Page 18 of My Russian Roommate

“Candy had to call out from her shift. Her baby is sick and she can’t take her to the sitter. I need you to stay until closing time,” he tells me.

“But I have plans and I’m supposed to get off in an hour. I haven’t even eaten anything since breakfast,” I try to push back.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you. Besides, you haven’t earned a dime in weeks. I thought you had to save up for a new place to live. You can take a break now and get something to eat from the kitchen.”

I shrug my shoulders and sigh, “I need to call my ride and let him know.”

“I saw your ride. A police car? What’s that about? Are you in some sort of protective custody?”

My thoughts flash to Lev and how he looks after me and I almost answer yes.

“No, he’s my…well, we’re…we’re living together,” I’ve just realized that we haven’t defined this relationship. I don’t know what to call us.

“Well, then, go give officer roommate a call and take your break.” He turns to walk away before stopping to add, “Thank you, Leah.”

He’s a bit gruff on the surface, but he’s a nice man. If he wasn’t, he couldn’t convince me to stay late for him.

I go to the back and try Lev’s cell phone. The call goes straight to voicemail so I assume he’s on a case and leave a message, hoping he’ll have a chance to check it before nine.

I grab a burger and fries from the cook and head out to the back hall to eat it. This space just inside the back door has excellent ventilation and is the only area behind the counter that doesn’t feel like an oven. I sit down on top of a closed bucket of flour and lean my back against the wall. I close my eyes for a moment and just try to relax.

My feet are aching already, and I’ve just added three more hours to my shift. I’m almost too comfortable in this position. So comfortable, in fact, that I start to fall asleep. It’s becoming more difficult to open my eyelids. I’m about to give up the fight but a loud crash on the other side of the door causes me to bolt to attention and almost drop my dinner from my lap.

It’s at this moment that I remember I could be in danger. I must have cried out. I don’t remember doing it but the cook rushes in to check on me.

“What happened? Was there a rat?” he shouts, holding his kitchen towel like some sort of limp weapon.

“No. Something crashed against the back door,” I explain.

“Sure, a drunk bum. That’s what. They’ve started sleeping in the alley again. You should have that cop of yours clear them out when he comes to get you.”

“That cop of mine.” His choice of words brings a smile back to my face and I sit back down and take a bite out of my burger.

The next three hours move at a snail’s pace with very few customers and lousy tips. When it’s time to lock the door, I kick off my shoes to provide some relief to my aching feet. Two weeks away from here did a number on my stamina. I help clear the last of the tables, mop the floor, and wipe down the counter. As I continue to work, the cook and kitchen staff leave through the back door, leaving just the owner and me inside. He’s tucked away in his office, closing out the day’s receipts, and I head back to the broom closet to put away my cleaning supplies.

My boss must have thought that I left because I can hear the alarm beeping out front. I rush through the kitchen and see that the dining room lights have been turned off and the alarm is about to activate. Frantic, I panic, grab my purse, and run out the back door. It’s the only entrance that locks automatically when the door closes.

I get out before the alarm's motion sensors detect me and, for a moment, I feel a sense of relief. That moment ends when I realize what I’ve just done. I don’t know if Lev is out front or not and I’ve just locked myself out of the diner. The big, cold world shrinks around me and a mind-numbing sense of agoraphobia takes hold. Every sound is amplified. Every flash of light feels like a spotlight. I inch my way to the end of the alley and peer out at the street. Lev’s car isn’t here.

“What do I do? What do I do?” I mutter to myself before I remember that my phone is in my pocket. I pull it out and begin to dial Lev, but before I can hit send, something heavy drops onto the back of my head, making me see stars. I feel myself fall to the pavement.

As I land on my side, the lights go out.

11

MISSING

LEV

My last call of the night makes me late in picking up Leah after her shift. I don’t know if her boss is the type of guy who will stick around so she can wait inside or not so I gun it using my lights and siren to blow through the traffic. My heart nearly climbs up my throat when I pull up to the diner and it’s pitch black inside. I stop and scan the area to see if she might be standing on the sidewalk but there’s no sign of her.

“Just get ahold of yourself and think,” I mumble as my blood pressure rises. I pull out my phone and try to call her but the call goes to voicemail so I leave a message before hanging up and trying again.

“Leah, it’s me, malyshka. I got here late and you’re gone. If you took a cab or got a ride please call me back and let me know. I’m worried, little girl, and I have some good news to share. Call me back.”

I step out of my cruiser and walk to the door of the diner. I peer inside but see no signs of movement so I rap on the door and wait to see if anyone answers. It’s useless, there’s no one there. Why would all the lights be out if they were in there?

Hopping back in the car, I gun it in the direction of home. Maybe she got a ride and she’s in the shower. Maybe she got home and went straight to bed. Maybe her phone is dead and she forgot to charge it. All of the possible scenarios run through my head but none of them prevent the looming feeling of dread to creep up on me. Something is most definitely wrong. If she took a cab or got a ride, she would have called to let me know.

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