The Night Owl

" Good night, Dulce! Sydney."

The first woman sent an enthusiastic wave. The second a measured nod.

" See you tomorrow, Jim and don't forget the party starts at eight," Dulce responded.

" I won't! " Jim called back as he exited the revolving door. Sydney stood then and made her way over to the door timing her approach so that the door stopped just at her arrival. Once she secured the door with wedges, she locked the top and then the remaining two doors which flanked it. She took her time double checking her work. First, because security was her job. Second, because the minute she turned around Sydney knew Dulce and her Disney-style happiness would be in her face.

Taking in a deep breath, Sydney headed back to her station steeling herself for the inevitable.

Wait for it.

"Sydney," Dulce called with a larger -than- life smile on her face.

Here we go.

"Dual-say."

"You know, you're one of the few people here who pronounce my name perfectly."

Inwardly, Sydney rolled her eyes. If the military had taught her anything, she'd learn that she could have all the attitude she wanted, as long as a brass hat didn't see it.

"You were saying," Sydney retorted. She would be lucky if she cut this interchange down to ten minutes or less. Not that she had a whole heck of a lot to do. It was a science museum for crying out loud. What was someone going to try and steal, a woolly mammoth?

"I'm sure you heard me mention to Jim the party that Marc and I are having?"

"Yeah, the acoustics in here are good. "

"Well, I wanted to let you know that you're invited too." Dulce extended a three by five card, with writing on it.

"Here's our address."

Sydney took the card and looked it over. The address was in Elmwood, a nice, trendy and very pricey section of town.

Figured.

"I even asked Scott if he could cover for you, in case you wanted to go."

Sydney looked up at Dulce with this new bit of information.

Wow. She sure was trying hard.

"It's just. You haven't made it to any of the other parties we put on and I wasn't sure why? "

Because groups of strangers put me on edge. Because I need to have my back covered to feel safe. Because after what I've seen, chit-chat is the last thing I want to do. Because what I have to say, you don't want to hear.

"I need the overtime." Handing her back the card, Sydney felt a tinge of regret at Dulce's crestfallen face. She shifted trying to move the uncomfortable feeling away from her heart.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"No," Dulce countered, pushing the card back in her direction.

"Keep it. Then you'll have the address and my number when you're ready." Suddenly, her smile was back in place.

"Marc and I plan on hosting a lot more parties that I want to invite you to."

"Sure." But Sydney knew it wouldn't make a difference. She'd been home long enough from Iraq to understand that the world would never be the same, and neither would she.

"Okay, good! Then, I'll see you on Monday."

"Dark and early." Sydney quipped and Dulce laughed.

"Sad but true. Sunset in the winter at four-thirty does get a little old, but we make up for it in the summer!"

"Don't remind me." Sydney grumbled.

"What?"

"Good night."

"Oh, I thought you said something else. Good night."

If it wasn't for the predictably irritating invitations from Dulce, Sydney would look forward to work parties. Being the curator, Dulce usually planned them to coincide with historically low peak days at the Museum. Apparently, the parties were good enough that people took off or left early for the day, which meant an easier day for Sydney. And the icing on the cake? Less requests to "investigate something suspicious".

Suspicious. Sydney wondered if some of these people really even understood the word. She knew it. She'd seen it. A teenage girl, with Down's wandering around alone in a village during the hottest part of the day. An unguarded entrance to an abandoned building across a wadi. A fully dressed, unconscious man, suffering from a "fever" who lay in his own home in a bed that was too small. The first two situations had resulted in the loss of some of the men in her squad. The last one, a rescue.

Making her rounds with the memories swirling in her head, Sydney felt irritated at having to attend to each request. It wasn't doing security or protecting people that was the issue. Poking through sketchy broom closets and darkened stairwells for folks who watched too much sci-fi, wasn't what she'd been trained for.

She'd been trained to protect and defend her country but that had become secondary. Who she'd really been fighting for had been her squad. Come hell or highwater. Through thick and thin. Better than family. Closer than a sister.

Sydney realized that her annoyance wasn't in protecting people. It was in finding people worth protecting. People who had her back like she had theirs, 24/7. But trusting someone with your life required sharing feelings and experiences. The first, she wasn't sure she was ready to explore again. The second, she didn't want to recreate.

A notification on her phone brought her out of her head.

STRANGE NOISES COMING FROM THE ROOF DECK/OBSERVATORY

POSSIBLE FLASHLIGHTS AND HUSHED VOICES

PLEASE CHECK OUT

"Better not be a stuck branch again, or so help me," Sydney muttered, making her way down the hall. But sometimes it wasn't. Like the time some teenagers sneaked onto the roof for an after-graduation party. Or the incident when the guy confronted his wife while she was out with another woman. For some reason she had yet to understand, people felt free to ignore their inhibitions on rooftops which equated to tense situations.

