The Silver Ninja®: A Bitter Winter (Extended Preview of published book)

Chapter 4: Fragmented

CHAPTER 4

Fragmented

Cindy returned home to Forest Hills, in February, a time where the winter makes the northeast miserable. She flared the bedroom curtain. Sunlight poured in and bathed the bedroom in soft light. She watched the neighborhood kids pelt each other with snowballs and felt longing for a time when she would have been the one out there flinging snowballs at her sister. They released her from the hospital two weeks ago with orders to maintain daily physical therapy in order to rebuild the deteriorated muscles in her shrunken legs.

Seeing the snow reminded her of the dump she used to live in during her probationary officer days. She could only afford rent for a cramped apartment in West New York where the radiators ran hot and could not be shut off or turned down. One time, she went to her neighbor's apartment to ask for some half and half for her coffee. When they opened the door, snow blasted out the doorway. They had left their windows open in the middle of a blizzard because it was too hot inside their apartment. She thought it was hilarious.

So winter sucked, but the spring and summer was magical. Cindy and her neighbors would wait until the sun was red and peeking from behind the buildings. They would go up to the rooftop and haul coolers filled with beers, soda, and food. They would decorate with hanging lights and gather around a smoking grill where someone volunteered to cook juicy hot dogs and hamburgers. But her favorite dishes were the tamales and tostadas brought by the Latino neighbors. They drank from ice cold beers and shared funny stories until the sky became purple with boredom.

Forest Hills was nothing like that. For starters, she and Jonas lived in a small, but pricey Tudor mansion. He didn't know his neighbor's names and didn't utilize the backyard to throw parties. They had a driveway instead of a parking garage and the second floor to their house was theirs alone, meaning no squeaky beds and moaning neighbors to keep them up at night. Though she loved the space and the ability to adjust the thermometer, she still longed for a community. At least then, whenever she became ill, a neighbor would come over with chicken soup or medicine and she would repay the favor with whatever they needed. Jonas made her happy, but he wasn't an apartment building full of friends.

Cindy closed the curtain and sat up. Sharp pains hooked into her stomach with each subtle movement. She lifted her shirt and touched the misshapen holes carved into her stomach. Each scar was a gift from Ned, unique in their grotesque shape and size.

She found it disturbing that before she lost consciousness, there had been Christmas decorations on her neighbor's house and a Christmas tree in the corner of her living room. She didn't get to see the New Year's Eve ball drop and didn't know it was a new year until Jonas had told her.

Sixty two days had gone by and she had missed all of it. Being absent from your own life was more terrifying than a squad of heavily armed hit men. What happened during those weeks that she was gone? She imagined falling asleep as a pre-teen and then waking up as an old woman. She would have never experienced a first kiss, driving, going to college, or even becoming a woman. Anxiety and fear closed around her weakened mind and blocked out rational thought. You're worthless, a coward, a complete and utter . . . she heard a dog bark. Not a big dog, but a small one, like a Chihuahua. An annoying little yipe.

The bark repeated a few more times and was joined by lively trumpets, drums, and a man singing El Baile del Perrito at full volume. The bass boomed with such vigor, the photos from her honeymoon danced across the wooden dresser.

"Oh no," she said. "He's cleaning."

The lyrics marched into her ears with its irritating repetition and that annoying bark. The Spanish lyrics literally translated to: the dance of the dog, the dance of the dog, everyone wants to dance. Cindy grabbed her crutches, shoved them under her arms, and followed the jaunty tune to the living room.