7 Years

“Look, I know it sucks having the cops show up at your door!” He yelled as he stood outside the door of the apartment him and his team were about to raid. “But this is your last chance to open up!” He paused and listened for any movement on the inside that could indicate that someone was approaching the door. Silence.
    He stepped around to face the door. The upkeep showed the part of town that they were in far to well. Normally this wasn't the kind of place that raids happened. But every now and then they would track down someone such as a politician or Wall Street broker who was dealing on the side and pocketing the money. This door was well painted, the color of cream. The knob had a feathered copper finishing to it. He felt bad, only for a slight moment, about kicking it in. He motioned for his team to be ready to move in the moment the door was no longer in their path. He raised his foot and kicked the door in. It swung open and the team ran in, guns ready in the case they met unfriendly fire.
     “Hands were I can see 'em!” He shouted, gun up and ready to pull the trigger. He looked around and realized that no one, other then his team, was in the apartment. He lowered his gun and silently cursed. He had thought they had finally gotten the jerk.
     “Looks like they cleared out a while ago, sir.” He turned around to his team member and nodded.
     “Canvas the area and get uniforms down here.” He answered. He shook his head, feeling like he had failed again.

     Back in his apartment, he stood at his refrigerator staring at its contents. Brad wasn't even looking for anything in particular. He was trying to get a grip on what had happened that day. They had been so close to finally getting this guy. They had been tracking him for, well, he couldn't remember how long. At least not in his present state of mind.
     Brad leaned further into his fridge, his hand going for a bottle of beer. As his fingers brushed the cold glass he heard his cell phone ring. The generic ringtone which he never saw a need to change, rang out through his apartment. He had no reason to quickly answer it. If it was important, then they would leave a number. He grabbed the beer as his phone kept chirping and headed over to were he kept his bottle opener and snapped the cap off his bottle. It clanked down onto the counter and he paused, staring at it. He wished his life was different. He wished he could so easily move locations like that cap moved from his bottle. He then shook his head, coming back to his reality, the reality he wanted to forget.
     Tipping the bottle to his lips, he walked out of his kitchen just as the voice mail alert bleeped on his phone. He reached the his old couch, that had the faint scent of cigarettes. He had bought it off of Craig's List from a Fratt house that had gotten new furniture. It was a blue color and there were stains on the couch. He could only guess what kind of stains they were. It wasn't something that he would have picked out on his own, but at the same time he had to pinch his pennies.
     Brad sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. He turned on his flat screen and then grabbed the DVD player remote to resume season 1 of White Collar. As the DVD started to load he reached over and grabbed his phone to see who had called him. He paused. The number on the screen wasn't familiar.
    Brad sat his beer down and held his phone up to his ear. He impatiently waited through the voice mail as it brought him to the messages.
    “One new message.” The automated the voice said. Then, he heard a familiar voice and he could have sworn his lungs and his heart stopped for a moment or two. He had never thought he'd hear her voice again.
    “Um... hey, its me.” She sounded just like her old self. “I was just calling to say that I'm back in the area and, well, if you're free sometime, I'd love to grab coffee or something and just catch up.” She paused. He could have sworn he heard her smiling as she spoke. “Anyways, give me a call back. My number is-”
    He began frantically rifling through the papers on his coffee table, trying to find something to write it down on. He found what he needed and quickly scribbled it down. He hung up his phone and stared at the little scrap of paper with the ten digit sequence on it. The beer and his TV show were completely forgotten. He thought he would never hear from her again. He could still remember the last time he had seen her. It was almost as if it had happened yesterday, not seven years ago.

    “Is everything okay, Firefly?” He asked her, using the nickname that she loved so much. He was looking at her, her hair hanging down around her face, shading it from the world around her. He watched as she slowly traced the pattern that was on the metal table. Her coffee was sitting, neglected, next to her.
    Slowly she looked up and he saw her face emerge from her golden brown hair. It reminded him of a wheat field just before the sun set for the day, wind causing the stalks to bend ever so slightly. She smiled a small, sad smile. He could tell that there was something that held her excitement like a puppy greeting its master, but at the same time almost seemed like a rain storm was about to pour down on her.
    She nodded her head yes, then followed with a no, which was followed by another yes.
    “What's going on, Firefly?”
     “I... got into the MA program.” She smiled, but the words held a tinge of remorse.
    “To Northern Arizona University?” He asked her.
    She nodded. He wanted to smile for her and be excited for her, but at the same time he knew that it meant moving away. He wanted to ask her to not go, but knew he would regret saying anything to stop her. This was what she wanted. She wanted to continue her education and she had fallen in love with the idea of going to this school. He couldn't stop her, even though it meant losing her.
    “We can do the long distance thing.” He said, making sure his tone was optimistic. He knew that things were changing now and he would do what he could to keep it as normal as he could. He reached across the table and took her hand in his.
    She pulled it from his loose grasp and looked down again. “No... we can't.” her lips quivered as she spoke. “They never work out.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

    Brad blinked and looked around his apartment. That was seven years ago. It was hard to believe that he had gotten over that hurt. She had left him. She had also inspired him to join the academy. She was the reason he was doing what he loved now. After all, she was the whole reason he hadn't joined the academy right after college. He didn't want to be putting his life on the line everyday, making her worry that he may not return that night. Her leaving him, while it had stung and had caused more pain then he knew possible It was as if someone had ripped his heart out, and while it was still connected to his circulatory system had placed it in burning, smoldering coals. But he had moved on, for the most part. She was his first love, and he knew part of him would always love her.
    His life had changed so much as well. Not mention he had changed and he was sure she had changed as well. He had never thought that he would hear her voice again. The whole remaining friends thing didn't work out for them. It had been too hard on him being separated. After all, she had moved half way across the country.
   Shakily, he lifted his phone up and looked at the paper. Carefully he punched the numbers into his phone, part of him hoping he'd miss-dial so he'd have a bit more time before talking to her directly. He held the phone to his ear, wondering if she would answer. Then the rings stop and he heard her voice.
    “Hey. I'm glad you called back.”
    Again, he could hear her smiling on the other end.
    He smiled, one that he felt in the muscles of his face. It was one that he couldn't fight. He hadn't realized how much he had missed until this moment. It was as if he was finally feeling again. He hadn't realized how numb he had been these last few years. Everything seemed to melt away. His lips parted and he spoke. “Its been a long time, hasn't it?”