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I love that about you.The music from the alleyway starts up, and I can’t help but feel at peace. But the following text message has me stopping.
I love everything about you, Pheebs.Enzo’s fucking heart emoji is on point. I don’t reply to his message. I can’t because he can’t know I never stopped loving him and feel the same.
I put my phone away and kept walking, enjoying the rest of my sunny afternoon. The place is amazing; Rachelle is back in Utah with her daughter and boyfriend. She sends me daily pictures of piles of laundry and dirty dishes. I send her photos of the sunrises, food, and shopping that she loves.
My hotel is a hot spot right along the beach. It’s not usual for I don’t wander around the city, but I don’t have to go far to find what I am looking for here. The city is alive with its people, culture, food, and music.
I am standing in the lobby when the shots ring out. I freeze and can’t run away like the others who have survival instincts, whereas mine just doesn’t compute. Blame it on my grandfather's hateful words from the random violence I experienced. But I sit and wait for what comes because childhood trauma sneaks up on a girl when she has forgotten it still lingers.
“Down!” The man doesn’t wear a mask, and neither do his friends. They aren’t scared like we are. They know they hold power, and this afternoon, we have become their prey.
I press my belly to the waxed floor, minimizing the times my chest raises me off the ground. I try to sink through the floor, disguise myself into the marble.
I am lying on the outskirts of the circle, not the prime attraction. I can see at least ten other people without turning my head. I can hear the woman closest to me start to cry, but I don’t meet her eyes. Because I am fighting back my own tears.
“Vai, Vai, Vai!” Another man starts shouting, but I can’t focus on his Portuguese long enough to understand what he says. But the ones farthest away do. And they jump up, they start to shuffle behind the hotel desk, and only a few of us remain on the bottom of the room.
I hold my breath when the perpetrators begin to pour gasoline around the others and over their heads. They start to scream, and I close my eyes, hoping it quiets their terror. Only then, when I hear the burst of flames do I reopen my eyes to witness something horrifically unimaginable.
With my phone in my hand, I call Enzo; I listen to the ring repeatedly until it connects me to your voicemail.
“Enzo. It’s Phoebe. Enzo. I’m so scared.” Chills are running all over my body, and I can’t control the shake of my body as fear covers my entire being. “I just wanted you to know that despite our differences, I’ve loved you every day and think you are the only one I will ever love. Please don’t forget me, remember me.” Another spark is thrown, and I flinch, dropping my phone. I don’t care to pick it up. I start to recite the National Parks like I always do when I need to find solitude outside of the present world.
I think about everything I shouldn’t do when in a crisis. Like what Enzo was going to say the next time he saw me. How foolish the thought, but it brings me momentary sanity to the scene in front of me. An escape I grab at.
“I’ll tell you when I see you next. I promise it will be worth the wait.”Enzo laughs into the phone, and it isn’t a happy sound I’ve heard in a while.
“Just tell me.”Enzo and his surprises, I swear.
“It’ll be better in person. Patience, Phoebe.”You laugh again, and now I repeat the conversation in my head. I wonder how many of these times I’ve missed out because the time you say this and the time I see you are far apart.
Bullets echo, and I turn my head to the ground. Smoke starts to fill the air, but I still hold my scream, strangled by the fear of being noticed.
It’s like when we broke up, but you didn’t break my heart this time. I am not sad. I am so scared I might die with vomit in my throat and not courage.
We can’t celebrate news of any kind. We can’t cry and cling to bad. In person is always a promise you believe but can’t bet on.
I think about that as I am lying on the ground about to lose my life. I am worried about the things you promised to tell me in person, but you brushed off or forgot.
Now I’ll never know, and I pinch my eyes shut because maybe I can come up with reasons why they weren’t good enough to be heard.
The woman next to me throws up as the smell of burning hair and flesh hits our nostrils. She reminds me of Rachelle, and I immediately think I have to save her.
I can’t stomach it either, but I cover my mouth and nose, trying to not bring attention to us.
The laughter of the front man doesn’t make me feel safe; the sound echoes a strange syllable. I don’t want to memorize it, but I know it is embedded into my veins, just like the toxic smoke is inhaled within my lungs.
My stomach clenches from the fear. I taught myself fear was my friend; it helped me. But this is a new kind of terror, and I can’t put out a hand to bring it closer, or it will kill me.
Screams are ricocheting around the fancy lobby. People are dying in front of me and my teeth clatter together because I believe I am next. I haven’t made a peep. I am shaking too scared to move or make a noise. My eyes are wide as I pretend to be numb from what I witness.
I can’t save them; I can’t keep myself. I don’t know why I struggle, why I am frozen. Fear has told me to stay, but I need to run, I need to push back; those people over there need to survive. I can’t watch another person die. I won’t live with myself if we don’t get through this.
Another guy starts firing off words in a language I can’t translate. His arms are wide, showing us who is in charge. The group of five men is in control. I avoid eye contact because I don’t want to remember their faces; they don’t deserve to be the villain in my nightmares. I try to focus on the door. So close but so far away.
Pedestrians are running by, yelling; I want to scream for them to help us. Someone has to come and save us. It feels like hours before I hear the noise of what we all longed for. But I worry it might be too late for some of us.
Police sirens start slowly down the road, and these men, whose only crime was to taunt, terrify, and murder strangers, are done. They leave, unworried of being caught or having to deal with retaliation.
