The television blared away in the background. A current prominent soap opera in which one of the main stars of the show, Damian Richardson, had been discovered to have cheated on his wife of over a decade. Was this all just an unwitting circumstance of events leading up to a colossal misunderstanding? Or simply a case of another typical man unable to turn down an opportunity to bang the hottest woman in the series. After all, only since last season’s cliff-hanger finale was it revealed that his wife had already cheated on him with none other than his own brother. A shocking climax but, in hindsight, the signs had all been there from previous episodes. The late night phones calls, her constant need to go visit her ailing mother just a couple of clicks from the neighbouring city. In fact, it might even have been damn near obvious.
Patricia clung to her cushion, biting the tips of her fingers in nervous anticipation. Having put Sofia to sleep almost two hours ago, she could find time to retire to the comfort of her own bedroom and enjoy the latest instalment of “Anne’s Beckett’s Tribulations of an Uptown Bachelor.” Though part of the enjoyment she felt was the temporary freedom from being confined to the shackles of motherhood. Love being a separate issue, looking after a child of three was a dutiful burden. There were no two ways about it.
Miguel was due to return home on Saturday. Only two days’ and counting. She found herself spending most of the time living the life of a single woman, but this was something that had to be accustomed to tolerate. Pining for the affections of any other man apart from Miguel would not even merit a second thought. He provided for the two most important people in his life and had his priorities well and truly in check. Herself and their daughter had never wanted for anything, enjoying the extravagances of what Patricia considered a “normal”, comfortable lifestyle. Part of this was because she understood the hardships of money growing up on a farm raising cattle and tending to chickens and sheep. Back then, water had to be collected from the family well. Food was of the harvested variety and the house always being dotted with strategically placed candles allowing for light and some mild warmth for shivering hands on a cold winter's night. For sure, things were different now. And on the face of it much better than the lifestyle she left behind in Old Town. Save for the fact that her husband was a big-time hustler and ran with one of the most infamous drug baron’s with side of the state.
Money, shelter and protection in exchange for his undying loyalty and endless servitude. The house, the clothes they wore, the food on their table. Everything paid for and being financed by the destructive habits of legions of down-and-out addicts. She was once asked by a close friend how does she sleep at night knowing the tainted sources of her lifestyle of comfort. To which she responded if they weren’t going to buy their fix from Miguel, they would just as soon find someone else who would be more than happy to oblige. It was a simple question of who got to enjoy the lion’s share of the market first. Miguel or every other pusher out there looking for some quick business. She believed in caring for others to a certain degree but when it came to the choice of either her family or some unknown deviant? The answer was crystal clear. No one said life was fair. It only offers you but a chance to do something useful with it. What that was is down to you and you alone. Words she lived by on a daily basis.
Above the sound of the television set, she picked up on another much more familiar one. The purr of an engine. It was unmistakable. A Lexus LS400. Patricia pushed herself off the duvet and made a beeline for the window opposite. She was just in time in see the dark silhouette of her husband rush toward the front door. The next moment, keys jangling in the lock and him rushing upstairs. A sense of nervousness overcame her as Miguel had never skipped out on work before. Over a decade working for Orlon and not so much as even a sick day. If throwing a “sickie” even exists in the world of underground organised crime. She had barely hurried back to the foot of the bed when Miguel burst in.
He was sweating and had a look of wild confusion about him. Her fears sunk even lower than before. ”Honey, are you OK” He asked, making his way past her to run a check outside from behind the bedroom curtain. ”I’m fine.” She answered. ”Why shouldn’t I be? And why are you home? What’s happened?”
Miguel paused for a moment as if to confirm with himself that the coast was clear. He spun round and marched to where Patricia was standing, cupping her face with his hands before stroking them down to her shoulders. ”Baby, listen. Something’s gone wrong. Very wrong. We need to leave here immediately. It’s not safe anymore.” She could sense an intense underlying unrest, yet for her sake trying to remain calm and composed. This was the day she had dreaded all these years. She knew gangsters had their own unique code of honour and it was just a matter of time when even the best of the best would be hauled in for a replacement. It seemed somehow shit had hit the fan bad.
”What the hell are you talking about, Miguel?” She asked again, scared and trembling at the many frightening possibilities. ”Are we in danger?”
”Not if you follow exactly what I say at this very moment.” He replied. ”We don’t have much time and every second that I’m standing here trying to explain myself to you is a step closer to serious trouble for us all.”
”But it’s not right!” She said, raising her voice just below a full-on shout. ”I want to know what is going on? You can’t just show up out of the blue and demand we all leave our home without explaining things first?”
Miguel gritted his teeth, opening his eyes wide with agitation. ”Goddamn it, woman. Just get Sofia and go downstairs in the hallway. I’ll grab some things and meet you there.”
”And what if I don’t?” She retorted in defiance.
”Then your mother will be burying three dead bodies this weekend.” The sullenness in his voice broke off any anger she had left. For the seven years since they had been wed, this was the first time she had witnessed Miguel in this way. He was scared. It was genuine. Without thinking, Patricia rushed out of the room and into Sofia’s room next door. She was curled up in a foetal position, sucking on her thumb and fast asleep. Patricia caressed her head as she opened her eyes and stared back in a state of uneasy drowsiness.
”Sweetheart, it’s mama.” She whispered. ”We got a surprise trip planned. Raise that sleepy head of yours and let’s go see what it is, shall we?” The young girl frowned back with an expression of annoyance but intrigue as to what it could be. Patricia proceeded to lift her up and drape Sofia over her shoulder as Miguel could be heard gathering the necessary supplies in the bathroom.
On the landing, she called out to him. ”I’ll meet you downstairs. Please don’t be long.”
He did not answer but instead continued with what sounded like the throwing of various toiletries into a plastic bag. She made her way down the stairs as Sofia drifted in and out of sleep. Her tiny arms wrapping themselves around her front midsection as the two of them shifted in awkward discomfort. As she reached the hallway, Miguel could be heard making his way back down also. He carried with him two large black duffel bags in each hand. A bolt of horror shot through body her, adding to her already heightened panic. She knew full well the contents of at least one of them. But common sense took precedence as she had already made a pact with herself to act now and ask questions later.
