I’d been so mad at myself when I realized as I went through TSA that I’d only grabbed my work phone. If it hadn’t been for the “find my phone” app, I’d have been worried about it the entire trip. I knew it was in the house. The question was, where?
The tea kettle whistled. I put a tea bag in my mug and poured the hot water over it. It was exactly what I needed, and the three minutes before it would be ready felt like an eternity. At least it gave me motivation to find my phone quickly.
I tried the usual spaces: by my chargers, next to my bed, behind my bed, in my bed, under my bed. It wasn’t in my bedroom. From there, I looked in the kitchen. Still nothing. And then I remembered that I’d switched which coat I was bringing at the last second and had transferred items from one pocket to the other right before I left.
It took a few minutes, but I found it wedged in the couch cushion. The battery was dead as a doornail, and I plugged it in. At least my tea was ready, and I took a long sip before I finished sorting my mail.
The recycling pile was much larger than anything I needed to pay attention to. There was an advertisement for a furniture place, some updated Terms of Service for my credit card, and a reminder that my health insurance was overpriced. Nothing that couldn’t wait.
My koala still wasn’t happy despite the shower and tea. I set my mug down and contemplated driving to where I could shift. If it had been an hour earlier, possibly, but I was put-a-fork-in-me done. I was ready for bed.
I put the teacup in the sink and turned on the phone, figuring it probably had enough charge for that. The stupid thing exploded with notifications. I had 43 text messages waiting, 23 missed phone calls, and 17 messages. I put the phone right back down again. That could all wait until tomorrow.
Seeing that it was much later than I realized it had been, I walked to my work phone and sent a message to my boss that I was using my comp time and completely shut it down once it said delivered. I was warning him, not asking. He could be mad about it.
Please.
No. It’s not safe for me to drive while I am this tired. I put the scent machine on for you.
Shift.
Stop or no candy tomorrow.
I didn’t like to be that firm with him, not when he had every right to be upset about being trapped for so long. But if I didn’t, he wasn’t going to let me sleep, and did I need sleep.
Human me was eucalyptus-ed out, but my beast was really needing it, so I set up the diffuser and climbed into bed.
“How I’ve missed you,” I said to my pillow. “Next time I’m bringing you with me.” I said that every time, but never did. The time I tried, it took up most of my suitcase.
I closed my eyes, and just as I suspected, the caffeine did nothing to thwart my sleeping.
3
HARI
“How many days has it been?”
I counted in my head. Three at least, or was it four? I’d lost track.
The number I’d been trying to get hold of finally allowed me to leave a message, and I left one after another. Jackson was on his way back home, and he’d spoken to me from the airport.
“Boss, I apologize, my memory is a little fuzzy.”
That may have been the fault of the wining and dining he’d done, but he had gotten some impressive leads with a couple of hotel chains. Not that we were in the business of mass production, their queries had been for a few pieces in the equivalent of their presidential suites.
“I’m pretty sure that coffee table is still with us. There was a delay because the customer’s address wasn’t in our files,” Jackson told me as an airport announcement almost drowned out his voice.
I put down the phone and went to the workshop. It was a huge space, and while I had few full-time staff, I did employ part-timers and some on a project-only basis. If the hotel deals came through, I’d be looking to add some of those people on full-time.
There were so many nooks and crannies in the warehouse. As kids, my siblings and cousins used to explore spaces that our grandfather had forgotten about. Draped in cobwebs and dust, we’d imagined sailing the seven seas with pirates or exploring cave systems.
In a corner where I’d thought we’d put wood samples for a project that didn’t eventuate, was a low rectangular shape, covered in a tarp. I flung it off and sneezed as sawdust was flung into the air. Damn, there it was. The coffee table I’d assumed had been left at the customer’s door.
Now it really was our problem because the piece had never left the premises. I’d really have to make it up to the customer when I finally got hold of them.
While trudging back to my office, the phone in my pocket buzzed. I didn’t bother to check the number, but when I answered, the voice on the other end said, “You’ve been trying to get hold of me.”
I froze because the guy didn’t sound annoyed, he wasn’t shouting, and his voice was so melodious I wanted to tape it and listen to it when I was in bed.
