The Missing Cell Phone

 

Ira secured his racket across his back and checked the front pocket of his shorts for his cell phone. Despite the shallowness of the pocket, he could feel the phone nestled against an inside corner. He flung his leg over the bar on his bike and began pedaling two miles to the tennis courts at Countryside Estates.

Sweat poured onto his headband in the August heat, but the biking gave him an extra workout. With black elastic bandages wrapped around both knees, he planned to stay fit as long as his knees held up.

The bike ride gave him extra time to figure out his roster. He had volunteered to captain two of the teams in his community, and he suspected that without him, his teammates wouldn’t have had any idea where or when to show up for matches. He didn’t think some of his teammates could organize a grocery list, let alone team matches.

The morning’s effort proved worthwhile, as Ira’s team won at every position. Before sitting with a fresh bottle of cold water, he dug into his pocket to check his messages. He found nothing but lint.

“Hey, guys, did anyone see my cell phone on the court?” he yelled. He began a search of every inch of   clay where he’d played, as well as the patio where the teams had met before and after. No luck.

“Oh my God, I need my phone!” Ira started to panic. Although he never locked it (no password necessary) and he didn’t do business on it, he checked his messages hourly. The only times he didn’t have it on his body were when he was on the court or filling his stomach. All the grandchildren’s photos, his doctors’ appointments, an address book with two hundred contacts, texts, Facebook and FaceTime links, as well as emails were stored in the device. His shirt, soaked from the match, began dripping onto his shoes with the thought of trying to replicate the device.

“I’ll help you along the road,” Stuart said. “I can follow in my car.”

Ira jumped on his bike and began to pedal out the gate onto the bike lane, stopping every few yards to scour the pavement and grassy shoulders. Stu drove at 10 mph against traffic with his door open and flashers blinking. Although traffic was minimal, cars had to veer around him.

No luck. “I can’t believe it!” Ira shrieked. “I don’t know how I’m going to retrieve everything.”

“Do you use the ‘cloud?’” Stu asked, beside him on the grass where he’d pulled over outside the gate to Ira’s community.

“No, never took time to do that. I’d better get home and ask June to help. Thanks, Stu.”

Ira clunked his bike against the wall of the garage and stumbled through the door. “June, you’ve got to help me!” he gasped.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Oh my God, you’re gray!” his wife uttered in spasms, rising from the sofa on the other side of the kitchen. She could taste the acid her stomach was sending to her mouth. “Sit down and I’ll get you some water.” June helped him onto a kitchen chair and ran filtered tap water into a glass.

“I don’t need water! I need my phone!” Ira took a sip and tried to catch his breath. “It must have fallen out when I biked to the match. We need to go back!”

“Here’s a paper bag. Breathe into it for a few minutes to catch your breath. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“We need to go now. I already looked with Stu, but we couldn’t find it.”

“Ok, calm down and breathe into the bag for a few minutes. I’ll get my keys and phone. We can take my car.”

“How can I calm down? I need it to function! I’ll never wear those shorts again.”

June parked at the beginning of the bike path under some trees and left the flashing lights on. She locked the car and took her keys and phone. The two of them retraced Ira’s path, bent over like bloodhounds. It took well over an hour in 90-degree temperatures to cover almost two miles.

June and Ira approached the entrance to Countryside Estates, where a guard admitted visitors. “Has anyone turned in a cell phone?” Ira asked. “I lost mine on the way to the tennis match here this morning.”

“Sorry, sir, no-one’s turned in a cell phone.”

“Well, I need to leave my name and phone number with the manager at the courts, in case someone finds it.”

“I’ll need to see some identification, sir.”

“You have my name from the list of guests playing a match this morning! I don’t have anything with me.”

“Does this lady have any?” the guard asked.

“I’m his wife. We were in such a rush to get here, I didn’t bring mine.”

“Please just look at the list from this morning,” Ira begged. “My name’s Ira Kosloff.”

“Just a moment.” The guard disappeared into his “guard-house,” and in a few seconds the electric gate rose. Ira and June headed to the courts. After talking with the pro managing the courts, they had the same news. No phone had been turned in. Ira left his home number and he and June gulped water from a cooler before they began their trek back to June’s car.

“I have an idea,” Ira said, turning to June along the bike path. There was no answer from June, since she had decided not to speak to her husband until the phone turned up. “I need your phone, June.” June handed him the phone. Ira dialed his own cell number and heard it ring. After he heard his message, he spewed out, “This is the owner of the phone, Ira Kosloff. PLEASE, if you find my phone, dial my wife’s number at 708-939-0677. That’s 708-939-0677,” he said more slowly. “My phone is unlocked. I’ll offer a reward if you return it. Thank you.” Ira held June’s phone in his hand, afraid to put it back in his pocket. They continued to June’s car in silence.

About halfway down the path June’s phone rang. “Hello? Is this Ira Kosloff?” the female voice said.

“Yes! Who’s this?”

“I found your phone along the bike path this morning. I live in the trailer park just beyond the tennis courts at Countryside Estates. Are you nearby?”

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe someone found it! Yes, my wife’s car is parked under a tree with the lights flashing at the corner of Military Trail and Lake Ida Road. We’ve been looking for it all afternoon.”

“I’ll drive over to meet you.”

“Oh, I’m so grateful. I’ll be happy to give you a reward.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll look for your car under some trees at Lake Ida Road. What color is it?”

“Tan. We’ll head back there now. We’ve been scouring the bike path.”

“See you there.”

“June, we’ve got to get back to the car. A lady found my phone! Do you have some money to give her?”

“No, Ira, I just grabbed my keys and phone.”

When June and Ira got to her car, the lights were no longer flashing. “What now???” Ira moaned, grabbing June’s key to turn over the engine. There was nothing but a screech.

“Do you believe this?? You’d better call the guy who does your tune-ups, June. He can charge the battery.”

“Any more orders, Mr. Know-It-All?” June dialed the number for her local garage. “It will be about an hour till they get here,” she said, “but it may take longer. You can amuse yourself catching up with your messages while you wait. Maybe the lady can drive me home.”

“She said she didn’t want a reward, but we can get her name and address and mail it to her anyway.”

“She’s not the only one who’ll be getting a reward! I saw some shoes I’d like in Bloomingdale’s. I’ll be making a trip there tomorrow.”