It basically jumped out at Ala, or seemed to, as much as anything behind a glossy computer monitor screen could. The rubbery property appeared to make it dangle, to have a 3D effect, even though it was only part of a still image. The color of it made it seem, for a moment, that there was a chance it could possibly be something other than what she assumed it was. She looked both ways to make sure no one was peering over her shoulder, or even watching across the room because the image was so blatant and unapologetic.

Logging on as a guest in the Pilkington Public Library this morning, she certainly did not expect to be greeted with the image of a large, rippled and nearly gray penis.

Surely, computers in libraries had strict administrative controls. She had hardly been able secure an Internet connection in the past when she tried to look up the name of an Etruscan burial site for a term paper she was laboring over. How someone managed to find or import this kind of photo, and more baffling, leave it for someone else to find, was past her ability to comprehend.

This was also perhaps the most magnified she had ever seen male genitalia, and instantly felt grimy because she was doing so in a public place. This after all, was a place for the elderly to come and look at the newspaper or children to join the summer reading challenge, not a place for smut. In fact, even in a village as small as Pilkington, say fifteen thousand people, Ala could think of other dirty places where people would exchange and discuss photos such as this one. The parking lot behind the supermarket, where boys wait to collect carts, or the park a few blocks over where preteens had sex in the covered slides during the night, made much more sense as a haven for smut than the public library.

She took a few more moments to study the image, before reaching around the side of the monitor, and pushing the sticky button to shut down the machine. She thought of telling a librarian on duty, but decided it was no use. It would only call attention to Ala and she didn’t want that many people in town finding out she was back from Boston. Being away for less than a year sounded strange to people, especially in a place where people hardly ever moved out of town.

She struggled to push in the heavy chair as it tugged against the carpet and zipped up her messenger bag. Walking past the rows and rows of books, she recognized the smell that twitched her consciousness back to childhood in an instant. It was not only the aroma of aging books; the library had flooded ten years ago and many of the books had water damage. Mayor Tremonio organized a community effort to salvage as many books as possible. This meant an entire Saturday spent at the library, laying the books out on the hill next to the building for them to dry. Some people stayed inside and took a blow dryer to the pages. Ala was swept away that day with her mother on an extravagant shopping trip. Not one for community activities, her mother felt the day would be better spent trying on winter coats, instead of socializing with people she ordinarily avoided.

Ala walked the four short blocks to the beach, where hardly anyone went at this time of day. She figured the temperature, seventy degrees, was probably what kept people away. Having a high tolerance for cold water, she stripped down to her string bikini and threw her backpack in the sand. She ran as quickly as possible into the waves, a habit since childhood, until the water reached the tops of her pale breasts. She looked up at the bright circles of clouds and dipped her head back until water threatened to seep into her nostrils.

She closed her eyes and thought of detachment, or whatever it was that permitted someone to swim in pristine water in the middle of the day, privately. She reached into her bikini bottoms and felt around. Amused at how stiff everything became in cold water, she enjoyed the challenge of digging in slightly until she reached the softness. She dipped her head back and worked her fingers a little faster, her toes digging into the murky ice-cold sand. She bit her lip and breathed deeply. When finished, she whipped around, with a sick feeling someone had been watching, but no one was there. She floated on her back for a few minutes, taking in the sky, the tranquil water, the sun. Then she walked back to shore.

Using her bag as a pillow, she fanned out her hair, still holding to the adolescent belief the sun would make her hair lighter and covered her eyes with her forearm.

Jase. She let herself drift into thinking of Jase. Her hand scanned the sand blindly, and she picked up a smooth bluish gray stone. It was perfect in shape and simple. Jase was so simple without being stupid. A look from him said everything there was to say, or at least everything that she cared to hear. Everything that mattered. All of his decisions were made with ease. All of his challenges met with grace. A clerk in a law firm that specializes in defending the poor after police brutality, eviction and domestic abuse, he naturally looked to the good in his life.

He did not concern himself with matters such as a cable man coming late, or a wrongly tacked-on credit card fee. Ala always felt powerful because she was his woman in body, but small because she reacted so quickly to nonsense. He was a level above her emotionally and it made her feel like an unruly teenager. Moving to Boston without a marriage proposal was something her parents chose to look past. This was because they rightly imagined that the lack of commitment was on Ala’s behalf. Also, Jase’s path of desiring to practice law pleased them.

Feeling the tightening of her skin, she feared getting sunburnt and quickly got to her feet while brushing as much of the sand as she could off. She walked back to the house that she lived in with her parents. Noticing neither car was in the driveway, she felt great anticipation for the uninterrupted bath she would soak in for the rest of the afternoon. Living with them after living away gave her daily anxiety.

She peeled off her halter-top and denim shorts, then tiptoed naked to her bathroom, neglecting to close the blinds. The old claw foot tub rattled whenever she turned the faucet toward hot water. She sprinkled lavender bath salts, a gift from Jase’s mother, into the water and watched the aqua crystals ripple to the bottom of the tub. She climbed in slowly, mindful of her shin which was still sore from a recent biking trip when her wheel skidded over a sharp stone and sent her flying.

The phone rang and she decided to let the ancient answering machine take the call. She closed her eyes and thought of how it felt that she had never moved out at all. Everything was the same; the house, with the addition of a few new throw pillows, the wisteria in the garden, Ala’s daybed with the aluminum posts peeking out through chipped white paint, all of it stunted.

Lucky for her, Ala had not brought a lot to Boston, so there was not a lot she had to bring back. Three suitcases, a briefcase and her purse were her only possessions. She knew that Jase did not have a large apartment, so a closet of her own was out of the question. She loved leaving so much behind. Boxes of essays written in high school, the porcelain tea set her great grandmother gave to her, clothes from college that she’s told herself she’d wear again; all of it gave her a headache. All of it brought up memories she wished she didn’t have, peppered with a few sweet moments of being an inexperienced child.

Sometimes she wished for a flood. She had great excitement at the idea of waves to whip through the house and carry off all of the junk she couldn’t let go of but did not want to make a place for in her new life. The only option would be to move. She felt terrible that she was jealous of tornado victims. All of their belongings in big gray landfills and no choice but to start a new, more appreciative life.

She toweled off and laid face first on her bed, trying to push the evening’s birthday party out of her mind. It was for Dora, Andrew’s girlfriend. Andrew and Ala dated years back for a handful of months and had remained close after the break-up. It was easier to keep talking at the time, rather than rip their connection to shreds with innocent bystanders and mutual friends around. She enjoyed hearing him talk about old maps and antique beer steins; he worked as an archivist at the cultural center. And she didn’t mind Dora but found their friends very dull and didn’t have any interest in meeting many more of them. Their parties were always the same. Ala saw all the same faces and did not want to say a word to any of them.

She had to attend this party to let everyone know she was not cracking up, mainly her parents. Her abrupt move home from Boston had people talking, and she wanted to make sure her perceived reputation was still intact.

Her phone rang and an unrecognizable number flashed three times across the shiny screen. She decided not to answer, especially after her weird encounter at the library. Instead, she took the top three boxes from the large stack in her bedroom to begin unpacking. She thought of putting clothes on but decided against it. She had gotten used to doing almost everything naked in Jase’s apartment and was having a hard time breaking habit.

She pulled out several crumbled suits she had bought before leaving for Boston to wear on job interviews. She took out balled-up panties and camisoles and laid them neatly in her top drawer. She found potpourri sachets void of fragrance but kept them because they reminded her of her mother.

At dusk, she slipped into a strappy sundress and let her hair lay in waves across her shoulders. She could not find her cerulean sling backs and was running late because she had procrastinated so much in the afternoon. She walked down the long hallway, smelling the gardenias her mother arranged on the side tables in low bowls, and into her parent’s master suite.

The room was north facing and usually dark by this time of day. Luckily, Ala could blindly maneuver around because she knew the exact proximity of the bed, armoire, dressing table, desk, fainting sofa and bathroom. She crept to the back corner and opened the creaky door to her mother’s closet.

Rows of shoes, coordinated by color, sat on custom built racks across the entire length of the walk-in. Dozens of hangers gleamed in the light of the stained-glass sconces that Ala had switched on. She ran her hand along the silk scarves on the left and the heirloom fur pieces on the right.

Her mother’s closet had always brought great wonder, packed with caftans from traveling, slinky gowns from the seventies, tennis dresses, wool sweaters for riding, all perfectly arranged like an exhibit. Instead of evoking feelings of admiration and hope, common themes of a little girl discovering her mother’s closet, Ala always felt unease. There were memories of her parents fighting for years and Ala, being an only child, was often used as a ploy in the middle. And no matter what was threatening to tear them to pieces, her mother’s closet was always immaculate. Nothing was ever out of place; her mother’s appearance being completely protected.

She crouched on the woven ivory rug and selected a pair of robin’s egg blue open toed pumps, which she slipped on with ease. She and her mother had identical feet. She felt around the back of the shoe to make sure her injured ankle would have enough support, while a bright pink strap dangling between the rows of blouses caught her eye. Ala had never seen her mother wear this electric shade of pink in her life. Ripping through the rack would guarantee that she would not be able to find the garment that the strap belonged to and would also tell her mother she had been snooping because the hangers would be spaced differently than how she had left them.

Ala pulled gently on the strap and some lightweight pieces dropped to the ground. Feeling them shocked her slightly, as the material seemed to be some kind of sheer poly blend, something cheap. The strap was a sort of garter belt, which matched the thong and bra that she held before her. The set had a burgundy faux velvet trim.

Ala had never seen this kind of lingerie in person. It looked like it should be accessorized with a cowboy hat and belly button ring. It felt so flimsy and disposable. This was not something her mother would ever wear. Even stranger was that the tag indicated a size zero and Ala knew her mother was always a healthy size six. Before thoughts of her parents engaging in foreplay could seep into her conscious mind, Ala realized how terrible it was to be pawing through her mother’s closet like a nosy seven-year-old. She had lived away with a man she was sleeping with and had no right to judge her mother or what she kept in her closet.

Driving to the racetrack was quick and easy. There was a main street in Pilkington that wove through the large park and along the beach until it reached the modest downtown area where the racetrack was built a hundred years ago. Ala had been there once for a family reunion but otherwise, preferred to stay out of the area. The track had seen better days and had taken on a shabby, nostalgic mystique that while most people found to be charming, Ala found to be touristy, like a western ghost town in an amusement park.

She parked as close to the entrance as she could, which was a lengthy distance and walked quickly. The main arch opened up to the bandstand. A small wrinkly man wearing a white top hat licked his thumb to pull a ticket off of the pad clenched in his hand.

“Hello, I’m here for a party,” Ala said.

“A private party Ms.?” She nodded.

“You have to go around to the promenade and give your name.” His shaky finger pointed to a bridge that seemed to be at least three miles away.

“Thank you,” Ala said.

Walking through the main area, she could smell the popcorn laced with rich yellow chemicals and was tempted to stop for a bag and maybe an icy Hurricane. But she was already late. She reached the promenade, gave her name and was directed upstairs. She began to climb and realized that her mother was usually dropped off curbside everywhere she went, and probably never walked a great distance in the shoes Ala borrowed. She could already feel a blister burrowing in her right heel.

She reached the top and took in the view of the entire arena. It was picturesque in the dimming sun, all of the lawns the brightest green, the stables with charming blue shutters, and the horses, while miniature, still had coats that shined.

She spotted Dora, spilling out of a strapless number with bright red lipstick, and made her way over to say happy birthday. Dora sipped bubbly out of a large plastic flute that said Birthday Bitch on it while chewing on some kind of sausage.

“Thanks for coming, Ala.”

“Of course, Happy Birthday. Now that I’m back I—” Ala was interrupted by a girl whom she had not met before, who spouted out something about someone who she and Dora used to work with. Shrieks of laughter followed, along with yelling across the room to another group, who then came over immediately. Ala backed away and looked to see if anyone was passing out drinks. Gene approached and scooped her into his arms.

“You’re back, finally!” He said into her ear, making it buzz.

“It feels good,” she lied. “How’s summer?”

“The same. Dad’s making me work at the club.”

“Yuck.”

“Yeah. Hey, you’re not drinking.”

“I was looking for a julep.”

“Come on.”

She followed him through the crowd of young girls who wore wide-brimmed sun hats and peep toed shoes. They passed the buffet, where a tiny chef carved from a pig roasted whole, its charred skin exposed under the heat lamp.

They passed through a large party in the adjacent room and were nearly trampled by a man with a large cigar hanging out of his mouth as he spun a woman around in place. Her fleshy lips glistened and she laughed while spilling her drink, the neon liquid sloshing down the sides of the glass. They passed another group of men who were all around the same age with slicked back hair and bandanas shoved in their back pockets. Two of them hovered around a gawky redhead, pointing to the screen he was using to place bets.

“Come on Tuck, use this one.” One of the men’s wide fingers swiped the screen, as the nerd shakily pushed it away.

“Knock it off guys, I’m trying to get this right.” The man slapped him lightly on the head. “Be nice. We’re joking.”

Ala kept her eyes on the nerd for as long as possible before nearly losing Gene. They passed through another room full of black balloons to indicate a fortieth birthday party. A rattling voice announced the next race was about to begin over the PA system. A herd gathered, stepping over each other and piling against the wrought iron railing to watch. A woman with a richly painted face jumped up and down, oblivious to the fact that her breasts were nearly leaping out of her dress.

They reached the bar and Gene ordered from a man who looked two hundred years old. Ala watched his thin hands crush mint with ice as Gene talked about spring break in Argentina.

“They bring you the meat while it’s still moving, amazing, Ala. I got sick the first two days, but then I was fine. The family I was staying with gave me some kind of liquor for stomach trouble.”

“I can’t wait to see the pictures,” she said, winking.

Ala and Gene had history, or, he had loved her for a long time. And she knew this and didn’t disapprove but had no interest in being with him. For years her parents could not understand it, and at times were outraged that Ala would not be with him romantically, because Gene had such a bright future in finance.

It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive. He had dark features, perfect teeth and a head of beautiful thick black hair. They also shared a lot of friends. Ala couldn’t understand herself why she didn’t want to date him for a long time, and then gave up trying to figure it out. It could’ve been small things, like the way his voice took an edge when speaking to a waiter, or the way he never made eye contact with the man at the filling station, or how he sometimes had food in his mouth while talking. Small things, but all the same, things she did not want to live with.

The pack of men, including the nerd, now moved to the cluster of people in the inner corner of the bar who were spilling out onto the terrace. Ala tried to get a better look at how many of the men were in the same group. They resembled a movie cast without any cameras around. The nerd obviously wasn’t a friend, but they kept him close for some reason.

“Ala, you’re staring,” Gene said, snapping his finger in front of her eye line.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit drowsy today.” Gene laid a twenty-dollar bill on the bar.

“Come on, they’re probably singing Happy Birthday.”

She rolled her eyes and they wove their way back to Dora’s party. When they reached her, the candles were lit and everyone had gathered to sing. Ala mouthed the words, but was afraid someone would hear her singing voice, an irrational fear she had carried since childhood.

Ala picked at one of pink rosettes on the piece of lemon cake she was handed. Dora was a little old for a big cake with candles, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. She eyed the clock and decided to leave after the next race. She looked at the tickets that littered the green asphalt, throwing away receipts representing the money that people probably did not have to throw away in the first place.

The horns blew and the horses started around the track. People heavy with alcohol leaned so far over the ledge that they easily could’ve fallen and shot right through the large canopy over the main lawn.

Ala watched as three of the horses seemed to be losing speed. She pitied the creatures, while at the same time thought it must be nice to not really have to figure out what to do with your time. Gene seemed to be getting close to Dora’s friend Myra. Ala thought she was attractive and well-spoken and hoped that she liked Gene. He was, after all, desperate to get married because he knew he would not inherit family money or get a promotion until he did.

A man running to the bar bumped into the table Ala was standing by and her purse fell upside down to the floor. Embarrassed because she had no idea what she even kept in her bag, she quickly picked up every item she could see. It was time to go beyond a doubt. She approached the wobbling Dora and lightly kissed her cheek.

“Happy Birthday, Dora.”

Ala waved to Gene, who was busy, and walked carefully down the steep steps. She briefly thought of finding the nerd to see if he won enough money for the men, but decided against it.

Her feet pulsed with pain by the time she reached the car. Peeling the heels off, she saw that her cuts had bled into her mother’s pumps. She would have to take them in to be cleaned first thing in the morning. She drove home, wondering if she would ever enjoy those types of parties or the people in them. She wondered what would’ve happened if she had stayed in Boston, or perhaps never had gone at all. She wondered what Jase was doing and if he ever paused to think about her. It didn’t matter, of course, because she had left him. But still, she could always wonder and keep it all to herself.

Returning home, she saw that both of her parent’s cars were in the driveway and all of the lights were on in the house. The doors were unlocked and the radio played in the kitchen. Ala called for them, but no one answered. She went upstairs to their bedroom, but they weren’t there. She went into the yard and smelled smoke coming from the Nittle’s yard next door. She approached the ivy-covered fence and peered over. She saw a mammoth fire roaring in the pit and several people, some she knew, others only faintly recognizable, sitting around, their faces orange in the light.

Mrs. Nittle passed a tray of blue drinks that had umbrellas sticking out around the deck. Mr. Nittle manned the grill, slapping some kind of meat down on the grate while rattling the ice in his glass. Ala’s parents were sitting on opposite sides of the fire talking to people she assumed were from the neighborhood.

She hadn’t remembered her parents particularly caring for the Nittle’s, or anyone else in the neighborhood socially, but apparently, they were all friends now. A tall man in white linen pants and an aqua blue button down sat down next to Ruth Billows. Ruth constantly went out without her husband, who was seventy-eight years old and very wealthy. Her lips puckered every time she said a word and her chest heaved every time she laughed. Although she had implants, she seemed to go to great lengths to never show cleavage. The man leaned in to tell her something that he didn’t want the perimeter to hear, and she raised her hand to her mouth in disbelief. He looked Latin and moneyed. He must’ve been new in the neighborhood and Ala could not understand why someone like him, who seemed to have had some exciting nights in his past, would be hanging out with the middle-aged neighbors. Looking up from a conversation with Peter, Ala’s father recognized her in the dark.

“Darling, Ala’s here.”

“Oh, Ala!” her mother cried giddily while swinging her head around, “Come on over here.”

Ala trotted around to the gate and entered the makeshift luau.

“Look at you, Ala. That hair.” Mrs. Nittle put a sticky hand to her cheek and the luminance of her teeth through her coppery lips was electric. “Are you happy to be home?”

“Sure. Yes, I missed everyone,” Ala braced herself for more questions she undoubtedly would not want to answer.

“Peter, look at Ala!” Jeanne, Peter’s wife and Ala’s mother’s oldest friend, leapt up from the lawn chair, nearly spilling her fruity drink on her faux leather pants.

“Was it hard, doll, to just pack up and leave?”

“Well, it was planned for a few months so— “

Jeanne came over and took Ala’s hand, admiring the opal ring on her index finger.

“How is it living back with those two?” Jeanne motioned toward Ala’s parents.

“Oh fine.”

“We’re thrilled to have her back,” Pearl, Ala’s mother said, even though Ala knew it wasn’t entirely true.

Her parents seemed a little shocked when she called them from a phone booth, of all places, to tell them she was coming home. The payphone, while dramatizing the situation, seemed like a safe haven at the time, since she had run out of the studio that she shared with Jase without a purse or jacket in the middle of a rainstorm.

Large drops pelted the metal roof of the booth and her hand shook as she tried to dial her parent’s house number. This was something she had not done since she was sick in the sixth grade and lying in the nurse’s office, calling her mother to come pick her up. The phone rang a few times and she feared no one would pick up because of the foreign number. But her father finally answered.

She tried to force a normal voice.

“Dad, it’s Ala.”

“Is everything okay? Where is your phone?”

“I forgot it, I just wanted to tell you—” she heard the phone rustle against his shirt.

“Pearl, pick up, it’s Ala.”

Ala could tell her mother picked up from their bedroom, where she was probably packing for the cruise they were leaving on the next day.

“Ala? Hi.”

“Hi mom.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Well, yes. I wanted to call because I’m coming home.”

“What happened? Is it Jase?”

“It’s everything. I can’t stay here.”

“What about your job?”

The questions, of course, Ala was unprepared for, because she assumed that they would be thrilled at the news. Her mother wept when she first told her that she was moving to Boston. And her father didn’t want her to live with Jase unless she was engaged.

“I’ll find a new job. I just have to come back.”

“Okay, just calm down. We’ll fix this.”

She wanted them to drive to Boston and bring her home in the warm backseat of their luxury car, to tell her not to worry about her things, that they could be sent. She wanted to leave that very minute. It then occurred to her that perhaps they didn’t want her to move back into the house with them.

“I’ll find an apartment. I promise.”

“Oh Ala, don’t be silly. We haven’t touched your room. When would you like to come home?”

“Today, tomorrow. Please, as soon as I can.”

“Alright, we’ll book you a ticket. Why don’t you go back, pack up whatever you can, and have some tea? You sound terrible.”

“Thanks.”

Everything of course had been fine for the two weeks she’d been back, but something definitely had changed in the house that she couldn’t put her finger on. She had always been the center of their world. Having no siblings, she assumed her parent’s lives depended on her, and her alone. Before she had felt pressure to have children so her parents wouldn’t be bored, the older they got. This all seemed to be an illusion now.

“Who wants bass and who wants tilapia?” Mr. Nittle roared as Mrs. Nittle brought him another drink.

The group got up and formed a sloppy line on the deck to make plates. Ala felt that it was time to go. She did not want to crash this backyard party. The man in the white pants came up to her.

“Hello, Ala, right? Beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

At first glance, in the light cascading down from the porch, he looked young. She peered at him and realized he wasn’t young because he had wire thin wrinkles around his eyes, but his skin was very smooth. It didn’t have any pockmarks or visible pores. She had never seen such a flawless face, let alone on a man. He held his hand out and she shook it.

“Emanuel.” His hand felt rough and his knuckles were hard against the pads of her fingers. She had expected his hands to be manicured. “Nice party.”

“Yes, sort of unexpected for a Wednesday,” she said, eyeing her parents to see if they were making fools of themselves.

“It’s just nice to see people getting together to have fun.”

She nodded. She didn’t think of her parents as people, of course. She thought of them as having a purpose in life to take care of her.

“You just moved back? Is that what I heard?” Even in the dark, she could see that his eyes were feline green.

“From Boston.”

“How did you enjoy the East Coast?”

“Fine.” She said, suddenly not in the mood to answer any more questions.

“What is the next plan for you?”

She grabbed a cup from the table beside them and took a sip of whatever the rum concoction was that wafted sunscreen fumes into her nostrils, mainly to stall having to answer him.

“A job. I’d like to buy for a department store.”

“Brilliant.”

“Oh?”

“I’m actually in the fabric business, or textiles for large retailers.”

How lucky. Who would’ve thought she’d meet someone who could potentially benefit her so greatly in the Nittle’s backyard during an impromptu party?

She took a better look at him; now certain they would have further contact after the party ended that evening. He had a thin mustache and black hair, not entirely slicked back, only combed, like he had spent the day on a boat. He was tall and lanky and his attire suggested he spent a lot of time just walking around, possibly on a beach, maybe even by himself. He wasn’t handsome but did convey a confidence that told her he didn’t care that he wasn’t physically attractive, which was almost more alluring than some direct aesthetic quality.

“With Marquet, you know, the department store?”

“Of course.” Ala remembered every Christmas loading the car trunk with gifts her mother bought from Marquet. The leisure suits, silk scarves and cashmere gloves were not her taste, a bit too senior, but very popular among her mother’s collection of friends.

“I started in Colombia, that’s where I’m from. I only moved here about ten years ago.”

“Your English is good.” It was better than good really, very articulate and he spoke with excitement.

“My mother taught me. She was American. She moved to Colombia after meeting my father.”

“I see. So, do you have advice for me? I’m just starting out in this direction. Before I sold ad space for a magazine that had nothing to do with fashion.”

“So, much of the business is about how you project yourself. People trust your style. I’d say, you’ll have no issue in that department.” His eyes darted her body for half a second.

Ala blushed with embarrassment.

“That’s good news.”

He removed a card from his pocket.

“Tell you what, I live three blocks away. Come over tomorrow. I may be able to help you with a job.”

“Seriously?” She grabbed the card, almost too quickly.

“Yes.”

“Well thank you, Emanuel.”

