done.”
Parisa stood, straightening her skirt and blouse, opened the office door, and walked upstairs to her room, crying.
Jason went back to Mike’s computer to install more software. He instructed Mike on how to use the new software for encrypted communication, and on how to initiate money transfers from any account to his two accounts. Jason left the scrambler behind telling Mike that all conversations should occur in this room with the device on. Further, under no circumstances should he talk away from the device or leave his computer on when not around. He prepared his duffle bag by loading it up with the documents from the coffee table. Handing it to his dad, he prepared for his run back to the fire station.
* * *
Parisa was upstairs, on her bed, with an album of pictures, each page having just one group picture for each of the kids’ birthdays. She too made an album, similar to Jason’s wife, so she could quickly see how the kids were growing up, what they each looked like, year to year, as well as the family.
She quickly went past the girls until she got to Bobby’s first picture. She worked her way through the years. They were all in the pictures, her family, Gordon and his wife, Jason and his family, friends, and neighbors. Happy times they were.
As she looked through the pictures, she noticed several without Jason. In actuality, there were many photos without Jason. She recalled the conversations, the roundabout chitchat about where he was or was not, the quiet conversations she had with her husband about what he was or wasn’t doing, all the rumors. Everybody knew just a little, just a hint, just enough to be worried, to be fearful.
She worked her way back downstairs. Jason and Gordon were getting ready to leave. She walked back into the office, closing the door. She was stone cold. Her face was red and her eyes glossy, yet she was calm. She looked at Jason, straight in to his eyes. They were face to face.
“I don’t know what you did in your secret life, before, whenever! It was something. Something we can use. So, if you have to kill every one of those fuckers, you do it, and you bring my son back, in one piece and unharmed.”
Jason took her hand, kissed it, and promised her just that, and nothing less.
* * *
After his run back down the hill, his father dropped him off at his rental car. Jason drove to his hotel, to study the documents and further his plans.
8 | Missed Birthdays
It was Bobby’s second birthday. Mike offered to help, knowing he could not. He was busy with several new and large construction contracts. Added to the stress was the completion of his new office building, in which they had to move within two weeks. Then there were all the interviews he had to do supporting the recruiting process. The company was growing at a rapid pace. On the home front, his kitchen too was a busy place. Parisa was making breakfast and lunch for everyone. The girls were packing their backpacks, getting ready for school. Bobby was in his high chair smiling, playing, and eating his Cheerios. He was the youngest of all, and spoiled by each.
Every morning before he left for work, Mike would sit and stare at Bobby for a good ten minutes, while having his coffee, inhaling the little boy’s essence. It would give him so much energy.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Parisa said acknowledging the offer, tapping him on the backside, as he prepared his briefcase and refilled his coffee mug.
“The girls will help. Gordon and Charlene will be here early to help as well.”
“I told you, the godfather thing would come in handy,” Mike said smiling as he left the house.
Mike had been living in this subdivision, near where Gordon and his family moved after Iran. It was his first and only home in the US. A little small, but he liked it well enough. It was close to the schools and in a good district. The kids had their friends nearby. The low mortgage, allowed him to save a lot of money. His
Parisa stood, straightening her skirt and blouse, opened the office door, and walked upstairs to her room, crying.
Jason went back to Mike’s computer to install more software. He instructed Mike on how to use the new software for encrypted communication, and on how to initiate money transfers from any account to his two accounts. Jason left the scrambler behind telling Mike that all conversations should occur in this room with the device on. Further, under no circumstances should he talk away from the device or leave his computer on when not around. He prepared his duffle bag by loading it up with the documents from the coffee table. Handing it to his dad, he prepared for his run back to the fire station.
* * *
Parisa was upstairs, on her bed, with an album of pictures, each page having just one group picture for each of the kids’ birthdays. She too made an album, similar to Jason’s wife, so she could quickly see how the kids were growing up, what they each looked like, year to year, as well as the family.
She quickly went past the girls until she got to Bobby’s first picture. She worked her way through the years. They were all in the pictures, her family, Gordon and his wife, Jason and his family, friends, and neighbors. Happy times they were.
As she looked through the pictures, she noticed several without Jason. In actuality, there were many photos without Jason. She recalled the conversations, the roundabout chitchat about where he was or was not, the quiet conversations she had with her husband about what he was or wasn’t doing, all the rumors. Everybody knew just a little, just a hint, just enough to be worried, to be fearful.
She worked her way back downstairs. Jason and Gordon were getting ready to leave. She walked back into the office, closing the door. She was stone cold. Her face was red and her eyes glossy, yet she was calm. She looked at Jason, straight in to his eyes. They were face to face.
“I don’t know what you did in your secret life, before, whenever! It was something. Something we can use. So, if you have to kill every one of those fuckers, you do it, and you bring my son back, in one piece and unharmed.”
Jason took her hand, kissed it, and promised her just that, and nothing less.
* * *
After his run back down the hill, his father dropped him off at his rental car. Jason drove to his hotel, to study the documents and further his plans.
8 | Missed Birthdays
It was Bobby’s second birthday. Mike offered to help, knowing he could not. He was busy with several new and large construction contracts. Added to the stress was the completion of his new office building, in which they had to move within two weeks. Then there were all the interviews he had to do supporting the recruiting process. The company was growing at a rapid pace. On the home front, his kitchen too was a busy place. Parisa was making breakfast and lunch for everyone. The girls were packing their backpacks, getting ready for school. Bobby was in his high chair smiling, playing, and eating his Cheerios. He was the youngest of all, and spoiled by each.
Every morning before he left for work, Mike would sit and stare at Bobby for a good ten minutes, while having his coffee, inhaling the little boy’s essence. It would give him so much energy.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Parisa said acknowledging the offer, tapping him on the backside, as he prepared his briefcase and refilled his coffee mug.
“The girls will help. Gordon and Charlene will be here early to help as well.”
“I told you, the godfather thing would come in handy,” Mike said smiling as he left the house.
Mike had been living in this subdivision, near where Gordon and his family moved after Iran. It was his first and only home in the US. A little small, but he liked it well enough. It was close to the schools and in a good district. The kids had their friends nearby. The low mortgage, allowed him to save a lot of money. His
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