The Spaces Between Us

by Ethan Johnson

  Warren really made Gracie suffer. She was determined to get her job back, no matter how long she had to sit and wait, or how much groveling she’d have to do when he finally deigned to meet with her. Warren was a jerk, but he wasn’t completely heartless. After an hour or two more, he’d relent and call her into the office.

  Early afternoon saw an uptick in traffic into the rink. It was New Year’s Eve, which meant school was out and many people had the day off from work, for one reason or another. A percentage decided to hang out at the skating rink. Gracie would glance at her phone periodically just to check how long she had been in purgatory but kept it in her pocket to show Warren how committed she was to get her job back. He hurried by and gave her a passing glance. He didn’t comment on her phone not being visible.

  Gracie spent the time people-watching. Shadowy figures passed by on the rink oval, illuminated or eclipsed by various lighting effects. Teens collected in the concession area and ate overpriced nachos and slurped sodas while staring at their phones and comparing notes about which meme was funnier.

  Everyone was just a face in the crowd. She’d nod to a few regulars when it registered who they were, or when they recognized her with her new hairstyle. She tried to keep her back straight to signal to Warren that she was serious and paying attention.

  She looked across the concession area and saw a young couple sitting at a table for two. The young woman caught her eye and made an embarrassed face. She leaned in conspiratorially and told her boyfriend something which caused him to peek over his shoulder. The girl patted his shoulder and gestured to turn around. She said something intently to him, and whatever it was had gotten him visibly excited. He scooted his chair so he was seated to her left. He looked at Gracie and said something to his girlfriend that caused her face to turn pink. He whispered in her ear and her face widened into a shocked smile.

  “That’s not going to happen. Shut up, that’s private.” She slapped him on the shoulder.

  Gracie realized who the young woman was. She tried to look away and feign interest in the spinning disco ball over the center of the rink. She caught the pair out of the corner of her eye, making intense eye contact and kissing.

  Aimee had rebounded quite nicely. She had a new boyfriend. She was using her relationship with Gracie to hook him. He was probably begging for a threesome. Gracie felt sick to her stomach. She tried to ignore it, but the leering looks from Aimee’s new flame got to her. She felt like a piece of meat being ogled by a starving alley cat.

  Gracie squeezed her eyes shut and fought back tears. She had loved Aimee, and really did want things to work out between the two of them before determining that they never would. Now she questioned everything about what they had back when they were together. Was Aimee really a lesbian? Was she just fooling around, looking for something kinky to tell guys later? Clearly, to her, it was the latter.

  Gracie stood up and marched out of the concession area without making eye contact with Aimee or her boyfriend. She didn’t get away completely unscathed, as she heard him whisper, “Really, you and her? That’s so hot.”

  Tears ran down her nose as she passed the front counter. Warren glanced up from the register and called out to her. Gracie stiff-armed the front door and left without saying a word.

  She was done with Roller Blaze. Done with Warren. Done with Aimee. Done with this town.

  CHAPTER 74: LONG DISTANCE

  Jacqueline had just wrapped up her weekly status meeting at 9:20 A.M. when her cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and nearly dropped her phone. The caller was identified as PHILLIP–MERCURIO ATLAN. She stepped into her office and closed the door. She brushed her hair away from her ear as she took his call.

  “Hello, this is Jacqueline.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to your brother?”

  Jacqueline raised her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Jacqueline, I need you to think long and hard about your answers. Something very serious has happened and I need to understand his part in it.”

  Her mind reeled. Marc was never involved in anything serious enough to rise to Phillip’s level. They had met once or twice at business functions that he got dragged into back when Jacqueline was trying to actively encourage him to take his schooling in a more achievement-oriented direction. When Marc settled in to his usual mid-grade approach, she decided not to invest any more attention in his development. For Phillip to remember him at all was highly unusual.

  “I saw him last weekend, when we drove up to see my family for the holiday. Why? What’s wrong, Phillip?”

