Wait for Me (2 page)

I mumbled a reluctant ‘yes' and gave him a timid smile. I knew he was being sincere – sincerity was hardwired into his DNA – but still I had this entrenching feeling of shame.

“Alright, I'll show you how to work the cameras, then I'll let you settle in,” he said, dragging me to the video recorder.

“Okay.”

I would be taking care of surveillance during the night. The monitors were placed on the chest of drawers in front of the bed, next to the LED TV. They started recording at eight in the evening and ran until he came back at seven the following morning.

My job, in exchange for tuition money, was to monitor the parking lot overnight and occasionally during the day if Fred was away. He said that there wasn't much to it, and that it wasn't necessary for me to work all night. During the week, it was rare for anybody to come and go after midnight. A beep would warn me that someone was coming into the building and the customer's I.D. would appear on the screen that was linked to the CCTV camera. It was only at the weekends that people regularly came and went. Even so, he said that with the lot being fully automated, I shouldn't have to do anything except watch and, occasionally, help out if there was a problem with the system.”

“Such as?”

“I'll explain later. For now get yourself washed and showered, I have to finish a few things with Gustav. Let me know when you're all settled in.”

Alone at last in my new retreat, I lay down on the bed. The mattress was a little firm, but I figured that would be better for my back. I re-read the message from Paul and decided to answer.

I turned off my phone and closed the figurative ‘humiliation' chapter.

I freshened up and put all four of my items into drawers, then re-joined Fred in his office. He had a customer with him, and his suit suggested that he did not want for money.

I muttered a ‘good evening' and contained myself in the waiting room, idly flicking through a motor magazine.

“There you go,” Fred said. “I've taken a copy of the instruction book and the warranty card. I've also passed the information onto the insurance company, so you're protected in case of any damage within the parking lot.”

“Perfect. And the membership card is the same?” the man asked.

“Correct. I've just updated our information – nothing has changed for you. Besides, the value of the Audi is more or less that of your old Mercedes, so the rate is no different either.”

“Well Fred, pleasure as always. Have a nice evening and I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Likewise, Mr Scott.”

Before he left, the man looked at me, puzzled, even suspicious. “Goodbye, Miss,” he said.

“Bye,” I replied, barely looking up.

I could not deal with those wealthy business types, especially when – despite being less than five years my senior – they addressed me with that haughty air of superiority.

As the door closed, Fred organized the paperwork by shoving it into the file labeled ‘pending', which lived in the drawer labeled ‘to do'. This was a system he had inherited from Dad. He turned off the computer and then called Miranda to say that he was on his way home.

As promised, before leaving he pointed out the cameras, explained the fire procedures and told me what to do if a customer found themselves locked inside the barriers. First of all, I had to identify them – each card had a unique number. On the computer, he also showed me how to access the server that would provide verification.

He hypothesized a few potential problems, which he assured me had never happened before. First, it was possible for I.D. cards to become de-magnetized. In that case, I could provide a temporary card until the original was replaced. These were kept in the safe behind the photo of Dad. The second problem concerned the building entrance. After seven in the evening, Saturday afternoons and all day Sunday, access was only possible in two ways. There was the sliding front door, which required an I.D. card, and through the vehicle barrier. In case the sliding door or the barrier malfunctioned, I could over-ride them manually with an impossibly stiff crank handle. He assured me that I would not need to use this, and that in case of a power cut there was a back-up generator connected to the system, and this guaranteed electricity for at least an hour. If the power failure went on for any longer than this, only then could we allow customers to park in any of the five authorized spaces marked out in front of the repair garage. This outcome was unlikely.

“It'll happen tonight knowing my luck,” I laughed.

Fred squeezed his arm around my neck, pretending to choke me. “Ever the optimist,” he growled.

Back in the office, he locked the door and rolled the Venetian blinds down, closing for the night.

“Alright,” he said, handing me a set of keys. “The red one opens the glass door to the workshop, the green one is the door to the street, and the blue one is your room.”

“Okay. Red – glass door. Green – street. Blue – dungeon.”

“You got it,” he shook his head in amusement. “I hope you don't get too bored. I installed cable so you can watch movies.”

“It's perfect – you thought of everything.”

“Please call me if you need anything, even if it's just because you're feeling

afraid.”

“There's nothing left to be afraid of,” I said with despair.

“I know. I'm just saying.” He smiled with genuine kindness. “By the way, for food, I have a deal going with Wu's and the grill next door. I left you the numbers on the desk, so just order whatever you want.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow morning. I'll come and wake you up.”

I called the Chinese to order vegetable noodles, spring rolls and a bottle of beer, then settled myself on the bed to watch TV alone. Every now and again I glanced at the CCTV monitor. It was a little eerie to sit and observe a hundred, neatly parked cars – silent and exposed. I prayed that the alarm wouldn't go off.

At around nine-thirty, I heard the beep. I scanned the video to spy a man getting into his car and leaving through the automated barrier. His I.D. card appeared on the screen.

As soon as the barrier closed, the information disappeared. That's it, I thought. I really didn't have to do anything. Bored, I began to browse the Internet. I retrieved my Facebook password. I hadn't logged in for years – Paul had smashed the computer during one of his outbursts. In the land that time forgot, social networking was one step away from devil worship, and I had no choice but to adapt to the backwater dogmas of that hillbilly family.

I stalked the profiles of old friends, noting how radically their lives had changed.

Some had moved away, some now had children. I changed my relationship status from ‘engaged to Paul Rider' to ‘single'. With hesitancy, I sent messages to the people I deemed to be real-life friends. This amounted to five of my eighty contacts.

