"Well, I think I've said quite enough," Ben said.
Anita didn't know what to think. An overwhelming sense of 'okay' enveloped her, yet she worried about Ben. Why was this so secret? The man had enough money and power to buy islands and governments. Just look at the treaty being signed by NATO and Avalon Industries. NATO contracting a private company was unheard of, but Ben did it. The entire pharmaceutical spoke of the wheel made money hand over fist. Avalon Medicine constantly made earth shattering discoveries and advancements in cancer, STD's, even addiction.
So why did Ben have this clandestine operation collecting property out in the middle of Southern American nowhere? But everything was 'okay'. Ben kept shifting around in his seat in the back of the limo. The ride to the airport was uneventful. Everything happened under the surface. Somewhere between here and the dark places. Anita may think these confessions trivial, but her and Ben's relationship wasn't the same. Never the same again.
In fact, the only thing Ben said, as the limo slowed to a stop at the airport, was, "Thank you, Anita. For being such a good listener, thank you."
"You're taking me there, right?" Anita smiled at him. So personal, where did that come from? So comfortable, she'd never been this comfortable with him.
"Yeah, ah..." Ben stuttered, "s-sure."
"Right this way, Mr. Strass." That was the body guard. Ben had body guards at airports and such. Anita couldn't think why anyone would want to kill Mr. Strass, but the world was cruel and black and dark sometimes.
They went through all the security checkpoints without hassle. Anita and Ben traveled often enough they didn't notice anymore. The pre-September-eleventh world had faded. Things had gotten darker. Picking up an old relative from the airport meant being scrutinized for a few hours, nothing private. And they didn't even see it.
Uncle Henry saw it. Uncle Henry was right in its face. An older man with longer hair and matching white beard and mustaches was being carried by the armpits by two A.A.S. officers. Another notch on Avalon and Ben's belt. Avalon Airport Security was considered the standard in the airline industry. Ben went through all the security protocol like anyone else. The hourly workers didn't see the people anymore than Ben or Anita saw all the security. Ben didn't want to make himself different or get special treatment - and it was a good way to get a feel of how things were going on the ground floor. Now, Ben asserted himself. "That's my Uncle. Let him go."
"The guards shifted stances and the one on the left began to speak. Ben interrupted, "My name in Ben Strass, and I think you should do what I tell you too. I sign your paychecks."
The guards dropped Henry on the thin carpet of the terminal in a slobbering heap.
"We need to see some identification... Mr. Stass," the one said. Uncle Henry kept trying to interrupt with nonsensical monosyllables.
"I think this is all you need to see," Ben said with an air Anita hadn't ever seen. The authority, the confidence unsettled her. Not in a bad way. He supplied them with a glossy square that must have had his picture on it somewhere. The only thing Anita could see was a cluster of bar codes.
"That'll be fine Mr. Strass. You'll be taking care of Mr. Henry, then?" the guard asked.
"Yes, gentlemen, I think I'll be taking care of 'Uncle' Henry from here on," Ben said in that self assured way that made Anita all pins and needles. She didn't notice the slight dancing she did from foot to foot.
Ben reached down and pulled Uncle Henry to his feet. He tried anyway, in the end it took Ben and Anita and one of the guards to get Henry upright. Once vertical, Ben and Anita wobbled out of the airport terminal on either side of a very drunk Uncle Henry.
He kept babbling things under his breath. All the way through the airport and into the limo, almost inaudible sounds came from his mouth. Ben fidgeted in his seat beside Anita. He wasn't comfortable; he was embarrassed about Uncle Henry. That feeling of elation had receded with the encroaching odor coming from good old Uncle Henry. Anita seemed to be having trouble sitting still and maintaining that professional smile. Something else got to her - probably Ben, too, if he could separate his thoughts better - the sounds he was making. She could barely hear them but they tugged at something. Something way in the back of her mind, way beyond the reaches of the light of day. Uncle Henry, stinking drunken Uncle Henry had something to say. Anita wanted to know what it was. WHAT IS IT!! she wanted to say as she brought her hand down across the side of his wrinkled face. Of course, that wouldn't do. She maintained a level of professionalism for Ben.
The limo driver dropped Anita off at her apartment and accompanied her to her door. A perfect gentleman. Then the limo traveled through the city and to Ben's place. Once again, the limo driver, accompanied Ben and Uncle Henry to the door, even offering to help get Mr. Henry into bed. Ben told him that wouldn't be necessary and thanked him with a generous tip.
Henry - screw the honorific 'uncle' - had some explaining to do in the morning. Ben felt that sleep was a long way off. Almost all the way to the twilight horizon, Ben thought he could see a fabled token gesture called 'sleep'. He paced the main floor of his house, the kitchen really. Back and forth in front of the window over the sink. Ben paced back and forth, he may not have recognized it, may not still for that matter, but Old Henry's drooling mumbles had set something off in Ben, too.
Something in the back of his mind, way back and farther still, a fraction of a feather touch tickled this thing in this dark place in the back of Ben's mind. And Ben paced and outside Ben's window in the kitchen above the sink a bird fell from its perch on the power line.
Don't Worry. Be Happy.
A sly smile crept up the sides of Ben's face. His pace slowed. Perhaps, sleep wasn't as far away as he originally suspected. Ben went up to his bedroom and laid his head on a pillow of sure resolve.
The hours of night passed for Ben without stir or complaint. He slumbered the sleep of Don't Worry, and Be Happy. When Anita got into bed, she wore her thick long sleeved pajamas and even got her deep winter comforter out of the closet. She wrapped herself up in a cocoon-like roll.
The light was still on and her eyes refused to stay closed for more than a few seconds. She moved around until her head was encased in the comforter. This was no good. In a short time her breath had made the air around her face hot and moist. She unrolled herself and managed to pull the string on the lamp on her nightstand. Now, in darkness Anita fortified herself in blankets again and began to thank god that the meager light above the tiny stove in the kitchen was on. She thanked god that the meager little light somehow found its way down the hallway and across her bedroom floor. Up and around the folds and creases of the big deep winter comforter and to her eyes, the little light brought her a delicate sense of security. She wasn't afraid. No monsters under the bed. No monsters in the closet. Something ticked away inside her. Something the meager light from above the stove couldn't touch. Tick-tick-tick, like a fingernail on glass.
Sleep did find her eventually and with it the sometimes unwanted guest of dreams. When she woke the next morning she felt rested and was surprised to see the alarm wouldn't start its tirade for five more minutes. The vague notion of a pleasant dream faded almost instantly. If asked later, Anita would probably deny having any dreams the night before.
As she reached across the bed to turn the alarm off her phone vibrated and skittered slightly next to the lamp. At first the number looked foreign to her and then she remembered. Ben had given her the number to his private cell yesterday. She hadn't programmed her phone yet, but she was sure that's who was calling. Her shoulders straightened and her eyes shed the last remnants of sleep involuntarily, "Hello?"
"Anita, it's Ben."
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