  There was a pause on the line, and then Phillip’s voice became graver. “I’m looking at security footage from around three hours ago. He and a small group of people snuck out of the service entrance of the Forty-Nine Palms Tower. I thought it might be someone else, but he’s fully in the frame. I’m sending you the photo now.”

  Jacqueline’s phone beeped. She pulled it away from her ear and tapped on the notification. A grainy but identifiable image of her brother with a long-haired woman close behind him was in full view, as advertised. Her mouth went dry as she held the phone to her ear again.

  “Phillip, isn’t that in… Dubai?”

  “Yes. I’m here now, in the security office. He and some others were apparently squatting in my father’s condo. And that’s not the worst part.”

  She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. “What’s the worst part?”

  She heard a heavy sigh the other end of the line. “I believe my father and mother are dead.”

  Jacqueline’s eyes snapped open. “They’re what? How?”

  Phillip took a moment before responding. “I… don’t know how to answer that question. Just know that they’re dead, and your brother may be directly or indirectly responsible.”

  “Just a second.” She stepped over to her desk and sat down hard in her chair. She pressed the speakerphone button on her desk phone and dialed 9, then Marc’s cell phone number. It rolled immediately to voice mail. She rolled her eyes and disconnected the call. “Let me try him at work.”

  “Fine, quickly.”

  She looked through her contact list and found Marc’s direct work number. She pressed the speakerphone button again and dialed. After three rings, a message played. “You have reached the desk of Melanie Franks. I will be out of the office from Wednesday, December 29 until Tuesday January 4. I will not have access to my voice messages during this time. If your call is urgent, please hang up and dial Shay Baldwin at—”

  Jacqueline scribbled the number down in the margins of her day planner. “One more moment, Phillip, I apologize.”

  “Quickly!”

  She dialed Ms. Baldwin’s number. A soft, upbeat voice answered the phone. “Hello, and thank you for calling, this is Shay, how may I help you today?”

  Jacqueline set the cell phone down face-up and cleared her throat. “Yes, hello. My name is Jacqueline Morris Winstead. I’m Marc’s sister. Is he in the office?”

  “Oh, no, Miss Jacqueline, he surely isn’t. Didn’t he tell you?”

  She leaned back from the phone. “Tell me what?”

  “He quit. No notice or anything. I was really upset. I sent him an email, but he never responded. I guess he had his reasons, but it was really sudden.”

  She straightened up in her seat. “He quit? When was this?”

  “Oh, this past Wednesday. He just walked out. He… well, it’s none of my business, but he didn’t even say goodbye.”

  The cell phone buzzed with Phillip’s voice. He was trying to be part of the conversation, but the phone was too far away to be picked up by the microphone. She tried to anticipate what Phillip might be asking.

  “Did he mention anything about Dubai?”

  “What? Oh, he surely didn’t. Not to me, anyway. I would have heard about it if he had, though. I think the only trip he took all year was to see his family last weekend. Were you there too? Was it good?”

  “What? Oh, yes, it was.
Thank you for asking. Did he ever mention anything about a company called Mercurio-Atlan, or any sort of side interests he might have been involved in?”

  “No, he surely didn’t, Miss Jacqueline. I’m sorry I’m not more of a help.”

  Jacqueline activated the speakerphone on her cell phone. “Phillip? Anything to add?”

  “Was he hanging out with a strange crowd?’

  “No sir, he surely wasn’t, not that he told me. We spoke every day. He would have told me if anything new happened.”

  Jacqueline hit on one more question. “So, nothing about a new girlfriend.”

  “No, Miss Jacqueline, surely not.”

  “Thank you, Shay. Enjoy your holiday weekend.”

  “You too. Have a blessed day.”

  Jacqueline winced and terminated the call. She picked up her cell phone and turned off the speakerphone. “Phillip?”

  “I’m sending over some more pictures. Please tell me if you recognize anyone in the photos.”

