Requiem for a Soldier (Requiem #1)

Chapter 5: Avoidance

March 28

Tayja    

Sometime later I wake to find a sandwich sitting on a plate on the coffee table in front of me. Ryan is nowhere to be seen. I sit up and see a note sitting next to the plate. It reads:

went fishing

back after sunset

The handwriting is atrocious and his note looks as though a child wrote it. I wonder if he wrote this with his stiff, injured right or his non-dominant left. Either way, I have the cabin to myself for the rest of the day. I look around for a clock and find a small one hanging on the wall opposite the kitchen. 1:34. I don't know what time the sun sets this far north at this time of year. I might have six or seven hours until he comes back.

My gaze snaps over to the door. That could be six or seven hours that I'm alone. Icy fear creeps into my mind. Bad things happen when I'm left alone and unprotected. I stand warily and step slowly over to the door. I reach out cautiously and try the knob. It turns. I pull. The door opens.

I slam the door shut and lock it quickly. What kind of crazy person doesn't lock the door when they leave? It's like asking someone to rob you and murder the girl you left alone inside.

I consider the man who has unwillingly become my host. He's hiding something. He balked at my insinuation that he's a murderer, which I didn't really believe anyway. But his reaction took me by surprise. He seemed deeply offended. I didn't care much at the time because I was rather offended myself. What the hell is wrong with him? He has a family - a living, breathing family. A family who must care about him. Does he have any idea what I'd give to have that again? I can't believe his attitude.

Thoroughly irritated, I look for something to do. There's no TV here. Or any electronics. I wasn't allowed to have a cell phone for fear it could be used to track me, but I'm not used to being without an iPod or some way to access the Internet. I start scanning the titles on the bookshelf, but the desk in the corner catches my eye. I walk over to it and study it. It has three drawers down one side. The one at the bottom is the largest and the top two are the same size. I pull on the top drawer with my pinky finger. It doesn't move. I use all my fingers, but it doesn't budge. I look closer and see a lock at the top. Why does he have a locked drawer when he's the only person around to open it?

I pull on the next drawer and it opens easily. It's full of an assortment of random items - I guess everyone has a junk drawer - but one item in particular grabs my attention. It's a phone, but not like one I've ever seen. I pick it up and turn it over, examining it. A satellite phone, maybe? I put it back in the drawer and close it, checking the next one. There's a laptop at the bottom of this one. I pull it out of the drawer and open it, but I don't try to turn it on. It looks brand new, like no one has ever really used it. My laptop back in college seemed eternally covered in fingerprints, no matter how often I tried to scrub them off, and the keyboard and trackpad showed signs of frequent use. This one looks like it's never been used. I put it back and close the drawer.

I eat the sandwich Ryan left for me and start working on the dishes from breakfast. When everything is clean, I find myself in a conundrum. When I was searching for bowls and pans and utensils while making breakfast this morning, I discovered that Ryan doesn't have a very organized kitchen. In fact, I don't know how he finds anything in here. I could try to remember the nonsensical locations where I found the items I used to prepare breakfast. I have my doubts about how successful that will be.

Instead, I end up reorganizing Ryan's kitchen. Halfway through, I stopped and wondered if maybe he'd be upset by it. But by then, it was too late. After a few hours, the kitchen looked better than it probably ever had. But I found myself again with nothing to do.