by Amy Rachiele
I couldn’t see him anymore other than his reflection in the mirror on the wall. His face was furrowed with worry.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes. You’re letting out all my precious steam,” I said attempting to sound upbeat. The door clicked closed.
*****
When I came out of the bathroom, there was a coffee sitting by the TV. Will was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, sipping on a coffee of his own.
“I’m ready.” I busied myself by repacking my stuff. “Is this for me?” I ask out of politeness as I picked up the coffee.
“Yeah. I already checked out.”
“Thanks.”
I gathered my stuff and headed for door. Will stood up and took my bag from me.
The car was freezing inside. It felt like a morning in December, not early October. I definitely did not have the right clothes for this weather. Neither did Will. In fact, Will had nothing but the clothes on his back.
“Where are we headed?” I asked as Will steered the car out of the parking lot.
“We’re headed to a safe house,” Will pronounced, then slipped deep into his thoughts.
I pulled out my cell to give my parents and Jen a call. I hadn’t talked to my parents since before the incident. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I just knew they would know something was wrong when they heard my voice. My parents and I were never terribly close. Since college, they definitely gave me my space. The most obvious “space giving” part was that they moved to Michigan. They were already “snowbirds” in Florida during the winter, typically leaving for Florida on November 1.
“What are you doing?” Will asked in disbelief.
“I’m going to call Jen, then my parents. What’s the problem?”
“Do you have any idea how easy it is to track a cell phone?”
“Sorry, I don’t typically GPS people. Derek called you from his last night,” I huffed.
“That was totally different. Our phones are secured by the government, and we weren’t staying in that location long enough to be tracked.”
I held the off button down and tossed the phone in the back, throwing a minor tantrum. Not a full blown one, not yet.
“So, Mr. Espionage, how am I going to contact my family? Should I cut words out of newspapers and magazines and glue them in the form of a secret message?” I couldn’t help but be sarcastic.
“We can deal with it later. Right now, let’s just get to where we need to be.”
“And, where would that be?”
“Greenwich Lake in Maine. It’s a small town area...secluded. The house is right on the lake surrounded by a thick forest.”
Silence sat between us, uncomfortable and aggravated.
I finally broke. “How do you like working for the FBI?”
“When I’m not getting my face pummeled and dying, it’s actually a great job. I’m finishing my education, get to put bad guys away, and they’ll pay for me to go to college.”
“How many kids does the FBI recruit?”
“I’m really not supposed to say. The program is kind of a secret. The way you know about it is getting recruited. I really shouldn’t have mentioned what we are. The FBI had to be creative to catch some of the criminals that are using youth to further their means.”
“When this is all over, Derek and I will be assigned somewhere else. We’ll be needed in another place, maybe a gang in the city or another high school. We’ll play the part until we look too old. At that point, they will give us different assignments, or we can do something else. Each person that gets accepted into the program generally does it for four years. It’s one of the Special Units in the Public Corruption Division. Recruits can renew if they want.”
“That is really interesting. I can’t believe stuff goes on like that.” I pause. “You said you remembered me from school. What made you remember me?”
Will shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “We would have been in the same grade.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, I stayed back twice. I would have graduated with you.”
“Oh and...?”
“And...I just noticed you. That’s all.”
Somehow I didn’t think that was it. So I pushed.
“That’s all?”
“Yeah...and we had pizza together...once. About two years ago, your friend Kristin and a bunch of other kids went out for pizza after a football game. I was there with a couple of my friends,” he informed me, uncharacteristically shy.
I tried to think back. That was before Kristin said all that terrible stuff to me. It had to have been a Friday night. All of a sudden, it dawned on me.
“You’re right. You were with Joe and Steve. Everyone pushed a bunch of tables together at Maretti’s Pizza. Wow, good memory.”
“I only remember it because you were there. I always wanted the guts to talk to you, but our paths never seemed to cross.”
“Why didn’t you just come up to me in the hall?” I asked.
“A poor loser druggie like me, come up to you? I don’t think so. I was a real one then, not a pretend one. That’s why they gave me this assignment. Tommy and his friends had to believe that I was legit.”
His view of the past made me reflect. I thought of myself as a pretty observant person, being a photographer. But it occurred to me at that second that I didn’t really see anything at all. I always lived my life in a comfortable bubble, only letting in the things or the people I wanted to.
“Sorry,” I said in a soft voice.
“Sorry? What’re you sorry for?” He turned to me for a brief second.
“Sorry that we weren’t friends in high school.”
*****
Will pulled over for gas and a bathroom break and bought two more coffees and a few muffins from the coffee shop attached to the gas station. It was now ten in the morning, and we had been on the road for a couple of hours. Outside had warmed up; the temperature would probably hit seventy degrees. We had been in Maine since last night, but this place seemed to be really off the beaten path.
As we pulled back on the road again, I thought about my classes. If this dragged out, I would need to retake the entire semester. It was only a month and a half into the school year. Then I pondered what I would do for money while I was here. I only had what was in my pocket. I was already told I couldn’t use my bankcard. My mind raced with all the things I should have done to prepare for this. How could I prepare, when I didn’t see it coming?