He nodded just as Mrs. Nittle came up from behind and handed him another drink. Ala knew that Mrs. Nittle was desperate to sleep with Emanuel, she could tell by the way her hand ran up and down the wet glass.

But Emanuel would never sleep with Mrs. Nittle; Ala already knew this from their two- minute conversation. Too unrefined. Too chatty. She looked around and didn’t see her parents anywhere. Strange of them to go to bed so soon, but then again, it was strange for them to be here in the first place.

She could tell Mrs. Nittle had a small window of time before her husband saw her giving too much attention to Emanuel. It felt like the time had come for Ala to leave.

Not wanting to go home to the dark house, Ala rummaged through the shed and found her old ten-speed from high school. She rode down the street, quiet except for a few cars making their way toward the highway. She found the path that she and her friends used to take to get to the brook and sped down the hill with her arms in the air, stretching high above her head.

Apparently having more balance at fourteen years old, she swerved so severely that the only non-traumatic part about the fall was that no one was around to witness it. She lay there for a moment, eye level with the brook, hearing the water trickle over the rocks and watching springy beams of reflected light taking over the surface of the pool.

She wondered how long she could lie there without someone finding her. Ten hours, twelve hours, maybe even days? Was anyone around that could read her mind, who knew her that well that they would be jolted into action upon sensing that she was in trouble? Probably not.

She sat up slowly, running her hands over her elbows and feeling the gritty scrapes, sticky with blood. It didn’t appear that she broke anything vital but was worried there would be bruises the following day. And she didn’t want to approach the fact that this accident would probably increase the damage to her already swollen ankle.

She made her way to a shallow area where several mini channels carried water to a small lake. She found a slick dark rock and sat on top of it. Removing her mother’s shoes, inevitably scuffed and incriminating, and dipped her feet in. The water was intense—so cold that it made Ala wonder if she had indeed died after the fall. She closed her eyes and listened for creatures, craving to hear something alive near her. All she heard was the water. All she felt was the pulsing of tiny currents being pushed into the center.

She wanted to cry but had nothing to anchor the despair of her thoughts. Nothing was really numb, but her mind felt numb. Spent. She was grateful to not have her phone with her, because it would make calling Jase possible and likely. She was glad to have left the party when she had because she did not want judgment passed on her when she felt her most vulnerable. She didn’t want anyone to know that she didn’t know whether she’d ever be okay again. She just wanted to sit still and occasionally reflect. That was the only way a sign would come to her and tell her it was time to get on with life again. To tell her that none of her plans mattered and that something great was getting ready to barrel through her life. To tell her that Jase had never mattered at all.

She couldn’t remember stumbling home that night but woke up with her party clothes stuck to her body, feeling pressure sealed into them, the next morning. She did remember leaving her mother’s shoes by the lake and the terrible fall. She crept into the bathroom, not wanting to catch herself off guard in the mirror, and opened her eyes slowly, taking in her mangled face.

She had a black eye for one, her first ever. She had a sort of half-moon scrape on her jaw that was now raised and rough to the touch. And she had a scratch above her left eyebrow. She held her arms out in front of her. An abstract cabbage patch of green bruises covered both arms and her right palm was cut. Her knees hurt as well and she didn’t bother looking at them because there was no point. A quick synapse of fear raced through her. She had no idea what time it was. And she was supposed to have a job interview. She ran into her bedroom and dumped her purse open on the rumpled bed that she hadn’t bothered to turn down before collapsing on top the night before. She rummaged through her belongings, still in boxes from her move home, and picked up the clock she took from Jase’s kitchen. Safe, she still had hours before her meeting with Emanuel.

She took a steaming hot shower and, wrapped up in a towel, called out to make sure no one was home. She didn’t want her parents to see her without makeup on because her answers to their many questions would sound ridiculous.

She tiptoed downstairs, gripping the railing to help quiet her feet, ready to turn and run back up if necessary. No one was around so she went into the kitchen. A sort of sense of disarray told her that the kitchen had not been occupied since the day before. That meant no middle of the night dish of ice cream for her father. No coffee for her mother this morning. This was impossible. They had to have come home. They hadn’t spent a night, outside of vacations of course, outside of the house since they bought it. She looked by the front door. Her mother’s purse wasn’t hanging on the hook. The screen door leading into the backyard was open as well.

Queasiness seized her insides and she steadied herself against the cool textured wall. She heard her phone ringing and dashed quickly up the stairs, being careful not to drop the tiny towel she had wrapped herself in. The caller’s number was unrecognizable but at this point, it could’ve been a number of inquiries: unfinished business in Boston, a recruiter, a bill collector, anyone. She answered and a stuffy woman on the other end spoke up.

“Yes, is this Ala Hutchins?”

“Yes.”

“We have your wallet.”

“My wallet?”

She quickly glanced down at the bed and realized her wallet was missing from the collection of junk she had dumped out of her purse.

“Who is this?”

“Arlene. I work at Pilkington.”

“The racetrack? What is my wallet doing there?”

“Beat’s me. Anyway, we got it and if you want it, you should come right away.”

“Of course, I want it,” Ala said, trying to not sound condescending.

“Main office.” A click followed.

“Hello?”

Arlene had hung up. Ala was naked and her parents were missing. She flipped her head upside down and pulled all of her hair toward her, making a tight knot and securing it the top of her head with a tortoise shell clip that her friend Vivian had given her.

She pushed open the door to her too-full closet and pulled out a sleeveless wrap dress with an origami pattern of twenty different shades of blue. She pulled some gray ballet flats out of the closet and shoved them on while rushing down the steps.

She stopped to write a note to her parents but realized it didn’t matter because they wouldn’t have known if she had come home last night anyway.

Traffic was horrible and the air conditioner in her car managed to blow hot air for three seconds at a time before turning off. She had forgotten her mangled- by- a- bear- the- night- before appearance and applying makeup in the car wasn’t as easy as it normally was when her skin was flawless. The heat made the concealer cake up on the scrapes, turning them into tiny brown scabs. Her mascara was smeared to high heavens and her mouth was over done in the pink lipstick she had applied blindly.

She had to park about two miles away from the track and ran to the front office. She looked around in disbelief at how full the racetrack could be during a workweek. Then she remembered that a lot of the workers in town were on strike, most likely depressed, and primed to gamble.

She walked down a narrow murky hallway, passing many closed office doors that were missing placards. This building looked deserted, not only was no one working today, but she wondered if anyone had in the past ten years. She approached a room marked OFFICE but the door was locked. She tried to peek inside and through the dusty glass were abandoned desks.

Sweat rolled down her back as she thought about having to check every door, or even a whole other building. She took out her phone and called Arlene back. She hung up after the sixth ring. She stomped her foot and walked out to the back of the building. Taking deep breaths, she looked at the twelve other buildings that seemed to make up the operations part of the track, and almost cried out of frustration as she tried to guess which one her wallet was in. She tried to remember if she even had any cash inside, if it was even worth trying to find. She would need a driver’s license and she did not want to cancel her credit cards, so she would have to keep looking.

A maintenance man was sweeping up cigarette butts by some benches nestled in the shade. Ala hobbled over to him, her knee and ankle pounding.

“Sir, excuse me. Is there a main office?” He scratched the underside of his chin.

“Sure, that building.”

“I just tried there, it’s locked.”

“Maybe they are out to lunch.”

“The whole staff?”

“Maybe.”

“Thank you.”

She started to walk back to her car when a rush of tingles swept up her spine, giving her the urge to throw up. The heat was beating down on the top of her head and she hadn’t had anything to drink since she had woken up that morning. The main clubhouse was in sight, where the party had been the night before, and she thought of how good a mint julep would taste rushing down her throat. Drinking before lunchtime did cross her mind as a little off color, so she decided lemonade would be fine.

She climbed up the four flights of stairs, her shoes scraping against the cement, as she felt the burn in her calves that made her want to crawl. She reached the top and felt light-headed, so quickly gripped the railing. She walked slowly down the hallway, brushing her hand against the cool oak paneling. The bar looked as if it hadn’t been renovated since the track was built. Deep booths lined the walls with plush purple velvet benches. Low amber lamps drifted above the dance floor, which was worn very well from the thousands of shoes that had kissed it since birth.

The floor to ceiling sliding glass doors led to the balcony, which overlooked the track. She gazed out the window, watching the trainers walk the horses around in the sand, the horses’ heads down, watching their own feet.

She walked up to the grand mahogany bar and sat at the first stool. A bartender, who must’ve been ninety years old, wiped a clean glass, the rag squeaking against it. She got the feeling that he may have been scrubbing the same spot for hours.

“Missy. Can I help you?”

“I’ll have lemonade please.”

He nodded and crinkled his mouth into a smile. A glass sliding door slid shut and Ala, startled, turned around out of instinct, to see a tall man entering. He wore a navy-blue suit with a lavender collar poking out and tinted sunglasses. His shoes scratched and clicked as he walked up to the other end of the bar. She looked away, pretending to try to find something in her purse.

He took a cigarette from his front pocket and lit it, tilting his head up to golf tournament on television.

Ala’s purse fell to the floor. Mortified, she bit her lip and crouched down to pick up all the worthless belongings that she refused to throw away.

“Looking for a cigarette?” A sinfully deep smooth voice asked. She looked up just in time to see him taking off his sunglasses. He smiled, a sort of chuckle escaping through his lips.

“Not exactly,” she said. The bartender put a highball glass of lemonade in front of her.

“No, no, no,” he said, walking toward her. She straightened up and quickly took an inventory of what she must have looked like.

He stopped about three inches away from her. “Glenny, give her some gin.”

“No, really, I have to be going.”

“Your drink just got here.”

“I only meant to stay a minute.”

He watched her mouth as she talked and smiled again.

“Glenny, some gin with some ginger ale in it.”

“I can’t stay,” she said, petrified and wondering why. He was very handsome, but not in a traditional way. His eyes looked tired and his hair had a little too much product in it for her taste, but he had nice features.

“Why don’t you have a cigarette and a drink with me?”

“I can’t. Really.”

“Just a drink then.”

He gestured toward a booth in the back.

“Glenny, bring the drinks here.”

She felt like running, but found her legs following him to the back of the bar. She sat down and found the seat was much more plush than she expected, which made her more comfortable. She had to grip the table to retain her posture. He sat across from her, dabbing his cigarette in a green marble ashtray.

“What were you looking for?”

“My phone. I was going to try to call the office.”

“There’s no office here.”

“I saw one downstairs.”

“The track operations are run off-campus, near the airport. Have been for years now.”

“Oh.” Feeling stupid, she held out her hand. “Maybe I will have one cigarette.”

He rustled in his suit pocket and pulled one out. She slid it between her lips and he lit it. She had not smoked since high school but was able to keep from coughing.

Glenny shuffled over with their drinks. There were two cherries floating on top of the ice in each glass.

“You have my cherries, I can’t stand them,” he said.

“Alright.”

“So, you’re here to visit an office that doesn’t exist.”

“Well no, they called and said they had something of mine.”

“How could they?”

“I was here for a party last night.”

“No kidding?”

“Yes. And apparently I dropped my wallet.”

“You’re lucky someone turned it in and didn’t pocket it.”

“There’s hardly anything in it. A library card and my license, things like that.”

“I see.” He licked his lips. Ala started to relax as the gin shocked her ears and trickled down her throat.

“What are you doing here? Compulsive gambler?”

“Not exactly,” he said leaning back, stretching his hands behind his head, “Mostly business. A lot of businessmen like lunch here, it excites them.”

“Oh. What kind of business?”

“Art. Custom framing. Tapestries, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It isn’t. But it was what my father left me to do, so there you have it.”

She nodded.

“So where are your business associates?”

“Watching the race of course. But I know how it will end. Cupcake will win. And I got it wrong today, so no point in watching the damage.”

“I suppose not.”

“So, what do you do?”

“I have a job interview today actually. I shouldn’t be drinking.”

“It’ll help you do better. I guarantee it. You call me if you don’t get that job and I’ll take you out to dinner.

“Let’s just say I have a feeling.”

“What if I do get the job?”

“Well, if you’re making money, you can take me to dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m kidding of course. I would never let a woman buy me dinner.”

She knew her face was red from the gin and her embarrassment in not knowing what to say. She instead thought of how grotesque her scrapes and scratches must look. He certainly didn’t seem to mind. But maybe how he was speaking to her should’ve bothered her. Maybe one of her synapses was busted to not take offense to his remark. Part of her did like the sureness of his gentlemanly attitude. He wasn’t one of those awkward boys who really didn’t see women as equals but tried to pretend that they did. Always tripping to the side of her to make sure she was allowed to open the door. Always hesitating over the check so that she would not take offense if they paid. Ridiculous. This man did not have time for such games. Ordinarily she would debate his statement, but she could tell that was what he wanted her to do and refrained.

“I really should be going.”

“Just a second,” he said, putting his arm across the table, ready to stop her if she tried to leave the booth. “You haven’t even finished your drink.”

She took another sip.

“Aren’t your business associates looking for you?”

“They’ve made their way to the tables I’m sure. They’ll be fine.”

She sat back again, deciding to enjoy her drink. This was how people met, after all. Flings that stemmed from meeting in political science classes or the rundown coffee bar were over for her. People had to meet randomly and talk in order to get anywhere.

“So, this party. Tell me about it.”

“There’s not a lot to it. It was for a friend Dora’s birthday and kind of a snooze.”

“A friend’s party being a snooze? That doesn’t sound right.”

“She’s not a close friend. More of a friend by association.”

“And what kind of association would that be?”

“She is the girlfriend of one of my ex’s.”

“Ah, the plot thickens.”

“No, it has nothing to do with that. I went because I felt obligated as a friend to go. I’m trying to make sure I see everyone now that I’m back in town.”

She realized she was saying more than she would like to. But couldn’t stop. She was overflowing with useless phrases, like a gutter overstuffed with wet leaves.

“Traveling?”

“No, I lived in Boston for a while.”

“I’m a big fan, only in the summer though. What made you come back?”

She glanced down at her watch and realized it really was late. She got up quickly.

“I really do have to go. Thank you very much for the drink.” He stood up and gave her a light bow. He then shook her hand.

“My pleasure. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

She turned and walked quickly out of the bar, making sure to not look back. Driving home, she was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t put up much of a fight when she finally did leave. She supposed he had put himself on the line enough by insisting on the drink and that he didn’t want to look desperate.

She noticed something gleaming sharply in the sunlight on the side of the curb. She pulled over and, leaving the car running, approached. Face side down, the silver metal was very hot as she picked it up and held it in her hand. She instantly recognized the initials, P.H., as her mother’s. This was her mother’s keychain, a pink high heel that her friend had given her for Christmas a few years ago after she went through a nasty bout with breast cancer.

What were her mother’s keys doing on the side of the road three blocks away from the house? Ala didn’t have time to look around so she pocketed the keys and left.

The house was quiet and untouched since she had left in the morning.

She ripped a dry-cleaning bag from a blue sheath dress hanging in her closet, and quickly stepped into it. The dress she wore to the track was stained with sweat and would have to be cleaned.

She decided she would need a resume and knew she didn’t have any printed out, because she hadn’t looked for a job in years. The resume she had saved didn’t even have her last job description on it but would have to do. She dug through a box and found the hard drive that had the document saved on it. She ran into her father’s office, hit the power button on his computer and waited for the machine to start up. A pop-up asked for a password.

“Easy,” she said, as she typed in ALA123, which was her father’s password for just about everything. She was denied access. She tried again, this time using all lowercase characters. The same. She hit the desk with her open palm. Why would the password be different? It had been the same for every account for as long as she could remember. Frustrated, she ran down the stairs, nearly twisting her ankle again, and grabbed her purse on the way out.

She walked down the street to Emanuel’s house and when she arrived at the address, could not believe the property that stood before her. The house that was previously on the lot was torn down and replaced with what looked like a villa. The front door was wide open and she heard some kind of calypso music coming from inside.

It occurred to her that Emanuel may try to sleep with her and promise her a job in return. He was much older and seemed to find her attractive. He was friends with the entire neighborhood, but probably would not think there would be anything wrong with the proposal and wouldn’t be embarrassed. While she would never sleep with anyone for a job, she could see herself sleeping with him in the near future. Because it would feel right, she would be seduced, and not to only gain employment.

She knew this desired rebellious streak probably stemmed from her breakup with Jase because she had given herself to him in a way that was new to her, and she was now bitter that it didn’t seem to matter to him at all. She woke up sometimes unable to breathe, aching with the thought of never being held by him again. She would sweat thinking about all of their inside jokes that were wasted, could never be used with anyone else and would never be as funny. She thought of how he always mixed three kinds of cereal together, and how she thought it was disgusting until she tried it. How he bought her the broken watch in Southie because it reminded her of her grandmother’s from when she was a child. All of the space these memories took up in her head left her paralyzed. How could she possibly let someone else inside to have new cereal methods and jokes with? How does anyone?

A figure appeared in the doorway.

“Ala. Hello, please come inside.”

Emanuel was dressed head to toe in white linen and was sipping something bright red out of a tiny crystal glass. She followed him inside, the trail of his aftershave so strong that she could’ve found him even if she were blind. He glanced up and smiled at her, then looked again, as if zooming in on her face.

“I fell off my bike this morning,” she stammered, unsure of why she was lying.

He nodded. She could tell he thought she was lying. She usually ended up telling a few lies during job interviews. It was because she often felt led in questions and simply was answering with what she knew recruiters wanted to hear. About how she loved working with people, had very strong organizational skills, and loved wearing many hats. None of that was true of course, but it was the only way, coupled with her pleasant face, to move to the next level. Now of course, she knew he wasn’t leading her in a question. Anyone looking at her would be able to tell she had been injured.

“Would you like a drink?”

“I’d love some water thanks.”

“Not something a bit stronger?” He asked, smiling.

“Thanks. Just water.”

She thought of the cocktail that she sucked down in that nearly empty ancient bar. With that man she didn’t even have a name for. And that bartender. He probably hadn’t had to find a job in sixty years. He was perfectly content cutting lemons and pouring and shaking all day long. He probably didn’t think twice about the drunken hot breaths talking in his face or the melodramatic couples arguing in front of him night after night. She sighed. Emanuel stood at the waist high bar cart and poured bubbly water into a tall glass. He affixed a lime to the rim and held it out for Ala.

“Here you are.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me give you a tour of the house.”

“Alright. She hesitated, and then let her bag drop on the sofa.

A tour was an odd idea, since it had nothing to do with working in fashion, unless he was a designer, which was unlikely. She followed him down a wide hallway with wide-open windows and the smell of whichever flowers grew in the garden wafting in. The ceilings were very high and large copper lanterns swung slightly above their heads. He turned the corner and they entered a grand office with rich heavy furniture and art deco lamps.

“This is where I do most of my business.” He gestured for her to look around. She nodded, unsure of what to look for, or seem interested in. He pointed to what looked like a large slate box on the floor.

“The safe. He said. No one knows how to get in except for me.” She looked at the box again and back at him. “Look,” he said and went over to a painting that nearly took up the entire wall. It was the still life of a large fruit bowl full of apples and oranges on black, and as Ala looked closely, she saw that some of the round balls were in fact people coiled together in passion. She tried not to stare as Emanuel lifted the frame slightly and slid something out from the wall underneath. He held out what appeared to be a magnet of some kind. Ala nodded and he walked over to a large vase on the desk filled to the brim with pink sand. He stuck the magnet into the center and then pulled it out. A key dangled from the end of it. He then took the key to the bureau against the wall and unlocked the third drawer down. Ala felt the urge to roll her eyes. He removed a large photo album and flipped to the back cover. There was a page entitled “Birthdays”. He pointed to the first one on the list.

“The combination.” He then closed the book, put it back in the drawer and locked it. He dug a hole in the sand and dropped the key back in. He then moved the frame slightly and replaced the magnet underneath. "Questions?”

Ala shook her head.

“This way.” She followed him up the back steps into a lofted space that had been made into a bedroom. The bed had stone pillars with silver shears draped across the canopy. There was a large statue of a jade dragon next to the fireplace and a diorama by the large bay window. She walked over and bent slightly to examine, careful to keep her balance. There were several miniature huts spread across the mud colored board. Tiny boats covered the painted blue area.

“This is nice,” she said.

“It’s my village,” he said.

She could feel him watching her back. The moment of truth was coming. She was sure he was going to ask her to sleep with him. She felt irritated that he had spent all of this time puttering about, neglecting to tell her anything about the job, or to ask any questions about her experience.

“Ala, I do have a few questions for you. Why don’t you have a seat?”

She sat on the bench against the window. It was deeper than she had imagined, and her feet hovered in the air until she found the correct spot. He slowly walked the length of the room.

“Do you have a problem with animals?”

Feeling increasingly annoyed, she took a deep breath in.

“Not particularly.”

“He rubbed his hands together. Have you ever managed employees before?”

“I have. At my last position, I was in charge of all of the interns. They got their assignments from me and I made sure their timelines were met.”

“I mean on a personal level,” he said, leaning against the wall. She stood up.

“I’m sorry, but what exactly does this have to do with a job? I’d hate to think I was wasting my time here this afternoon.”

Her words shocked him. He took a step back, as if he hadn’t heard any kind of dissatisfaction delivered so directly to him in years, or maybe even in his whole life.

“Ala, of course. I just wanted to make sure you meet some qualifications. I am away quite a bit.”

“So?”

“So, if someone is taking care of my home, I have to make sure they’re up for the tasks involved.”

“Taking care of your home?”

“Well, house sitting really. I have a housekeeper, a gardener, and the occasional cook. But there are business manners I need someone responsible to take care of for me, and I have to make sure—”

“I’m sorry, but this is not at all what I had in mind. I am interested in fashion. I’m not a house sitter.”

He nodded, his face folding in a way that told her he was deeply disappointed in himself, for disappointing her. He put his hand on the bedpost, as if steadying himself from the blow her words caused.

“Ala, please, I must’ve misunderstood. I thought you were looking for a summer job.”

“I thought this had to do with fashion.”

“The thing is, of course, that if you really want to get any kind of marketable fashion internship, you’d be better off in the city for the summer.”

She already knew this but couldn’t stomach the thought of having to move again and live alone, paying Manhattan prices for rent and food. The truth was that she wanted to remove all responsibility from herself and place it on Emanuel. She tried to make him fix her career, or lack thereof. Feeling hot with embarrassment, and wanting another drink badly, she decided the easiest thing to do would be to leave as quickly as possible. Emanuel walked to the entrance of the bedroom and stood in front, not to block it, but to suggest their conversation wasn’t over.

“Maybe I should go,” Ala said, testing whether or not he was going to make her more uncomfortable.

“You’re saying living in the city right now isn’t possible.”

“It’s not part of my plan, no.”

“Well, here,” He said, taking an envelope out of his breast pocket and holding it in front of her.

"All the information is in here. I would go through it with you, but I’m late for a lunch meeting.”

She took the packet and nodded.

“I’ll read it over.”

“Great,” he said, gesturing to the hallway. "Let me know if you have any questions.”

She walked down the steps, wondering if she had overacted and seemed ungrateful for his offer.

The sky had grayed during the short visit, and Ala was cold without a sweater. He lifted a day coat over his shoulders, folded his sunglasses and put them in his pocket.

“Would you like a ride home?”

“No, I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

They parted and went opposite ways down the block. Ala suddenly became very aware of the envelope in her hands. She wanted to rip it open right there and see what Emanuel could possibly be thinking with his proposal. She realized he could still see her down the block and knew she would have to wait until she got home to read it. It was as if having to urinate or scratch an itch. She almost couldn’t control her curiosity.

She walked through the front door and heard clamoring in the kitchen.

“Ala? Is that you?”

“Yes,” she said, heading in to talk to her mother. Now she would have to wait. She had wanted to ask where her parents had been all night and today, but all she cared about was reading what was inside of the envelope.

“Are you still having Gertrude over for dinner?”

Ala had completely forgotten. Gertrude was her best friend, out of everyone she knew, who she still hadn’t seen since moving back. She couldn’t cancel. She rushed up the stairs and locked the letter in her nightstand drawer. She had to start cooking, and the proposal would have to wait.

The two girls sat under the pergola eating the warm chicken salad Ala had made that afternoon with great haste and picking at some cheese biscuits from the market. They had opened a third bottle of Prosecco, taken from the case in the basement, and would probably move to wine after the bottle was empty.

