spyder. Thank you for coming home.”
I rode in silence. Easy. Being with Spyder was as familiar and as comfortable as lounging around the house in pajamas. Like wrapping up in soft warm blankets on a chilly evening and feeling perfectly content.
He drove us to the Maryland shore, where we rolled up the cuffs of our pants and pulled off our shoes to walk along the water line. Though it was an almost-hot Indian summer day, and my hoodie kept me plenty warm, the water felt spiky cold. By the time we got to the large rock, our “thinking spot,” I welcomed its radiant heat.
“I can see from your eyes, Lexicon, that you have forgotten one of the most important lessons I taught you.”
I quirked my head and waited.
“You must laugh a deep belly laugh every single day, no matter how the day presents itself. Surely there is one thing in each day that is a source of joy and from which you can balance the darkness with light.”
In my mind, I became defensive. The last Spyder had heard about my welfare, I had survived the Travis Wilson attacks and was doing fine. If he knew how my life had unfolded over the months since our separation, he would be more patient with me. I lifted my chin a little; the move smacked of belligerence. I worked to take the edge off with a little shake of my head.
Spyder reached for my hand and looked at me with his steady gaze. “I left my location immediately to return to DC. Spencer and Striker both filled me in on your
Similar Books
