Tag, You're It

Those almond-colored eyes should have been familiar. Along with the musky cologne, the creases in his forehead, the way he fidgeted when he was nervous…yeah it should have been familiar. It wasn’t. The man, whom I hadn’t seen in twenty years, called me up out of the blue to meet at a diner. I used to like this diner, but that was when I was five. The last time I can remember both of them being with me.

“You look just like your mom.” He says with a half-smile and tightens his grip on the brown wrapped package he has on the table between us.

“Hello Mason.” My tone was flat, face showing no sign of tolerance for pleasantries, I owed him nothing.

His nose crinkled, “Ouch! First name huh? Well I guess I deserve that. How’s work?”

“You should know, you keep tabs on all of my jobs.”

Again, that fidget and a nervous swipe of his hand through his hair, “So you noticed?”

I leaned back and exhaled loudly through my nose and tilted my head just slightly, “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

He chuckled softly, “No. No I guess not. After all, she made sure you would be able to hold your own.

“Don’t act like you guys did me any favors, Mason.” I hissed at him. I was beginning to lose my patience with the conversation.

“Right,” He slid the package over to me and finally released it. His bloody red handprint staining the otherwise brown package. “It’s from mom.”

It shouldn’t have mattered, the knowledge that he was hurt, but it did. “You hurt bad?”

The half¬-smile returned, “Worried?”

The sudden wave of sympathy vanished, “You’ll live apparently, what’s the package for?”

“She needs you to find her Lexi—”

“Alex, my name is Alex.”

He paused for a moment, “—Alex. She needs your help. She asked me to bring this to you so you’d know where to start.”

I couldn’t keep the scoffing laughter from coming out, “Needs me? After all this time I exist? Not happening. You can take this package and go croak in a ditch somewhere for all I care.” I stood up abruptly only to be yanked back down by that same bloody hand. It shouldn’t have been that wet still. I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since I saw him. He was older, there were lines that had carved their way into his features and his eyes looked tired. I remember those hands being so strong and now they seemed less than what they were. Weaker. More desperate to keep holding on to me. The musky cologne suddenly didn’t hide the smell of blood, sweat, and grime. Somewhere inside something tugged on my insides and I placed a hand around his bloody grip.

“Alex,” my name sounded ragged on his lips, “I am not asking for forgiveness. Hate me until the day you die if it makes you feel better. We did what we had to do to keep you safe and neither of us will ever regret that choice.” He paused again taking slow breathes then said, “Help her this one time. I swear this will be the last time you’ll ever see me.”

He let go abruptly leaving a bloody print around my wrist. I could say nothing to him as he stood up and revealed the blood that stained the front of his shirt. He smiled at me, his eyes glassy, and for a moment we just stared at each other.

“You really do look like her. But you have my eyes.” He turned away and left the diner, just like he did twenty years ago.

The tugging in my gut pulled harder and I took a deep breath before the tears could form in my eyes. The package sitting before me as a stark reminder of the man who had left to die.

I tore away the brown paper, I did not want to look at that bloody print any longer, and stared at a plain box with a letter folded on top. The paper felt thick and crisp in my hands, the writing small yet elegant, and the scent of lilacs seeped into the air from it.

Dear Lexi,

Remember how we used to play tag? You would run and run and run…but I would always catch you. Now, it’s your turn.

Tag…You’re it.

Dropping the letter, I opened the box to find an ornate key, a gun, and two clips. I sighed and closed the lid, “I guess it’s time to go home.”