“I’m serious. I thought it was going to get stuck inside me,” Gertrude said, her eyes rolling back with her laughter. Ala covered her mouth to try to stop the spray of bubbles from shooting out.

“Stop.”

“I mean it. It was the biggest I had ever seen. Ever been with.”

“It could never get stuck. You’re so dramatic.”

“How do you know it couldn’t?”

“Come on.”

They sat close together, their foreheads almost touching, just as they had at eleven years old when they would share secrets and gossip during sleepovers.

Lately, Gertrude had taken up sleeping with every maintenance man who came through her parent’s door. A major renovation was underway at the large estate they had recently purchased. She was now sleeping with Rashid from New York City. He was married with two daughters and was working there over the summer as part of a group of traveling laborers. Ala could sympathize with Gertrude’s boredom from working for an arts association since college, but this behavior, in her opinion, was reckless.

“He parked his truck outside of Knopp’s and we did it in the back, you know, in the pick-up part.”

“So, you not only had sex in the truck, but outside of the pharmacy at three in the morning?”

“You don’t understand. It was the best experience I’ve ever had.”

“I think you need to get out of this town.”

“I don’t think it did you any good.” As soon as it escaped her lips, Gertrude slammed her hand on top of Ala’s to alleviate any pain she may have caused. Ala nodded.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Gertrude sat back in the wicker chair, crumbling a biscuit between her fingers and slowly eating it.

“Any word from him?”

“No. And it’s fine with me.”

“Any word from anyone else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Any job?”

“I’m working on it.”

“I can fix you up if you’d like.”

No thanks. No offense, but I like single men who have earned some kind of degree.”

“You’re a snob."

“I am not. Do you honestly see yourself marrying or having children with any of these dozens of men?”

“Ala, sometimes sex can just be sex. You don’t have to plan out your registry and house blueprints with every guy you screw.”

“Oh please. You know I don’t do that. All I mean is, I don’t see the point in hurting myself more. Having sex with men that I know I can’t have won’t do me any good.

“Again, what has anything you done in any relationship done you any good?” Gertrude’s hand went down on Ala’s again. They both broke into a drunken laugh and Ala began opening the chilled wine.

After Gertrude left, Ala laid on the swinging wicker loveseat that her parents had brought back from Jamaica with them. Apparently, the trip had done wonders for their dwindling marriage and they had talked about retiring there.

She swung the seat back and forth by pushing away from the deck with her palm. She loved the quiet of this house; the sporadic creaks being so familiar.

She felt engrained in this house. As if she stepped out of the cocoon of the walls, went to Boston, returned and slid back in the nook she lived in. She realized that this was a sign that she was clinging to her adolescence and did not want to grow up and have to leave again. The move and the relationship had burned her. She wanted to reset and pretend it never happened. She wanted to sleep in this house until the day she was married and then have her husband take her away from her father. She wanted the simplicity of tradition.

It seemed that as a child, her parents had wanted her to wait until marriage to have sex. She was expected to attend church every week. She completed her First Communion and Confirmation. She received no lower than a B in every class every year and never received a “Congratulations”. It was expected that her performance would be advanced.

When high school came, she rebelled in every obvious way she could think of. Her mother would cry at the kitchen table and her father would ground her. Soon they became passé on the matter and she tried to think of more ways to rile them, with little success. They assumed she was damaged— most likely already cutting class, using drugs, and probably even having sex. Having no other children to compare Ala to, they would talk to friends at dinner parties, lamenting on her misbehavior and lack of respect. Their friends would reply that Ala was lovely, simply charming, and they were lucky that she was the only child they had to deal with. Everyone would then go around the table, sharing horror stories they faced raising teenagers: arrests, expulsion from school, loitering, very noticeable signs of drug use. What they had on their hands with Ala was nothing, they were assured.

Because Ala was very frightened of doing anything that could actually have lasting effects on her success, she stopped trying to get their attention the wrong way. For a while, her relationship with her parents meandered€¨on. She often felt that they had wished they had more children so they wouldn’t be so bored with just her. Ala began college and they received in the mail a list of suggested items she needed for her first year living in the dorms. Her mother took her shopping at all of the department stores and bought the best sheets and towels she could find. Her father packed up all of her books. They strapped everything into the station wagon and drove her four hundred miles away to her new adventure. She sat in the back seat with headphones on, trying to sleep, but unable to get over her fear of leaving.

The goodbyes were quick and her father handed her a credit card to use for emergencies only. She watched them walk back to the car through her window, squinting hard to try and make out whether or not they were crying. She decided they hadn’t been crying and started to unpack. She would call on Sundays from the pay phone in the hallway and come home every holiday. When she started to forget to call, her parents never mentioned it. They picked up the conversation wherever it had left off.

Her mother came outside dressed in a magenta sundress. Her white blond hair was in a French twist and she looked ten years younger with her eyes lined in silver.

“How is Gertrude?”

“She’s fine. She has a boyfriend.”

“Oh, that’s nice. What does he do?”

“I really don’t know,” Ala lied.

“Alright. Well, dad and I are going out. I’ll see you later.”

"Have fun."

Her mother looked at her for an extra second, and then stepped back inside, sliding the door closed behind her. A veil of depression swept over Ala as she thought of how her parents were going out while she was hanging upside down on this swing, wasting the best years of her life.

She stood up and tried to stretch the massive knot that had developed in her shoulder, then checked her watch. At nine at night, the library would be open for another hour. She took her backpack from her room and locked the front door behind her. She walked down the rolling hill to the library, remembering that she would have to do her research there because her wallet was missing, and she didn’t have her library card available to check out books.

The main floor was quiet as she made her way up the grand staircase to the research section. She recognized the same librarian from when she used to visit as a child. He had helped her decide which series to read every summer, before the Internet. Now she had no reason or desire to speak to him. She walked swiftly and passed his desk to the archives.

She threw her backpack on one of the long tables and rounded the corner to the computer area meant for research. She pushed the button to turn on the monitor and braced herself for the pornographic imagery she was sure would pop up. None did, and she began. She typed and waited. Twenty-two results came in regarding the healing temple that she had first heard of through Jase. She skimmed through and selected the newest book from thirty years ago on the subject. She scribbled down the catalog number with the mini, dull tipped pencil and roamed the aisles until she found the correct section. It was apparent that no one had taken any books from the shelves in years. Who had time to read about healing temples? Who even believed in them? She found it ironic that the subject for one of Jases’ thesis papers was now what she was counting on to save herself from the broken heart she had because of him.

Briefly before moving back, Ala had considered swallowing a handful of pills. She even got as far as buying the bottle from the corner pharmacy across the street from the apartment she had shared with Jase. She counted twenty-five out and let them run through her fingers. She lined them up in one straight line. She spelled her name with them. She made the outline of a fish with them. She thought of how ridiculous she was acting, scooped them and dropped them back into the bottle.

She would never have enough courage to kill herself. Having one serious breakup was not something new to the rest of the world. If people in other horrible circumstances had made it through, she could too. That didn’t mean she was willing to give up the drama though.

She pulled out a navy-blue book with a scuffed, but otherwise clean, cover. She ran her nails over the textured spine, letting them dip in the cracks where the fabric was torn and the timeworn brown glue was visible.

Opening the book smelled like someone had taken it to the rainforest, buried it in the mud, left it there during the rainy season, dug it up, brought it to a hut where someone was preparing a meal, threw it in a suitcase and flew home.

Ala opened up to a map of the mainland. Triangles, representing trees, flooded the page, along with a few rectangular bridges, some u-shaped mountains and the temple.

She tried to imagine every being that occupied the jungle. It was no place anyone would choose to visit. There were stories about drug trafficking, tribes, poisonous plants, wild animals, hunters and people starving to death for her to consider. The journey sounded arduous, especially since she couldn’t find any recent writings. Travel would take more than two days; with three layovers each way and airfare costs alone would begin at five thousand dollars. It would be difficult to find a place to stay, since she did not even know anyone who knew anyone in the area. She didn’t even own a pair of hiking boots.

She flipped through the books, puzzled as to why she was bothering looking into this. She didn’t have a job or any savings to speak of and would not be able to pull together this kind of money anytime soon.

There would have to only be existence in the meantime, living among the bitter and listless. Going to work every day, coming home, melting into the couch in front of TV shows about other people’s terrible, yet entertaining, lives. She would carry on just as so many others did.

Burying her head in her arms, she began to cry. She was careful to not make any noise. She hadn’t cried since coming back because she didn’t want anyone to hear her in the house, even though it probably wouldn’t matter since her parents were never home anymore. What was she doing here? Planning a run-away mission like a child.

Ala heard her phone vibrating in her bag. It was Gene calling. As much as she didn’t want to talk, she answered.

“Hi,” She said, inhaling deeply.

“Are you alright?”

“Not exactly.”

“You sound terrible.”

“I have allergies. Pollen.”

“Want to grab a drink?”

“I do actually.”

“Great. Should we meet?”

“Sure, how about Flynn’s?”

“I’ll see you there.”

She wanted to keep reading, but knew she had to leave. It was a bad idea to sit in this air-conditioned box all night reading about a faraway land she would probably get killed in. She took two of the books and shoved them into her backpack. It would help to read them at home in the middle of the night when she missed Jase the most. If the sensor went off at the entrance, she would just play dumb and act like she had absentmindedly taken the books.

Ala traipsed back to the house and tossed the books on her bed. She decided not to change clothes but fixed her makeup. Between the heat and the scratches and bruises, she was a sight, but the bar would be dark.

Flynn’s was quiet and empty because of the college students getting ready to return to school. Gene sat at one of the bistro tables. He wore his hair slicked back and a seersucker blazer. They hugged and Ala sat next to him rather than across the table. He had already started with scotch, which was never a good sign.

“How long did you stay at the party?”

“About a half hour.”

“How was the lady?”

“A slut.”

“Gene—”

“She’s attached. Forgot to mention it. Humiliating.”

Gene drank since they had been in middle school. He drank even when he had tennis practice or when he was sick. Alcoholism didn’t run in his family. It was something he had adopted on his own.

Everyone had been tight lipped about the situation until he became of age. Now, his parents and most of his friends treated him as a social drinker. Ala knew the seriousness of the situation, but she didn’t need to address it. Gene knew he was sick and that someday, he would have to get help.

For now though, Ala felt she was in no position to tell anyone how to live. She barely recognized who she was, even from a year ago. Some mid-century pop song came on, and she remembered their homecoming dance freshman year. She knew that Gene had wanted to ask her to go with him, and she purposely avoided the question. She couldn’t remember how she phrased it, only that it was clear she wanted nothing to do with being his date.

He rubbed his face with both hands and then folded them behind his head, leaning back in his chair.

“I know you just got back. I didn’t mean to drag you out to do this.”

“It’s fine. I needed to get out. How’s that deal coming along?”

"Shitstorm."

Gene and his father had started a business the previous year to restore boats. Everyone in the community owned one, whether for profit or pleasure, and they thought it could be lucrative. It wasn’t the best time to start a company, but Gene was determined to not work for anyone else.

From what Ala had heard, she missed a series of ugly episodes by being in Boston. And she was grateful. She liked thinking of Gene in her own terms. Dashing, arrogant, smart and funny was what she always knew him as; as an adult, it was difficult for her to stomach that he might not be that great of a person.

Ala ordered a whiskey sour from the waitress since she had some catching up to do and listened to Gene talk about his sister passing The Bar exam on her first try and his younger brother studying in Korea. She hated to admit it, but he did make her feel a lot better about what she was going through.

She said this and they both laughed. He kissed her on the cheek and her hand brushed his upper leg. Normal occurrences in their social meetings continued as they drank more.

Ala couldn’t help but think that Gene was still upset about Lisa. She had been his girlfriend in high school who wound up pregnant. Her parents tried to force her to get an abortion and while running out of her house, she was hit by a car.

It was a shock to the entire school. Ala was the only one who Gene had told that Lisa was pregnant.

Lisa was now paralyzed and had to be washed, clothed and fed by caretakers. Gene’s parents had encouraged him to move on, regurgitating that he was so young and that he had his whole life ahead of him. They drove him to the home she was living in so he could see how Lisa spent her day staring out the window at a meadow under a scratchy blanket. Ala knew they weren’t trying to be cruel, but Gene was never the same after.

Her straw tried to make its way through the ice to collect any remaining cocktail in the bottom of the glass. She ordered another. They played checkers, moving the chipped plastic pieces sloppily around the board, laughing when they forgot who was black and who was red. At one point Gene made a lewd remark to the waitress and Ala felt herself mouth the word “Sorry” when he wasn’t looking.

Around midnight, they ordered onion rings and Ala switched to sparkling water. The three drinks she had during the day, mixing with the heat and anxiety, gave her a stomachache. Gene was remarkably sober by the time the food arrived. They ate quietly. Gene paid the bill and they left.

Walking back to his car, Gene grabbed her elbow and kissed her on the mouth. It was clean and she couldn’t even smell liquor. It was nice. She kissed him back and then giggled to cut through the depth of the situation.

Gene dropped her off at her house and after he drove off, but before she reached the front door, she let herself begin to sob. She dropped to her knees on the front lawn and hugged her torso. She was convinced she had to start fresh but felt helpless as she tried to muffle the cries from her throat.

She tiptoed upstairs, not wanting to wake her parents and let them see her tear-stained face. She removed her clothes and decided to sleep in only her panties. She turned out the light and, not even one minute later, sat straight up in bed and turned the light back on. The letter. She had completely forgotten. She quietly took it out of the drawer and carefully opened the envelope.

The paper felt like fine cloth and had Emanuel’s initials embossed in the header.

August 19

Dear Ala,

I’m not one for formalities, so rather than scripting a dense job offer, I thought this would be more personable to read. I hope you find this to be true.

As I mentioned, I am taking on an assignment, which requires me to travel for the next month. I have never left my house for such a long block of time. Normally, I have my housekeeper look in while I am gone. Unfortunately, for reasons I’d prefer not to go into, she will no longer be working for me.

I was taken with your maturity upon meeting you. You strike me as someone who has always been responsible. I also like that you live in the neighborhood and are familiar with the residents.

All I require, if you are to house sit, is that you live here for the next month, tend to my plants, bring in the mail, and make sure you are here to let in my aquarist. I have some valuable artwork, both monetarily and in sentiment, so I would expect you to respect the space. I am willing to pay you fifteen thousand dollars for this service to me. I hope you accept my offer.

Best regards,

Emanuel

She read the last two sentences several times. Had he meant fifteen thousand American dollars? If so, did he realize what he was actually offering? Fifteen thousand dollars to water some plants sounded ridiculous. Ala could never accept this offer with a clear conscience. She laughed to herself and turned the light off. Burrowing under the covers, something sharp scratched her leg. Alarmed, she sat up and turned the light back on. She tore off the blanket and recognized the book about the healing temple that she had brought home from the library, which now seemed like days ago. She opened the book and took a look at the map again. Maybe taking a pill before the flight would make it more manageable. She thought about this while drifting off.

Ala woke up before six and decided to go running. The sun was out already and pouring into her stuffy bedroom through the windows. It seemed that no matter where she chose to run this morning would already be hot, and better to burn calories. She dug her running shoes out of one of the boxes marked “miscellaneous” and stuffed her swollen feet into them. Her parent’s bedroom door was closed and she tiptoed down the stairs quietly. Filling her water bottle, she heard a buzzing sound coming through the back-door window screen. She looked in the backyard and saw nothing out of the ordinary, yet the buzzing persisted. She tried to follow the direction it was coming from, which seemed to be the Neely’s yard next door. She pushed on the gate and it swung open. The buzzing got louder and she nearly stumbled at what she saw in front of her. Glasses and plates were strewn throughout the yard. The grill was left open, pieces of shrunken pineapple left on the grate. Wadded up napkins covered the deck. A large swarm of flies floated above a platter of black congealed guacamole.

Ala clasped her hand to her mouth and slowly backed out of the scene. She felt nauseous and tried to breathe deeply. She had never smelled rotting food in the heat before. She had never seen such a mess left unattended, especially at the Neely’s. They were always known as being meticulous.

She ran all the way down to the end of her street and onto the sand path. She was panting heavily but kept going. She could feel her feet burning through her shoes and socks from the dry scorched sand. What kind of people do not clean up after a party? It wasn’t as if this was college and she lived in the dorms. Her neighborhood was one of the most desired to live in. All of the men were professionals of some kind. Most of the women didn’t work because there was already so much wealth. Things really had changed since she had been gone. Part of her was surprised she even cared, but another part was afraid that because she did care, it would bother her that she didn’t know the whole story.

Ala stopped when she reached the ocean and watched the waves break for a while. She wanted to dip her head into the white foam but thought of her skin drying and cracking on the way back home. She sat on some driftwood and loosened her shoelaces. She had found herself avoiding any and all romantic areas that would make her think of Jase. She didn’t want to be reminded of how it felt to hold someone’s hand or nuzzle someone’s neck.

They had visited the beach often. Jase’s family had many boats and all of their vacations were based around water. Ala adored the outings and the crab boils and the sparklers in the tall grass. She had completely drunk in her life with him, and lost sight of herself in her own future, because she was so sure about him.

She felt tears stinging her eyes and decided it was time to head back before the heat became unbearable. She picked up her speed on the asphalt and blazed ahead, making sure to focus on one object and keep running toward it. In this case it was the steeple of the church along the main road.

She thought of Emanuel’s offer. Surely it couldn’t have been real. Or if it was, it couldn’t be legitimate. If she were to participate in something illegal and be caught, she would have nowhere to hide, especially since people already thought her judgement was off because she had left Boston.

Her ankle began to cramp up. She should not have been running for this long, and far, her first time out after the accident. She kept going. She wondered how many people actually started out in a legitimate way. This money would be a fantastic step for her in terms of going to the temple, moving out of her parent’s house and really beginning her life.

It had to be wrong though. And there were taxes. How would she explain the money after being out of work? What would her parents believe? They would think she was his concubine for the summer. Everyone would think that she was sleeping with Emanuel for the money. Everyone would talk.

She reached her front door and laid down on the deck, feeling the sweat run from her hairline, down her cheeks and to the back of her neck. She didn’t expect to be drenched and didn’t want to drip going through the foyer. She walked around to the backyard and went through the kitchen entrance.

She walked quietly up the steps and saw that her parent’s door was still closed. It was well past the time for them to wake up and get ready for work. She wondered if they had overslept. She went back downstairs and noticed that her father’s wallet was not on the side table by the front door that he put it on every time he came home. Both sets of keys were gone, and she did not see her mother’s purse either.

Was it possible that they did not come home again? It couldn’t be. She thought of knocking on their bedroom door but decided against it. Her second instinct was to knock on the Neely’s door, and quickly realized that was not an option either, due to her fear of an awkward situation.

She began to pace around the hallway. Maybe something had happened to them, a car accident perhaps. She rushed to the front windows and saw both of their cars in the driveway. But this didn’t make sense. They were going out last night and one of them had to have driven. That means they did come home. Where were they now though?

She decided to knock on the bedroom door. After all, if they were home, they overslept and would need to be awoken. It would be strange if they both overslept, but it could happen if they had had too much wine. Ala crept up to the door and put her ear against it. Silence. She knocked and waited. There was no answer. She knocked with a little more force and kept her ear plastered to the door.

“Mom? Dad? It’s past seven.”

No answer. She turned the doorknob and the click told her the door was unlocked. Fear swept over her as she wondered if perhaps, she was about to walk into a situation she did not want to see. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the door open. She looked around. The room was untouched. The bed was made with every last throw pillow in place. The shades were open, revealing the faded window seat.

It was possible that they both had early meetings, but highly unlikely. There was no explanation as to where they could be at the hour. Embarrassment crept over her, as she could not believe she was worrying about her middle-aged parents more than they ever worried about her. Her workout clothes clung to her body and she felt extreme grit from the beach all over her skin. She looked at the jet tub in her parent’s bathroom and decided a long soak would make her feel better.

She locked the bathroom door and made sure the shutters were closed. She turned the skinny copper faucet, took off her clothes and sank slowly into the water, sprinkling in some unidentifiable scented bath salt.

She rested her head against the ledge and let her eyes close. The water whirled around her knees creating small sprays of bubbles, not unlike what she had seen at the beach. She turned her head to one side and heard the satisfying crack in the back of her neck. She turned her head to the other side, heard the pop, and in the next moment, could not take her eyes from what she saw in the corner of the bathroom.

Next to the wastebasket was a large, pink cylinder with rounded ends. She knew what it was instantly because of the color. She climbed out of the tub and, dripping wet, slowly approached, as if the object was alive and could attack at any moment. She crouched down and looked closely. The handle was covered in rhinestones. It was almost the size of the penis she had seen on the computer screen at the library.

She blinked several times, a hot prickling fear climbing up her back. She tried to put the story together of the lingerie from her mother’s closet and this toy. She couldn’t. She was afraid to get any closer, just like when she was about to kill a spider, fearing that it would rise up and swallow her whole. The ribbed surface and curves made her want to touch it, but she knew she never could. She had no idea where it came from or who had used it. She couldn’t imagine how it got into her parent’s bathroom; it had to be some kind of mistake. Her parents barely watched TV and had never seen an R-rated movie as far as she knew. How would they even know what this was?

She backed away slowly and pulled the stopper from the drain. The water rushed out and she sat on the edge, trying to put together how to act the next time she saw her parents.

She couldn’t confront them but was insulted that they would risk putting her in this position. There was a chance that they thought she would never use their bathroom, but the other bathtub in the house was being reglazed and no one could use it for three days. And, her seeing this wasn’t the issue. The issue was that it existed in the house. It was in her parent’s personal space—there was no getting around it.

She toweled off and dressed, thinking about how for the first time, this did not feel like her home.

It was clear that her parents needed the house to themselves. She would rather lick a toilet seat in a public bathroom than confront them. She couldn’t think of a friend who wasn’t traveling for the summer or living with a boyfriend. She would have to stay somewhere else. For some reason the idea of Emanuel’s job offer did not pop up as an immediate solution to her issue, which could have been because she was in shock from the discovery of the dildo. She walked into her bedroom and practically collapsed onto her bed. Her mind was speeding and sparking and she felt the rumblings of an anxiety attack creeping up through her ribcage. She spotted the letter out of the corner of her eye and realized that this summer job could fix all of her problems. She could have that house all to herself and make money to visit the temple, all for very little work in return.

She pulled a suitcase out from under her bed and got to work packing only what she needed, which was always a challenge for her. It would be best to be completely ready to go before notifying her parents of her plan, even though she couldn’t imagine looking either of them in the eye for more than a second.

She found her bikini and shoved it in the side pocket. She had not had a wax yet this summer, but decided it was fine because no one would be around when she would swim in Emanuel’s pool. Some time between selecting three books to bring with, and finding her phone charger, she realized that she did not have to tell her parents in person that she was leaving at all.

She could do so over the phone, a much more comfortable setup. She finished packing quickly and made sure that her bed was made and that her hamper was empty of dirty clothes. She rushed downstairs and locked the door behind her. She would come back for her car later. She raced down the street to Emanuel’s, feeling a thrill as if she was being chased or in great danger, and barely getting away.

She reached the house and rang the doorbell. While waiting, she surveyed the garden and front lawn. There were many potted plants and stones, of all sizes, making up the intricate design of the landscape. She heard the front door creak open and turned quickly to see Emanuel smiling broadly and wearing an olive-green suit.

“I hope you’ve decided to work for me.”

“I have.”

“Fantastic. You know I’m heading out today.”

“I didn’t. But I’m ready to move in.”

She felt very bold and proud, making this decision. It was the first positive choice she had not weighed or thought out for weeks. She was going with her internal feeling without asking what anyone else thought. It felt great.

Emanuel seemed relieved and a bit rushed. She wondered what his plan was, had she not decided to accept this offer. A town car pulled into the driveway. He signaled one minute to the driver and gestured for Ala to follow him into the house.

“I must apologize for not being able to give you the full tour.”

“I’m sure I can manage."

“In my office you’ll find a list of all of the personnel allowed on the property to complete their tasks. If anyone shows up who is not on the list, I would advise avoiding them.”

This struck her as odd because it sounded like he expected unwelcome visitors, but she supposed he was busy and did not have time to sort out details with people he did not have plans to converse with.

“Of course.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a credit card.

“This is for all of your spending. Anything you need for the house and all meals; I would like on this card. It will help me with my accountant later.”

“Thank you.” Ala had not expected for all of her expenses to be paid for as well.

