Safe With Me

The sudden outburst was loud enough to startle his wife, who was downstairs in the kitchen chopping ingredients for a curry recipe she found online earlier that day. She was mid-chop into a carrot when the knife sprung from her jolted hand and danced to a stop across the tiled countertop. It sounded like his team must’ve scored a touchdown. She grabbed the knife, gave it a quick rinse and continued chopping before realizing football season had already ended.

“What happened?! What are you screaming about?!” she yelled. Tony couldn’t decipher what Jen was yelling about over the music. He turned down the volume of the speaker and perked his ears to see if she would repeat herself.

“What did you say?!” He yelled in response. He waited a few seconds for her to answer before focusing again on his monitor to transcribe information from the screen to the pad of paper before him.

“What… were… you… screaming… about?”, she articulated. Each word, clear and concise.

“I don’t know,” was his go-to response, to mask his failure of attentive listening, as he was fixated on completing the task at hand. He felt the buzzing vibration of his phone coming from his right cargo pocket and swooped it out instantly to see who buzzed. His index finger unlocked his screen like a magic wand. He glanced at the new text message that read: Babe, I need you. Come downstairs for a minute. He put the phone back in the pocket, made sure he saved the page on screen. The urgency must’ve been to open a jar or to get something from a top space in the cabinet, he assumed as he made his way to the kitchen. He gave her a loose hug from behind and kissed the curve where the neck met the shoulder, both absorbing the short embrace before she continued chopping the last bell pepper on the oversized chopping board.

“Smells delicious.” A grumble escaped from his stomach, his eyes searching for a sealed jar atop all surrounding surfaces. She put the peppers in the skillet and covered it with the lid. “What’s up? What do you need?” he asked while she dried her quick-rinsed hands.

“What were you screaming about up there? I dropped the knife and almost chopped my finger off.” He smiled, realizing the cleverness in her text. She knew by the cheesy grin, turned childish guilt-face that he bought something without telling her. She let out a sigh and braced herself for his response.

“Sorry I scared you. Don’t get mad. I just won my first storage war! I heard the whole, ‘Going once. Going twice,’ and right before it would close, I placed my bid. And I got it! I won! It was awesome!”, Tony could barely hold in all the excitement. “They open at 8. Wanna come check it out?”

“How much?” Her eyes pierced into his and held an interrogation on its own. With a playful smile he replied, “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry, it won’t set us back.” He almost broke free but before he could take a step, she held him in place. “Babe…how much?” She’s always been strict with finances and keeps an accurate ledger to the penny in her head and on book.

“180.” He replied and quickly followed up with, “But we might strike gold with the unit. And I’ll make-up for it with overtime if the whole thing is a bust.” His reassuring words helped her accept the unnecessary expense.

“Ok, fine. But I can’t go with you. I have that conference meeting in the morning. And I have a full, long day tomorrow. I’ll be home 7 or 8 depending on my last appointment. Can you make dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course, babe.”

Tony entered the office at 8:10 and showed the attendant his confirmation receipt, to which the attendant directed a nearby employee to escort him to the unit. The employee lifted the roll-up door to the 5X10 neatly arranged unit containing two large, French-door style, metal lockers and a simple office desk, complete with an attached file drawer and rolling office chair. The employee turned and began walking away while Tony sat in the chair and made himself comfortable at the desk. He pulled open the single drawer that revealed orderly arranged files restricted to the back half of the drawer while the front half of the drawer held several cup-sized, clear containers composing the typical variety of office supplies. He noticed that the cup of paperclips had a key-ring with 4 small keys. Closest to the front of the cups and leaning against wall of the drawer was a leather bound, black notebook. He pulled the notebook out and began flipping through its pages. Written with impeccable penmanship, each page was reserved to a single person and was uniformly consistent in detail. There were two dates listed at the top; the second date with an “R” in front of it. Contact information included a name, address, phone number and for most, an e-mail address. Each had listed an item with a brief description; some with numbers, most likely to be a registration number or factory number to help identification. As he thumbed through the notebook, he noticed 5 pages towards the back of the notebook were noticeably different as they did not have “R” dates filled in the space.

