Drop #148: Happy Ending

An hour from the hotel she said she had left her mobile there and we had to turn back.

‘Did you check everywhere?’

‘Yes. Everywhere.’

‘You sure?’

‘Positive.’

We were already late and this meant a two-hour round trip delay, at least. We’d just finished a lengthy stretch on a mountain road so terrible it felt like it had been laid right out of Satan’s anus. Getting off it onto tarmac was such bliss, like taking your shoes off when they’ve been killing your feet for hours. Now we’d have to do it again, twice.

The road back had further unexpected delays: in a gruesome accident, a sheet of sheet metal had skidded off a truck and beheaded a man on a moped. Ambulance. Indifferent cops. Blood stained sheet.

Shortly after, we got a flat. I changed the tire in the rain, which had just started.

We arrived to find the front desk deserted. They hadn’t picked up the phone on five attempts either. We were already so behind schedule to reach Sam and Trudy’s wedding, still hundreds of miles away, so, when no one answered our shouts, I went behind the desk to see if the mobile was there. A quick rummage found nothing so I opened the door to the little room behind the desk and went in, hoping to find it in there, or at least find some incompetent sleeping person I could put on the case. Nobody home, but as I was snooping around, I heard a man’s voice: ‘Hey! What the hell are you doing?’

‘Oh, just looking for my wife’s phone. Did you guys find a phone?’

‘Never mind that. You can’t be trespassing in there.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ I stepped out of the room and moved to join my wife, but the clerk—a large man we had never seen while staying there–grabbed my arm saying he had to call it in.

‘Get off me,’ I said, trying to shake him off, and he got angry, grabbing me harder and pushing me against the wall.

‘Get off him,’ Sarah echoed, but the guy only got rougher, pinning my arm aggressively behind my back. ‘You’re hurting him!’ she said, stepping towards us.

‘You just stay right there, missy,’ the ogre threatened, pulling out his phone.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: that the irony is that she’d had her mobile all along, having overlooked it in her bag, or that it was on the car floor. That we had gone back and suffered all those delays, setbacks and conflicts for nothing.

No. I wish.

It was gone, perhaps stolen, with all the photos and videos from the birthday party the night before: Grandpa Smith’s 100^th and maybe his last. Turns out we were also the only ones who’d fully filmed his epic speech—probably also his last. Sam and Trudy are pretty much our best friends but we never did make it to their wedding since I was arrested and held overnight. I have a court date in a month—oh, and it turns out the guy fractured my wrist so I’m in a cast. Not ideal for an illustrator with crazy deadlines. So no, no irony here. Just life doing it’s best to be a pile of shit.

🙂 By EM Vireo 🙂