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.”
