Captive

Chapter 22

"Hi. This is Freddie. I can't reach my phone right now, but please leave your name, number, and your message after the beep, and I will get back to you. Thanks." the recording said.

"Freddie. It's Regan. I know you really don't wanna talk to me, and I get that, but I know a person who will be able to help you with that side project of yours." She sighed, "Call me back...please. I, ah, also miss you. Bye." Regan ended the one-sided conversation with her cell phone and shoved the device back in her pocket. It had been several days since he asked her to leave his apartment, and she still felt awful about the entire situation. Freddie choose not return her calls, nor did he talk to her at work. She sat at their usual table waiting for him to appear, but he never showed. It would have concerned her, but he was a creature of routine, and she knew that if he was not eating with her, he was hiding in his lab, justifying his solitude as a "working lunch."

She sat in a small coffee shop and checked her email on her laptop. The digital time was 12:34 p.m. on Thursday. Her compatriot, the one that she met every Thursday at 12:30 p.m. sharp, was officially late. It was unlike him to come late; he had always been a very prompt individual--even when they were younger. She remembered how he hurried her out of the house in the morning after he got his license. All he really wanted was to sit in the parking lot with the other juniors and rev his car engine. Most days, this left her to apply a little make up using the passenger seat mirror and prayers that she would not poke herself with the eyeliner if he skipped over a pothole. Therefore, she considered it rather odd that he was late for their weekly coffee outing. She continued to answer unimportant company emails and delete junk or spam mail that skirted past any of the ten different Algern server filters. Regan's head shot up every time she heard the jingling sound of the café door, and after the seventh glance, she finally saw her brother.

"Sorry sis," he gasped. "I was at the library, and I lost track of time."

"I was about to send out a search party, Vin," Regan mused. "Get any new books?"

"I was doing some internet research. Personal stuff."

His sister grinned, "You don't need to hide your online dating life from me, big brother. You know I don't care."

"Speaking of dating, how's your thing going with that guy?" "Freddie?"

"Yeah. When do I get to meet him?"

Regan frowned. "I'm not sure you will."

"Why?"

"Let's grab a frappe and some scones, and I'll fill you in," she said as she stood. Vincent and Regan approached the counter and placed their orders. As always, she tried to pull out her debit card to pay, but as always, her brother refused to let his sister waste her money on his coffee. They waited for their drinks, then piled the barista's concoctions with sugar, creamer, and chocolate powder before they sat back down at their small table.

"So what happened?" Vincent asked sincerely.

She took a deep breath and pushed her glasses up her nose with her boney finger, "Well, things were going great with Freddie until a couple of days ago."

"First fight?"

"No." She shook her head. "He found out that part of my job interferes with part of his job." Regan read the confusion on his face. "Okay, so basically, Freddie creates stuff made out of cells, and I destroy those cells. Make sense?"

"I guess." He was more of a humanities kind of guy—ask him about the human psyche or ask him to define the meaning of the word "synecdoche," and he could engage in a conversation for hours, but mention anything involving cells and science, and he was lost forever.