She reached canal footpath looking for the keys his half-drunk husband had lost whilst doing “Number one”. Where he might have lost them- she wondered, looking all around among the bushes, on the ground, everywhere for a half an hour except, the running water which was out of reach. Her husband – Herman stooped and aggressively continued the search without a success, 15-20 meters away from her, checking the lawn in the dark with his dirty fingers and swearing in Latvian ,each time his hands touched something palpable and badly smelling.
“Shit! I Cant do it anymore.” – he stood up and shouted at hour wife tired of searching , like it was Flora, to blame for lost keys. It had been in his nature to always to shift the responsibility to someone else.
An hour ago Herman and Flora were on their way to home, after birthday party in suburban district of Jurmala, driving as fast as a rocket, alongside the canal, which was old and rarely used by residents of capital city, but most frequently used by picnickers and late time lovers. 2-3 km to the north of highway juncture, he had spotted a traffic police car and therefore decided to park the car behind the high rising tree, for not drawing attention and eventually get busted for intoxicated driving.
“Ok..There always must be solution. I have an idea. I have 2 spare keys, one of which is in my office , on my desk , behind family picture frame, another one in the house. I’ve expensive equipment inside trunk, so one of us goes, one of us stays. Your call”
“I’d rather stay. You go take a cab nearby and rush to your office before I get killed from exposure. Hurry. I’ll stay inside the car. Its getting cold out here.”
“Ok… 30 minutes tops. Sorry for inconvenience darling.”
He had his hood on, pulled the laces of dark black inspector boots until the knot is tight, gave himself good slap on right and left cheek, as to somehow curb the pressure of alcohol and hit the road running - to the surprise of his own wife – who had known him for almost a decade and never seen him so resilient.
“Don’t turn the lights on cos I don’t wanna see you in the dark…” - he sang his favorite song by Cromea as he was running alongside dark and vacant road with no lights inside, to cheer himself.
Running to fast took his breath away, but he was satisfied with distance he closed so far, after he turned back to check the progress. He wished he had ultimate running sneakers instead of black classic boots he wore for the party. His ears caught hardly audible dim noise within surrounding woods, sounds of young blood joy rather than a scream or outcry for help, as he stopped to give his overheated lungs a break. Some kind of late time orgy or something his thought, “freaken young generation,,, no taste in music… no good way for passing time. Just chatting-cheating-fu…ing- with all its supplements”
His eyes blistered as he saw a car with headlights on coming towards him .
God, let it be a tax, let it be a taxi, let it be a taxi.
Monday is not so unlucky day after all. Pale yellow color made him so optimistic that day.
“45 Soborsky street, please hurry. I lost my car keys so wife waits inside the car, near the canal.”