ELCOM

ELCOM: that's what it said on the faded green mat as he stood looking down at it, between his feet. Funny thing: he didn't feel particularly ELCOM. A faded green mat in front of a pale brown door. The door was beige really, or light tan. He didn't really belong here; standing on that ELCOM mat in front of that door. He certainly didn't feel right knocking on that door. Of course he hadn't really knocked as of yet. His fist was poised and ready to rap on the pale brown door. It had been in a ready position for almost a minute, and he had still not knocked on the door.

Chance is a funny thing sometimes. Sometimes it's just a son of a bitch. He wasn't sure yet which was the case for him now. It was chance that found him in that small cafe 28 hours earlier and 6000 miles to the southeast, when that particular newscast came on and caught his ear and more importantly his eye. He had been having a late breakfast of eggs and Linguica -spicy sausage- with a particularly potent cup of Portugese coffee, when he heard the name of a familiar place. Lake Forest; the newscaster said. It caused him to turn towards the small t.v. Above the counter and watch. The owner picked this time to raise his voice to the cook in the back, so the rest of the newscast was lost amidst a variety of Portugese that you don't hear in church.

Even though he didn't hear the details; he saw things. There was footage of some soft middle aged gentleman giving some form of statement. And there were pictures. Pictures of children. 7 of them: they looked like they were between the ages of say 5 and 9. the last one in particular caught his eye. The pictures were your typical school photos, and the last one was the one. She was probably about 6 or 7. Her face was so familiar; but it was her eyes that did it. Her eyes made him change his plans and take 2 flights that lasted 19 hours between the two.

It wasn't easy; and it wasn’t cheap. He had to liquidate a little bit of his stash and leave behind a sweet Norton Manx 500cc motorcycle. The bike was almost 50 years old, but ran like a dream. It was similar to the motorcycle that Che and his friend Alberto had used to travel across South America many years before.

So here he was; standing on a faded green ELCOM mat, with his hand ready to knock. And he really was going to knock when the door opened. 

She was standing there across the threshold looking at him. He hadn't seen her in nearly 7 years. Time had been kind to her. She had dark brown hair with reddish highlights, and green eyes with a startling ring of blue around the iris. Her face, while not classically beautiful; was lovely, and there were just a few more lines on it than he last recalled. Her eyes were red: he knew it wasn't because she was stoned or anything like that. She had never gone in for any sort of illicit drug use. He knew she was crying because of the girl: the girl whose eyes had brought him back from another continent.

He was about to say something.....not sure what....but his mouth was opening when she blurted out "YOU"! he wasn't quite sure how to respond, truth be told, but before he could think of anything... her right hand reached out and slapped him Hard against his cheek. then before he could say anything to that, her left hand slapped him Hard across his other cheek. these were no small girlie slaps. she had been athletic all her life and had swum and played water polo throughout high school and college, so her blows held no small amount of force. after the second slap, her right hand rose up, balled into a fist and slammed down into his chest, followed closely by her left. she continued to strike his broad chest with the regularity of John Henry driving railroad spikes; and with each and every blow, she exhaled violently and blurted out, "HATE YOU!". over and over.

Now from the first slap to the last of her thumping strikes, he saw the attacks coming, and yet he did nothing. Despite all of his years of training, and despite the fact that he was gifted from birth with an incredible amount of hand eye coordination and speed... he did nothing. Despite the fact that he could have stopped, blocked, or thwarted each strike in a variety of ways, some of them involving brutal, deadly force...he did nothing. Because the fact of the matter was...he quite possibly did deserve this. so he waited out her rage, prepared to stop or evade a blow if he felt that she was actually going to harm him instead of; for lack of a better word...Vent!

It didn't last as long as it seemed... Eventually she just stopped! She fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been snipped. He watched her for a moment; she was hunched over and her body shook with near silent sobs. He didn't know what to say; wasn't sure he had the right to say anything. So he said nothing at all. He silently stepped over her inert form and entered her home.

It was a smallish 2 bedroom townhome, or maybe it was a condo: those real estate terms were always a little unclear to him. He moved past a foyer, complete with a coat rack and closet, and moved into a spacious living area. The room was done in a nautical motif. She always had loved the ocean; he remembered that much. He spotted the different pictures placed about the room almost immediately. The little girl he had seen on the news cast was prominently displayed about the room. One frame in particular caught his eye. This dark wood frame had 9 different windows with 9 different pictures. The little girl was the star in all of them. The largest picture in the frame was of the day she was born; wrapped snugly in a blanket, and lying on her mothers' breast. there were several pictures that were obviously from birthday parties, and there was even one of the little girl, and his own father. that last shocked him, to be perfectly honest. the picture was probably about a year old, and the little girl was maybe 5 years old in it. it was plain to see the resemblance to her grandfather... even plainer seen was the resemblance he saw in his reflection from the picture frame. that was why he hadn’t had anything to say to her when she exclaimed "YOU" after striking him, and while she blurted "HATE YOU!!" as she continued to strike him. there was a timeline involved; and in theory he had an excuse...but he didn't think that really mattered to the girls' mother.

He was still examining the pictures and trying his damndest to think of what to say when she walked back into her house. she closed the door behind her; he was slightly surprised that she didn't slam it, and she came to the kitchen table and sat.

He watched her for a moment, and then pointed to one of the kitchen chairs opposite her. She shrugged her shoulders without a word, and he sat. She asked, "why are you here?". He considered for a moment, and responded, "I saw the news, so now I'm here". " now you're here!, she repeated,"now you're here!, she repeated again, her voice rising. "you don't belong here! This is not your place!" "but I am here", he said in a tired voice. She asked him," and what is it that you think you're going to do?" She continued with,  "you have no rights here; this is not your world anymore!". "well", he started, only to be interrupted by her, "well What?" she asked forcefully. "well, he continued, I thought I would look into it and see if I could help". "I've always been good at figuring things out". She looked at him, with a hint of sadness behind her eyes, and said, "you were always good at things like that;  but this isn't the desert, or some messed up battle zone. This is Orange County for gods' sake". "what do you think you can do?" "I can try and sort things out. I can find out who is responsible, he offered. "and then what"? she asked? "and then he said, “if they have harmed the girl... I can kill them all!"

she looked him over; and it seemed as though she wanted to say something... he still had no clue what to say; or even if he should say anything. she stared at him silently for almost a minute; then she stood up and walked out of the living room, and disappeared down a hallway. he heard a door close a few moments later; and then he waited. he had been waiting; sitting at the kitchen table for almost 15 minutes, and she just never came back. since he had nothing to say; and he damned sure wasn't going to go into her bedroom... he stood up, took another look at that 9 windowed picture frame, concentrating on the picture of the girl and his own father. it seemed to be the most recent one. he made up his mind; after almost 7 years, to start with his father.