“I will be flying for the next eighteen hours, so you won’t be able to contact me.”

“I’m sure I’ll find everything I need.”

He nodded as he gestured to the driver to take his bags. He then reached into the pockets of his coat, making sure that whatever was supposed to be them, was, and fastened the buttons all the way up to his neck.

He turned to leave and then turned back to face her. She was not expecting this sudden movement and, following him, they almost bumped noses.

“Ala, one more thing, and please do not think I’m being prude.”

“Okay,” She said, dumbfounded.

“The rule I take the most seriously is, I would not like any guests in this house. I would prefer you have your relations elsewhere.”

Her face froze in bewilderment, and while she knew that she could be rightfully offended by what he was telling her, all she could do was stifle a small laugh.

"I understand," she said.

He nodded and turned to finally leave. As she watched the car drive away, she thought of how living in the house of someone she barely knew could really lend to her reinventing herself, or at least, reach into her crumbling self-image and unmask what it was she wanted to say.

She gave herself a tour, starting with the kitchen. All of the countertops and appliances were steel, large, unused, and very expensive looking. It was very sterile, like a restaurant kitchen, with the only hint of color coming from an art deco mobile that had been converted into overhead lighting. She opened every drawer and found the usual: flatware, a rolling pin, meat thermometer, spatula, and can opener. One drawer was completely dedicated to cheese knives. She pulled them out, one at a time, and carefully laid them on the counter. One had a handle made of carved jade that reminded her of the healing temple, another seemed to be solid gold and looked like it came from the Middle East. She chuckled to herself, thinking it was amusing that Emanuel, a man of many lands, had such a bourgeois habit: choosing one item to collect from each city he visited.

In the refrigerator, she found a nub of goose liver and a wedge of Brie cheese. She put both on a small silver dish and sprinkled the dried cranberries she had found in the pantry on top. She drizzled a floral design in amber honey on the plate and rummaged through the cabinet for some crackers. She learned how to paint pictures with honey and jam while working at a small Bistro during college. She had met Jase by serving a cheese plate to him and a peevish brunette he had been on a date with.

There was an open bottle of 2009 Tempranillo, Barco de piedra by the sink and she allowed herself a heavy pour. She brought her snack to the patio table and sat in a sleek bamboo chair that hit all of the pressure points in her back just so.

She gazed at the quivering water in the ivory tiled pool and thought about going skinny-dipping. The sun seemed very bright at the time and, while there were tall shrubs surrounding the yard, she decided against it. Skinny-dipping was to be done in the dark.

This was, without a doubt, the greatest job she would ever have. Why she hadn’t considered assisting the rich before was baffling. She curled up sideways in the crook of the chair and drifted off for a short nap.

She awoke hearing her cell phone ringing from inside of the house. She jumped up and hurried inside. Her bag was by the front door, along with her luggage she had forgotten about unpacking. She answered.

“Ala, where are you?” It was her mother. While Ala was pretending to be wealthy, she had forgotten to call and tell her parents that she had moved out while they were gone.

“Oh, hi. I couldn’t find you or dad this morning and had to move quickly.”

“What do you mean?” Her mother always quickly took on the tone of impatience when she didn’t get an immediate answer to her questions.

“Well, I took a job for the summer.”

“Really?” Her tone brightened. “That’s wonderful. Where?”

“I’m house sitting actually, for Emanuel.”

“Emanuel! I had no idea you had met.”

“At the Neely’s, yes, we talked for a while and when he found out I was looking for a job, he asked if I would want to watch his house while he’s away on business.”

“And you said yes?”

“It’s the first offer I’ve gotten.”

“Exactly.” Ala could hear her mother’s pointed shoe tapping the floor through the phone.

“It’s really a low-key job.”

“You barely know him.”

“But he’s not going to be here.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That Emanuel just met you, and asked you to stay in his house all summer, and he’s not there going to bed with you?”

Ala nearly dropped the phone.

“What in the Hell are you talking about?”

“Everyone knows about Emanuel, Ala.”

“Knows what?”

“He has some very strange habits, well sexually, and I really don’t think you should be staying in his house with him.”

Fury started to seep through Ala, making her face warm, as she felt beads of cold sweat gather across her back. Her hand began to shake. Strange sexual habits. Who was her mother to say anything about strange sexual habits? Who was she to insinuate that Emanuel was a creep when there was sexual paraphernalia strewn about the house?

“Mother, I already told you once, he isn’t here. If you’re saying I’m lying, then I don’t really want to talk to you right now.”

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She heard a click and the line went dead.

Ala stood there, in shock, watching the leaves on the Magnolia plants, which no doubt were imported, flap away in the wind.

To have the most bizarre conversations with your mother, that you know you’ll ever have, is a strange experience.

Strange sexual habits. What does that mean? Her mother had lived her entire life and seemed to only now explore any kind of varietal sex. Emanuel had traveled everywhere, and other countries had different ideas about what sex was. She was sure her mother was overreacting. Her parents would be much happier with her out of the house for the summer.

She wanted to call Gertrude but decided that she didn’t want to share her plans with her. She liked that this decision was her own and didn’t feel like explaining or hearing opinions just yet.

The phone rang again, this time an unrecognizable number. She thought for sure it would’ve been her mother calling back to apologize. She shrugged and answered.

“Is this Ala?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you picked up. Look outside the window,” a man’s voice said, crisp with confidence.

“Who is this?”

She glanced outside. There was no one in front of the house. She stepped out and looked down the block. There was a sleek black car parked in front of her parent’s house. The hood was smooth and long with little lights peaking up like alien eyes.

“I have something of yours.”

She could not take her eyes off the car. It made her insides vibrate.

“What?”

“I’ll show you. Come outside.”

“You’re at the wrong place. I’m down the street. I’ll wave.”

“Alright.”

She watched the car purr down her street and flung her arm up in the air, waving rigorously. As the car stopped and parked, she realized what an idiot she was being. She had no idea who this was and was directing him to where she was. The car door opened without a sound, and out slipped the gentleman from the bar at the racetrack.

She was stunned to see him. He wore a tan summer suit with a navy-blue tie and gave her a thin-lipped smile as he approached the front steps.

“Hello again.”

“Hi,” she said, remembering she had just woken up from a nap, and had no clue as to what she looked like for her second encounter with him.

“Thanks for letting me know I was at the wrong house.”

“Yes,” she said, without knowing why.

“I’m glad I was able to find you,” he said, showing off his large white teeth.

He found her. How did he find her? Who was he?

“You said you have something of mine?”

“Oh yes,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out her wallet.

“You found it?” She was amazed, and relieved that it seemed like he had not come there to murder her.

“I did.”

“That’s how you knew where I lived,” she said laughing.

“Yes.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, reaching for it.

He took one step back.

“Have dinner with me.”

“This again?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a little busy. I was just in the middle of—”

“Sleeping?”

“How did you know?”

He brought a cool finger to her cheek and traced what she knew was a sleep line from the lawn chair. Mortified, she brought his hand down. His finger gripped hers.

“Dinner. One time. You can nap later.”

Tingles cascaded down the back of her neck. She didn’t know him. She felt herself stepping back into the trap of self-doubt. She clenched her teeth. Stop thinking she screamed inside her own head.

“Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Yes. How about thirty? I’ll come back for you.”

“Great.”

She made sure he was back inside of his car and driving down the street before running back inside the house and gleefully jumping up and down.

“A date! Going on a date in that car!” She yelled.

She dragged her suitcase up the stairs. It sprung open and littered the staircase with her underwear. She grabbed a slinky sundress she kept from college and hurried into the first bathroom she could find. She rinsed her hair with lavender oil and scrunched it at the roots before blow-drying the ends. She applied bronzer to her cheekbones and went with a smoky oyster eye shadow. She decided against lipstick and chose a heavy clear gloss. She applied a dash of perfume oil behind each ear and looped a long gold feather necklace around her neck.

The dress fit very well, considering it was one size smaller than what she normally wore. She found the full-length mirror in the master bedroom and looked at herself while stepping into purple slingbacks. She looked casually sultry, like a supermodel with the flu. She found her beaded coin purse wadded up in the side pocket of her suitcase and shoved all the cash she had inside. She thought he could after all, turn out to be a lunatic, and she may need to find a way home.

He was standing on the front steps when she stepped outside.

“You look lovely,” he said, opening the car door for her.

“Thanks. Let me just lock up.” She had no idea where the keys were. “I’ll be right back!” She rushed into Emanuel’s office and turned on the light. Nothing had changed since the first time he had brought her there. Luckily for her, in the lava bowl sitting on top of the desk, were the keys.

She rushed back out and waved to him. The third key she tried clicked and she checked the door to make sure it was secure. She stepped lightly down the steps and folded herself into the car, making sure to suck in her stomach and try to look svelte. He climbed in and buckled his seatbelt.

“What kind of car is this?” She said, dazzled by the interior.

“Aston Martin,” he said, starting down the street.

“It’s gorgeous. I never notice cars, but this is breathtaking.”

“Thank you. It was my father’s.”

“Oh.” She did not want to talk about dead parents on this date. She didn’t want to talk about anything real.

He handed her the wallet.

“I thought dinner was first,” she said.

“I can tell you aren’t a cruel person. You wouldn’t put me through waiting a half hour and compliment my car, before telling me you weren’t going to continue on to dinner.”

“Let’s hope so,” she said, looking out the window. She couldn’t contain her smile. Everything about him was frighteningly dashing in a way that she had never seen anyone pull off.

“Are you starving?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you like red meat?”

“As much as anyone.”

“Alright.”

A steakhouse. Nice. Although, it was a little warm outside to eat a T- bone. Ala would probably find out he had a healthy habit of visiting strip clubs and was still close with fraternity brothers. He probably wasn’t that different from any other man who seemed perfect because he had a sports car. She couldn’t really be this gullible. She silenced her mind. One date wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

The drive took longer than she expected. She had thought they were going downtown to Remi’s or The Blue Cow, but he took the opposite way and soon they were driving down what looked like a dirt road through a farm. Small houses and barns spotted the dark green all around her. It was beautiful to be somewhere so private. Her instinct was to ask exactly where they were going, but she held back.

He turned on the radio and hummed along with The Prowling Cat as they sped through the pasture. Finally, he turned into a lot in front of a place called Duraband’s. The sign said “Candy and Ice Cream” in large letters, and she could see a carport by a drive-up window. He came around to let her out of the car. She took his arm as he led the way inside. There was a long counter with low glittering teal stools lined up and a row of booths in the back. He waved to an ancient woman behind the counter who wore a robin’s egg blue uniform and bright red lipstick. She smiled and waved back. They were the youngest diners there, everyone else at least sixty years old and wearing overalls.

He chose a table all the way in the back and sat on the same side as Ala.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“No.”

“I would never do this anywhere else, but here, it just feels like you’re supposed to make yourself at home.”

Ala nodded and opened the menu. The letters and words spun before her eyes, making it difficult to focus because she could not get over the fact that she had been so wrong about where they were going.

“I know the menu seems large, but there are only a few things to really pay attention to.”

A tall slender waitress approached. She had a very pretty face but dried out hair. Ala smiled at her.

“Hey you,” he said while motioning toward Ala. “This is my friend, Ala. It’s her first time, right?” He looked at Ala, which made the waitress look directly at her.

“Yes,” Ala said, feeling a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Nice to meet you. You know what you’d like?”

“I think so. Ala, do you mind if I order?”

“Of course not,” she said, looking around, trying to figure out if she was missing something about this place. There was an old jukebox, a soda fountain and some kind of antique horse she assumed kid’s put quarters in for a ride. The lighting was dim, the table was scratched, the booths were worn and most of the customers were clearing out.

“Why don’t you bring us a spinach soufflé, and egg salad platter, a Waldorf salad, a sliced steak and mozzarella hero and a meatball sandwich.”

“Drinks?”

“Two Pink Lemonades.” Ala looked at him. “They’re spiked darling,” he said, handing over the menus.

He sat turned toward her, anchoring himself with an elbow on the table. He looked directly into her eyes when asking a question and watched her mouth as she answered.

“Who named you?”

“I think my father. He’s from Alabama originally. I’ve been told it’s a popular name there. It means “noble”. I guess my mother thought it sounded proper enough.”

“I like it.”

She smiled and looked down. No one had ever asked about her name before. It felt like a very personal question. More personal than asking about past relationships, or about what scared her most. She watched the crinkly-faced waitress cut a thick slice of lemon pie and plop it down on a plate. Something about how the sleeve moved up her arm slightly as she leaned in so precisely made Ala want to burst into tears. It could’ve been because she was old and still slicing pie. It could have been because this was the first first date she had been on in nearly three years. She quickly looked away. The spinach soufflé came to the table and before she could take a bite, her eyes widened and she looked at him.

“I have no idea what your name is,” she said. He smiled.

“I noticed that.”

“How did you even know what my name is?”

“I read your driver’s license.”

“That’s right,” she said, sitting back in the booth. She took a bite of the soufflé and the crust on top melted in her mouth. “This is outstanding.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She took several more bites and realized there would hardly be enough left for him. Luckily, the Waldorf salad and egg salad platter arrived and he seemed to like both just fine. He brought a napkin to his lips and patted them gently.

“How did your job interview go?”

“Pretty well. I got the job.”

“Really? That’s wonderful. What are your days going to be like?”

“I’m sort of an estate manager.” She noticed the Pink Lemonade getting to her and tried to speak clearly. “I’m staying in the house you picked me up from.”

“It’s a great house.”

“I like it, so far at least. I just moved in today.”

“So, your time is going to be pretty open you’d say?”

“I would. I really only have to make sure it is maintained and watched over. It’s a great job for right now.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing that all day.”

“It’s a good way to get to normal,” she said and decided that sounded cryptic. “What I mean is, I’m saving up for a trip.”

“Where are you planning on going?”

“It’s strange really, but I am planning on visiting Burma.”

“Let me guess, you have family there?”

She laughed.

“No, I just have read so much about the rainforest preservation over the years and the mountain chains and the Ayeyawady River. It all sounds captivating; it would be impossible to not get carried away there.” She was surprised that she had remembered so much about Burma and was glad, because only talking about the temple would make her sound crazy.

“When are you hoping to visit? I’m assuming not during the rainy season?”

“Probably not. Are you familiar?”

“I know the rainy season is no good for elephant riding.”

She smiled.

“I’d like to go as soon as possible.”

“You’re that anxious to get carried away?”

This was a first kiss moment. Instead, she turned to the huge meatball on her plate.

“I think I am.”

As they were finishing the meal, one of which was the best she’d ever had, the waitress brought out another large platter.

“Bananas Foster with a side of butterscotch.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“This looks incredible. Do you need the butterscotch?”

“Apparently that’s how everyone’s been eating this since 1930, so I think so.”

She winked and took a bite. It was, of course, as decadent as she knew it would be and she forgot about her vow to diet all summer long. Her watch caught her eye and she registered that it was ten thirty. She had no idea it had gotten that late. He saw her.

“I don’t have to bring you back yet, do I?”

“I don’t think so. But the deal was dinner.”

“What if I promise you something just as charming as this dinner?”

“I can’t really imagine it.”

He paid the bill and waved goodbye to the old woman, now wiping down the countertop.

They walked outside and all around her was deep black, except for a tiny yellow light coming from a few yards away.

“That’s where we’re going. Should we drive?”

“I wouldn’t mind a walk,” she said, pushing the picture of what she now looked like in the dress after that meal, out of her mind. They took each other’s hands, more out of not being able to see where they were going than romance. She felt herself stepping on all kinds of grass, hay, and bugs, something that felt like a potato, and realized that wearing slingbacks wasn’t the smartest plan. However, she hadn’t planned on being in the middle of nowhere in the dark.

She must have wobbled because he stopped.

“Take your shoes off.”

“What?” The heat was swelling up around her and since she couldn’t see, she wasn’t sure which direction his voice was coming from.

“Go ahead, take them off.”

“Alright.” She bent forward to step out of both shoes and picked them up. She felt his arm around her back and the other scooping up her legs. She nearly lost her breath. She had never been carried before and could feel his heart beating through his warm shirt.

“You don’t have to carry me.”

“We’ll be there in no time.” She closed her eyes and felt the predictable thudding of his feet hitting the ground one at a time. They approached a white barn with the yellow light that she had seen from far away pouring over the entrance. He opened the door for her and she stepped inside.

There was a three-piece band and a singer wearing a black sequined evening gown set up on a stage. Milk crates were turned on their sides and people sat, swaying to the jazz music. The bar had large canisters arranged with fruit floating in between the bubbles. He saw a beat-up chair in the corner and they had a seat, sharing the cushion. Ala didn’t recognize the song, but when the next one began, she knew it was Bali Hai and perked up.

He took her hand and led her to the middle of the floor. They hugged more than danced, and she felt her cheek resting on his shoulder. He placed his hand just above her hip and kept it there throughout the song. When it was over, they went to the makeshift wet bar and had Fizzy Drops, which to Ala tasted like Lemon Drops, only with champagne.

She wanted to move into this barn with him. She didn’t want to go back to live with her parents. But then, she wasn’t living with them. She was living on her own for now in a beautiful house. She could do whatever she wanted.

After a faster song the whole place got up and danced to, he gestured toward her shoes.

“Would you like to leave?”

“I think so.”

The drive home seemed to linger on and she was happy for it. Now it was so dark, that even the headlights couldn’t make much sense of where they were driving and she was impressed that he could navigate through. Soon buildings started to make sense and she started to recognize streets, to her dismay. She got nervous when he turned onto the block where Emanuel’s house was. She did not want to say goodbye. She did not want to admit that this was just a date.

She looked up at the house and learned that she had left every light on. He turned off the engine and looked at her. Of course, she wanted a kiss, and more. Not necessarily sex, her feeling wasn’t that primal urge, it was more that she wanted to know that when he left, he wasn’t going far.

“Would you like one more drink? It’s such a beautiful night.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. “But I’m not sure how much more charm I can bring tonight.”

She led him to the backyard. The pool glowed as the veiny shadows from the water danced up on the cement sides.

“Have a seat. I’ll make you a drink,” she said for the first time in her life.

He took off his suit jacket and bent down softly, making sure the chair wouldn’t scoot out from under him.

Ala watched him through the kitchen window as she poured too much of the vodka from the freezer into glasses and splashed ginger ale on top.

She took a sip and could barely get it down, but decided it was good enough since they were already buzzed. She walked out carefully, now back in her slingbacks. She loved the way he looked reclining back on the bamboo lawn chair, with deep relaxation spreading across his face.

“Here you are.”

He took a sip.

“Wow—the old standby.”

She winked and set her glass on the shagreen table next to his chair. She felt feverish, without any traces of sickness, just a pressing heat running up and down her whole body. She knew she couldn’t sit down because she would either explode or self-combust.

Her greatest fear at the moment was that he would say it was time to go, to wrap up the night. That couldn’t happen. He had unbuttoned part of his shirt and also removed his shoes and socks. He certainly didn’t look like he was going anywhere. She couldn’t be sure though.

Ala couldn’t remember if she locked the front door. She didn’t know where her purse was. She even forgot whose yard she was standing in for a moment, oozing with joy as she watched her hand graze over her warm shoulder and remove one strap of the sundress. He stayed reclined, unmistakably watching her, but exemplified no change in attitude. She spun around, her bare feet touching the smooth stoned patio, and dropped the other strap. She lifted all of her hair up and moved her hips from side to side. She was surprised at the ease of her movement. Of course, normally if a giant mirror were placed in front of her while she was dancing, she would most likely stop. Not tonight though.

She spun around and the dress fell down the line of her hips. She hadn’t planned for this, because of all she had eaten that evening. She immediately jumped into the pool.

It was so quick that he, a little drunk by now, must’ve thought she fell in. She saw the quivering blob of him standing at the edge of the pool through the bubbly water as she surfaced.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course,” she said, spitting a stream of water up toward him. “You didn’t have to get up.”

She removed the rest of what she had on and let it all float, officially turning off her inner critic for the evening. She dipped her head back and lifted up with her abs in order to float. She skimmed across the water, amazed at how dark the yard was with the pool lights and tiny light posts Emanuel had instilled throughout.

She pretended to not notice him taking off everything except his briefs, and only turned around when hearing the splash from his body hitting the water. He swam up behind her and put one hand across her forehead and over her eyes.

“Who is this?” She said.

“Who do you think?”

“A stranger.”

“I can’t say that you’re wrong.”

She spun around and swam backwards, splashing at him and laughing. He was able to keep up with her and finally grabbed both of her wrists.

“What you’re doing is very dangerous,” he said.

“You think so?”

“Yes,” he said, kissing her neck. “Letting someone you hardly know swim with you at night behind an empty house. I have both of your arms now. Do you know how easy it would be for me to drown you?”

Ala didn’t flinch or blink. She had no idea whether he was serious or not, and she had no instinct to try to get him to let go of her. He could’ve been serious and could’ve killed her without getting caught.

She kept floating, letting him hold both of her arms. This was real. Incredibly stupid or not, her limbs had awoken. Nothing was asleep. She was present, and the hazy sadness that always veiled her eyes had been cut through. She felt his hands coiled around her wrists. She felt his breath on her face when he spoke to her. She wouldn’t trade it for saving her own life at this point.

He leaned in closer so that his lips touched the skin above her left ear.

“And, not wearing clothes doesn’t keep you very safe either.”

Her arms shook as she lifted up her feet to both sides of his waist and, using her toes, pulled his briefs down. She watched them float away to make friends with her clothes.

He was too good at this, because he didn’t blink. He didn’t seem surprised by her impressive coordination. He held onto one of her wrists and took the back of her neck with his free hand. He kissed her. She felt her whole body begin to turn inside out and he pulled her closer toward him, exorcising her fear. He would not take no for an answer. He could care less about her juvenile relationship’s past or her anxiety about her career. She gripped onto him, sucking the charisma, the serenity, the sureness out of him. He wasn’t careful and he wasn’t asking if she was okay. He wasn’t like one of those timid boys who thought they could screw it all up. He seemed to know that would never happen as long as he was in charge.

She couldn’t understand how they had gotten from the pool, to the lawn chair, to the sofa, to finally the daybed in the vast guest room. She had no idea what time it was. The ceiling spun and she kept her focus on his face.

She opened her eyes around dawn and caught a glimpse of them in the mirror hanging in the closet. They made a crumpled heap piled on the twin bed; it was hard to see where he ended and where she started. She wanted to look at his face, but it was plastered against the wall. She lifted his arm and saw that he was still wearing his watch. She had no idea what kind it was, but was sure it cost more than the house they were sleeping in. She carefully removed it and tried to look at the time. The arms weren’t moving and a fat drop of water glided over the face. She laid her head down and laughed. What a careless night, an exceedingly reckless and wonderful night. She was still tingling and had a knot in her stomach that she feared would make her detonate.

She peeled herself from the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. She found fancy shampoo in the gilded cabinet and a new sponge wrapped in plastic. She stepped into the shower and let the water cascade over her clammy skin. Washing her hair seemed so pointless now, but she made herself do it anyway. She wrapped a towel around herself and walked back into the guest room.

The bed was empty and the wrinkled sheets were spread over the mattress to look as neat as possible without taking the time to make the bed. Nausea nearly took her breath, as she thought he left. She hurried down the stairs, grabbing one of the maxi dresses that had fallen out of her suitcase the day before. She stepped into it while running through the kitchen.

Outside, he was standing over the pool’s edge, in a terry cloth robe, fishing out the last of their clothes. Some pieces were already laid out on the lawn chairs, drying in the sun.

Her heart slowed back to its normal pace. She looked up and smiled, thanking whoever was in the sky, that he had not gone. She walked back inside the house and opened the refrigerator. There was orange juice, but no sliced bread, so she cut part of the baguette she found on the counter and crammed the pieces into the slots of the toaster. She turned the small radio on and flipped to a jazz channel she had always listened to while visiting her grandma.

Yesterday morning she had no job or lover and this morning she had both. She had been airlifted into a new life. Like a fugitive or a witness who needed protection, she was given a new ordinary to step into. It was so easy, and she was ashamed she hadn’t just done it sooner.

She watched as he wrung out his shirt and headed back to the house. She quickly put the thick circles of toast on a plate and opened up a jar of blackberry jam. The whole setup looked pathetic, she thought, like she was trying to play house. She quickly dumped the whole plate into the trash just as he was coming in.

“Hello Ala,” he said.

“Good morning.” He sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head on both hands. “I’d feel ridiculous asking how you slept last night.”