On her ride up to the top floor, Sydney took the time to check her side arm. Having a legal conceal and carry license, and the know-how to use it, was a skill set that put her above most security guards. Although she didn't think she'd need to discharge it, there was no harm in being ready.

Using her key fob, Sydney crossed the short walkway to access the roof elevator. The installment of a skylight inside it had been her idea and Dulce loved it. She raved about how it added aesthetic appeal. Sydney could have cared less about how it looked. It was enough that the natural light filtering through the skylight allowed her eyes to adjust and prepare. A bright, florescent bulb shining a clear path on to the observation deck might be comforting to the average astronomer. For someone like Sydney, it was as bad as the Fatal Funnel. If she had to clear the roof alone, cover and concealment is what she prized. What she wouldn't give for an NVD. She'd tossed around the idea of buying a good pair of military grade goggles for night work herself, but the price was above her pay grade.

The elevator door opened on a whisper and Sydney marveled at the complete darkness that had taken over. It was only seven-thirty. Perfect for stargazing, not so much for investigating.

You can only fight what you can see. Her instructor's voice hummed in her head. Saying a prayer, she took a breath and let her ears guide where her eyes couldn't.

Facing her hips toward the opening of the elevator, she kept her gun pointed at its apex, the side just outside its opening. Then, keeping her gun low Sydney side-stepped her way further into view.

Lead foot. Tale foot. Push.

Lead foot. Tale foot. Push.

The shuffle that might have seemed awkward to an outsider, was second nature to her. It allowed her to maintain the most concealment, more control and better ability to assess possible threats as she entered the space alone.

Clear the narrow angle. Eyes, gun, feet toward door. Gun down.

Clear the forty-five. Gather info from flank of room. Maintain concealment.

Clear the ninety.

After taking this angle she would lose most of her concealment and possibly be open to a direct threat. She had to be confident enough in the information she'd gathered so far that she could commit. Sydney paused and took another breath to do an orientation check. All she could hear were the sounds of a faint scratching noise and sporadic thumping.

Time to see what's causing all the rumpus.

Sydney snapped into the doorway, her gun pointed straight ahead and saw -nothing. Instantly, she located the sound off to the left. Sydney proceeded to finish her sweep of the area clearing all her angles and possible threats. Only then did she move to the dome shaped room on the platform. In the observatory, something duplicating steam or hushed voices could be heard.

Sydney took a breath, grateful that all the activity seemed to be concentrated in the one room. This room however wasn't a box and it contained a maintenance door that could create rear exposure. But this was part of the job. Sydney ran for cover laying her body against the dome.

Breathe.

Sound Check.

Assess threat. Much closer to the door now, the sound was unmistakable. It wasn't hushed voices she was hearing. It was hissing.

What are snakes doing out here? Sydney inched closer taking the narrow angle again and froze. Several small yellowish lights circled tightly near the maintenance door, hovering in the air.

What is that! One thing was for sure, whatever was up here, she wasn't able to handle. Not by herself. Not for what they paid her.

Sydney retreated making sure to lock both elevators, sealing the animals and possibly whoever brought them up there, on the roof.

If they were screwy enough to orchestrate all this, she surmised, they'd be alright until morning.

***

"Syd, I really appreciate you stayin' past your shift to wait for the animal control guy."

"No problem, Lester. I owe you one for covering my shift when I was sick."

Sydney hadn't needed to take anything. She'd only needed sleep. Sometimes her hypersomnia cooperated with her work schedule and sometimes it didn't. Her doctor had warned her that working after being awake for twenty-four hours with a firearm could make her a danger to herself and to others.

Tell that to the military.

Sydney had lost count of the times that she and her squad were required to work past twenty-four or forty-eight hours to complete a mission. It wasn't the exception. It was generally the rule. Still, she knew she was fortunate. There were guys who had come back unable to work, period. She didn't know what she would have done without a job. It had given her a purpose. A reason, even if it wasn't the best, for her to wake up every morning. Something to think about beside the death and suffering she'd witnessed on the field that inadvertently occupied her thoughts.

"Syd?" Lester's voice snatched her attention back just as it was about to travel that dark memory lane.

"Yeah?"

"I think that's him."

