Chapter 11

Agnes woke up in the dark, on the floor of her apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, shivering and ice cold. She slowly got on her knees and looked around her. Her bedroom light was on, and she was in the dark hallway. Her memory was a bit foggy, but she remembered falling down, her bum was sore, and her head hurt. Had she fainted? She didn’t know what time it was, she figured maybe two in the morning. Had she had dinner, or lunch come to think of it? She had to stop doing that.

Agnes made her way to the bathroom and turned on the light. It was small, but clean. The mirror door opened up to her few toiletries. Toothpaste, toothbrush, acne cream, moisturizer, and aspiring. She took the bottle, opened it, and popped two in her mouth, drinking water from the faucet. She remembered her loft in London. It had been a full year since she had left. The morning after Grant and her slept together, she had to pack, and figure out where to go. She decided to come back to New York. She figured it was easier to find a job here and keep a low profile until the team reunited in London.

………………………...

“So many people come and go from there, it makes sense.” She explained to Grant as she packed. He was in her bed, watching her. The sunlight cocooned them in a soft yellow and blue light. She finally messed up her bedsheets.

Grant looked at her, in her white silly teddy nighty. Agnes, my Agnes. This will be a test for me now, he knew that. But he was ready for this. He had been preparing for this moment from the day he fell in love with her. They were spies.

“Yes, it does make sense,” he responded as he sat up in bed, and pulled her in as she walked by him. He kissed her, pulled down her white silky nightgown, and took in her scent.

“I will wait for you, and we will be together.”

She kissed him.

“Can you promise me that?” she asked him.

Grant put his lips to her forehead, and softly traced them to her eyes, her nose, and finally her mouth.

“I promise.”

………………………………………..

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.

“Now what Agnes.”

She walked back to her bedroom. She looked at her watch. It was two thirty in the morning.

………...

That night, Grant had taken her to Heathrow Airport, and waited for her to go into the regular people terminal. No fancy shops, no special ladies’ lounges. Not the special HQ jet, just a regular flight to New York, JFK. He had written down the address of where she could find him, and the contact number for X, for when she came back in one year.

“Give me your phone, and the keys to your flat, “Grant asked of her.

Agnes handed them to Grant before heading into the security checkpoint. It was late, after midnight. The airport was not that busy. She wore jeans, her short black boots, white blouse, and a black leather jacket. All of the clothes she had bought herself, the clothes Danka had gotten her, and everything else she took with her, fit into two large suitcases. She had gotten her real passport shipped to her from the US after arriving in London, so she had her real identity back. Back to square one again.

Grant put her phone and keys in his jacket pocket.

“I will keep these for you till you get back. The flat will be there waiting, and so will I. And—”

He took her phone out of his pocket.

“Make sure to keep Reggie’s phone number, write it down.”

Agnes took out a pen and searched for his number on her phone.

“Why?” she asked.

Grant was very calm as he said this, “Because if you come back, and cannot find me, you call him, and he will know if I am dead or alive and will help you.”

Agnes paused for a moment and looked at him.

“We can’t pretend we are not spies, Agnes. You are leaving, but remember, this is your first unofficial mission… stay alive.”

She finished writing Reggie’s number, then gave him her phone.

Her flight left at one thirty, and it was getting late. Agnes had checked her bags, so she just carried a black leather backpack with her.

“Well, this is it then,” she said, trying to sound light and fun.

Grant tried smiling, but it backfired. He teared up.

“Agnes—” he could not finish, and Agnes knew why.

She kissed him, hard and long. Then she whispered in his ear, “I love you. Just know that.”

Grant held her close, and spoke into her neck, “In one year, make your way back. No matter what happens, come back home.”

She wiped his tears from his cheeks and began walking towards the checkpoint.

“Agnes,” Grant called out.

She turned around.

He smiled.

…………………..

Her bedroom was cold. She turned up the heat and looked out the window again. Oh, it had stopped raining… wait, what!? she did a double take. The rain had stopped.

Flights had been canceled, and airports had shut down in New York until the weather went back to some version of normal. It had been so long, nobody thought it would happen. But this meant she could leave, get on a plane, and go back home to London.

Cut with the life she had faked to live here...her job, her colleagues, the possibilities that may present themselves here. Maybe that guy at work would ask her out, maybe she would get into acting again, maybe she’d get pregnant and become a wealthy board member on some museum, going to plays and become instafamous! What did she want to do?

I want to go back, Agnes decided, and did not think about it again.

She didn’t have that much money but had enough to make this happen. Where was that piece of paper Grant had given her? Agnes looked for it. She had put it in her black leather backpack she had used that night, inside the inner pocket. She went into her closet and pulled it down from the shelf.

She sat on the cold hardwood floor and opened it up. There it was, that piece of paper. An address, Tommy Xi’s contact number, and Reggie’s mobile number. Agnes sat, staring at it, her handwriting, then Grant’s. She decided to close her eyes and breathe. In… and out...There was no guarantee Grant was waiting for her, not even that X and Sally, even Reggie, would remember her, or go through the trouble of bringing her back. She wasn’t that special. Maybe she should go back to Puerto Rico, pitch a tent on the beach, and live off the sea.

She imagined the waves crashing into the sand and heard the soft lull of the palm trees dancing in the breeze.

All of a sudden her mobile vibrated. She opened her eyes. She crawled to her bed and grabbed it.

It was a text from an unknown phone number, “Hey, it’s me.”

Agnes did not know this number. Probably a wrong number, drunk dialing. It was almost three in the morning. She ignored it Agnes stood up and took a deep breath. Did a 360 panoramic look at her life. Choices, Agnes: stay here, work at a normal job, maybe grow higher in the company, eventually become content, or leave, look for a man whom you loved, and he loved you back, and take back your life. Her phone went off again.

“Meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

She was getting irritated with this person, so she responded:

“You have the wrong number.”

She threw her phone on her bed, then went to the kitchen to eat some crackers, not lots of options at this time of night. But her phone went off again, stopping her in the hallway.

She walked back, slowly, then read the text:

“ 009. This is Aunt Sally, come downstairs, it’s time to come back.”

Agnes dropped the phone and screamed.

Come on Agnes, she said to herself, you thought they would let you go without being watched? She smiled, and ran to the door, but realized she was in her pajamas.

Agnes ran back into her room and jumped up and down.

“Woo hoo!” she screamed, threw off her pj’s, and started to pick an outfit.

“You’re back Agnes, you’re back!” she screamed.

An upstairs neighbor thumped on the floor three times.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up!”

Agnes grinned, and answered the text:

“Copy that.”

…………….Places everybody, Aunt Sally is watching…………..