When Shawn and I got married, my mama told us to never go to bed angry. I thought she was just saying that no issue we have will ever be larger than our marriage or worth holding on to. Though after waking up with a sore throat from last night’s shouting match, I’m pretty sure this is the reason why. I reach for Shawn’s side of the bed but don’t find him. I listen for the soft snores of our bull mastiff Bruno, but I hear nothing except chirping birds and the occasional passing car. I think back to last night’s argument. It was rough and stupid. Especially when we realized that our fight stemmed from boredom and not unmet chores. Shawn had pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised as we collapsed into bed and watched a horror movie where a guy in a mask stalked some girl. I don’t know which one, I never cared enough to learn the difference. As another overly sexual teen met their demise, we drifted to sleep, our last words being “I love you”.
We ended the day on such a positive note that I was highly disappointed to have not woken up beside him. I kick my legs in bed like a child collapsed in a store. I fling the comforter off and get out of bed. I throw on my robe and make my way to the kitchen. I call out for Shawn and Bruno with no response. I wonder what he’s up to. In the kitchen, I grab my favorite mug then check the coffee maker. I froze. There’s a folding card with my name on it next to a gun by my coffee maker. I pick up the gun. It’s cold and the weight is familiar. A Beretta m9. The handwriting on the card is my husband’s. On the inside is one word “Run”. As I try to figure out why he would leave me a gun, I hear sirens. Far away but distinct. My stomach sinks. They’re coming for me. I dart for our back door. I hop our fence into our neighbor’s yard. I peek through the fence just in time to see two cruisers screech to a stop in front of our house. Once it’s clear, I continue to the end of the block. I ditch my robe in someone’s trash can and slow my pace. I do my best to appear normal, despite the slippers, my outfit doesn’t stand out too much, but I still need to change. As I figure my next steps, I try not to panic. The main thing I focus on is finding Shawn. And I think I know where he is hiding. I shelf the feeling of betrayal and continue on.
I make my way downtown and avoid everyone who might know me. It’s the weekend and the flea market is in full effect. The perfect place to find a new outfit. I left my wallet back at my house, so I have to be creative. Hopefully, I’m not too rusty. I navigate the crowd and identify my stops. Three stands. I let the hectic crowd be my cover as I go to a stall where a woman is selling long shawls. I swipe a hanging one as she talks prices with someone else. I tie it on my waist as I make my way to the local thrift shop’s booth. I throw on a jean jacket and get back into the crowd. At an accessories booth, I cop some flip flops and sunglasses while distracting the vendor with a dramatic story about how her bags remind of my time in Tibet. I wave goodbye and start to leave when she calls me. “Hey, wait!” she shouts. Should I make a run for it? Take her hostage? I tuck the sunglasses in my pocket before turning around. “Didn’t you forget something,” she asks. I try to think of an excuse but she picks up a bag and hands it to me.
“But, I don’t have any cash,” I say.
“Your story’s good enough for me.”
I don’t argue. I nod my thanks and push into the crowd. I bumped into several people and by the time I make to the edge of the crowd, I’ve gotten 4 wallets. I take out all the cash and ditch them. I see a guy smoking a cigarette by a truck.
“Can I get a ride to Mondelle Farm?”
“That’s a way’s away.”
“I’ve got the money for it.”
I buckle my seatbelt as he makes his way onto the road.
It’s dusk by the time I’m dropped off. I make my way up the dirt road to the old abandoned barn. I creep up next to the door and hear the sound of Bruno chewing on something. I take the Beretta out and enter. Shawn halts the game of tug of war with Bruno. Bruno snatches the rope from Shawn before running towards me, but my attention is on my potential traitor.
“Hi babe,” he smirks.
“Don’t you ‘Hi babe’ me. You called the cops on me? Really? For some unwashed dishes?”
He laughed. “No, our enemies did to flush us out. I just let our enemies know where we are. Told you I’d make it up to you,” he flashed his lop-sided smile.
I lowered the gun. The drooling dog demanded my attention so I pat his head while I think.
“So, you blew our cover, alerted our enemies and made me find you at our meetup?”
“I thought it would be romantic,” he shrugged. “Be honest, domesticity isn’t for us. You know it. You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun today.”
I couldn’t lie. Running from the cops. Swapping clothes at the flea market. Conning the lady. I felt a rush I hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling that any wrong decision could be my downfall. I shake my head as a smile creeps on my face. Any feeling of betrayal dissipates and gets replaced with fondness. He knows me so well.
Shawn made his way to me. He places his hands on my hips and stares into my soul. I melt instantly.
“This is the best make up gift you’ve ever given me,” I say, reaching to wrap my arms around his neck.
“It’s you and me like old times. Like always. Us and Bruno on the run, a trail of gunsmoke in our wake,” he surmises.
I study him. His floppy hair almost covering his eyes. His goofy smile and soft cheeks. No one would ever think that he was capable of violence, let alone leading teams of people into dangerous territory and doing whatever’s necessary to get out. Yet, his compassion despite of this is what drew me to him all those years ago. I can’t’ help but find that duality wickedly attractive.
“Fine. But when we’re done dealing with them, how about spicing things up with something normal like base jumping or white water rafting?”
We kiss. It’s barely been a day, but I missed him. So, sometimes I miss the days of espionage. Of life-endangering mission and blood-curdling decisions. If I could do nothing else but be in his arms with his lips on mine for the rest of my days, well I can live with that. I hear tires on the gravel road, and he does too if the sigh against my lips means anything. We pull apart and it’s the last thing either of us want to do. Shawn pulls out a gun. We both aim for the barn door and my heart races with excitement. He offers me one last cheeky smile.
“Love you, babe,” he says.
“Love you, too. Don’t die.”
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