We munched on our muffins and gingerly drank our hot coffees.
Between bites I asked, “So what made you get into drugs and stuff?”
“That’s not a hard question. My parents,” he says deadpan. “My parents were coke heads. I was raised in a family where we barely had money for milk and bread. My father went from job to job, and my mother never got off the couch. You saw my place. I still live in the house I grew up in. It was originally my grandparents. They gave it to my mom and dad when they got married. It’s bought and paid for. All my dad had to do was pay the taxes and utilities, and he still couldn’t put food on our table. All their money went to drugs. I am a victim of my environment,” he said as if he was repeating something he heard from a therapist.
“Where are they now?” I questioned.
“Dad died in an overdose. Mom is in a mental hospital in RI. I go see her once in a while.” He didn’t sound pained, just like it was a way of life.
Sorrow riddled my gut. Granted, my parents and I were never extremely close, but at least I had consistency, love, and food on the table. Now, more than ever, I wished I could talk to them.
We finally turned off onto a dirt road, the kind with grass growing up the middle. It was a road, but the grass indicated it wasn’t used that much.
After a mile or so of trees, trees, and more trees, we came to a gate overgrown with bushes. Will slipped out to open the gate with a key he had. As he swung the gate wide enough for the car to pass through, I noticed that the
bushes were stuck to the gate, not growing around it to make others believe they had reached a dead end.
Will pulled the car up, stopping to lock the gate again. After miles of trees in their foliage splendor, we came to a beautiful clearing with a lake. Will drove up to a house...no, a cabin made out of logs. The house was so picturesque it could be in a tourist magazine. Massive tree trunks supported the front porch. Rocking chairs settled by the door. This place looked more like a vacation house than a safe house.
When I was a kid, my parents used to rent a place like this in New Hampshire. A slight twinge of nostalgia rippled through me as I thought of the times my Dad tried to teach me to swim. Every time we went to the lake, he would throw me in and tell me to kick my feet and swish my arms, but I never could learn. I just didn’t have the coordination. After every trip, my Dad would say on the drive home, ‘Next year, Joy. Next year is your year.’
Will and I got out of the car. It felt a lot warmer than it was a couple of hours ago. He lifted my bag out of the backseat, and we walked towards the house.
“Can I call my parents now?” I asked him.
“Sure, let’s get settled in,” he said.
The cabin was spacious and open. There was a stainless steel kitchen to the left and a catwalk above with metal railings. On the back wall was a huge fieldstone fireplace. I ached to take some pictures. The place was spectacular. Will walked around checking the windows, then carried my stuff upstairs.
“I’m gonna put this in one of the bedrooms. Here’s my cell. Don’t tell them where you are.”
As Will went upstairs, I dialed my parents, calling the house in Michigan first. No answer. Then I tried their condo in Florida. No answer. Only my Dad had a cell phone, so I tried that and got his voicemail.
“Hi, Dad. It’s Joy. I just wanted to touch base with you guys. I’ll try you again later. Love you. Bye.” I called upstairs to Will, and he appears on the catwalk. “I can’t get them. I’m going to try Jen.”
I heard his footsteps descend the stairs as I dialed Jen’s number.
“I’m going to check around outside,” Will called over his shoulder.
I paced the kitchen as I listened to Jen’s phone go to voicemail. I left her a message, too, as Will came back in.
“No luck?” he asked.
“No. So what now?”
“How about lunch?” Will opened the kitchen cupboards. They were stocked full of canned goods, cereals, and all sorts of snacks. “I make a mean box of pasta.”
Will boiled pasta for lunch while I explore my new home for an undetermined amount of time. I couldn’t even imagine how much this place cost the government just in maintenance.
“It’s ready!” Will called up from downstairs after a while. I joined him at the small dinette table in the kitchen.
“How are you feeling? You’ve been quiet,” Will asked me between bites of spaghetti.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about the house my parents used to rent when I was a kid. It was just like this one. Well, not as new or large.”
“That’s cool. Did you like going there?”
“Yes and no. My dad tried desperately to teach me how to swim. It didn’t work too well.”
“You don’t know how to swim?” Will asked incredulously.
“Nope. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I was barely ever in a pool, never mind on vacation with my parents, and somehow I learned how to swim.”
“How great for you,” I said sarcastically, digging around in my pasta with the fork.
“That’s what we can do today. I can teach you how to swim.” His face lit up with excitement.
“I don’t think so,” I countered.
“What? Why?” Will looked disappointed.
“Don’t you have FBI stuff to do?” I asked, trying to get off the subject of swimming.
“Nope. Just waiting for a call that will give us an update.”
Around Will’s brown eyes was still a yellowish tint. His lip appeared to be back to normal. He must have sensed me giving him a once over.
“You sizing me up? Are you questioning my swimming skills?” he asked with a chuckle. I quickly looked down at my pasta.
“No, I was just thinking that you were severely beaten about a week ago. You probably shouldn’t push yourself.”