“I rested quite well,” she said, sitting down across from him.

She shouldn’t have thrown away the toast. She was starving. She spotted the orange juice container out of the corner of her eye.

“Would you like some juice?”

“Coffee would be great,” he said.

“Oh, sure.”

She opened every cabinet and in the last one, found a tin of Cuban coffee. She had no idea what to do next. He came up behind her.

“May I?”

“Sure.” Ala stepped away and sat up on the counter. He found a mini press on the stove and went to work. His measurements looked precise, his stirring smooth.

“Is this the kind of coffee you always drink?” She asked.

“I lived in South America for a while,” he said, “and this was my favorite part. There are very few things that you can still taste. Everything ends up tasting like everything else. This coffee tastes like the dirt there.”

“So, you ate a lot of dirt there?”

“Oh of course. Do you mind finding the sugar?”

“That I can probably manage,” she said, remembering where she had seen it the day before. She retrieved the glass jar full of brown cubes.

“How many?”

“Oh, none for me. But you’ll probably want two. This really will taste like mud.”

She screwed the lid back on the jar.

“No, I want to try it.”

“If you’re sure,” he said.

He carefully poured the coffee into an orange espresso cup he found dangling on a hook above the sink.

She took the cup and waited for him to pour his own. She blew slightly into the cup when he wasn’t looking and then raised it to her lips.

“Cheers,” he said, and then sipped. She took a sip. The bitter chalkiness shocked her for a moment, but as she swallowed, she felt the earthiness sink into her taste buds, and she quite enjoyed it. Whenever ordering at a busy counter in the city, she would instinctively grab two, sometimes three, sugar packets and dump them into her paper cup of coffee. She had never tried drinking coffee on its own. She had never tested herself to see what her taste buds could handle.

He took another quick sip and she heard the clink of his cup in the sink. Finishing her coffee, she looked at him blankly. What was next? She did not want him to leave, but he didn’t live here. She didn’t even live here. She tried to think of some kind of excuse or reason for him to stay. She tried to prepare for the inevitable I should be going hitting her ears.

Instead, he turned, walked out the front door, and came back inside one second later, carried the morning paper out the back door, and had a seat on one of the lawn chairs. She took a deep breath. He was staying, for now.

She heard the phone ringing. She followed the ringing to her purse, which was flung into the corner of the foyer, and found the phone.

“Hello.”

“Ala. It’s mom. Whose car is that?”

Ala rushed to the window and tugged the blinds out of the way. The Aston Martin gleamed in the sun, more beautiful than she had remembered it. It sucked all of the attention away from the rest of the cars on the block for certain.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.” She hated when her mother did this. This repetitive passive aggressive communication was so infantile.

“It’s parked directly in front of Emanuel’s house”

“And?”

“Why would someone park there if they weren’t actually inside of Emanuel’s house?”

“You’re asking as if I parked it there.”

“Well, did you?”

“No, I already told you I don’t know whose car it is.” She heard the back door closing and lowered her voice. “I’ve never seen that car in my life. I assure you, I’m perfectly fine.”

Silence. Staying calm was the sure way to shut her mother up.

“Alright then. What are your plans for the day?”

She felt him watching her from behind.

“I’m a little busy now explaining things to the gardener. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Don’t forget to call. Dad wants to talk to you.”

“Fine. Bye.” She hung up and turned around. He was leaning against the archway.

Heat seemed to seep from her pores out of embarrassment. She tried to think of a way to explain she was being checked on by her mother. The look on his face did not seem to have concern for that issue, however.

“Ala, is there somewhere I can make a phone call?”

“Sure,” she said, realizing she had no idea which rooms had phones. She started to lead him down the hallway. There was a small den to the right that had some beige armchairs and an acrylic coffee table with a phone resting on top of it.

“Thanks,” he said, “Something just came up.”

"Of course."

She walked back to the kitchen and waited. This was it, his way out. He was surely talking over a dial tone right now, making up some story, just in case she was standing outside of the door listening in.

Of course, the whole situation could not have been real. She was the person who followed a line, did not go on either side of it, jump ahead or lag behind, but always just stayed on the line. And normally it felt satisfactory because she could not get hurt by staying on the line. But nothing like him ever happened on the line either. He would be hard to forget.

She rinsed out the coffee cups and put the coffee tin away. She went into the living room and gathered all of the clothes that had fallen out of her suitcase. She folded them and stacked them in a pile. She got an old newspaper from the front porch and tossed it in the recycling bin.

When she came back inside, he was standing in the same spot she stood in when she was on the phone with her mother. This was goodbye. She held her breath.

“My business is done for today,” he said, which sounded just as certain as his statements always were. Beside some hair out of place, he otherwise looked completely collected.

Ala leaned against the doorframe. It was foolish to keep him in the house, when she had been told not to have guests.

“How about the track?” He said, looking out at the beautiful day she was silhouetted against.

She thought he was joking. She had visited Pilkington Park this summer more than she had in her entire life. She knew nothing about horses or racing. She knew nothing about placing bets. It seemed like a waste of time.

He sensed her disappointment.

“All right, some other time. How about something more dangerous? Like a hike?”

She waited for him to laugh. He didn’t, of course. She had never been hiking in her life. Her parents had always owned property in areas where cars were needed and knew all of the valets very well. He certainly didn’t look like the hiking type either with his suit and watch and shiny shoes.

Still though, she was off the line, and being there meant embracing adventure. Just because she hadn’t done it, did not mean it wasn’t worth doing. She wanted to be exciting for him.

“Sure, sounds great. Do you need to borrow some clothes?” She thought about how wrong it was to offer him some of Emanuel’s clothes when he wasn’t supposed to be in the house at all.

“I have some things in the trunk. I’ll be right back.”

She waited for the front door to swing shut before bolting upstairs to find something suitable for the day’s agenda. She looked out the window. It seemed warm and mild, but she was terrible at choosing climate appropriate attire. It seemed that every time Ala wore a strappy dress at the season’s first sign of sun, grayness and a monsoon type storm would break out just moments after leaving her house.

She would need decent shoes to walk in, which she didn’t have with her. Or rather, didn’t own at all at this point in time. She had gotten into the terrible habit of riding her bicycle in flats or worse, flip-flops, and was lucky she hadn’t broken her ankle. She pulled a netted red sweater out of her suitcase. She had bought it on clearance for sailing and thought it would suffice for the hike. She found a slightly wrinkled pair of tan shorts that hit just above her knee with a wide brown leather belt. Now for shoes. There was no solution she could see in her frantic, blinding haste, coupled with the slight nausea that she had developed from falling in love.

She settled on some boat shoes that were a little stretched out and dropped down her heel as she walked, but they would have to do it. She couldn’t spend all day getting dressed for a hike.

Ala found him in the kitchen smearing some kind of preserves she didn’t recognize onto the two heels of the leftover baguette. There was also cheese wrapped in waxed paper, a sliced apple in a baggie, a bottle of wine and a wedge of pate wrapped in plastic lying on the counter. She picked up the pate.

“Will this be good in the heat?” He stopped spreading and looked at her. “Are you afraid?”

She smiled and went into the pantry to find a bag. She put everything into a canvas satchel and zipped it closed. She went to the foyer, where she found her purse, and retrieved her sunglasses. She heard him locking the back door and her heart quivered. They certainly were playing house. He was taking the time to take to secure the house that he was not even supposed to step foot in.

The car was sweltering, and he immediately turned the dial all the way up so the cool air blasted their faces. She melted against the headrest as he drove past her parent’s house. She didn’t bother looking to see if they were home. She felt very adult and really didn’t need, or care, to know what anyone else was up to today.

He drove along the water for as long as possible, then veered toward the highway that curved toward the hills. She held her breath and inched her hand over to his. He snatched it up quickly.

He parked on the side of a very steep and rocky hill that was partially covered with little green sprouts and made sure to activate the parking brake. She grabbed the bag of food and secured the leather laces, which were more of a decoration than a functional part of her shoes, before skipping to catch up to him.

There was a low flowing breeze that brushed across her ankles as she trudged upwards. He had a long stride and determination toward the direction they were headed. This was a new side to him, who up until now had not seemed rushed to do anything.

She started to feel warm and focused on taking deep breaths. The heat was intensifying and she realized they had not brought any water with them. She never thought about drinking water, but always grew panicky when there wasn’t any available.

They stopped in a shaded area by a small stream. She perched on a rock and the icy cold surface released some of the pent-up heat. He opened the canvas bag and took out the bread. They ate and listened to the birds flap around in the branches. The preserves, though warmed, still tasted refreshing like summer fruit always did to her.

“After we’re finished with this, do you want to see a really great view?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding and tucking some crumbs into her mouth with her tongue.

“We’ll have to climb a little.”

“I don’t mind.” She wiggled her feet around in her shoes. There was no pain, but there was a gritty sweat in some of the creases and she was concerned about blisters forming.

He took her hand and then started in the east, up to a small cleft with rocks jutting in and out through the middle. She saw what he was thinking. It would be easy to climb up this way instead of going all the way around the base and facing a steep incline.

“You go first and I’ll get behind you in case you slip.”

She nodded and began by planting her foot into a small crevice for leverage, before reaching both hands to grip the brittle stone and hoist herself up. Lifting her body weight was not something she had tried before and proved to be difficult because she was not being able to stop or rest or lean back for support. She became terrified when it was time to reach for the next rock. She didn’t trust the bottoms of her shoes to grip properly.

She closed her eyes and reached. Her fingers shook, but she was able to pull hard enough for her left foot to find the next step, without her looking. She heard his quiet grunting behind her and tried to climb a little bit faster.

“How am I doing?” She said in between panting.

“Just fine. We’re almost at the top Ala,” he said.

She smiled when she heard how he said her name with adoration in his voice. Seconds later, her mind flooded when she grasped that she was climbing up the side of a mountain with a man she had spent the night with, and still had no idea what his name might be.

She could see the top of the rock wall, the swirly blue up far ahead, and the sun exposing the surface. She planted her palm and lifted her other hand to push down with all her strength. She felt his hand under her foot, giving her a boost. She got her knee up, with only a slight scrape, and collapsed once three quarters of her trembling body was safe on top. She did not have the strength to turn and offer him her hand.

He followed right behind her and, when reaching the top, did not collapse, but instead took several deep breaths. He helped her up to her feet. While his scent made her blush, and his hand on her waist made her feel weepy with love, she couldn’t stop the spinning behind her eyes.

“Hey,” she said, short spurts of air coming through her dry mouth, “What’s your name?”

“Danno.”

“Your name is Danno?”

“Yes.” She was sure she hadn’t heard right.

“What kind of name is Danno?” He laughed.

“We’re not playing this game again, are we?” She laughed too, and quickly felt her knees start to give in.

“I’m going to faint.”

“No, don’t do that. Just breathe. That was a bit of a workout.”

She nodded and sucked in and out, forcing her lungs into overdrive. She felt a different discomfort from the over exertion that came with strenuous activity. The pain was in her abdomen as well. If she had not had her appendix removed three winters ago, she would have thought it was bursting inside of her.

“I really–I really am going to.”

His grip tightened on her arm and her waist.

“Here, let’s have you rest here.” There was a clearing with moss strewn across the damp caramel colored dirt. He took off his jacket and laid it smooth before easing her down. "We should have brought water,” he said.

She nodded and turned on her side out of habit. The throbbing intensified. She held on to his hand.

“This isn’t right. Something isn’t right.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed, Ala. I feel like a jerk.”

“I’ll be okay, I just need some rest.” His face blurred as she closed her eyes. She felt his body curve to fit hers, and his hand pushed away the sweaty matted hair off of her forehead.

“I can call someone if you’d like.”

“No,” she said, thinking of her parents. She would not ruin this time with him. Her parents would make her go to the hospital. They would make her end the best summer of her life. "I’ll be fine. Just stay.” She heard him chuckle.

“Where else would I go?”

“I don’t know, Danno” she whispered and then chuckled too. She had to be going in and out of sleep. No one’s name was Danno. No one she had met, or even heard of. No one drove Aston Martin’s either though. And no one made her love them in less than one day.

She woke up and could hear before she could see. It was the sound of waves, but softer and more tangible, like paper being crumpled very slowly. She turned her head to the right and felt the ache from sleeping in an odd position. She turned her head all the way to the left to try and nullify the pain, which never worked. Then she opened her eyes. The sound was the trees, the leaves rather, rustling and blowing while clinging to the branches. The sky was still bright, meaning she couldn’t have slept for that long, in less this was a different day altogether.

As she approached, Ala saw him pull the phone away from his ear and hold it so that the receiver was directly in front of his mouth. Then he said something very loudly, but the wind made his words inaudible to her. He tapped a button and put the phone back into his pocket. He smoothed back his hair and turned toward her. A thin smile appeared and he stepped off the rock and met her halfway.

“You were out cold.”

“I know. I was so beat from the climb.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand. “I thought it would be a nice way to spend the day.”

“Oh, it was, really,” she said, the fear creeping back that he may be looking for a way to leave her.

“Should we head back?”

“Sure.”

This time they walked the outer perimeter of the hill, which was more of a downward ramp, in order to take their time. Ala could not imagine making the climb back down in one piece.

She almost began to cry with gratitude when his car came into view. She wanted to run, but didn’t risk it, because the boat shoes were sure to fall apart with any added impact.

They got in and Danno turned the air conditioner all the way up. He opened the glove box and took out a pack of cigarettes that said Shepherd’s Hotel in gold foil on the front of the pack. He pulled a shiny lighter from his pocket and lit one while it dangled sideways from his lips.

Ala hated smoking more than anything that she could think of at that moment. She pushed the button to roll down her window. He turned the air conditioning off.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” she said, trying to sound casual, while also trying to evaluate whether or not the smoking was something she could live with, as if he had already asked her to marry him.

“Does it bother you?” He asked, looking straight ahead.

“A little, yes,” Ala said.

She watched his face for a reaction. All she could see were the tiny lines in the crevices of his eyelids rising slightly. He opened the window and tossed the cigarette out. Ala rolled her window up. He turned the air back on.

“What if I told you that I only smoke when something bad happens?” He said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Ala chose the door handle to focus on and kept her eyes there.

“Bad?” She almost whispered then waited. He made a smooth left and kept the same speed.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“When we were asleep, my wallet was stolen.”

“What?” Her eyes darted to his face. He stayed composed.

“Stolen?”

“Yes. I woke up and it was gone from my pocket.”

“How could that have happened?”

“We slept for around two hours.”

“And someone just came by and took your wallet?” She was terrified and felt around her pockets, which had nothing in them to begin with.

She had never felt so violated before. The thought of someone she didn’t know getting so close, watching them, touching them while they slept, made her nauseous. She took a deep breath. Her overreacting was not going to make Danno’s wallet reappear.

“No one was around.”

“Apparently, someone was, and we just didn’t see them,” Danno said.

How could someone have been following them when the trails were completely empty? She thought carefully, and couldn’t remember a car, or any sign that anyone had been there.

“How did they know we were asleep and not just lying there?” She said, near hysterics.

“They took a guess,” he said.

“This is too bizarre.”

“I’m sorry you’re frightened,” he said, putting the back of his hand against her cheek, comforting her, when he was the one whose wallet had been stolen.

She turned and faced him, crossing one sore leg under the other.

“At least we’re okay. I mean, at least you can get a new driver’s license and cancel your credit cards. Everything is replaceable.”

She could tell he still wanted a cigarette. She got the pack from the glove box and took one out. She placed it between his lips and reached into his pocket to find the lighter. She lit it and rolled down the window.

“The thing is,” he said, puffing through his mouth, “not everything inside was replaceable.”

“Oh,” she said. She looked out the window as the trees rushed past, making a kaleidoscope of browns and grays with sharp light peeking through.

“There was a code card from the man I work for inside. I was supposed to go to his safe this morning to take out funds for a supplier. And, obviously, I didn’t.”

Ala scrunched up her face. She knew all of this had to be too good to be true. Behaving as they had brought consequences, and now she wasn’t sure she would be able to help him.

“When are you supposed to pay him?”

“Tonight,” he said, tapping the cigarette on the thin edge of the window, dustings of ash flying out the car.

“Are you supposed to give him a lot of money?” She said, unsure of how to ask the question without prying.

“Not a lot, but money I don’t have on hand.”

“How much?”

He squinted in the rearview mirror.

“A hundred thousand.”

Her eyes flew wide open.

“Dollars?”

“Yes.”

“Well, surely you can call your boss and tell him what happened.”

He smiled and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“He’s out of town for a while.”

“The supplier can’t wait?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ll think of something.”

That wasn’t enough. She would be ill with guilt if she didn’t help him with this. It was her fault for being desperate this morning instead of letting him carry on with his day.

She thought of the measly ten thousand dollars she would be getting for doing a lousy job of protecting Emanuel’s house. He had trusted her, and she managed to break the biggest rule on the first day. She thought of all of his careful instructions. A solution arose and punched her with adrenaline. She instantly felt better. Better than she had felt as far back as she could remember.

“I know where you could borrow the money from,” she said with shining eyes.

A large, powerful, pulsing knot rose up from her stomach to her rib cage and perched between the small bones as Danno drove them back to Emanuel’s house.

“Wrong,” her brain kept telling her. “Wrong, WRONG”. She ignored the message. She seemed to climb out of her aching, sweating, exhausted body and was watching her actions. She made note of what a beautiful couple she and Danno made. She watched his hands work the wheel steadily. He was quite possibly going to lose his job because of her, but he wasn’t panicked in the slightest.

This time he pulled into the carport. Ala found the keys in her purse and led him around to the back of the house. She opened the gate and saw a thickset, khaki clad man perched by a rose bush, snipping away. She stepped backwards quickly, nearly crushing Danno’s foot, and closed the gate quietly.

“Is something wrong?” He said.

“I think the gardener’s here,” she said. She peeked over the fence.

“He isn’t supposed to be?”

“I guess he is, but I don’t want to talk to him right now. Let’s go around to the front.”

She basically tiptoed to up the front steps and opened the door. Danno touched the back of her neck and when she turned to face him, he kissed her.

"You don’t have to do this; what I think you’re going to do.”

“It’s fine. How soon will you have it back?”

“As soon as I can get a new access card. Two days max.”

She nodded and looked out of the back window. The gardener was still hard at work on the roses. She walked slowly down the hallway toward the study.

She heard his steps behind her. She thought that maybe he should not go in with her. It was too late though. She opened the door. The books and papers were still neatly stacked, as they had been the day before. The window facing the garden had been left open, and the room smelled like wisteria. Danno, with hands in his pockets, walked over to an overstuffed brown leather armchair, and had a seat.

“Would you like a drink?” Ala said.

“No, I’m fine thanks.”

She was nervous. Her hands shook. She didn’t know how to stay calm like he did. The doorbell rang.

“Oh great! Who is that?” She said hysterically. Danno got up.

“I’ll go see. Everything’s okay.”

He brushed past her. Ala quickly got the magnet out from behind the painting. She brought it over to the vase and, nearly spilling the rare sand everywhere, tipped it until she heard a soft clink, and pulled the magnet up with the key dangling from it. She jammed the key into the desk drawer and took out the album.

She flipped through quickly, being careful not to smudge any photographs, or tear any of the pages until she saw the list of birthdays. The first date, 7-23-47, was listed as someone named Lawrence DeGrello’s birthday. She crawled over to the safe and turned the dial to each number. She lifted the latch and pulled up. The door opened into a deep shadowy hole in the floor. She tried to peer in without feeling down around first but had no luck. Danno came and leaned on the doorframe.

“It’s the gardener. He wants to talk to you.”

She was flustered; he had come back in time to see that she had the safe open. Even though it was the last thing to be worried about in the situation she had created, she closed the door and quickly popped to her feet while smoothing down her sweater.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure really.”

She walked past him, rolling her eyes, and went to the back door, where the red nosed man was now an inch away from the glass. She opened the door slowly and stepped outside.

“Yes?”

“I’m Bruno, the gardener,” he said with some variation of an Eastern European accent.

“I’m Ala.”

“You’re staying here, Ms.?”

“Yes. I’m watching the house while Emanuel’s away on business.”

She could tell her was strategizing by the creases forming across his small forehead. He had already seen Danno, and now he was speaking to her. There were too many people in the house.

“For how long?”

“A few weeks. Is there an issue?” She said, knowing she was in the wrong, and annoyed that she was being found out.

“No Ms. I just wanted to let you know that one of the bushes is dead and I need to replace it.” He held up a shriveled brown sprig with curled up leaves dangling from it.

“Alright.” She blinked at him. She wanted to ask how it died when someone was paid specifically to ensure that the bushes stayed alive but decided it didn’t matter. Bruno looked at her, waiting. “Okay?”

“Okay Ms., do you have the money for a new bush?”

She didn’t have any cash from Emanuel. He had left in such a hurry, and she was so preoccupied at the time, she hardly remembered anything that he told her. She did remember the credit card, but she wasn’t about to give it to Bruno because she had to gain back some control over her position.

“I don’t. I’ll just have to get it myself.”

His eyes widened and looked her up and down.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“I’m sure I can manage,” she said, her voice rising.

“It has to be the same kind of bulb Ms.—”

“I will get the right bush Bruno, okay? Now if there’s nothing else you need. I have to get back to what I was in the middle of.”

He nodded. She closed the door and smoothed down her hair. Danno wasn’t in the kitchen. She walked back to the study to find him sitting in the armchair.

“Sorry about that.”

“No problem. He seemed worried.”

“Yes, about some bush. It certainly isn’t an emergency.”

She opened the top drawer of a cabinet and looked for a flashlight. She pawed through envelopes and paper clips with no luck.

She walked back into the kitchen and opened each cabinet until she remembered that her cell phone screen was very bright. Retrieving the phone from her purse, she saw that she had missed calls from her mother, Gene and Gertrude. She wiped the notifications from the screen and went back to the study. Danno was still seated in the armchair and paging through one of the oversized antique atlases. She lifted the latch and with a squeak, the safe opened once again. She aimed the phone down the deep hole in the floor and still could not see anything.

She planted one hand on the floor and reached down slowly, trembling with fear that she would touch a carcass, or worse, a live rodent. All she could feel was dust and then, another latch. She pushed the small bar to the right and lifted. This time she felt paper. She clenched the phone in between her teeth and forced her head into the hole. She could make out stacks of one hundred-dollar bills. Her neck began to tense up and she pulled up and out of the hole.

She began pulling out stacks. When she got to ten, she stopped. She had never seen so much money in her life and it scared her to be so close to it and feel the energy it brought, radiating through the room.

“Get something to put this in,” she said without looking at him. The money looked aged. In movies, she had always seen it look new and neat and perfect, but this cash looked brown and faded. She heard Danno’s footsteps and looked up as he handed her a briefcase. She placed the money inside very carefully, fearing that it would disintegrate in case they were both dreaming.

“You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Two days is nothing.” She closed the briefcase and handed it to him. He smiled and was about to laugh. "What’s so funny?”

“You look like you’ve cleaned a chimney,” he said, using his finger to wipe the dirt from her cheek. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll take you to dinner?”

The hot water hit her square in the face. She coughed and adjusted the shower nozzle. She tried not to think of what she had just done, and kept repeating, “It’s only two days. It’s ONLY two days”.

Streams of dirt ran down the drain as she shampooed her hair and cleaned underneath her nails. She had gotten a faint sunburn on the apples of her cheeks that stung when she washed her face.

She wrung her hair of the hot water, and carefully stepped out onto the rug that felt like cashmere under her swollen feet. She didn’t even want to look at the blisters from the hike and knew that as soon as she put on any pair of shoes, there would be traces of blood.

Her clothes were still in a disastrous heap, but she managed to untangle a stringy halter-top with satin butterflies stitched across the neckline. She fumbled with her makeup and had to start over twice because her mascara was winding up everywhere except on her eyelashes.

She hurried downstairs and could not find Danno. She looked out the window and saw that the lights were on in the car and someone in the driver’s seat.

She got in beside him. He had changed into a more casual navy-blue button down and tan pants. He took her hand and kissed it.

“I’m going to drop off the money at the track. I thought we could eat in the bar.”

“That sounds good.” She was very hungry, having only had the bread with the preserves. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her dried-out eyes until she heard the horns from the parking lot at Pilkington. There were cars crawling in line for a spot.

“It’s so crowded,” she said.