“Hey, Sophie here, I'm back in New York. How are you? I notice you got married/had a baby. How's it going? I'd love to see you again, we should catch up over a drink sometime,” and so on and so forth.

I wasn't really expecting anybody to respond.

As I was writing the fifth e-mail, Mr Scott's I.D. card flashed on the screen again. I watched him park the car in his allocated bay and exit the building in the company of a woman. From the outdoor camera, I saw him cross the street and disappear.

For the remainder of the night, there was no more movement and I fell asleep. The next day, Fred woke me up at 7 a.m. sharp.

“Good Morning!”

“Morning,” I grumbled from under the blanket.

I got dressed and joined him in the office.

“How was last night?”

“Nothing suspicious, only Mr Scott.”

My brother mumbled something that I didn't catch, and I didn't bother to ask.

“Mom's expecting us before one.”

I sighed and took a bite of one of the donuts he had brought.

“I couldn't be less enthusiastic about this,” I replied.

“Me neither,” he mumbled.

The arrival of a customer marked my cue to leave. I strolled around the neighborhood looking at the shops. Nothing had changed except the barber's, which was now a comic book store run by a huge ginger boy. I ultimately arrived at Lucas's café, my old haunt where Ben was serving. After exchanging pleasantries, he got me up to speed with news of some of the regulars that I vaguely remembered. I was surprised to discover that Ester was still working there. She had acquired U.S. citizenship two months ago and was now applying to get documents for her son and husband, who were in Guatemala. She was hoping to celebrate Christmas with them. She and Ben were careful not to probe into the reason for my sudden return. I was sure that my brother would have told them everything anyway, although even he didn't know the full story behind my sudden flight.

Shortly before lunch, Fred picked me up and we headed over to our mother's.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and dragged my feet towards the house. My mother was already waiting at the door. The moment she laid eyes on me, she lowered her gaze, overwhelmed by the sight of her twenty-five-year-old daughter, emaciated and miserable.

What did I tell you!?" whispered Fred, nudging me towards her.

“Mom, it's just a few pounds,” I cried, sinking into her embrace.

“A few pounds too many, Sophie, you're a skeleton. Feel that – you're all ribs.”

I choked back a sob.

“Come on, Mom,” my brother said. “A bit of your lasagna and she'll be right back on track.”

“Three hearty meals coming right up.”

She darted to the kitchen. Now that I was here, I wanted to stay in her arms and let it all out – let her stroke my hair in the way that only a mother can and console me with her words. But I had put her through all of this already with Albert, my previous boyfriend. The last thing she needed was a second act.

She pulled a tray of lasagna out of the oven and unloaded a giant slice onto my plate, ordering me to sit in my old spot at the table. We did the ritual sign of the cross, gave a few words of thanks to the God who insisted on keeping us alive and then made a toast to my absent father.

Dad had been dead for three years. Stomach cancer had taken his life in less than six months. It was too few to really say goodbye and too many for the agony that he had to endure. Since his passing, my mother would serve him a portion of food at every meal. It was her way of keeping him in the family, she said. Neither my brother nor I had ever mentioned this arrangement. I liked it, and believed that he did too. The invisible presence was comforting – it took me back to the more peaceful times of my childhood. I would remember his compassion; the way he would pick me up after every fall and blow away the pain.

After the third forkful, the interrogation commenced.

“So what happened this time?” she asked.

“Not much. Things hadn't been working for a while. We weren't compatible,” I answered shortly.

“So it was mutual?”

“Pretty much.”

“What does that mean?"

“It means that we broke up, Mom, leave it,” I said, exasperated.

“From the moment I saw him I said he was bad news,” piped up my brother, finally letting it out.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, through a mouthful of lasagna.

“Well, at least this time you don't seem to be in pieces,” my mother said, unloading another slice onto my plate, which was still full of food. I rolled my eyes.

“He's isn't going to show up at the door like the other one, is he?” she asked.

My eyes widened and I shuddered at the thought.

“No, Mom. I really hope not.”

“Mom, Sophie's hoping to finish college,” said Fred, coming to my rescue.

Her demeanor changed completely. “That's great news, I'm so glad. That's what dad would have wanted.”

“Yeah.”

“If I remember, you were only five exams away from the end?” Fred asked.

“Yeah, that's right.”

Fortunately, as the discussion moved on to college, Paul was set to one side. For the better too – it was blood from a stone and they knew it. I was good liar with a stiff upper lip. I rarely talked about myself, and if I did, then there was something to worry about.

I stayed at my mother's until dinnertime and then returned to the parking lot to start my second night shift as an emergency assistant.

The weekend was pretty busy, just as Fred had warned me. Until 6 a.m. there was a continuous flow of messages as people went to and from their beautiful, gleaming vehicles. I managed to fall asleep during the early hours of the morning and was woken up at 2 p.m. by the phone ringing.

“Hello?” I mumbled, half asleep.

“Were you asleep?”

“Yeah Fred, I was sleeping,” I muttered. “Last night was busy as hell.”

“I bet. Anyway, I called to say that we'll make dinner for you tonight. Miranda wants to meet you.”

“Okay, what time?”

“Eight o'clock?”

“Um, okay, but what about the CCTV?” I asked, eying the monitor.

“Don't worry. I can see everything on my computer here at home.”

“Ah,” I replied, puzzled.

“You want me come pick you up?”

“No, I could use a walk, see you at eight.”

“All right, see you tonight, bye.”

I hung up and fell asleep until mid-afternoon, then went to the café for something to eat.