“Are you kidding me? The water is the best thing for me,” he laughed at me.
“What am I going to wear?” I tried again.
“There are always supplies in these safe houses. Winter jackets, bathing suits, workout clothes. You name it.”
“It’s freezing outside.”
“No, it’s not, and I bet the water is warmer than the air.”
After procrastinating for nearly an hour, I met Will at the dock down by the lake. He was already floating lazily when I appeared in my borrowed FBI bathing suit, silently praying that the suit had never been worn. I had my sweatshirt and sweatpants on over it. To me, it was still chilly out.
“Come on in. The water is great,” Will said with a watery wave of his hand. Yuck was the only word that came to my mind. I slid my pants off, and goose bumps sprouted on my legs.
I whined at Will, “It’s too cold for this.”
“The water’s beautiful,” he said, mimicking my whine.
I finally shrugged out of my sweatshirt and walked to the edge of the dock to sit down. Thankfully, the suit was a black one piece. All I needed was for a bikini to ride up on me.
Will glided through the water over to me, and I slipped down into it, never letting go of the dock. He reached for my hand and tried to pull me away.
“No, no. I’m all set right here.”
“Come on,” he chuckles. “There are no sharks in here. Well...maybe one.” He made his hand into a claw pretending to bite me.
“Ha ha. Very funny,” I said, not the least bit amused with his joke.
He attempted to get me away from the dock, this time reaching for my hand that was clutching the wooden planks. I didn’t budge.
“Wait, let’s try this.” Will turned his back to me. “Put your hands around my neck, and I will swim you around until you feel more comfortable.” Hmmm, I thought to myself. How is squishing my wet body against his supposed to make me feel MORE comfortable?
“I don’t think so,” I told him. Will pivoted back around.
“What do I have to do to get you to cooperate? You are VERY difficult, you know. I am beginning to think you’re a hostile witness.”
“Oh, ha ha,” I deadpanned again. “The jokes keep coming.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, Will submerged into the dark water. I nervously looked around for him, watching for ripples in the surface. Nothing. A tiny inch of panic reverberated up my spine.
Without warning, Will sprung up in front of me, catching me off guard. He grabbed my hand off the dock and rocketed us away and out in to the water. I squealed in shock as I was pinned to him. Waves of water sloshed around us as he swam on his back. I had no choice but to cling to him.
After a minute or two, he slowed. He tilted back up and put his arms around my waist to hold me above the water. I automatically put my arms around his neck. The situation had an intimate quality to it. I tried to look anywhere but at him, which was hard considering his face was only inches from mine. The silence between us was uncomfortable. Will broke it.
“Now, do you want to try it my way?”
Without waiting for an answer, he switched easily from me on his front to me on his back. With forward movements of his arms, we were gliding gently on the water.
“Watch my hands...”
That was all I remembered Will saying because a peaceful pleasure came over me. The warm water against the chilled air, the swishing and swaying of waves, and touching Will combined together, converging into contentment. Looking at the water this close up was like trying to see through a murky green glass bottle. I tried not to worry too much about what lived in it. I concentrated on the soothing
pleasure it offered, a welcome break that eased my tired nerves. Just for a few minutes, I was not afraid.
Will made his way over to the dock and a little shock of disappointment shot through me. He turned around, holding me so I wouldn’t slip under the water.
“Are you even paying attention to me?” he asked, holding my gaze in his.
“Sort of,” I said softly.
“I hope you pay better attention in those photography classes of yours.” He smiled. I smiled back.
Silence again. Awkward...
Will assessed me, as though he were trying to see right through to my core. He glanced at my lips. At that moment, I could see he wanted to kiss me. Even with my limited experience, I knew that’s what he wanted.
I had never had a boyfriend. I kept to myself, did my own thing. At least that’s what I thought I did. Maybe, it’s how I explained to myself why I shut people out. Wow, that’s pretty deep, Joy.
“Do you want to dry off?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah. I’d like to take some pictures, too. I haven’t even turned on my camera all week.”
In one swift movement, Will put his hands on my waist and lifted me easily on to the dock. In the next second, his was sitting next to me. We dried off with the towels Will had brought from the cabin.
We stood and continued drying ourselves, and I caught myself staring. I was bent over drying my legs when I noticed Will’s toned ones. Blushing a little at my thoughts, my eyes shifted up his body. He had lean muscles that were defined. Below his rib cage area were large, dark bruises. Mesmerized, I walked over to him and rubbed my hand gently over the very sore looking spots.
“Hey,” he said. “That tickles.” Will laughed and gently pulled my hand away. I peered up at him.
“Will. That is unbelievable. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it earlier.”
“Maybe ‘cause you avoid looking at me,” he countered matter-of-factly.
“What?” I asked disbelievingly. “What are you talking about? I look at you!”
“You didn’t EVEN look at me at the hotel. You barely let your eyes meet any part of me, including my own eyes, while we were in the water. And you must have had the most interesting pasta in the whole world when we ate lunch,” he rambled on while drying his brown hair roughly with the towel.