  Her phone beeped several times in succession. “I will, Phillip. Can I reach you back on your cell phone? I need a little time to process this. I’ll try to get some answers at this end.”

  There was a pause on the line, then simply, “Fine.” The call terminated immediately thereafter.

  She sat back in her chair and exhaled sharply. She set the cell phone face-down on her desk, glanced at her desk phone, then pressed the on-hook dial button and dialed a short extension. Her assistant came on the line.

  “Yes, Ms. Winstead?”

  “Chelsea? Clear my schedule for the remainder of the day.”

  “Yes, Ms. Winstead. May I ask why?”

  “Family emergency.”

  “Yes, right away. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Jacqueline considered asking her to look up flights to Dubai. “Will do.” She terminated the call.

  She picked up her cell phone again and flipped through the photos that Phillip had sent. She saw a Middle Eastern man dressed sharply in a suit, two bulkier men in suits that seemed to be bodyguards or more likely, “personal security”. Four people in modest garb kept together. It wasn’t immediately clear who they were. There was Marc, then a long-haired woman in a dress. In the final photo of the series, she saw that they were holding hands.

  Jacqueline leaned back in her seat. “What are you doing in Dubai, Marc?”

  CHAPTER 75: SANCTUARY

  Tobias led Marc, Inanna, and the others through a series of city streets, cutting through buildings whenever possible. Marc wasn’t sure if it was to take advantage of the air conditioning, or to avoid exposure in other ways. He glanced up and saw a security camera panning the lobby of an office building they had entered and figured it was the former. After zig-zagging through a few more city blocks, they came upon a rather nondescript building that seemed to be made of sandstone. It reminded him of the anonymous office buildings that could be found in downtown Chicago, only more in line with a desert climate.

  To his chagrin, they bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs. He thought they were only going up a flight or two, but when he reached the top of the fourth flight he cursed himself for not asking Tobias how high up they’d be going. He thought Tobias had no concept of how elevators worked, but then again, he didn’t seem as though he had taken twenty or thirty flights up to return home from “the temple”. If this was indeed the same place, it was not intended to attract a lot of foot traffic.

  Tobias stopped and knocked on one of the doors. There were no signs or placards denoting the purpose of the space, just simply “508” etched in frosted glass beside the door. A voice asked something through the closed door. Tobias responded in measured tones. The door clicked and swung open.

  A bearded man wearing a suit nodded to Marc as he entered the office. He pointed down to his feet and said something in another language. Tobias turned around and smiled. “Remove your footwear, please.”

  Marc pulled off his shoes. Inanna slid out of her sandals and set them beside his shoes. The group padded along into the office suite in either bare or stocking feet.

  The space was very sparsely appointed. The floor was covered with low-pile carpeting wall to wall. A small table with two unlit candles stood at the far end of the room. A clay vessel stood off to the side, supported by a wooden tripod, and Marc noted that the wood seemed rather simple, as opposed to the ornate and luxurious materials that he had seen during his brief stay in Dubai.

  The walls were bare, except for the heavy curtains that covered the windows. Wall sconces that apparently came with the office space were lit, to Marc’s relief. The room would most likely be pitch black, or nearly so, depending if the curtains allowed any daylight to leak through.

  After exchanging pleasantries, Tobias, his guards, and his servants all stepped into the bare room and knelt in formation before the table. Tobias was in front, flanked by his guards, His servants knelt in a line a few feet behind him. The bearded man that had granted them entry to the suite knelt in the rear of the group. They arched forward, and touched their foreheads to the floor, saying nothing. They rose to a full kneeling position, closed their eyes, and repeated the process.

  Marc looked at Inanna uncertainly. Was he supposed to be part of this? Inanna apparently read his nonverbal cues and shook her head while smiling thinly. She took his hand a led him down a hallway into a smaller room that had pillows piled up in one of the corners. She laid down on the pillows and beckoned him to join her. He answered her summons but didn’t feel comfortable with engaging in any of their usual intimate activities. To his relief, she simply kissed him, then pressed her forehead against his. She closed her eyes and smiled broadly. He closed his eyes and felt something tug inside of his head.

