As soon as my American and his armed friends close my front door, my speechlessness evaporates and I am losing my cool. Throwing a tantrum? Is that what he called it? This time with nothing to swat!
How dare he do that to me?
And who were those gun-pointing men? That woman who talked to me as if I were a piece of tin to be kicked off a sidewalk, out of the way so they could get to business. What business are they in? They were all from the United States — their accents betrayed that without question. How could they have seen my lease? Do they have friends in Parliament? They all seemed to know him well. Perhaps years of history between them?
Yet no answers for me!
They have my name. My home. It all must lead back to my Edward, must it not? Everything from our first meeting points to Americans knowing that global criminal Edward Thornton lives in Lisbon. I do not know what the blonde woman, and the man called Diojo, had to do with all of this — I know so little — but I must find out!
All has sped through my mind so quickly I can still hear their steps a distant echo within the foyer. One of them even hit the mailboxes on their way out, so confident.
Running to the window opposite the pretty view, opposite where we flung each other’s phones, mine never to be returned to me, I slide the curtain a mere sliver to peer out from. The front door of my building has just shut but they make no sound with their voices. I cannot yet see them. Are they keeping close to the…wait!
There he is!
My arrogant American!
Who are they?
I must know!
He is keeping paces with that woman who must have much power to order him around as she did.
They are aiming right!
I mutter to myself with a mocking tone, “Now. Dressed. Go!” and add as I back away from the window, “Fuck you! Women are meant to stick together yet you force him to leave me in the dark on all counts?”
He says he will call me?
Does he think I will just sit here and wait… and wonder if they are doing terrible things to my father? He has never been the man I want him to be but he is my blood.
What if I never see my American again? I do no know his name…not even a fake name with which to search for him, anymore!
Into the bedroom I race, searching for my ténis de sapato, a title not far from their English equivalent: tennis shoes. Or as English speakers also call them — sneakers.
The title fits.
Ditching my robe for silent clothing to help the sneakers sneak, I yank my long hair into a pony tail, and run back out, searching for my keys. “No, they make sounds! I know where I hide one if ever I am locked out. I will use that when I return.”
Cannot risk noise giving away my approach as I follow that bastard.
Down stone stairs I fly, knowing my neighbors have much to talk about already. No need for tiptoes until I am outside.
The heavy front door gets opened very slowly. I am most careful. Not a creak does it make. Wincing at the chill that nips my nose as if it is a finger pointing at me saying, “I see you!” I pause, pulse quickening to a painful degree.
Onto cobblestone I creep, edging quickly toward the farthest building on the right. A quick glance up and around shows no curtains yanked by curious owners. The noise I make could only be heard by mice as I follow the direction I spied them taking.
This is my neighborhood.
My home for many years.
Its sounds I know.
Much better than they do.
I will track them like a ninja.
I will find out who he is.
Who they are.
What are their plans.
Especially for my father!
If I had my phone?
I do not know if I would call.
His last warning?
Turned to murder.
I do not know who was in that suitcase but I am sure someone died a horrible death that is hidden. Their loved ones will never know of their future coming to a violent end unless it is reported. When I find out what is happening I will go to the Policia and do what is right.
If my American thinks I can be left behind simply because they are pointing guns for power, he is mistaken!
I have seen enough guns tonight to no longer feel shock nor fear. Instead I hold onto what I know is true — courage is more important.
And family is everything.
Authors Note:
Did you think she’d just wait for him? Hell no!!!
That’s all I had to say. Teehheeee.
xx, Faleena Hopkins
Yes! Girl power! Go Tatianna!
I can just imagine your face at the end - doing this: 😏