Lost and found
I dial the number. The telephone rings. A man answers.
“Hello.”
“You have something of mine. Something important to me.”
There is street noise on the other end. A large truck shifting gears.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about that mobile phone you hold in your hand.”
Plates clatter. Background conversation. Laughter.
“What about it?”
“It’s mine. That’s ‘what about it.’ And I want it back.”
“Yours? I don’t think so. I found it in the median strip of a parking lot. Finders keepers, man.”
“Look, it fell out of my coat pocket.”
The wooden legs of a chair drag across a tile floor. Children giggle.
“You should be more careful with your things.”
A female voice, Hispanic, vaguely familiar, asks if everything is all right. Someone asks for another beer.
“Do you know who you’re dealing with here?”
“No, why don’t you tell me.”
“That phone...
A beat. I search for just the right words.
“...that phone is very, very important. I am very, very important. You should return it to me so there isn’t any trouble. Do you understand?
An airplane rumbles. The man waits until the noise abates.
“Actually I have a different plan. I thought I would call up all my friends from around the world on your phone and then, when the battery goes dead or you put a hold on the account, I’ll just toss it out my car window.”
The same airplane passes over my head twenty seconds later. I laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You dumb fuck.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now. I’ve got calls to make.”
“Wait.”
“You get two words, dude, then I’m hanging up. Might I suggest good bye?”
“Abu Ghraib.”
“What?”
“My two words. You’ve heard of it, right?”
“The Iraqi prison? Yeah, what of it?”
“My company makes the torture equipment they used there. My company is good at torture.
A long silence. There is only the din of the outdoor cafe. I continue.
“Try the sopapillas for dessert. Ask Isabel to bring you a plate. Tell her, extra powdered sugar. They’re delicious.
The man attempts to cover the mouthpiece of the phone. Muffled, I hear him call the waitress over and ask her for her name. Isabel answers. She has such a lovely voice. Before he can say another word, it's cards on the table.
“In less than five minutes a couple of gentlemen will enter the restaurant and escort you to a place you won't like and entertain you for the afternoon doing things to your body that you never imagined possible. After today you’ll never sleep a night through, or so I’m told.
I take a slow breath. We are almost finished. I am relishing the moment.
“Now, I would suggest you get up, leave the telephone on the table, and get out of there. But not before handing Isabel a generous tip.”
The man presses a button on the phone - click - then nothing. To myself:
“Excellent choice, scumbag.”
A tap on my shoulder from behind.
“Dad...”
“Hmph?”
“Did I wake you?”
“No, no, I was just thinking. What’s up?”
“I found your mobile phone.”
“What?”
“I found your mobile phone. You’ve been looking for it, right?
“Yeah, but I searched the house. I was sure that I had dropped it outside, probably in the Safeway parking lot.”
“You didn't. It fell between the cushions in the couch. It started ringing a few minutes ago. I reached down and there it was.”
“You’re kidding. I haven’t sat on the couch in days. How could it have gotten there?”
An awkward pause.
“I took it. I was playing a pretend game with my friends. We were pretending to be spies. When we finished, I kind of stuck it in the cushions and forgot about it.”
“Oh.”
"I'm sorry, Dad."
"It's okay."
"Anyway, here it is."
"Thanks."
“You’re not mad at me?”
“No.”
“You seem...disappointed.”
“What?”
“I mean, I figured you’d be angry at me for taking the phone, but I also thought you’d be happy that I found it.”
“I am happy, son. Really. It’s just, well, never mind.”
9:52:38 PM  Stories
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