Sydney wasn't so sure. He looked like a guy who might be here to fix the roof, not remove animals from it. His black shoulder length hair was well groomed and contrasted nicely with his bronze-colored skin. His worn but clean t-shirt, lay snug, revealing a well-muscled chest and arms. Loose jeans hung low on his slim waist, held up by a belt made of bead work. This man walked with peaceful purpose as if everything around him was of interest and he had plenty of time to observe it.

"Can I help you?" Lester called once he'd moved closer to the desk.

"I'm sure you can." Sydney's ear pricked up at the confidence with which he said it.

Who is this dude?

"My name is Mason Rivers. I'm here from Big Circle Animal Management."

"Good. We've been waiting for you. In fact, my partner here will be able to go home and catch some shut eye once you're done."

"A Night Owl?"

"You could say that." Sydney offered.

"Then, fill me in and we can get started."

***

Once Sydney unlocked the elevators and was sure whoever was up there wasn't making a peep, she invited Mason on the roof. He had waited on the top floor, eager but not anxious. She appreciated that. Jittery people were unpredictable and unpredictable people made her nervous.

"I don't hear the hissing now, which is weird. I do hear squeaking though. Like a bunch of mice are in there. Unless the owners left them for the snakes. Honestly, I don't know what's going on."

Mason nodded, fixing a steady gaze on her.

"Alright. To confirm, last night you heard hissing and saw small hovering lights and now just squeaking." It would have sounded like pitiful intel but he retold it as if it were facts. As if he believed Sidney and she didn't sound as stupid as she felt.

"Right."

"I think I'll need something else from my truck. Be right back."

"Well?" Lester asked after the elevator doors shut.

"Well, what?", Syd countered.

"What do you think? He's a nice lookin' guy. Got a job."

"Lester, thanks but no thanks."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know your taste swung in the other direction-"

"Look, Lester-" The ding of the elevator halted Sydney's reply as the doors swung open.

"Got 'em! Let's-" Mason paused and looked between the two, squinting his almond shaped eyes.

"I have the feeling that I interrupted something. Do you need a minute?"

"No," Sydney answered, throwing a look Lester's way. "We're ready. What do you need us to do?"

***

"Really? I can't believe it! We're they cute?"

Sydney rolled her eyes knowing that only Dulce would ask about how cute an animal was instead of being happy something more serious hadn't happened.

"They were hungry and loud, that's for sure."

"Did you get any pictures?"

"No, but Lester did."

"So, all that noise was a bunch of baby barn owls?"

"Apparently, living next to a field is a great hunting place and with the observatory being shut down during their nesting season, it was an ideal spot for them to put a clutch."

"A clutch?"

"A bunch of eggs."

"Ooo, look at you. Talking bird lingo like a pro."

"Mason was a good teacher."

"Mason? You remembered his name?"

It's hard to forget someone who seemed at peace with the world. Someone who seemed at peace with himself.

"I would remember anyone as competent and professional as he was."

"Mmhmm. I bet you that's not the only reason," Dulce responded, a smile in her voice. "Did you get his number?"

"Of course I did. You told me to get his card, remember?" Sydney kept her voice even. She knew any hint of excitement on her end would give Dulce the wrong impression about how she felt about Mason. He wasn't on her radar. No one was. Not now.

"Good! When did he say he's coming back out?"

"Wednesday at the latest."

"Thanks a bunch Sydney for heading this up for me. I'd be in but," Dulce's voice cracked and Sydney took note of it. She waited, wondering what put a cloud on her boss's day. "Sorry. I was having a rough morning and needed to work from home."

"What happened? Up late partying last night?" Syd joked.

"If it was only that simple," Dulce replied, a note of hopelessness in her voice.

"Hey, just kidding."

"I know," Dulce sighed. "Thanks again for taking care of this. I know you're probably dying to go home. See you soon. 'Bye."

"Yep." Sydney hung up knowing her normally perky boss, wasn't so perky. What bothered her even more, was that she cared.

***

While watching a man leave Dulce's office on a security camera feed, Sydney wondered how her boss was doing. It might have been the first time she'd wondered that. Ever.

But do I really want to know? If I ask about her, she'll ask about me.

Sydney shelved the idea and focused on the man, as he made his way toward her post. With a well-trimmed beard, he was clean cut, stocky and of medium height. He definitely had that cool, preppy thing going but he didn't send her any weird vibes. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Excuse me sir?"

"Hi! Yes?"

"May I see your badge?"

"Oh, I don't have one. I have my wife's though."

He showed it to Sydney as if that would make a difference. It had Dulce's picture, but it didn't prove he was her husband.

"Can I see your license?"

"Sure." Quickly drawing out a billfold, Sydney watched his sliver blue eyes scan the contents until it settled on the license.

