Manx- Drawers

  Wayne pulled the drawer all the way out and put his hand in it, patting down the baize interior, as if the phone might be hiding under the drawer lining somehow. He knew he was not mistaken and that this was the drawer he had put it in, but he closed it and looked in the other drawer, beneath the passenger seat. It was just as empty.

  “Where are you?” Wayne cried, although he already knew. While he had been washing his hands, Manx had climbed into the backseat and collected the phone himself. He was probably walking around with it in the pocket of his greatcoat right this instant. Wayne felt like crying. He had built a delicate cathedral of hope, deep inside him, and Manx had stepped on it, then lit it on fire. GOD BURNED ALIVE, ONLY DEV1LS NOW.

  It was stupid—pointless—but Wayne went back and opened the first drawer again, for another look.

  There were Christmas ornaments in it.

  They had not been there a moment ago. A moment before, the drawer had been absolutely empty. Now, though, the drawer contained an enamel angel with tragic drooping eyes, a great silver snowflake dusted in glitter, and a sleeping blue moon in a Santa Claus cap.

  “What is this?” Wayne said, hardly aware he was speaking aloud.

  He lifted each out in turn.

  The angel hung from a golden loop, turning gently, blowing her horn.

  The snowflake looked deadly, a weapon, a ninja’s throwing star.

  The moon smiled at his own private musings.

  Wayne returned the ornaments to the drawer where he had discovered them and gently pushed the drawer shut.

  Then: opened it again.

  Empty once more.

  He exhaled a frustrated, fuming breath and slammed the drawer, whispering furiously, “I want my phone back.”

  Something clicked in the front seat. Wayne looked up in time to see the glove compartment fall open.

  His phone sat on a stack of road maps.

  Wayne stood in the backseat. He had to hunch, with the back of his head pressed to the ceiling, but it could be done. He felt as if he had just seen a bit of sleight of hand; a magician had passed a palm over a bouquet of flowers and transformed them into his iPhone. Mingled with his sense of surprise—astonishment, even—was an ill tickle of dismay.

  The Wraith was teasing him.
...

  He clapped Wayne on the back and nodded toward the front of the car. Wayne followed his gaze . . . and saw that he was looking at the open glove compartment. At the phone.

  “Did you really think you were going to hide something from me?” Manx asked. “Here in this car?”

  It didn’t seem like the kind of question that required an answer.

  Manx crossed his arms tightly over his chest, almost as if giving himself a hug. He was smiling to himself. He didn’t look angry at all.

  “Hiding something in this car is as bad as putting it in the pocket of my coat. I am bound to notice. Not that I can blame you for trying! Any boy would try. You should eat those eggs. They will get cold.”

- Search Engine: Bing’s Garage