“It’s a huge night. Stowaway’s in town. This horse has 27 starts, 12 wins, 6 seconds, 4 thirds and has won over seven million dollars during its career.” She looked at him and he nodded. “He’s made a lot of money for a lot of people.”

He drove to the clubhouse and left the car with the valet. He led her up the steps to the bar. There was a limber, cross-eyed older man playing the piano and a young lady, wearing a heavy beaded shift dress, singing with a drink in her hand. Glenny was behind the bar pouring while another bartender made change for a couple. Danno waved to them and walked to the back section they had sat in only a few days before.

Ala climbed into a booth and Danno signaled for menus. A runner greeted them and handed them maroon books with all of the specials written in gold script inside.

“Why don’t you decide on drinks for us and I’ll be right back?” He said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Sure,” she nodded.

The words blended together and she felt hot, and then cold, every few moments. She had gone through heat exhaustion a few summers before, and feared it was creeping up on her again.

“What can I get you to drink Miss?” The runner said.

“Something very cold. A julep. And one for him too.” She gestured to the empty place at the table.

She took deep breaths, and checked to see if she had missed any more calls. It seemed very tiresome to call anybody back and explain what she had been doing. It would be like telling all of the people she had known her whole life that she was a different person and didn’t care what they thought.

The drinks came and Danno was not back yet. She fought the urge to look at her watch, which made everything worse when she was waiting for something. She took small sips through her straw. Glenny came over to the table after some of the crowd had broken up onto the terrace to watch the race. He smiled at her.

“The lamb chops are the best in the world.”

“Really? With mint jelly?”

He nodded. She could tell he wanted to sit down but couldn’t while on duty. His knees seemed to give out every few seconds.

“You wanna wait for him to order?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

He walked away slowly and began talking to a couple of men at a different table. Ala squeezed her fists together and tried to calm down. Danno had to have been gone for at least fifteen minutes by now. All of a sudden, she heard a siren ripping through the parking lot. There was shouting and gasps as people folded themselves over the terrace ledge to see what was happening.

Ala got up and went to the window. She couldn’t see anything unusual but heard two more emergency vehicles approaching. She picked up her purse and walked out of the bar and down the steps. People were pushing past her, trying to get in and get out of the clubhouse. She nearly fell but gripped the brass railing and readjusted her shoe.

She got outside and realized that she had no way of getting home. Her phone rang. Certain it was Danno, she ripped it from her bag and answered without checking the screen.

“Where are you?” She said, trying not to sound frantic.

“Ala, it’s Jase.” She took a step back, putting all of her weight on her right heel.

“Who?” She said, hearing him the first time, but wanting to buy any time she could to process the fact that it was Jase. She had waited for this call, obsessed over how she would act when he spoke to her again. Whatever part of her being that held memories and bittersweet thoughts was torn wide open. She felt cold hard droplets of sweat behind her ears.

“Jase. How are you?”

A couple ran past her to see what could be so serious of a situation that sirens were required to be blaring just as a patrol squad took over the parking lot.

“I’m fine. I didn’t think-”

“It’s so loud wherever you are.”

“I know. There’s some kind of, I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m just trying to see.” She stretched her neck and stood on tiptoes, but only saw the backs of heads.

“I miss you,” his voice sounded strong, but she could hear a higher pitch left behind after he said his words, which usually meant he was overtired.

She closed her eyes. Even if she did miss him, and she was sure she did, somewhere inside, it wasn’t in the same way that he meant just now.

“Is everything okay, Jase?”

“It’s my mother. She’s very sick.” The phone fell from her hand and onto the pavement. When she picked it up, she noticed a small thunderbolt shaped crack in the upper left-hand corner. She ran her finger over it. “Ala, you there?” She was terrified to get back on the line.

“I’m here. What is it? What does she have?”

“Ovarian cancer. The doctor said...” his voice cracked. Ala bit her tongue. "He didn’t know how long, but there’s nothing else to do.”

“Oh Jase.” She heard him hitting the side of his head like he did whenever he cried. This was from growing up with his veteran father who was cold and cruel. He had called Jase a sissy several times in front of her.

“I didn’t mean to do this. I just wanted you to know,” he started to sob. She began to cry too. She felt the sticky gobs of mascara on her cheeks.

“I’ll be there. I’ll come soon. Alright? Just, go to sleep. Please. Get some rest.”

She hung up and wrapped her arms around her chest, crying in the now dark entryway of the clubhouse.

“Ala, there you are.” Danno came up and hugged her. She shivered and he pulled back to look at her. “Are you good? Sorry I was gone for a while. This place really lit up.” She nodded and put the phone back into her purse. “We won’t be having dinner here. One of the cooks put a dish with tinfoil on it in the microwave. Nearly torched the whole place.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, letting him hold her. "I actually have to leave. I’ve gotten some very bad news.”

“No reason to ruin a night,” he said, stepping back slightly.

Ala looked at her watch. It was nine-thirty. She wouldn’t be able to find a train or bus at this hour, and a flight would be too expensive.

“You’re right.”

“You don’t want to eat at all?” He said, taking hold of her elbow and rubbing his thumb against the rough part. "You barely had anything today.”

She had nearly blacked out from not eating earlier in the day, which had caused his wallet to be stolen.

“I should have something,” she said.

“Come on, you’re all worked up.”

They walked back to the valet stand to get the car. The commotion throughout the lot had died down, and everyone went back to watching the race.

Danno drove with his window down and put his arm on the back of her seat, suggesting she curl up against him. She did but wasn’t comfortable at first, until she found the right angle for her back. He took her to a small grass green house that served fried chicken.

“How do you know about all of these places?” She asked, looking at the cream-colored eyelet curtains and the porcelain pendant lamps.

“I don’t know how to cook,” he said, flipping the menu over, “I eat out a lot.”

“It’s so sweet,” she said, trying to stop her hands from shaking. The fear of him leaving her at the track, coupled with the call from Jase, made her want to run through the screen door without opening it first.

They ordered fried pickles and what was called a Barrel O’Chicken, which was really just a standard sized bucket, with Long Island Iced Teas.

Ala found herself eating the chicken with her hands quickly, not caring about how she must’ve looked.

“So, you’re taking off tomorrow?” He said, peeling wet white meat from a breastbone with an ornate fork.

She had forgotten. Her attention span had thinned. She still felt so happy that he had come back for her and at the same time, listless, and unable to focus on any task or information.

“I have to take a short trip to visit a friend. I’ll only be gone a few days.”

“If I didn’t have to work, I’d tag along.”

She smiled. He had no idea about Jase. Maybe it was a terrible idea to keep that part of her life from Danno. It could be wrong to not tell him she was going to see an ex-boyfriend whom she had thought she was going to marry.

Then again, Danno had not asked to be exclusive. Even though she could feel the corners of her mind folding in around the idea of just him for the rest of her life, it did not mean he felt the same.

A pain stabbed her temple under the skin, and she looked down at some of the breading she had removed from the pickle. He placed his hand over hers.

“How do you feel about coming back to me after you do what you have to do?”

She looked up. She didn’t want to doubt what he was asking, so she searched his eyes, and could tell he wasn’t making anything up.

“I would like that,” she said, smiling. He nodded.

“Good. We’ll figure everything out as soon as your trip is done.”

It took every bit of shame she had to wait. She lunged on top of him as soon as they were back inside Emanuel’s house. She didn’t know if it was the booze at dinner, but felt ferocious, as if this was the last night that she would ever see Danno again. He soothed her and tried to get her to slow down, with little success.

Their clothes ended up destroyed and all over the house. She realized what it was to live indecently, and how easy it was to like it. She had knocked over a lamp on the nightstand that luckily did not break. And at that point, she succumbed to his gentler method, out of fear of burning down the house.

Afterwards, he had passed out but she stayed up, watching his face rise and fall on her bare chest. She couldn’t think about being away from him. She couldn’t think about Jase’s mother dying. She couldn’t think about the two worlds meeting in her mind. She did think about insanity and being locked up. And thought about bars over windows and large plastic bags full of liquid, hooked up to needles, hooked up to her.

Ala didn’t remember washing and throwing wrinkled clothes back into her suitcase, or even locking the front door. She sat on the rubbery blue bus seat and let her head rest against the cold glass window. She was going to Boston and didn’t want to think about what she would do when she arrived.

Danno was quiet that morning, waking her by nuzzling and then slipping into the shower. He asked nothing about where she was going or when she would be back, which to her meant it did not warrant a discussion, which made her feel desperate to want to talk about it.

She had not told her parents she was leaving town. Her mother would ask too many questions. She would also say that it looked pathetic for Ala to wander off at a moment’s notice, to be with someone she was not seeing anymore. Her father would have no opinion.

What was most alarming was her carelessness in regard to the house. The garbage had not been taken out. The housekeeper had not come and Ala had not inquired. That could all be dealt with upon her return.

She decided to have a drink in lieu of breakfast. The dining cart was open and serving breakfast burritos with egg whites tucked inside, or cereal. She ordered a Bloody Mary. It came thick and lukewarm, tomato juice and vodka with a dash of pepper. She tried to drink it as quickly as possible.

A man wearing a leisure suit took the seat next to hers. She quickly stood and went to find her seat. After reading two pages of mild erotica from a book Gertrude had leant her, she fell asleep.

The sound of luggage being dragged out from the bottom of the bus awoke her. She stumbled out onto the sunlit sidewalk and waited for her bag to be passed from smudgy hand to smudgy hand before finally reaching hers. She did not look to see if Jase was waiting for her and climbed into the first cab she could find.

The restaurants and parks held no reminiscent feelings for Ala. They pushed into one another as the cab sped past them. She wrestled with her purse to find her comb and compact. She was sweating between her legs and down her back but did not have time to change clothes. Even though she had not set or confirmed a meeting time with Jase, her instinct was pushing her to arrive as soon as possible.

She threw a balled up twenty-dollar billed toward the front seat and ran around to the trunk to pull her suitcase out. The ivy on the side of the building had some new growth and the block smelled with damp grass, as it always had. She opened the heavy glass front door and opened the mailbox that had always had the defective lock to find the extra key Jase kept inside. She let herself inside and hobbled up the three flights of stairs with her bags.

The door to the apartment was open. She smelled dust and saw that the floors hadn’t been cleaned in a while. No one was there. He wouldn’t have gone into work if he knew was coming, but she couldn’t remember whether she had said she would come for sure or not.

She took off her clothes and found a dress to step into. The weariness of the bus ride without fresh air hit her and she crawled into the bed she had spent two years sleeping in. The sheets felt rougher but otherwise the room looked the same. They had never put a lot of thought into what the space looked like. They didn’t entertain because they preferred being at home alone either locked in the bedroom or reading in the sunroom.

She buried her head under his pillow. The smell of his face was there and it sent cold prickles up her back, but she did not cry. She closed her eyes and thought of coming home to Danno.

What must have been a few hours later, she heard the door open, but was so relaxed she could not force her body to sit up. The footsteps were steady until they reached what must have been where she put her suitcase, and then they increased rapidly until Jase was in the bedroom and taking off his shoes.

She turned over just as he climbed into bed next to her. He put his hand up the front of her dress and began pulling down her panties. Her mind was three steps behind and trying to register. She turned to face him and he kissed her very hard on the mouth. His arm wrapped around her and brought her on top of him. He pulled her dress down and began touching her. She could feel him beneath her and put both of her hands against his chest.

“Jase.” He didn’t say anything but unzipped his pants and turned her so he was on top, his hand prying her open. She closed her eyes. She did not want this to stop. She had dreamt of this moment when he would realize that he was wrong and had made a mistake. She thought of Danno and the immediate cosmic ease she had felt. “Enough,” she said, rolling out from under him.

She stood and put her dress on, then looked down to find him crying with one hand covering his face. She found the scene to be repugnant.

“I’m sorry, Ala. I can’t believe I just did that.” She sat on the bed next to him and took his hand. “Where is your mother?”

“At the hospital.”

“I think we should go.”

Ala received a call while Jase drove them to the hospital. She noticed he was cutting through neighborhoods by using alleys and figured he did not want to face any stop and go traffic. She answered in a whisper.

“There you are,” Gene said with a nervous flick at the end of are.

“Hi.”

“I called you and didn’t hear back.”

“I know. I meant to call.” She could see the light bounce off the corner of Jase’s eye. He was watching her talk and did not want her to know it.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She couldn’t stand talking on the phone using half of her voice. It felt like her throat was being squeezed shut. She didn’t like lying to Gene. Even though she hadn’t yet, she could tell it was coming. Jase sped up just as the light turned from rusted amber to red. He nearly collided with a car that had the right-of-way. The brakes screeched as the car lurched forward. Ala clasped her chest as the strap from the seatbelt dug into her collarbone. “Jase!”

Panicked, Jase looked both ways and behind them. He was breathing heavily.

“You’re with Jase? Is he in town?” Gene said.

“No, I’m in Boston actually.”

“Boston? What for?”

“I had to come visit for a little while.”

“I’m mixed up.”

“It was a quick trip.”

Jase pulled over and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Ala saw him pacing on the sidewalk.

“Are you there?” Gene sounded irritated.

“Yes. I just am in the middle of something. Would it be alright if I called you back?”

“Sure. If you remember.”

“Gene—” He had hung up. Ala shoved her phone back into her bag and let herself out of the car.

Jase stopped pacing when he saw her.

“Why don’t you let me drive?”

He nodded. She climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted the height. He closed the car door and put on the seat belt. He put his hand on her wrist.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shook her head and they pulled away. Slamming on the brakes and cutting off her circulation with the seatbelt, while knocking the wind out of her, didn’t hurt as much as them splitting apart.

Fortunately, they were only a few blocks away from the hospital because Ala could not take the severe depression oozing from Jase. They had nothing to say to one another and the silence was thick and smothering.

When the elevator door opened, a lady who Ala recognized as one of the family neighbors stepped out. She wore a large red hat with pink roses dangling from it and a tight cream suit that zipped up the back. She hugged Jase and patted his cheek. Ala stepped away to avoid hearing what they talked about.

Jase stepped into the elevator and Ala followed.

“Stupid cow.”

“Jase—”

“Please. Do you know she’s sleeping with my father?”

Ala looked down and the dented scuffed linoleum. She heard recognizable voices as they made their way down the long hall. She averted her eyes from looking inside of the rooms.

The room Jase’s mother was staying in was bright and sterile. There were large pink and purple floral arrangements on every surface, along with all of the latest magazines, paper coffee cups and half empty water bottles.

Jase’s sister-in-law, Coffi, sat bouncing a fat infant on her lap while his brother talked business on his phone, while looking at the parking lot out the window. Jase’s younger sister was wedged on the bed as her legs half dangled off next to his mother.

His mother’s silvery blond hair was twisted up in a tortoise shell clip. It was flawless along with her light makeup. Her green brocade robe was placed over her shoulders, as if she had the slightest draft and her satin slippers hung from her tiny feet.

“Ala,” she said, her eyes turning a brighter blue as she held out her tan hand. “My dear.”

Ala walked over slowly and touched her warm hand. She bent to kiss her cheek and noticed that her skin felt drier than she had remembered.

Jase’s sister smiled up at her. They hadn’t been close, mainly because she had spent years in rehab while Ala and Jase were dating and they never really were able to form a relationship. Jase’s brother looked over and nodded.

“Abigail, I brought you Jasmine,” Jase’s father said while entering the room. He nearly let the cup of scalding hot tea fall from his hand when he saw Ala.

“Hello,” Ala said and got up quickly to greet him. He wrapped his arms around his waist and gave her a strong hug.

“I’m glad you came back,” he said into her ear.

Jase’s father was not in love with Ala. They both knew this and the topic was never discussed. He adored her and because of his money and her being attractive, there were assumptions by extended family and friends. He had always asked her opinion and listened to her answers. The way Jase had loved her infused the entire family with calm feelings.

She wasn’t sure who knew they had split up. She was almost certain no one imagined she lived in Boston anymore. People lived in cities often though and still maintained relationships. Abigail’s illness must have hit very quickly, perhaps right around the time Ala had moved home. Jase had not called at all until the previous evening, which meant he was trying to stay strong. He was trying to stay away from Ala and trying not to love her anymore. Unless he didn’t love her and didn’t want to talk to her but Abigail had asked him to.

Ala looked into his father’s blue eyes, now rimmed with a thin glowing circle of pink. He must be staying at the hospital with her. Or he could be drinking again, every night. She went back and sat on the edge of Abigail’s bed now that Jase’s sister had taken a phone call in the hallway.

“How are your parents?” Abigail said, her voice cracking.

The mundane question was now impossible to answer, Ala realized as she tried to come up with a natural response. She had answered this question so many times in her life and now had no idea what to say. She did not know what they were doing, and frighteningly, did not want to know. Any clues she uncovered she immediately flushed from her mind.

“They are the same,” she lied.

Abigail nodded.

“I’ll bet they’re using the boat quite a bit this summer.”

“A few weekends.”

“Your mother is so gracious. Please tell her I said hello.”

“I’ll tell her.” Ala thought of when Jase’s family had come to town and Abigail’s suitcase had been lost. Ala’s mother provided her with clothes the entire weekend. Some of the gowns had never been worn before that she had saved for the occasion, and she handed them right over to Abigail. It was out of character. But now Ala knew it was because her mother had thought she was going to marry Jase and wanted to be nice. She wanted everything to be good between the families. She thought there was a future.

Now there was Danno. She was excited just thinking of his face and almost felt guilty picturing him, as she sat at Abigail’s bedside. She neglected to care about her own parents accepting him but was concerned about what Jase’s mother would think of him. Danno was a different speed. He was a man. Jase was also a man, but she had watched him become one. He knew as much as she did when they began dating. She felt her face burning up and pushed him out of her thoughts.

“How long are you in town?” Jase’s father asked.

“I’m not exactly sure.”

“Are you staying with your family for the whole summer?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling herself becoming anxious. She was afraid she would start to stutter.

“That’s a long time.”

“Well, I got a job.”

Everyone looked in her direction. A job meant permanence. She would be away permanently with no plans to come back to Boston.

“Doing what?” Jase said, growing tired of keeping up composure. “I’m house-sitting for a friend who is away on business.”

“Oh,” Jase let out a chuckle, “That’s like a lifeguard job, or babysitting. A summer job.”

It infuriated her when he summed up her life in one phrase. He had a way of simplifying her experiences and making it sound like she never had any kind of vision for a long-term plan.

“Actually, it’s not just for the summer. And it does pay quite well.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Abigail said, spooning up a clump of ice chips into her mouth, “People will pay for peace of mind and you are very trustworthy.”

“Well, Jase is right. It’s no reason to disrupt an entire summer,” his father said.

The baby began to cry. Coffi stood up and pulled her skirt down with one hand, while bobbing him up and down. Jase’s brother turned from the window.

“Could you take him outside?” She did and Ala watched him roll his eyes and go back to his call.

“I was looking for a job. It’s difficult now to find any. And this one found me.”

“That’s wonderful darling,” Abigail said.

“It’s still not a future,” his father said.

The car ride home was quiet. Jase kept scratching the back of his neck. Ala trembled with the string of pearls that Abigail had folded into her hand as they were leaving. She had not wanted Coffi or Jase to see and Ala could not object without drawing attention to them. His mother had always enjoyed giving her gifts.

Ala assumed it was because she had never had a daughter. Coffi had a pill problem before getting pregnant that was never discussed and for all Ala knew, was still going on. Abigail did not approve of the marriage and Jase’s brother threatened to never let her know her grandchildren if she didn’t treat Coffi with respect.

How long did she have? And what did it matter? There was nothing left to do for her. Abigail knew that they all knew she was dying and that they were all watching her to see if the pain was starting. What a terrible feeling to know that everyone feels sorry for you and is crying for you and would give anything to make you well. It seemed impossible to keep dignity through illness.

Jase looked at her and then looked back at the road, accelerating slightly.

“What?” She asked, hoping they would not argue while he was driving.

“I’m so disappointed,” he said. She knew why already, but knew he wanted her to ask him.

“How come?”

“My mother only has one grandchild, and it’s that crazy pill popper’s. She probably won’t even stay with my brother. He’s such an ass to her. And then he’ll have to battle with her to even see the kid.”

“I think you’re jumping ahead a little bit,” Ala said, touching his arm. She felt him tense up slightly.

“I don’t. I screwed up. My mother won’t be able to see me get married. She’ll never meet my kids. And all of that could have been done by now. She put her life into this family and won’t even see it grow. My father worked to make life comfortable for this family and they won’t even enjoy it. Neither of them.”

He was always irrational when he couldn’t control a situation.

“Jase, you can’t get married and have a family for anyone but yourself.”

He parallel parked on his street and they got out of the car. She let him walk ahead because he had the keys.

“I could’ve by now. We could’ve. There was no reason to not get married.” He opened the heavy front door and stomped up the stairs. She didn’t know if she should follow him. She had to though because all of her things were in the apartment. And he would never forgive her if she didn’t.

“There was a reason, Jase.”

“Yeah,” he said, slamming the apartment door behind her, “What?”

She leaned against the card table in the dining room.

“To begin with, getting married is a big deal. It’s not just a next step because you’ve been dating someone for a while.”

“Says who? Some feminist online publication?” He hit the top of one of the windows and opened it.

“No. I do.”

“Why did you even move here then?”

“Because I wanted to be with you. I moved here with love for you. But I realized that we weren’t working very well together.”

“You didn’t even try. You fled.”

“I didn’t try?” She put both of her hands on the table to steady herself. “I know you’re upset. This isn’t something we should talk about now.”

He paced the room, kicking off his shoes.

“I brought you into my whole life. Into my family. I consulted with you before I made decisions about my future. I thought we were building something.”

“I did too.”

This was a scene she had replayed many times since moving out of the apartment. He wanted her back. He wanted to make this work. He loved her as much as she had loved him. It was a dream come true. She could kiss him right now. He could lift her up and carry her into the bedroom and they wouldn’t have to ever look back. They could feel how they felt when they had first met. They could go back to their first time.

And she didn’t want any of it. It wasn’t that she was over him, but that now she felt how she had dreamt of feeling when being in love. She couldn’t go back to what she had with Jase, because it didn’t feel as right as everything felt with Danno. She had known Jase for years and already knew Danno better.

Jase saw her looking out the window and slowly approached. He took her arms with both of his hands and turned her toward him so they were face-to- face, eye-to-eye. Her phone rang and her eyes darted to her purse. He held onto her.

“I know you’ve been with someone else,” he said, almost smiling. Ala wasn’t afraid of him or what he might do. She realized that he was so upset about Abigail, and so upset about Ala not wanting to be with him, that he could kill her. It was possible. But she was happy that she was telling the truth very plainly, no matter what the outcome. She had come here out of concern for Abigail and to show support to his family. Now he had turned the visit into their issues. Her phone rang again and he snickered. “Come on, tell me you haven’t been. Lie.”

She didn’t say anything. He applied pressure to the place between her forearm and bicep, and then let them go.

“I could tell as soon as I saw you.”

Ala couldn’t dispute that she looked different, because she felt very different. The pain of imagining finding out Jase was with someone else had plagued her for weeks after she moved back in with her parents. She had been childish, and had hoped that she would find someone before Jase did. It wasn’t as if he’d be alone forever. He was a very desirable match for the right girl.

Now, she didn’t care. She was annoyed that she had wasted any of her time trying to make it work with him, when it clearly never would have. She sat on the sofa and felt her backside sink into the cushion in a familiar way. The entire apartment still held both of them together as a couple. All of the decisions and time spent there were smeared from room to room.

“You should think about moving out of here,” she said to his back as he rummaged through the refrigerator for a beer. He snapped a can open and turned around.

“Why?”

“It might be easier for you to move on. It might be what you need.”

He smirked at her and nodded while taking a long sip.

“I don’t need your help. You don’t even know what’s good for yourself.”

She stood up and took inventory of where her things were around the living room.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Fine. Go back to where you came from.” She picked up her bags and awkwardly turned while pulling the doorknob. She heard a crash coming from the kitchen when the door closed behind her.

As soon as she got outside, she walked briskly to the corner and called Danno. There was no answer. She tried twice more and then shoved her phone back into her bag. The bus would be leaving in less than an hour and she wanted to erase Boston from her knowledge entirely.

The bus ride back was very crowded with someone sneezing or coughing every thirty seconds. Ala tried to wedge her bag between her head and the window to sleep, but she could not curb her nausea. She thought about Jase telling his parents that everything had been her fault. She knew that even though his parents adored her, he was their son, and that eventually they would side with him. She didn’t want Abigail to die knowing that her son was in pain. So many complications.

