Night Security

Yellow Roses

(Three years previous. Kamilah, aged 17)

My pencil scratches against the paper as I take notes. "So, when Clifford Geertz said that cockfighting in Bali had strong meaning, he was explaining the deep connection to the toxic masculinity of the culture. Can anyone-" My phone begins to play a tone I wished would never play. "MISS. TIFFT! If you would kindly turn it on silent, so I can finish my lecture, it would be greatly appreciated," Professor Kaph says angrily.

"I-I'm sorry. Excuse me," I grab my phone and run out. I look at the caller ID. "Tifft Private Air Control," I sigh. "Hello?" I answer it.

"Hello, Miss. Tifft. My name is Steven McMilay I was given specific instructions to follow this procedure in the event of an accident. The flight 9985372, Jersey to Kazakhstan, has gone down. Contact with the passengers, Mrs. Lorraine Tifft-Smith, Mr. Oliver Tifft, and Miss. Laurel Tifft, failed. Contact with the pilot, Alexander Stevenson, and Co-pilot, Carley Donning, failed. Only the worst can be assumed-" I start to tune out the bland male's voice as I slide down the wall. The cold floor is hard as I sit. "Do you understand this information I have given?" He asks.

"Yes. I, Kamilah Tifft, understand the information relayed to me and I give consent to the company, Tifft Private Jets and Transportation, to act in partnership with the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation in the event of the aforementioned accident involving Flight 9985372, Jersey to Kazakhstan," I say, choked up.

(Present Day)
"You just had to go to the Kazakh Mountain Tomb, didn't you?" I chuckle softly, remembering my parents persistence. I sit on the bench in front of the three neatly kept graves. I glance across the plot to two other families paying respects. "You did a good thing, mother. Sending funds to families," I smile, remembering the meeting I had with my parents.

(Eight Years ago, Kamilah aged 12)
"Now, you understand what this means, right?" My father looks at me.

"Of course dad," I nod.

"And what is it you say?" He narrows his eyes at me.

"I, Kamilah Tifft, understand the information relayed to me and I give consent to the company, Tifft Private Jets and Transportation, to act in partnership with the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation in the event of the aforementioned accident," I repeat. "And what do you say to the Estate Administration?" He asks. "I, on behalf of my parents, would like to send full coverage funds for the funerals of any and all employees who have lost their life during work under the employment of Tifft Private Jets and Transportation, Tifft Artifacts and Antiques, and/or Tifft Department of Exploration and Discovery," I say.

"Very good. Now, if any of this does happen, I want you to take care of Laurel, alright? She's your sister and will need you if it happens, alright?" He puts his hand on my knee.

"Yes, father," I put my hand on his.

(Present Day)
"And don't worry, father. Our house is still in tip top shape. The study gets cleaned every week," I smile, remembering my dad spending hours reading and working in that room. "Remember how much you begged mom and dad to take you on your first expedition? You thought it was unfair that I got to take one at 15 and you didn't. Even though mine was a graduation celebration. I got to see the pyramids in Egypt and you wanted to see the mountains in Kazakhstan," I feel warm tears run down my face. I stand up. With a gloved hand, I dust the leaves off the top of the three headstones. As I do every year, I place one yellow rose on each. "Goodbye. I'll see you next month," I kiss my finger tips and place on my father's headstone. I repeat for my mother and sister. I use the last, the fourth, yellow rose, I pull my hair out of my face by placing the flower on my ear.

I arrive at work in my uniform. As I climb up the steps to the museum, I pull the flower out of my hair and stick it into my uniform pocket. I walk in to see the small kid from this morning. "Hey, kiddo!" I say. "Your father around here?" I ask.