En un momento / in a minute

I drummed my fingers absentmindedly on the desk top, staring out the window at the colorful leaves that hung on the trees outside. I saw a small bird alight upon one of the branches, but I could not hear its sweet song. It seemed to beckon me, but still the only sound that reached me was the incessant drumming of my own finger tips.

Aggravated by this failure, I pushed away from the desk. I walked quickly out of the room and started down the hallway towards the kitchen, shivering at the cool air that touched me arms. I felt goosebumps rise up along my skin, reminding my already conscious mind that it was cold in the house. I paused at the thermostat that hung on the wall by the door, but shook my head when I saw that it read ninety degrees. I regretted not getting it fixed when I had the chance.

Softly, I crept along the hallway further, staring into the rooms darkened by lack of proper windows. My spine tingled as I imagined what hidden monsters might be lurking the recesses of the rooms, regressing momentarily to age seven or eight. I allowed myself a moments soft shiver of dread, then pressed forward, shuffling my feet against the raised carpet. Soon the carpet changed to stone, and I found myself in a nineteenth century kitchen, or so it had been modeled to look like. The lack of appliances was disturbing, or would have been had I come to cook. Instead, the blank countertops were reassuring, for there was no note placed upon it. I heaved a sigh, and then left the room. I walked more swiftly this time, covering the distance in less than a minute. The darkened corners no longer seem predatory, but I knew that in a moment that could change.

I returned to rocking back and forth in my chair, though I still could not hear the bird sing. The browns and golds and greens all blended together in front of me, mixed as if seen through a puddle of water. My reflection stared back at me, my chest directly over the bird’s figure. He sang a few silent notes, and then flew away. I shifted so I could no longer see my own image. 

The clocked ticked gently from behind me, reminding me of the minutes I wasted in front of the window, staring, lost in my own thoughts. The colors swirled and danced before my eyes before they began to close in weariness. I could not fight that yet I felt that I would miss something. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes.

I smelled the oak beneath my face before I saw it. I raised my hands to rub my tired eyes, scratching the evidence from them. My thoughts refused to focus, confused and befuddled, trying to make one and one equal two. In shock, my brain recalled what I had refused to consciously contemplate. Running to the kitchen this time, I spotted the note not a moment after I’d entered the room. My pace slowed to a crawl and I dragged my feet on the ground. What had she left this time?

The note was simple, but I could make no sense of it. It read, “En un momento, dos veces. En un minuto, uno vez. En un año, no se ve.” I knew very little Spanish, shocked that this was what the kidnapper had chosen to leave. I tried to translate it, my mind trying to grasp the words, certain that it was a riddle.

“In a moment, two times. In a minute, one time. In a year, you don’t see it.” I puzzled for a minute, trying to see if there was a double meaning behind it, sure that the answer would lead to my daughter. My heart stuttered, and adrenaline pulsed through my veins.

I heard the door open, and then slam shut behind whoever had entered. I spun, determined that this person would not enter and leave hurt and harm streaming behind them in a band of red and black. I could smell my own fear and worry opening a cavern in my heart.

A small head peeped around the corner, little dark hair framing an expectant face, a smile opening her little rosebud mouth. “Mommy,” she cried, running across the room and throwing herself into my arms. “The answer’s M, for mommy.”

“What are you talking about?” These were the first words to fall from my stiff and frozen lips. I wanted to tell her of my worry and fear, but it came out in blame, yet she didn’t notice.

“The note, Mommy.” She smiled expectantly. “Let me show you.” She walked over to the counter and pulled the note off, handing it to me. “Here.” I took it, rereading the riddle in slight hysteria. For right below the riddle were the words, ‘see if you can solve this before we get back.’

“Who are we?” I asked, slightly annoyed now.

“Oh, I was over at Lauren's.” The next door neighbors. Relief flooded through me. She was fine. Out the window, I heard the slight trill of a bird dancing across the breeze.