A child kicked the back of her seat. She fought the urge to spin around, wrap both hands around his neck and shake him back and forth until she turned purple. She had never had such a violent desire before. Now all of her actions and sensations were heightened. She was fully awake and cognizant of every situation she was part of.

It was because of Danno of course. He was the love of her life, if those were real. He was the person who in some roundabout way, made her be who she really was. She thought of his hands and the pleasantly rough knuckles he used to run down her back. Her insides vibrated ever so slightly with the thought of being with him night after night. It was now impossible to go back to any other arrangement. She was fortunate that she met him at such a transitional phase in her life.

She crossed her legs tightly and used the rhythmic kicking of her seat as a rocking mechanism. It felt good. Of course, it was not as powerful as actually being with Danno, but it was a distraction from the heinous discomfort this ride brought on. She wondered if certain men had more interest in a full sexual experience, rather than only caring about their own pleasure, and if that was why some were less skilled than others. She had heard disturbing stories from Gertrude about traumatizing sex since they were fifteen years old. So many in fact, that she was surprised Gertrude even bothered anymore. Now she knew that Gertrude had never been with anyone who cared about her pleasure, only their own. Her eyes wetted with overwhelming gratitude that Danno pushed his way into her life.

She was able to drift off as the bus rushed over the last bridge. She was relieved that she was home, or at least, on her way to someone she never wanted to be away from.

Weary from the disruptive bus ride, Ala walked from the train station. She had called Danno again when she arrived but could not reach him. She was too tired, and aching for a shower, to think about where he might be and why he was not taking her calls.

A pebble bounced around in her shoe and she didn’t bother to stop and fish it out. Instead, she let it get wedged in between two toes and then fall over and over, scraping the skin in the crevice between them. She was going directly to Emanuel’s house, but then decided she should stop in by her parents. She hadn’t seen them in what seemed like months, and she thought they should know about Jase’s mother.

Approaching the house, she saw a figure sitting on the porch. She sped up, the pebble now stuck in the front of her foot and digging into her flesh, as she prepared to fly into Danno’s arms. The man stood and she could tell, from his droopy posture, that it wasn’t Danno, but Gene.

His eyebrows rose upon seeing her, but he did not smile. She smiled and dropped her bag on the lawn while removing her shoe. Dried splotches of blood surrounded her toes and she could not tell which were actually injured. Gene came over and picked up her bag, moving it to the porch.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said, walking to the other side of the lawn to find the garden hose. She turned it on and the water sprayed, wetting her dress, before letting out an even gush. She rinsed her toes and the coldness made her entire foot numb.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I thought I’d come by since I didn’t hear back from you.”

“I’m sorry. I just got back from Boston.”

“You went for one day? Why didn’t you stay for the weekend?”

“Something came up with Jase, and I thought I should go. I was very wrong.”

Gene sat on the last porch step, letting his long legs stretch out in front of him. Ala turned off the hose and sat in the grass.

“What happened?”

“It was disturbing. He’s mad at things he can’t control and he’s taking it out on me.”

“Oh?” Gene said this as if she was leaving something out, which she was. She didn’t feel it was her place to discuss Jase’s family, or how he felt about her, with anyone.

“Yes. So, I thought it would be best to leave.”

“That doesn’t explain why you haven’t gotten back to me.” He picked the tiny blades from a bush, crinkling them into green dust and letting it fly from his palm.

“There’s been a lot going on. I met someone.”

“Really?”

“I did.” It was too much to contain her smile, so she showed her teeth freely.

“Where?”

“The race track.” His eyes widened.

“At Dora’s party?”

“No. The next day. It’s sort of a long story.”

“The day we had a drink?”

Ala had forgotten about the drunken advance after Flynn’s. She looked down at her red foot.

“Yes. I think you’ll like him.”

“I’m meeting him?” Gene said with thick disgust on his lips.

“I think you should. Things are moving quickly.”

“I’ll say.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I thought you’ve been holed up finishing that paper.”

Ala had forgotten entirely about her term paper. She had signed up for the summer class to take her mind off of Jase and now most likely would not pass.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I took a job too.”

Gene shook his head.

“You look exhausted. And this whole thing with the guy sounds crazy.”

“I can’t explain it. I feel different.”

“What do you even know about him?”

She hadn’t thought of that either.

“Gene, please don’t worry. Do you think this is upsetting because maybe, you might have feelings for me?”

He scoffed. Ala nodded empathetically.

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, because you kissed me, for one.”

“Ala, I was very drunk. And you were flirting back all night.” She felt her face getting warm.

“What?”

“It’s what we do, Ala. Come on, we’ve always been that way. Stolen glances, laughing, touching. This time, I drank too much.”

She was embarrassed.

“Why would you ever do that?”

“Why would you ever let me hold your hand? Even when you were with Jase?”

She stood up and crossed her arms. She had nothing to say at that moment, but when coming up with something, raised her voice.

“This is ridiculous. I met someone. I want to be with him.”

“Fine. I think something is off.”

“Since when?” She said, pulling her shoe back on.

“Look, don’t call me crying and bitching when this guy fucks up, okay? Think about what you’re doing for once!”

She turned, picked up her bag, and stomped off toward Emanuel’s house. Her entire relationship with Gene had been built on superficial feelings. She was infuriated that he would kiss her without feeling anything for her. And if that were the case, why did he seem put off when she revealed that she met Danno the same day they had drinks?

She wanted to call Danno again, and secretly hoped she had missed his call while arguing with Gene in front of her parent’s house. Why hadn’t they come outside to see what was happening?

As soon as she made it to Emanuel’s front door, she let the tears drip loosely down her face. She heard snipping shears coming from the yard and typed in the code for entry. As soon as she crossed the first arch inside, her stomach jumped up high before hitting the ground. The air smelled different or felt different, or both. She struggled for equilibrium.

In the main living area, across from the bay window, was a piercing white square, surrounded by the slightly dim white of the wall. A massive painting was removed, leaving only the two brittle nails sticking out.

She went to the wall and ran her fingers over the nails. She looked in between the sofa and the wall, knowing that the painting did not fall, but still hoping it did. She clutched her bag to her chest and walked into the kitchen. Everything was as she had left it before leaving for Boston, except for a plate in the sink, now covered in water with crumbs floating to the top. She remembered Danno eating a slice of toast that morning. The snipping outside continued, but she could not see the gardener through the window.

She checked the back door and found that it was secure. She made her way around the island and down the hall toward the office. The door was closed, and she knew she hadn’t closed it earlier. She slowly turned the knob and let herself in. The window across the room was wide open, the navy-blue sheers blowing inward and tangling themselves. She quickly went to the window to close it and the corner of her eye caught what was gone from the wall. The painting of the bowl of fruit having sex was not there. She knelt down and tried to steady herself. She felt pressure in every orifice and tried to focus on breathing.

Ala crouched on the floor for several minutes before forcing her hand into the space in the wall. She felt around for the magnet and grasped as soon as she felt the smooth circular disc. She brought it to the pick sand and let it hover above until the biting shine of the key drifted up. She let out a celebratory breath of gratitude. She grabbed it and unlocked the bureau drawer. She found the birthday page in the book and looked at the combination. It was strange that she had no recollection of it, even though she had read the numbers so recently.

She stubbed her toe against the desk leg and cried out. The scorching pain whizzed all the way to her heel as she eased herself down in front of the slate box. She dialed into the keypad and waited to hear the lock releasing. She pulled the lever and swung the door so wide that it hit the back of the desk. Kneeling forward, she stuck her hand inside the hole in the floor. There was nothing there. She leaned forward so that her top half was practically stuffed into the safe and stretched her arm further. She frantically swept the filthy under part of the house with her hand, trying to get the money to be there. One of her legs cramped up and she pulled herself out.

Emanuel was robbed of at least two paintings and cash. She had no idea how much had been in the safe, but knew it was a lot more than the ten thousand dollars she was supposed to be making this summer. Vomit rose in her throat and she swallowed deep to push it back down. She closed the safe and pushed down on it to lift herself up. She took her phone from her bag and dialed Danno’s number. She listened to each ringtone, letting them hypnotize her, the purring reverberating in her ear. He did not answer. She shoved the phone back into her bag and closed the door to the office.

She walked through the kitchen and looked into the backyard. Bruno was now on the other end of the pool, trimming the azalea bush. She didn’t know if she should tell him what had happened. She left through the living room, closing the front door and locking it. She needed to be able to process what exactly had happened. Obviously, art and money were missing. But she had no idea how much. Calling Emanuel at this point was out of the question. Calling the police seemed to seal in that fact that a robbery had taken place, and that this wasn’t any kind of coincidence that she could easily make sense of. Every decision at this point seemed so final, not to be taken back or undone with explanation. And she couldn’t face that conclusion yet.

The porch light was on at her parent’s house and she walked slowly, the nausea still threatening her limbs. The front door was open and she called out to see who was home. There was no answer. She considered that she could be losing her mind. That she was the last person on Earth and that no one else existed anymore. She remembered Bruno in the garden and had a hint of relief, like taking an ice cube to a third-degree burn. She climbed the stairs, clutching the railing with both hands. The job was so simple. All that was expected of her was to watch the house and the possessions inside. A child could have done that. And she failed.

She went into her parent’s bathroom. It had been cleaned recently and smelled of the orange scented disinfectant her mother preferred. She locked the door behind her. Slitting her wrists was not going to happen.

“Cowardly baby,” she said in the mirror, realizing that there would be no suicide tonight. She knew in her being, somewhere, that this would be ironed out, most likely with the help of her parents, because she was not brave. She did not know how to correct her mistakes. She only knew how to run away. She decided on Demerol, that she knew her mother had in the house, and a bath.

She opened the medicine cabinet and amongst the mass of white, stood the hot pink sparkly toy.

She turned the stopper at the bottom of the tub as the hot water spilled in. She peeled the clothes that felt encrusted with dried sweat, first from the heat of the day and then from nerves, off of her clammy skin. She rolled them up into a ball and shoved them into her bag. She placed a pill on her tongue and sucked some water out of her hands, cupped under the faucet. She pulled her neck to one shoulder and rolled it, her chin gracing her chest, to the other shoulder, forcing a deep stretch.

She knew full well that the pill would not help her remedy the situation at Emanuel’s house. She walked to the cabinet and took the toy back to the tub with her. Ignoring the entirely too hot water, she stepped in and let herself slump down. Her skin turned red as she scooted so that her foot could be used to turn the water off. She dunked the toy in water and, bringing it back up, watched the ripples run off quickly, like water drops scooting on a drying windshield in a car wash.

Her temples loosened and the sharp pulsing on either side of her head became weaker. She ran her hands over her thighs to confirm that she was actually in the tub, and had not instead fallen while climbing in and, perhaps, was now lying on the floor unconscious. Would she be arrested for the robbery if she were unable to recover what had been taken? Emanuel would have no way to know that she was not involved.

She rested her head against the porcelain lip of the tub and pulled her knees up and in. She had a hard time feeling anything because of the temperature of the water but could tell that the toy was very lightweight. Soon there was suction, a tiny mouth grasping. The phone rang, causing a jolt and making her hand jerk. Sharp pain bit through her numb skin. She ignored it. She worked herself into a daze, staring at the white spacing between the gray rectangular tile on the wall.

A Charley horse shocked her system sometime later and she awoke submerged in water up to her chin. She could not tell how long she had been in the bath, short of her completely crinkled scarred white skin. The toy lay at the bottom of the tub. She pulled herself up and, freezing, rushed to a towel. The phone rang and she yanked her clothing out of her bag to find it. She saw that she had missed nineteen calls in the time she was passed out and now Danno was trying to reach her.

Her wet fingertips touched the screen in order to accept the call. She didn’t hear anyone on the line after answering and hung up. She called back and waited. He did not answer. She dried off and let the towel fall to the floor. Her hands shook and she tried to steady them, even when realizing that Emanuel’s art and cash were still missing. The whole nightmare had actually happened. She had not slept it off.

Her skin felt sticky in crooks between her joints, from being in the same position for a long time. She didn’t want to go into her mother’s closet because she was terrified to find anything else that she could never have imagined her prudish parents owning. Her clothes were a foul smelling, stiff mess that she didn’t feel could be pulled onto her body without cracking. She picked up the towel and wrapped it around her body, tucking the loose edge toward her chest. It hung above her upper thigh and revealed more than any dress she owned. She left her hair in the awkward half-wet knots that had developed and swung her purse over her shoulder. Her brain nipped at her to drain the tub, and she swatted at the air to kill a fly she imagined to be buzzing in her ear.

She left the front door open and made her way toward Emanuel’s house. Her bare foot scraped against the warm pavement before she realized she did not wear shoes out. She could smell charcoal burning in a neighbor’s yard and assumed her parents were close by, so decided to not risk going back inside the house.

Her pace was even, keeping the towel in place and allowing her time to think about what she would do when returning to Emanuel’s house. Piercing light struck her view very suddenly as a car pulled up in front of the house and stopped. Danno got out and, seeing Ala, let the door close slowly on its own. He approached, looking her up and down and seized both of her shoulders.

“Where are you coming from? Why aren’t you dressed?”

The way he shook her made her brain tighten. He pulled himself away to examine her.

“I took a bath. At my parent’s house.”

“Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

“I fell asleep in the tub.” She could tell he was resisting screaming in her face. She shrugged. He grabbed her by the elbow.

“Let’s go.” She pulled back.

“No.” He shook his head and lifted her over his shoulder. She let the towel fall and he clasped it over her bottom.

“I can walk. Put me down.”

He ignored her and carried her into the house. She could hear a car pull up in front as he slammed the door behind them.

“What are you thinking walking around that way?”

She let her body slouch down to the ground. Her chest was exposed and she sloppily tried to cover herself below the waist with the towel.

“I have more on my mind than that. The house was robbed.”

“The house wasn’t robbed,” he said, turning on the foyer light. "I took everything.”

His hand slammed against the back door, inches away from her face, closing it tightly. In a matter of seconds, she had made it through the kitchen, with her purse, and had unlocked the door with the intention of running out. She had snapped out of whatever effect the pill had, and was now wondering if she could make it back to the front door before he could catch her.

“Stop,” he said calmly.

“Let me go,” she said.

“You don’t have clothes on,” he said. Taking her forearm, he led her back into the living room. He picked up the towel and wrapped it around her. Sitting on the ottoman, he lit a cigarette. “Why are you trying to run out of the house?”

“Because I just realized that you’re crazy,” she said, looking straight ahead.

“What’s the definition of crazy?” He said, letting smoke seep from the corners of his mouth.

“Stop,” Ala said, shaking her head. She headed for Emanuel’s bedroom. Danno followed her, grabbing a water glass off of the coffee table to catch ashes in.

She turned on the light and crouched at her suitcase, pulling out a dress.

“Don’t you think you should know what the word means before using it to describe someone?” He took her arm and pulled her up so that their eyes could meet. “Well?”

“I don’t know. There should be a dictionary in the study,” she said quietly.

“How could you do this?”

“Don’t you think the bigger issue is how you reacted without letting me explain?”

She sat on the bed, knowing that allowing him to explain was giving him power. She was humiliated because she didn’t want him to leave and was going to hear what he had to say.

He crushed the cigarette into the bottom of the glass and set it on one of the bookshelves. He sat on the edge of the bed and faced her.

“Everything is safe and in one place.” She froze her face to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her relief. Her eyes searched her toenails, finding chips and spaces in the pretty purple nail polish, avoiding his stare. “I needed collateral. The money is taking longer to come in than I thought.”

“What does that have to do with me? How dare you!” She said, storming into the bathroom. She whipped the towel off, throwing it in the tub and pulled the dress over her head. Danno lit another cigarette. "I am not going to be involved with some compulsive gambler.”

“I’m not a gambler. It’s one of my shipments that got backed up. Everything will be fine tomorrow morning.”

“Shipments? What, drugs?” She heard herself scream and could not lower her voice.

“No, Ala. I told you, I’m in textiles and this deal got too big too fast. I would never lie to you about this.”

“Not a criminal? You just stole, I don’t even know how much. This isn’t even my house!”

“I wanted to talk to you before you got back so that you wouldn’t be scared.”

The doorbell made Ala jump. It had not rung since she’d been staying at the house. No one was supposed to come by except for staff. She smoothed the dress over her hips and slowly walked to the foyer.

She saw Bruno through the screen and pulled the door open. Danno stood in the living room, out of his sight.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” Ala said, crossing her arms in front of her unsupported chest.

“Everything okay, Ms.? I heard yelling.”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I was taking a heated phone call.”

Bruno stepped closer to the screen to try to see past her into the house.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course. I thought you had finished the yard hours ago,” she said, unsuccessfully hiding her annoyance. She could not pin down a solid thought and this gardener was causing further distraction.

“I left my pouch inside, I think,” he said, nearly pressing his nose into the screen.

“Pouch? I haven’t seen it, and when were you inside?”

“Earlier today, Ms.”

She didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but she did know that letting him come in the house with Danno standing a few feet away, was not possible.

“Bruno, if I find your pouch, I will let you know, okay?”

“I need it,” he said, his eyes turning up in the corners with frustration.

“I’m not feeling well. I should lie down. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Ms.-”

She closed the front door and locked it. Bruno pressed his nose harder into the screen before turning and walking back to his truck.

He stalled by the window, waiting for Bruno to drive away and rubbed her arms to get rid of the goose bumps that had developed during their conversation. She walked into the kitchen to look for the pouch. Where had he been in the house and why? Danno came into her view.

She pulled an open bottle of wine from the cabinet and poured some into a juice glass. He came up behind her and gripped her shoulders, easing them back into his hands and rolling them forward. He put his mouth to her ear and she could feel the moisture in his breath.

“What are you doing?”

“Drinking wine.”

“You didn’t take a pill?”

“None of your business.”

He spread his hand across her throat and stroked it.

“It will all be back. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said, turning away from him. "I can never trust you again. I should never have trusted you in the first place. I don’t even know you.” She turned and went into the living room, finishing the wine in one gulp and feeling the burn trail down her throat while lowering herself into an armchair.

“Do you think that matters?” He said, squinting at her. “Do you think what we have goes away just because we don’t know each other on a surface level?”

She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t find his face to be attractive, but it interested her. She was drawn to whatever he gave off and she knew he could tell.

“Maybe not, but trust means something.”

He knelt in front of her, forcing his chest between her legs and stretching the dress across her knees.

“You’ve already trusted me in the most important way. Don’t dumb all of this down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Don’t lie to me about how you feel. You know how I make you feel.” He brought her trembling hand to his mouth and kissed it. She leaned back against the chair as his hands worked her. She saw herself far away, slipping into another dimension that holds versions of people after they change. Gene was right. Anyone who heard about this would agree with Gene. And it just didn’t matter. She leaned in to catch his kiss. Soon after, he stood and she allowed him to carry her into the other room.

They were up all night, further defiling Emanuel’s house. Each time they moved to another room; she did not want to stop. She knew she was plunging deeper into repairable damage but could not pull herself from the tingling embrace to surface for air. Danno was so highly effective at reading her needs that she felt part of the grand plan for the first time in her life.

She wondered if she was dead, drowned in her parent’s master bath. She kept correcting her thoughts because she knew she was still alive, but the ease of the idea was so tempting. At one point he stopped and looked up at her face.

“You’re not happy,” he said.

“I am,” she said. He locked his fingers between hers. She gave him a weak smile. “Then show me,” he said and continued.

She leaned back into the goose down pillow and took a breath, pushing and flushing the worry out. She pictured anxiety all flooding from her ears and around her neck, dripping down her back. She quivered and squirmed, her fingers gripping his hand and pressing it down into the sheets.

She could not change any of her choices or any of his. She loved Danno and had to believe that what he promised was so. Everything would be returned in the morning. Emanuel would return from the business trip, not suspecting a thing about the art being removed from the house.

Abigail lying in a hospital occurred to her. She would call tomorrow and see how she was feeling. Ala would not allow Jase to be involved in the relationship between herself and his mother. She would also not allow herself to let him make her feel guilty about his mother never seeing him have children.

Danno glanced up again.

“Show me,” he said.

She laughed and threw her head back.

Later on, she wrapped herself in one of the sheets and opened the window, letting the smell of charred beef over charcoal seep in. They began to salivate and tiptoed to the kitchen, like teenagers, to raid the refrigerator. There was nothing except a few eggs and fine mustards, but in the freezer, Ala found a two-pound rib eye wrapped in plastic. Peeling off the film, she examined the thin layer of miniature icicles, and ran her finger over them, revealing the purple meat. She began to rewrap it. Danno took hold of her wrist very gently.

“That looks great,” he said.

“It’s frozen through and I don’t want to wait for it to thaw.”

“We don’t need to do that. I’ll start the grill. Want to fry some eggs?”

“Sure,” she said, shrugging and turning on the broiler. The maniac was going to grill a frozen steak. They’d be up for hours, waiting for it to cook.

She found a cookie sheet and buttered it, then cracked the five eggs on top, making sure to space them out. She heavily peppered each one.

Danno came in from the yard and took the steak. Ala opened the oven door to slip the pan inside.

“What are you doing?” He said.

“Making eggs. You like sunny side up, right?”

“In the oven?”

“Yes. Under the broiler.”

He laughed.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. This is how my father and I always make them.”

“Okay,” he said, going back outside.

Ala instantly smelled the meat when it hit the hot grate. She poured some red wine and took a long sip. When the whites of each egg were translucent and she removed the pan and transferred them to awaiting plates. She turned on the porch light and arranged a tray to carry out. The house phone rang and she almost dropped all that she was carrying. She had forgotten there was a landline and couldn’t imagine who would be calling at three fifteen in the morning.

Danno came inside.

“Steak Is done. Are you going to answer that?”

“No,” she said and carried the tray out. She arranged the table and he, carrying the steak on a salad fork, set it down on her plate and leaned in to kiss her. She tasted charcoal on his mouth and smelled the juicy smoke in his hair. She wanted to evaporate and float up to the sky, leaving all of her happiness to people who would never experience how she felt in that moment.

They began to eat with their knees touching under the table. The sun began to lift, revealing how exquisite the food looked.

“This is the best steak I’ve ever had,” Ala said amazed by the char and amount of juice oozing out of it.

“I was going to say the same about the eggs,” Danno said, dipping the meat into the yolk, leaving a red trail in the center of the bright yellow sticky, delicious mess.

After they finished the wine, Ala cleared the plates as Danno skinny-dipped.

“Hurry up,” he said.

“I will. I don’t want to leave a mess,” she said, before realizing how ridiculous the statement was based on the condition of the house.

While rinsing the plates, there was a knock at the front door. Wearing only the sheet, she turned off the faucet and slowly went into the drafty bedroom to pull on a robe. She walked back to the yard.

“Danno, someone’s here,” she said, trying to whisper, and noticing he was under water. The gate opened, and a very built man in a black suit walked through.

Danno surfaced and, looking at him, began to climb out of the side of the pool.

“Go inside,” he said.

Ala stood there, with her hand shading her forehead, peering through the early light at the man’s face. It was very wide and smooth looking with kind almond colored eyes. The size of the man was what made her nervous with his arms, nearly as long as her entire body and his neck as thick as a coffee can.

She looked at Danno. He nodded for her to do as he said, and she went inside. She watched Danno shake hands with the man from the kitchen window, not taking her eyes from them as she searched in her bag for her phone. She pressed 9-1-1 and waited with her finger hovering over the button that would notify the operator of her emergency.

She had no idea what they were talking about. Danno kept his back turned toward her and gestured with his hands to the man. The conversation seemed to go on for hours and she grew tired of waiting. She went back outside and stood almost between them, looking straight at Danno.

“What time tomorrow for the truck?” He said and then, noticed her standing there. “Ala, this is Rainbow.” A thin smile spread across her face as she shook the man’s extended hand. His name could not possibly really be Rainbow; she knew Danno was using a code name in front of her. Glancing down, she saw that the man’s index finger was encircled with a rainbow tattoo. It was thicker than a ring, extending all the way up to his knuckle. She smiled wider, relieved that she hadn’t been lied to. The man did not smile at her but nodded.

“How about we drive up this time tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” Danno said, “Ala, come with me a second.” He turned and walked up the steps to the back door. She followed. “Do you think you could find something in the freezer to throw on for Rainbow?”

“We just ate,” she said, tilting her head and looking at him. He stood with his arms crossed.

“And?”

