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I was quiet all the way home, the light bantering about the statue ended when we'd gotten to our vehicles, and gone our own ways. Now,here I am, at home, and I all I want is to be alone, to have some time to think, to reflect on the day without a ton of questions or discussion. The kid usually understands that I need to be alone to think, or process it as he would say.
Grabbing a beer, I head out to the balcony, it's why I insist on keeping chairs out here, even in the dead of winter, so I can think without all the distractions of the loft. But today, the sun is shining despite the happenings of the day and the turmoil in my mind. I take a long satisfying drink of the cold brew, taking in the bitter taste of the hops. Now I can relax, or at least try too.
I should have known, this morning when I told Simon that Sandburg was at the Wilkerson Towers, that he'd be involved, somehow. But it still caught me off guard when I actually heard him tell me he was in that elevator. I worry about him. I worry about getting him involved in something that I can't get him out of. I worry about getting him killed.
I could hear it in his voice today, every time I talked to him, the fear. Along with the blind trust that I was going to get him out of there in one piece. This blessed protector thing is hard to live up to, what happens when I fail him? Will I be able to forgive myself?
I almost lost it when I saw that elevator drop. Blair was in there, being tossed around that tiny space like a rag doll, while I watched, unable to help. If he could have seen me, he'd have known how I feel about him. Although maybe he does know, I called him 'Blair', I never call him Blair unless it's important. This was important, I was scared for him, scared I was going to lose my best friend.
I had no other choice but to keep calling him. I needed to hear his voice, to hear him talking to *me* not the camera that was monitoring the elevator, with the others listening in. But to me and me alone.
I imagine I'll get a lecture from him about being nice to people when he hears about how I threatened Wilkerson. I couldn't help myself, I wanted him out of that elevator and I was running out of time. Wilkerson could have ended it at any time he wanted to but he was stubborn. He didn't take the threat seriously. It didn't matter that his daughter was in that elevator with Blair, or that he might lose a grandchild before it even got a chance to live. Wilkerson was just concerned about his pride and paying would bruise his pride.
When I heard that bomb go off, I thought I'd lost Blair. It was all I could do to keep from pulling him into my arms when I saw him pulled out of that elevator.
I hear him coming now, climbing the steps. His backpack rubs across his leather jacket like a sweet whisper, giving off a slight leather, earthy smell. I can't go near a leather shop without thinking of him. Leather and herbs are two scents that say, define, Blair to me.
His keys are jangling now, I wait to hear the clank as they hit against my keys in the basket, and the soft thud of the back pack on the floor under the coat hooks, 'not carrying your laptop today, eh Chief?' And the creak of the leather jacket, the rustle as he pitches it toward the hook, and the sound as I hear it crumble to the floor, 'you, missed again, Chief.'
Soon, I will hear the sound that I've been waiting to hear. The sound that I am so very glad that I will get to hear again.
His voice, "Jim?"
Ahhh, there it is.
"Yeah, Chief, out here. Grab a beer and join me."
FINIS