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That was exactly what I should be doing, right?
Calling the police?
I reached for my phone, only to find I hadn’t grabbed it. With trying to remember the water, my keys, my wallet, and to put the stickies on Frida’s feet, I’d just… left it.
I never normally would have noticed until we got home and I saw it sitting on the counter. There was no reason for me to look. I didn’t have a social circle, so the only reason I even had social media was to follow authors or artists I really liked.
“Damnit,” I said, offering Frida more water, but she turned her nose up to it.
What was I going to do?
Ask a store to use their landline? Ask a stranger to use their cell?
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Besides, by the time I got to find the non-emergency phone number, then get in touch with the police officer from the night before, chances were that the guys would be long gone.
But I couldn’t go home either.
I don’t know where the idea came from.
Really, it seemed as simple as catching a flash of yellow in my peripheral vision. Then turning to see a sight I forgot existed thanks to my dependence on ride-shares.
Taxis.
Maybe they were on a decline in most places, but in busy cities, like Miami, they were still relatively common.
I was walking in that direction before I could think better of it. Before I could think about it at all.
“Need a ride, hon?” the older driver asked, voice having a hint of New York. So did the impatient air that hung around him when I took a second to speak.
“Could you drive me out to Golden Glades?” I asked.
“That’s a long trip, hon,” he said. “Gonna be pricey. Sixty or so.”
“That’s fine. But… can I bring her?” I asked, waving toward Frida who was eyeing the cab with suspicion.
In general, I tried to walk her anywhere she needed to go. Luckily, her vet was only a ten-minute walk away.
But I had needed to get her into a ride-share a few times in the past. She didn’t love it, but she didn’t fight me, either.
The driver leaned over, looking down at her.
“Yeah, sure. So long as she don’t try to bite me, I’m fine with it.”
“Great,” I said, wrenching open the door, and nudging Frida inside.
“Got an address for me?” he asked, messing with his taximeter, then his phone that was stuck in a holder.
“114 Peacock Road,” I recited from memory. I tried to convince myself that I only remembered it because it was so cute. The reality was that I’d stared at that note for a long time. Until his address was imprinted on my brain.
“Alright,” he said, plugging the address into his phone, hitting a button on the taximeter, then pulling off.
I was thankful for the fact that he was apparently a big fan of his sports podcast, because he completely ignored me as he talked back at whatever they were discussing.
I melted into the seat, closing my eyes for a second, just enjoying the cold air as it flew out of the vents.
Frida also seemed to just be cooling off for a long few moments before she turned away from the window, and curled up with her head on my lap.
