Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [74]
Fooling himself into believing that curiosity trumped fear, Milo decided to return to Cynthia Drive the next morning, early enough to follow Freckles to work and wherever else she may go. He told himself that by filling in the blanks of her life, he could better prepare for their eventual encounter. In truth, he was simply delaying the inevitable, afraid to face a woman whom he liked and admired but who would probably end up hating him.
The following morning, Milo had followed Freckles to the neighboring town of New Britain, to an ugly rectangular box of brick and glass, where she apparently spent her days working. Horse training was not Freckles’s only gig, or at least it wasn’t anymore. Knowing that she had arrived home around five o’clock the previous day, Milo met with two clients during the morning and early afternoon (including Arthur Friedman) before returning to New Britain at four to resume his tail. Freckles left work at four forty-five and had made her way straight to Mill Pond Park, where she had joined a group of a dozen friends and a small horde of children on the far field.
As Milo watched her across the open field, he thought about the possibility that his entire future with Freckles might comprise a single, uncomfortable three-minute encounter. Despite his effort to do the right thing, it was likely that after returning the camera and tapes, he would never see Freckles again. Though he knew it made no sense, it still broke his heart to think of such a future.
He closed the distance between them to less than fifty feet and then remained in place, continuing to watch. This is when one of the final pieces of the puzzle, the explanation of Freckles’s morning fight, finally fell into place.
A middle-aged Indian man in wire-rimmed glasses was standing about twenty feet from Freckles, grappling a spool of kite string. Freckles was standing to his left, spinning out string of her own. High above them, their kites were engaged in a form of aerial combat that Milo had once read about in a novel set in Afghanistan.
Kite fighting.
The two kites, one purple and white and the other various shades of green, were spinning, looping, climbing, and diving around each other at impossible speeds. Milo watched in amazement as Freckles and her opponent made their kites act more like small planes than simple toys on string. In fact, the kites were moving so quickly that Milo couldn’t determine which kite belonged to Freckles and which was controlled by her opponent. Regardless, he was in awe of the performance taking place overhead.
He wondered if Meera had introduced her to the sport.
The battle went on over the contestants’ heads for more than ten minutes, the gathering crowd watching the sky intently as several small children followed the kites on foot, running back and forth across the field, attempting to stay directly below them. Several other kites were scattered around the field, all of various designs and colors, appearing ready for flight. Just as Milo was ready to venture over to the crowd to inquire about the status of the fight, two girls standing near Freckles leapt into the air, screaming in delight. Though he assumed that Freckles had won, Milo wasn’t sure what constituted a victory until he saw the green kite gliding gently to the ground, pursued by the pack of screaming children. Its line had been cut.
The two women, one wearing jeans and a T-shirt and the other a teal sari, ran over to congratulate Freckles, whose purple and white kite still soared high overhead. They were followed by a smaller group of men and women, older and less enthusiastic than the first two but seemingly happy for her nonetheless. Freckles smiled as she shook their hands and listened to them speak, but she seemed uncomfortable with the attention that she was receiving, turning attempts to hug and even lift her off the ground into brief, awkward embraces. Once each member of the group had offered his or her congratulations, she turned and took several steps toward her opponent, who appeared