  We will go soon. Marc must be patient. The journey is long.

  Marc nodded.

  Lie here with Inanna. We will be called when it is time.

  Marc nodded.

  He felt her lips find his again, pressing down warmly. He didn’t want to defile the temple, if this indeed was such a place, but he enjoyed the closeness of her. He concentrated on the sound of her breathing, the touch of her skin, and the stillness of the room.

  Before long, he found himself getting restless. He enjoyed the feeling of Inanna beside him, but he was starting to feel boxed in, and worse, hungry. Breakfast, as late as it was, had worn off, and he found himself trying to suppress hunger pangs. Inanna seemed to suffer no such afflictions.

  He began to stir, intending to inquire as to dinner, or at least something to eat in general. The air was thick with prayer, and he felt awkward breaking the holy silence with his personal needs. He hoped that the language barrier could be overcome. He considered what sorts of sign language would be most effective.

  Inanna put her hand on his chest and pressed down gently. He looked into her eyes, and she gave him a slight head nod, indicating not to get up. He patted his belly and said weakly, “Hungry.”

  Inanna smiled and whispered in his ear. “Sittu.”

  Sit? He was trying to get up, but she wasn’t letting him. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but she shook her head and pressed down on his chest a little harder. Marc felt his eyelids grow heavy. He blinked, fighting off sleep. He needed food. He could also do with a bathroom break. The room dimmed as he squinted through his eyelashes.

  Inanna kissed his forehead. “Sittu.” Marc went limp and began to snore. Inanna ran her fingers across his forehead, smiling at her sleeping consort.

  CHAPTER 76: ROAD TRIP

  Gene wheezed as he pedaled a rusty black bike in a random pattern though a series of alleys and side streets. His head was filled with places he couldn’t go: home was out of the question, as he had no keys and no wallet, therefore no ID, and no apparent means for gaining entry that wasn’t going to involve a lot of explaining and even more hassle. Plus, he wasn’t going to bike that far. What little he had done left him nearly winded.

  The office was no-go. He wasn’t going to ci
rcle back to his car either. He glanced down a street that featured a prominent DEAD END sign. He felt that summed up all his available options. He kept cranking along, choosing streets at random to traverse while he tried to come up with a plan.

  An airplane roared overhead. He wondered if he could hop on a flight cheaply and sort out the remains of his life on a beach somewhere. Airports meant heightened security, questions, and identification. He rolled over some train tracks and considered taking a commuter train out to the suburbs. That would at least put some miles between him and the city. But not nearly enough. He wanted Chicago far behind him.

  Nearly an hour of pedaling had taken him to a large building with buses lined up along the side. He craned his neck and cased the place, looking for the main entrance, and then for someplace to ditch the bike. He found a fast-food restaurant nearby and leaned it against the back of the building. He walked uncomfortably into the restaurant to get a quick bite to eat and a cup of coffee. He didn’t know when or where his next meal would be.

  As he stood in line, a small black boy reached up and flicked Gene’s sleeve. He looked down and realized that the tags were still on his coat. He blew a puff of air up through his mustache and yanked the tags off. The boy looked up at him hopefully. Gene handed him the tags, and the boy looked them over, then waved them around.

  “Whatchoo got?” A female voice spoke sharply behind him. The boy held the tags up and toddled toward her.

  Gene got his food to go. He dug into the bag and unwrapped his breakfast sandwich, then tossed the bag and packaging into the trash. He exited the restaurant and took a big bite of his sandwich. He walked steadily toward the bus terminal, scarfing down his breakfast and taking sips of coffee along the way.

  He entered the terminal, cup in hand. He had never taken a cross country bus ride before. He hoped it was nothing like air travel and that cash was enough to secure a ticket. He stepped over to the ticket counter and hoped for the best. The ticket agent waved him up.