"Here," he offered with a tired smile.

"Could you wait please while I verify that?" Sydney fired off a text to Dulce while she checked the company database for her address.

Dulce, some guy just left your office claiming to be your husband.

Send me a pic and two questions to ask with answers or I'll need to detain him.

In no time three dots appeared under the text she had sent:

Sorry Sydney! I sent Marc to get some stuff for me.

Ask him who is my cutey-pah-tooty. Answer: He is.

Ask him what's his second most favorite part of my body. Answer: My lips.

Sydney rolled her eyes. No need to check on her, she's fine.

Deciding that cutey-pah-tooty was not ever coming out of her mouth, she asked the second question. The man's cheeks turned a dusty rose as she finished.

"Her lips," he said, clearing his throat.

"Sorry. I asked her for verification questions and that was the better one out of the two."

His brows rose in question, so she handed him the phone to read the exchange.

"Thanks for going with the second question," relief evident in his voice.

"No problem."

Marc handed the phone back and froze. "Wait. You're Sydney?"

"Yeah."

"No wonder she let you ask those questions. She talks about you all the time."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's nice to know that she has a friend at work."

Friend? Sydney's mind snagged on the word.

"Honestly, sometimes I worry about her with the Lupus."

Sydney's mind froze. Lupus? Marc's mouth kept moving while Sydney nodded but she didn't hear much. Dulce was sick?

Slowly, different words filtered in. Flare ups, medication, life expectancy.

Slowly, Dulce's sadness and sunniness all made sense to Sydney. Dulce was daily facing the reality of death, like she had on the field. Except on the field, Sydney had been able to prepare, guarding herself against it. Now, even being at home, she could sometimes ignore it. But Dulce, she always lived in the in-between, thinking she outsmarted death only to have it rise up and remind her of the truth: One out of one people die. A truth that seemed more imminent to people like Dulce. People, in her not so long ago, who went to sleep never knowing if this day was their last: her platoon, her allies, her enemies and herself.

"Well, it was great to meet you."

"Same here," she managed with a nod.

Marc walked toward the exit, his distance allowing her mind to settle. In the space of a few heartbeats, Sydney realized Dulce couldn't know everything about war, but she knew about the shadow of death. She could understand that. She could relate. She could understand her.

As he laid his hand on the door, something inside Sydney made her call out, "Marc, tell Dulce, I said hi."

***

"Sydney, thank you for volunteering your help," Mason called over his shoulder. As Sydney moved closer, he repacked his tools for the owl box installation in his truck.

"Really. I owe you."

"No problem. It was more like I was volun-told, anyway," she joked.

Mason paused, looked at her and then continued to put his last work bucket in the truck. Closing the tailgate he smiled, turning his full attention toward Sydney.

"Sydney, you don't strike me as someone who gets told what to do, unless you already want to do it."

He was right. She had done life much on her own terms. Playing sports instead of cheering at games. Joining the marines. Even this job. She had done what suited her.

"Mostly. You seem the same way."

"Mostly," Mason said with a smile. Sydney could tell from the first time she'd seen him that he moved with the grace of someone who was not only comfortable in his own skin, but also comfortable with his person. A level of comfort, she had yet to find.

"So, since I know you won't do anything you don't want to, and I pay what I owe, can I take you out to dinner?"

Sydney's heart sank. She liked this guy and then he was going to pull a move on her like that?

"And just in case you're thinking this is a date, it's not. Separate cars, no dressing up, we can even do KFC if you want. I would have done the same for any of the guys who normally help me, but they're all on other jobs."

Sydney looked in his eyes and Mason allowed her study of him without flinching. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him.

Do it. What have you got to lose? A voice whispered.

"Okay." Sydney finally answered.

"Okay," Mason nodded. "You have my card. Text me when you're ready. Then we can work out a day and time. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks again." Mason said giving Sydney a firm handshake. "I'll see you."

***

She hoped Mason was on time. Sydney had gotten to the restaurant early, a benefit from military training. What she hadn't accounted for was the amount of people that would be here on a Monday night. She'd forgotten about football, since soccer was her game.

Scanning the crowded waiting area, a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her upper lip.

Friendlies, Syd.

Breathe. Her heart raced.

Breathe. Her ears rang.

When the tight space was flooded by a party of five, she couldn't take it. Out of her seat like a rocket, Sydney left the restaurant. With her back to the building, where she could see people coming and going, she gulped in the air tainted by second hand-smoke as if it was mountain fresh.

Breathe.

Relax.

Breathe. Her eyes slipped closed for a second as the panic faded.

"Sydney!"