Tony began looking into the files to see what else he could learn. The files seemed to be in reverse chronological order, by business: Pawn Plus, Appraisals, Gold and Silver, and Buddy Bookkeeper; each business opened as the previous one closed and spanned over several decades; all the paperwork listed Christopher James Snow. Tony pulled out his phone and searched for more information on Christopher James Snow and the only mention of his name was found in the obituaries of a nearby small-town herald newspaper that didn’t offer details to character or personality. However, it made claim that he would be reunited with his wife and son that passed before him. Tony took a moment to respect the space and with a deep breath, began to put the files back in its original place. He took the keys out of the paperclip cup and proceeded to open both of the metal lockers. One locker contained a very old rifle affixed on the sidewall and the rest of the space was taken up by a large collection of well-kept woodworking and car tools. The other locker housed a large stamp collection organized in a dozen binders, a ring box containing wedding bands and a rare electric guitar signed by the late Jimi Hendrix. Tony had hit the jackpot of storage treasure troves and estimated his loot to be a minimum six-figure number. Before fantasy took him, he grabbed the black notebook off the desk to confirm if these items had named a rightful owner. All were a match. It wouldn’t sit well with him to sell everything. He had to do what was right.

Tony began reaching out by e-mail to those he could and texted a simple, impersonal message to notify them regarding their business with Pawn Plus. He then thought of the hundreds of e-mails and strange text messages he’d receive and the many he would ignore based off generic and impersonal language alone. He decided to call each person and could leave a more personalized message of how he came to possess their belongings and his intent to return it to them. He began to dial the first number and much to his surprise, someone answered almost immediately.

“Hello?” asked the man in a strong, deep voice.

“Hi. I’m Anthony and am calling about your business with Pawn Plus. Is this Jason?”

“You got him. I drove by the shop and saw that Pawn Plus turned into a laundry mat. What’s going on?”

“The owner passed away several months ago but had the toolset in storage. I won the storage unit at an auction. He intended to return your toolset.”

“Oh my god. I thought he forgot about me.” The strong, deep voice let out a whimpered cry and took a minute to regain composure. “He was a good man. By the time I was ready to pick it up, I saw the laundry mat. I tried calling a few months ago but the number was disconnected. My father gave me those tools…the only thing I got from him.” Tony offered to meet at the unit or to deliver the tools to the address listed. Jason wasn’t too far from that location and agreed to meet in a couple hours.

While waiting, Tony received a text message that read. Hi. I’m responding to your text you sent. I did business with Chris last year and read of his passing. I liked him. I don’t like many people. But I liked him. I didn’t know who to talk to or how to get information about the rifle so I figured it was a loss. That rifle should be in a museum but we kept passing it down to each generation. That’s been in the Revolutionary War. My son is a slob. I’d rather see that rifle go to the Smithsonian. Can I meet you somewhere? Tony was blown away by the rifle’s antiquity. He gave him his location. The next number he dialed on the keypad was to a Lady Lois about the wedding bands.

“Hello?” her tone was lively, rich and velvety.

“Hi. This is Anthony. I’m looking for Lady Lois?” She let out a giggle and responded, “I haven’t been called that in a long time. Lois is fine. How can I help you?”

“I have a couple rings to return to you—” Before he could finish, she interrupted with excitement.

“My wedding bands! Oh! I thought I’d never see them again! How much to get them back? Can you drop it off to me?” Tony looked at her address and realized it was just up the street from where he lived.

“Don’t worry about the cost ma’am. I can deliver your rings to you before sunset. I’ll give you a call when I’m on my way.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll see you soon.”

Tony received an email from the owner of the stamp collection. The collector expressed so much gratitude and shared how great and memorable Christopher was. Impressed by all the positivity from strangers who remembered Christopher, Tony was anticipating the story behind the guitar and dialed the number.

“Hel-lo?” the male voice sounded young or maybe within his age.

“Hey. This is Anthony calling about Pawn Plus. Is this Phil?” The tone of the young voice turned somber as he began to reply.

“Yes, it is. But I’m sorry sir. I don’t have any information regarding retrieval of property held at Pawn Plus. I—” Slightly confused, Tony interrupted.

“No. I HAVE something of yours...an electric guitar.” Tony could hear Phil begin to choke up. Phil put the phone down to muffle sound as he broke down to cry. After a few moments, Phil picked up the phone and with uncontrollable sniffling, he apologized for crying. Phil explained that Chris gave him a job when he was homeless and shelter. To his surprise, Chris left his house to Phil in his Will. The guitar hung in the office of the Pawn Shop and Phil admired it from day one on the job. Phil was already so thankful to Chris and forgot all about the guitar. They figured a time to meet and Phil shared more stories.

It was about 6 in the evening when Tony finally came home. He looked to see what was in the pantry and fridge and decided what he would make for dinner. It was just about ready when Jen came through the door.

“It smells delicious! How was everything? Did it pay off?” she asked.

“It was a bust. But a beautiful day,” He said with a smile.