Page 11 of Stolen Christmas
Once the slot opens, we see it’s empty. My heart sinks when I see that my SIM card and memory card are missing. I can feel every single teardrop build up before they fall, filled with anger and pain, and then let loose. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay.” A worker grabs a tissue box from the front desk and hands it to me. I gratefully take one and wipe my face.
“Do you need me to call someone?”
I don’t have anyone to call other than Officer Fields, the same man I’ve been dismissing every time we meet. He’d generously stopped by twice and taken me for coffee. Each time, I felt like he wanted more, and a part of me almost felt like accepting just because he was pushing, but I’m not ready for dating, and he was trying too hard.
“Can I have my same phone number?”
“Yes. We’ll just give you a replacement card. Do you know what happened to the cards?”
“I do, but I have a feeling it’s going to get complicated.”
“It’s a crime, but I need to cancel your old sim card. We’re going to load your new one, and you can log in to your account to transfer any existing backup data. Hopefully you have backed up data on the cloud.”
I smile and thankfully send up a silent prayer for the accidental error I made last year when I lost a homework assignment and promised myself to always have backups. I nod.
“Just give me a minute and we’ll get the ball rolling.” An hour later, I’m leaving the store with my new phone up and running. Most of my old videos and memories of my parents are still intact, and my contacts are still in place. Now, it’s on to the next problem: finding a new job before my life spirals way out of control.
I get back to the house hours before Noah gets home, and my phone rings. It’s Officer Fields calling again. It’s like the third time he’s checked up on me in two days, and although I’ve turned him down for dinner, I may have to accept. I said yes to coffee before, but now I’ve had an awful fucking day, and I don’t know how I’m going to manage. My boss just fired me, so I need a meal and someone I can bounce ideas off of.
“Thanks for taking me out,” I say, stepping into the restaurant near my apartment.
“No problem. I’m just checking on you guys. You look wonderful.” We are quickly seated and handed menus and glasses of water.
“Thank you.” It’s a tiny little Mexican spot that doesn’t require any fancy attire. I want to keep it less formal because I get the idea that he thinks we’re dating or at least seeing each other. He isn’t in his uniform and he looks handsome, but something about him is different.
“How’s your brother?” he asks, trying to break the tension he must sense rolling off me. Before I can answer, the server sets down chips and salsa.
I take a chip and dip it in, trying to avoid the question. He does the same, and once I finish it, I finally answer, “He’s doing better. The teachers haven’t had a problem with him, and school’s out in a few days.” I cross my fingers and send up a silent prayer that I don’t have any more issues. Luckily, all the charges have been dropped and he was given a slap on the wrist.
“Let’s hope he keeps it together, but you seem stressed.” He reaches out and takes my hand, rubbing tiny circles around my wrist. In movies, this would be the romantic part, but it’s weird and ticklish, and not in a good way. “Are you okay?”
I have to hold back the tears. I pull my hand from his and take a sip of my water before I reveal my shitty day. “Unfortunately, today’s not my day. I’ve lost my job,” I confess. The weight of the truth coming out feels slightly cathartic, but the feeling is brief.
“What happened?”
“My boss is a real hard case, and apparently I’m just too responsible with my time. I was a minute late, and that was enough to fire me.” I don’t want to explain everything else because he doesn’t need to know all that. Besides, he’s interested in me too.
“Well, sorry to hear that. Unfortunately there’s not a lot of places hiring at the moment, and seasonal jobs are almost over. As shitty as it is to say, you’re gorgeous, so there are other opportunities for you.”
I hold my hand up, stopping him from saying something stupid and rude. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to suggest something terrible, especially from a man of your position.” I stand up from my chair, and he reaches out, taking my wrist.
“Wait. Don’t go.” I sit back down, giving him a moment to redeem himself.
“No, of course not.” He shakes his head and then lowers his voice. “But there are clubs that you could work at as a server, or if you wanted real money…” He doesn’t have to finish that sentence for me to figure it out.
“Excuse me, but what can I get for you?” the server asks, coming up to us. I’ve forgotten all about the food. I don’t really have money to spend, and I don’t want Tony to pay for me.
“I’m buying,” he reminds me. “Please don’t do that split-bill thing.”
“Fine. I’ll have the two chicken taco dinner, please.”
“Cilantro and onion?” he asks me.
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll have the three steak taco dinner, please, with the same. Thanks.” He takes our menus and walks away with a small smile.