Immediately, her eyes flew open, and she saw Mason wave from his truck and walk over.

As he promised, he wasn't exactly dressed-up, but he was no slob either. His hair clung to his collared shirt and fleece-lined vest, slightly damp. Crisp blue jeans and some kind of boot completed his outfit.

Nice. At that very moment she was glad that she'd chosen to wear her better jeans, a funnel neck pullover and short boots.

"Sydney how-" He paused, looking her over. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I needed some air."

"Okay, let me go check on the wait time."

She managed to nod her head in response, her ponytail catching on the brick behind her.

Sydney promised herself that by the time Mason came back, she would have herself together.

"Sydney, it looks super crowded. I know somewhere else you might enjoy. If you're still up to it?"

She wasn't ready to look at him yet. She hadn't chased the panic to far reaches of her mind. It was still there, in her eyes, for anyone to see.

"Sydney?" Mason caught her eye and she let him. He paused and a look came over his face. Sydney thought she would recognize the look; she'd seen it many times before. Fear. Fear of brokenness, imperfection, inadequacy. Fear of the past, the present and the future. Somehow in these moments her soul became a mirror of all those fears- someone else's and her own. As she waited for the disappointment to rush in along with Mason's hurried exit, her brain began to realize something different. Sydney tilted her head to get a better view. There. That look. Was it peace on Mason's face? Another emotion flitted across but in her confusion, Sydney had trouble naming it. All she could tell was that it was something that made her feel good. Made her feel seen. Made her feel known.

"Do you still want to eat?"

"Yeah," Sydney answered, her voice gruff with emotion.

"Good. If you don't mind, I'd like to take you to one of my favorite places, my Uncle Roy's".

***

Soon after they stepped foot in the diner, it didn't take Sydney long to understand why Mason had brought her there. The insignia caps, tattoos and talk told her most of the people in here were Vets.

"Mason!" An older man with an apron shouted as he ambled over. "You finally brought a girlfriend!"

"No, Uncle Roy. I brought a friend who's a girl," Mason replied nonplussed.

"Sydney, meet my Uncle Roy. Proud owner of the only Indigenous run restaurant in Erie County and a survivor of the Vietnam War."

"Sir," Sydney said, shaking his hand.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?" Uncle Roy asked.

"One tour in Iraq and then two in Afghanistan."

Mason canted his head. "Wow, Sydney. You ran the gauntlet."

"Well, I suppose you all didn't only come here to talk, seeing it's dinner time. Why don't you take a seat? You can get something to eat and if you'd like, we can get better acquainted," Uncle Roy offered.

"I'd like that," Sydney smiled, "Very much."

***

"Good Morning, Sydney!"

"Good Morning, Dulce! How are you feeling?"

Dulce stopped mid-stride.

"Wait, did you just ask how I was doing?"

"I did," Sydney responded, keeping her eyes on a monitor. It was the only way she could keep a straight face, in light of Dulce's reaction.

"Well, I'm doing okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Marc, told me about the Lupus."

"Oh."

"He thought I knew. Because he thought we were friends."

"What did you tell him?"

"I thought I would ask you. " Sydney cleared her throat, hating her hesitation. "Are we friends?"

"If you want to be, Sydney," Dulce answered carefully.

"Okay," She grinned.

"Okay," Dulce smiled. Several seconds slipped by in awkward silence, as Sydney pretended to watch the monitors. Dulce was the first to break it.

"So, will you be coming to our next party?"

"No."

"But-"

"But, I wouldn't mind coming to a dinner. Maybe me, you, Marc and a friend?

"Wait, his friend or mine? "

"Mine."

"Oh. Do I happen to know this friend?"

"No, but you'll meet him today. His name is Mason."

"Mason the owl man!"

"Yes. No, Mason Rivers."

"Well, I'm so excited for you!"

"Why?"

"Because now you have two friends and I get to be one of them!" Sydney let out a small chuckle. "And as your first official friend, I get to check this Mason guy out to make sure he's up to par."

"Here's your chance. He's coming in now."

***

It wasn't until after Mason had checked on the baby birds, met with Dulce and passed along information for an upcoming vet hike he and his Uncle Roy were coordinating, that Sydney was able to hear Dulce's assessment. Not that she needed it. Mason had already proven himself a rare kind of man and a rare kind of friend.

"Sorry to keep you waiting so long!" Dulce apologized.

"For what?" Sydney wondered.

"For me to tell you about Mason of course!"

"And?"

"Just like my Marc, he's a keeper! If I do say so myself, you have excellent taste in friends."

Two friends.

More than I had last week.

More than I've had in a long time.

Feels good.