“And there’s nothing left. Who is he?” She said.

“Okay, we’ll go out,” he said and opened the door. She slammed it closed and locked it. He turned the lock and opened the door again. She felt tears well up in her eyes. After the night they had, after telling the truth, he was going to leave with this stranger to talk about things she surely wanted no part of.

“What is going on?”

“Rainbow’s hungry.”

“How is that our concern?” She said, throwing the phone against the wall. She began to sob, with one hand pressed against her eye, pushing on it, making it tender. “How could you just leave?”

He lit a cigarette and watched her, periodically looking out the window to see if Rainbow was still in the yard. She hugged herself and cried harder. Free-falling into a hole so far away from whom she’d known herself to be, she could not gain control. She sat on a stool and kept weeping, at that point not knowing if Danno staying would even help. He stubbed the cigarette out in the sink and walked over. Gripping both of her arms, he lifted her from the stool and stood her up.

“Not everything is going to be your way. You don’t need to fall apart over this,” he said. She tried to rip her arm out of his hands but he held on. "Listen, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, every minute, every day. Go put on some shoes and come with.”

She put her hand on top of his.

“No,” she said. “This isn’t about me. Go.”

He kissed her mouth.

“Everything will be fine.”

“I know,” she said. Going to a business breakfast at dawn, where she would have nothing to say, was not something she was interested in. Danno was right in saying that not everything was always going to be perfect all of the time. Jase was so aggressive and quick to be mean. And she would fall apart whenever they disagreed or wanted two different things. Danno was confident because he knew that he would not always be able to make her happy. Because it was not his job.

"I’ll see you when you get back.”

“What are you going to do?” He said.

“I’ll straighten up around here and sort through my things.”

“Sort through how?”

“Fold clothes, make sure everything is organized.”

“How many things do you still keep at your parent’s house?”

“Quite a few. It hasn’t been that long since I came back from Boston.” She thought of the piles of boxes and stacks of books that were flooding the basement. "Why do you ask?”

“We may want to come up with a plan to get everything out of there soon.”

“But I live there.”

“Maybe not for long.”

She would live with him if he asked, even though she had no idea where he lived. She hoped she would not get so desperate that she would actually ask

if she could live with him. She couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to indulge in their every whim when she had to leave Emanuel’s house.

She returned his smile. He left through the front door and she could hear Rainbow’s car running in the driveway. She walked through each room, gingerly folding clean clothes and laying them in her suitcase. She gathered up wadded, dirty garments and began a load of laundry. She had not done anything normal in days and it felt nice to be caring for a home.

The doorbell rang. She flocked to the foyer, certain that Danno had forgotten something and was locked out. She stopped short of the bay window and in the lower corner could see Bruno, the gardener, on the front porch.

Ala instinctively crouched down, planting her hand on the railing in order to peek up. Had the gardener seen Danno leave? Perhaps he knew she was alone. There was no reason for him to be back after she told him his things were not in the house. Fear curdled deep in her stomach. His figure enlarged as he walked toward the window, closer to her. She crawled on her hands and knees under the sill, trying to get to the back of the sofa. She could not remember where she had left her phone. Most likely on the kitchen counter. If she got up now, he would see her going to the kitchen.

The house phone began to ring. She looked up to see if the gardener was calling, and he was gone. She crawled toward the kitchen and plastered herself against the back door before slowly inching up to look out of the kitchen windows.

She did not see him in the backyard but saw that all of the dishes had been left out from the early morning breakfast. She would have to wait to clear the table because Bruno could be lurking. What did he want from her? Perhaps she should call Emanuel to let him know that a member of his staff was harassing her. He would probably inquire about how everything else was going, and she wasn’t sure that she could adequately lie over the phone.

Her stomach began to spin and she did not feel safe in the house any longer, at least not by herself. She tiptoed to Emanuel’s room, threw on some shorts and found a pair of her shoes and slipped them on. She retrieved her purse and phone and slowly made her way toward the front door. There were no cars in front of the house, not to say Bruno hadn’t

parked far away to throw her off. She positioned the house key firmly in her hand and stepped outside, quickly locking up, then bolted down the porch steps. She jogged, looking behind her frequently, to her parent’s house. The porch light was turned on, welcoming her and she had never been so relieved to be going back to this house.

She let herself in and locked the door behind her, peering out to see if she had been followed. The street was clear. She sunk down on the bottom step to catch her breath and ran her hands through her hair. The air was stiff and she fanned herself with a magazine from the end table. The house has not been this hot the last time she was there. She heard a whack, a quick high- pitched whip, coming from upstairs.

Her parents were surely still home at this hour. She heard a thump and then laughter. She stepped carefully, not wanting to disturb the noise, or let her parents know that she was home. Her parent’s bedroom door was open slightly, and purple light spilled out onto the carpet. She approached and looked inside of the room, then stepped back quickly.

A dozen naked bodies, all moving and squirming, were coiled together in a heap in the middle of the bedroom floor.

There was an inexplicable quiet among them. She considered calling the police but wasn’t sure what to tell them. She couldn’t register what she was seeing or who was even in the room. She knew, without directly recognizing them, that her parents were involved and tracked a few more familiar faces. No one noticed her. No one stopped having sex. She became angry that there were no precautions taken to make sure she did not walk into this. She was still a member of the household, even though she did not pay any of the expenses.

The condition of the room was jarring. All of the curtains were closed tightly. Her parents eight hundred thread count sheets were twisted and balled up across the bed. There were pieces of costumes from different time periods flung everywhere. Someone moaned, forcing Ala to quickly turn around and made her way downstairs to the living room, where she sat in an armchair, her arms wrapped around her legs and rocked slowly back and forth. She thought of a Fendi painting she had stumbled upon in college. All of the round open bodies, different shades of peach, in the water each taking to one another. The lines were so smooth and the bodies were depicted as so

approachable, because the eye had a difficult time deciphering where one began and one ended. She tried to think of the naturalness of the act in her parent’s bedroom and could not find a way.

She awoke to the sound of a loud engine rumbling down the street and looked out the window. A truck was backing up into Emanuel’s driveway. She watched a wiry man hop out of the passenger side and motion for the driver to keep easing back, making sure not to run over any of the plants. It must be all of the artwork and cash being returned. She felt her upper back drop slightly with relief as the driver turned off the ignition and the wiry guy opened the back door.

She heard laughter upstairs and remembered the horrific scene that she for sure had seen and had not dreamt. A group descended the staircase. Two of them were the Neely’s, with Mrs. straightening her wrap-around skirt as Mr. zipped up his pants, smiling. She saw Jeanne and Peter, faces red and smeared with one of her false eyelashes dangling from her eyelid. There were others she was sure she had either seen at the library, or the grocer or the dry cleaners or any other mundane errand mecca. Was the whole village involved?

Her parents were the last to come down, both wearing robes, they stopped at the front door to hug the last couple to leave and her mother whispered something Ala could not make out. The door closed and Ala cleared her throat.

“Ala,” her mother gasped and held the robe closed across her chest. She was not aware that Ala had most likely seen her breasts and some man, other than her father, attached to them.

“What are you doing home?” Her father said. She stood and felt tears falling out of the corners of her eyes.

“What the Hell was that?”

“What do you mean?” Her mother asked.

“This is what you do now!” She screamed. It was too much. The haze from pills and sex had lifted and she was very alert and terrified of the situation. "I saw both of you! Upstairs in my own house.”

“Ala, you’re not supposed to be staying here,” her mother said. "You’ve been coming and going all week as you please. You can’t expect us to not live our lives.”

“Since when is this your life?”

“Let me try to explain this to you, Ala,” her father said very calmly. "Let’s go outside.”

“Coffee?” Her mother said.

“Yes, please,” he said and opened the door. Ala followed him onto the porch and sat a distance away; eyeing the truck outside of Emanuel’s to make sure she had not imagined it.

Her father crossed his ankles and sat straight up on the porch swing.

“I can understand how this may be strange for you, but your mother and I have enjoyed swinging for most of our adult lives.” Her mouth opened. She had thought, or hoped, that this was a one-time experience having to do with major midlife crises of all parties involved.

“What do you mean?”

“We met at an event for swingers about forty years ago,” he said plainly.

“What?”

“It’s true. We both had other partners at the time.”

She was certain she would be sick if he kept talking, but also that there was too much she did not know.

“You might not even be my father,” she said. He chuckled and shook his end, as if addressing an idiotic child.

“Ala, of course I’m your father. Once your mother and I married, we decided to put the lifestyle on hold to have a family. We bought this house for you, of course, and have been inactive ever since you were born.”

“I can’t believe this. I don’t know either of you at all.”

“Of course you do. This isn’t everything we are, you know. We’ve just happened to find people in the community who have the same interests we do.” She couldn’t let herself imagine how the conversation even came up with the neighbors. "I know you may not want to believe it, but these practices have been going on since the beginning of mankind.”

“I have to go,” Ala said, rushing down the steps.

“I don’t want you leaving upset. We’re here if there’s anything you want to discuss.”

“I’ve heard enough,” she said, as she rushed toward Emanuel’s house.

She was sweating heavily and had cold chills racing throughout her body. She closed her eyes and tried to clear the imagery but could not. She did not want to go back to the house without Danno and did not want to be anywhere near her parents or anyone else who lived on the block. She began to run and hoped the men unloading the truck would not see her.

Her shoes began to hurt and squeeze her feet, but she kept going. That was the reason her mother did not want her to work for Emanuel. She did not want her to find out that they all participated in these parties. This explained the strange clothing and toys. How long had this been happening? She assumed since she had left for Boston. Her parents seemed so traditional, but that viewpoint must have come with the money they had acquired and status over the years.

She had gone to bed with Danno without even knowing his name. It was possible she could inherit the same sexual appetite as her parents. The water up ahead was enticing, but she did not want to walk home wet, and hopped onto the wide cement slab that ran along the shoreline instead. She was huffing and panting but did not stop. She didn’t know how long Danno would be with Rainbow but needed to speak with him as soon as possible to tell him that she would go with him no matter where that meant she would wind up.

After determining that all of the art was in the right place and that the cash was replenished, she would leave Emanuel a long letter apologizing for having to break their arrangement and telling him he did not have to pay her for any of her time. She would leave a key for Bruno so that he could look after the house, since he was so concerned.

Someone tugging on her ankle sent her falling to the ground facedown. Scrapes on her knees, elbows and face immediately began to sting as she felt herself being pulled from the cement down below to the sand. Her vision went blurry as her hair was pulled, and she screamed before a black wooly hand clasped over her mouth. A scratchy sack was forced over her writhing head and she tried to twist and turn while being picked up and carried away.

She flexed and clenched her entire body, trying to wiggle out of the hands that were holding under her armpits and another set holding her feet. It did no good. The hands squeezed tighter, making her muscles tense up and ache. She wanted so badly to rest but needed to keep fighting. No one was helping her. No one was out, most likely, because it was still so early in the morning. She thrashed her head back and forth, trying to see through the wooly cloth.

Both people that were carrying her halted. A fleeting moment allowed her to think that they had realized they had the wrong girl and that this was all a mistake. Sweat dripped into her eyes and the sack made her skin crawl with its itchy fibers. She heard metal sliding against metal, a door was opening.

It was a vehicle door. She thought of the rules she was taught in the self- defense class she and Gertrude had taken at the library; never let the culprits take you to a second location. She sprung with all her might and managed to kick one foot out of the fierce grip. Just then, a hard object smacked her across the face. She had never experienced such a dull pain that exploded into all of her senses. Her ears rang and she wondered if her nose was misaligned, as she tasted blood running into the corners of her mouth. Whatever hit her was very heavy, maybe a gun.

She felt rope wrapping around her ankles and hands at the same time. There were more than two people involved. The hands swung and heaved her body onto a hard metal floor. She landed on one knee and the agony made her fall face first. The door closed. Some strident notes rang out from what must have been the car radio. She couldn’t recognize the song but it sounded like calypso music.

An engine started and rattled as they left the beach. She struggled to roll herself onto her back but had no success. The sharp turns made her slide

face first into the corners under the seats. It took a lot of concentration not to scream. She knew it would waste her energy and worse, that no one would hear her. She wondered where they were going. They could have passed her parent’s house. Her parents, post coital from their block party, had no idea their daughter had been abducted.

She heard the familiar ringing of her phone. Her bag must have made it into the car. It must be Danno calling, saying that he had finished breakfast with Rainbow. It was time to talk about where they could run off together. He would think that she was ignoring his phone call.

She flailed about the compartment, trying to get the sack off of her head again to be able to identify who was responsible. She felt the rope rub against the skin on her wrists, savagely scratching. She decided it was too soon to cry and, making that very decision meant that shock had set in. Still though, crying would make her more helpless.

“Please make the car stop,” she whispered. “Please let this be a mistake.”

“Shut up back there,” a low, crackling voice roared. She felt tiny hairs all over her body spring straight up. “I’ll cut off that pretty pink tongue and stuff it down your throat.”

The violence of the statement numbed her face. There hadn’t been any mistake. She got the feeling that they had seen her before, and that she was not just a random pick up. Goosebumps sprang up all over her body. They could be from anywhere; they could be from the town she lived in. She clearly knew little about the neighborhood, since she was not even aware that there was a group of swingers having their parties in her own house.

The van screeched and stopped. She pulled her ankles apart as hard as she could. The rope held tight and her outer thigh muscles burned with pressure. The back door opened and she shuffled to what she felt was the front of the van. A hand grabbed her ankles, pulling her back, forcing the sack against the skin on her face, leaving a trailing, searing rash. Another hand grabbed the rope that held her wrists together and tugged her out of the vehicle.

Someone lifted her up and over a shoulder. She felt the bones digging into her ribcage and smelled perspiration. There were footsteps following behind

her. Someone was making sure she did not get away. She heard another door or gate rattle open. She was thrown so hard that her shoulder hit what felt like cement and she nearly lost consciousness. She struggled to keep her eyes open and take deep breaths to stay awake.

She heard a thud, a metal lock bolted, and footsteps on the gravel. An engine started and she heard the tires crunching the tiny rocks. Everyone had gone. She lay on her side, wrists and ankles still bound, with the sack over her face. All she could see was black and she could do was let herself finally cry.

Ala awoke sometime later to rough hands pulling her body up, exposing her midsection. Instinctually, she tried to bring her hands around her body to cover herself but found that they were still bound tight. Someone else heaved her body up and she was carried off.

She had hoped to wake up to her real life. Her ankles and wrists hung limp and were sore. She heard her back crack in several places as the, who she presumed to be men, held tight and then metal sliding on a track. The temperature dropped radically as they entered.

They threw her body to the ground, which felt like cold stone and she began to shiver. A lump in her throat quivered as she tried to find the right words to ask why they were doing this to her and where she was. All that she could get out was a tiny squeal.

A toe from a heavy shoe or boot came crashing against the arch of her foot. Pain spiraled up to her knee.

“Shut up bitch,” the voice she had heard earlier, said. She heard laughter, most likely from the other man.

She thought of junior high school, when she was not permitted to participate in a debate match because the length of her skirt was too short, according to the assistant principal. She was called into his office, where he paced back and forth, lecturing her about how she represented the school and herself in her wardrobe choices. Every time she tried to defend herself, he would pound on the desk. He refused to let her say one word. She eventually stood up, kicked the chair over and stormed out of the office.

She wasn’t sure if the fear of her unpredictability was what kept him quiet, but there were no further consequences for her actions. Now of course, she was unable to move and unable to stop vibrating with anger. She could not let this pig silence her.

“No!” She said in the loudest voice she could find.

She felt her insides shrink up as she braced herself for the punishment. Sure enough, a hand reached up under the sack and pulled her hair four times, each pull harder than the last.

There was more laughter. The first two tugs hurt and she chomped on her bottom lip to keep from crying. Strangely, by the time the last tug was over, she couldn’t feel anything. Her whole scalp was numb. If he took out clumps of hair, she had no idea.

The man then ran his hand along the front of her neck and clenched it. She was not choking but could not move and feared that he would snap it.

“You’ve got a problem listening.” He dug his fingernails into her skin. Again, after the first few seconds, there was no pain. She wondered if these men had intentions of killing her. If not, there may not be anything they could do to her that was scarier than what she had already been through. If they did want to kill her, why hadn’t they already? He held her head in place and brought his face up against the sack. She could feel his breath on her chin. "Now you’ve got nothing to say?”

“Not to you,” she said quietly. He squeezed tighter, then pushed her head back, hitting the wall. He muttered something to his partner and they walked out, closing the metal gate behind them.

Her risky behavior wasn’t accruing unspeakable consequences. Being kidnapped was surely the most offensive assault against her, but she had the feeling the worst was over. Soon, she would know the reason why this had happened and would figure out a way to get out, just like in every other situation.

What seemed like days later, but what could have been only hours, Ala lay on her side shivering violently, scared that she would bite her own tongue off. The rather small shorts and sleeveless top, she had run in, were stuck to her body, bound by sweat. She tried to breathe deeply, but her body writhed

trying to stay warm. She was exhausted but knew that sleep would not come while she was freezing to death. She feared if she passed out, that she might not ever wake up.

What felt like millions of tiny, hairy, legs trickled over her calf. She kicked rapidly and her knee hit some kind of grating that made her yelp out. She didn’t know where the creature was. It could have been crawling between the crevice of her breasts, or worse, making its way inside of her. She thrashed, screaming, feeling like creatures were nibbling away at her skin.

The worst had not been over. She was blinded by the sack and had no control over her body. She had no idea how much time had passed or where she was. The most heart curdling was that Danno did not know where she was. What if he thought she had left him or wasn’t speaking to him? He could move on, find someone else....

This was too much. She brought her head up and forced it down hard on the ground. It hurt, but she remained fully conscious. She did it again, this time harder. Tears ran down her cheeks and she smelled her sour breath circulating under the sack. She would hit her head against the ground until she couldn’t think anymore.

After another indefinite amount of time, Ala’s eyes opened, only because light was making its way through the burlap and into the creases between her eyelids. The front of her head was burning with pain she had self- inflicted by bashing her skull into the ground repeatedly. Her body smelled of the sweat that had seeped back into her pores, as if a fever had broken, which made her wonder how it must feel to be covered in afterbirth.

Her hearing was distorted by a low buzzing. She could sense that she was in a place that had a healthy flow of fresh air. She tried to suck the air into her lungs through the mask as quickly as possible. The obvious change in location made her feel better, even though her ankles and hands were still bound. Still though, this environment offered a small ounce of freedom with the air and the light.

Someone may have been trying to scare her, or send some kind of message, and had changed their minds is what she hoped. Perhaps gradually, she would obtain additional small freedoms, until finally being released. She brought her tongue to the roof of her mouth and rubbed it against her gums,

trying to generate saliva. She had not had water during her run or since and was aware that she could die from dehydration.

More than one set of heavy soled footsteps approached and she squeezed her eyes shut. The sack was ripped from her head, burning the skin on her face. The ability to focus her vision brought on a headache. She looked at her captors, reminding herself to take note of all of their features and details in their clothing to later tell the authorities.

Both men wore black plastic ponchos and matching rubber boots. Behind them, she could see a wide stretch of mountains covered in evergreens. Colossal clouds framed the sun and she could not understand why these men were dressed for rain. They wore Guatemalan dog masks that she was able to identify because of a South American art critique she stumbled upon when visiting the library. One mask featured a large red tongue between sharp teeth and the other had exaggerated eyes with very long eyelashes. The wood looked brittle and was held to their heads with single pieces of string.

The masks comforted her, not only because she could not fathom any seriously dangerous people wearing them, but also because they reminded her of the real life she hoped to return to. One man bent down, lifted her underneath her arms and threw her onto a straight back chair. The other man tied her wrists and ankles to the legs. They worked quickly and quietly.

Ala clenched her thigh muscles to keep from wetting her pants. She was desperate for conversation after lacking contact with anyone for days, or possibly weeks. The rope scratched roughly against her scraped ankle and she whimpered. The man reached up and pulled her hair. She flinched. The other man laughed, began to cough and spit on the floor.

Through exhaustion that she had a difficult time fighting through, Ala began to wonder if anyone had realized that she was missing. She hoped Danno was trying to find her, but feared she was taken to another city or state. Her body was weak from not eating or drinking and she did not think she would be able to walk even if she could break free from the chair.

She tried to take in the room. The floor to ceiling windows that surrounded her indicated that she was very high up, perhaps even on the side of the mountain. There was no clear motive as to why she was being held

captive. She heard a door behind her open and as she craned her neck to see, Bruno was walking toward her, his yellow teeth taking up most of his face in a smile.

Images, sound bites and severe recollections flew around her mind. There was a brief moment of relief, which comes when you recognize someone, anyone, you know in unfamiliar surroundings. Ala remembered being lost in the grocery store in the fourth grade. She and her mother had disagreed over which notebook she would buy for reading class, and Ala stormed off in a huff. Five minutes later, she had no idea where her mother had gone and thought that she may have gone as far as to leave her at the store and drive home. It was a common threat when Ala was not cooperating in a public place. Ala took deep breaths and wandered through the produce department, wanting to appear cool and comfortable and unlike a lost nine year

old. When she spotted Gertrude’s mother near the eggplant, she almost ran up and hugged her. It did not matter that Gertrude’s mother was unkind and that Ala hung up the phone whenever she had picked up. Seeing someone Ala knew meant that she was still in the world she lived in. It meant that everything would be fine.

At first, she had the same feeling when seeing Bruno. His sneer that previously had made her skin itch, was now welcome, and she could not wait to hear about how this had indeed been a mistake, and that she could go anytime she wished. Soon though, when taking in more of his appearance, she began to feel uneasy. He was dressed in business casual attire; unlike the rags she had seen him wear while gardening. His hair was combed back and held in place with some type of serum that added extra shine. He also had on black shiny shoes that were slightly pointed at the toe.

This was not the same man who worked as Emanuel’s gardener. Of course, he was the same man she had met, but now she saw that he wasn’t actually a gardener. He spoke to the men in their language and Ala’s armpits moistened again with frigid sweat. He knew them. He had told them to kidnap her. He was mad that she would not let him inside of the house to get his things.

She thought of his nose pressed against the screen on the door. He was plotting, trying to think of payback. She should have let him inside while Danno was there. Nothing would have happened if there was another man in the house. Bruno turned toward her and removed a small tube from his

shirt pocket. Opening the top, he removed what appeared to be a needle, and began to clean his teeth. She tried not to watch him but feared that he would be angry. He wanted her attention if he was cleaning his rotten teeth right in front of her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” He said. His voice was very clear and confident, much different from his strained frustration he spewed out when he was standing on the front steps. Ala shook her head that she didn’t. He rolled the needle around in his fingers, working a molar, and then flicked crud off of the tip. "Really? Why don’t you take a guess?” She looked at the two men, still wearing their masks, and tried to calculate how far away she was from the door. “Well?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down.

Bruno smiled, let out a soft laugh and looked at the men. He picked up one of Ala’s hands. She was surprised at how her wrist ached. He took the makeshift toothpick from his mouth, smiled at her, and then jammed the metal point into one of her cuticles.

“That’s not a guess, you stupid bitch,” he said.

Ala looked at the needle stuck into her finger. Nausea overtook her before the pain caught up. Bruno wiggled it in deeper and blood pooled around the metal. Her eyes fluttered as vomit dribbled from her mouth silently. Bruno’s eye widened as he tried to scoot his shoes away, but she coughed and some of the burnt yellow bile landed on his toes.

He held out his hand and one of the masked men brought forth a red handkerchief. He wiped off his shoe, folded it in half and stood up. Grabbing the back of Ala’s neck, he shoved the handkerchief in her mouth. She gagged and he pushed harder into the pressure points on the sides of her neck with his fingers. He released and, feeling faintish, she pushed her heels into the ground. He removed the cloth from her mouth and handed it back to the man.

“How about a guess now?” He said, pulling the needle out slowly.

“Emanuel,” she said.

“That’s an interesting guess,” Bruno said. He pushed the needle into her knuckle on the same finger where he had punctured the cuticle. She winced. "Have you had any water today?” She shook her head that she hadn’t. He nodded and the masked man carried a bucket to the back of the room where a spigot stuck out of the wall. She heard the water begin to fill the bucket and felt her pants wet with warm urine. Bruno looked down at her legs and back up at her. He pushed the needle deeper into her finger. “Do you have anything else to say today?”

She stayed quiet. He was unstable and she wasn’t sure what would trigger him to cause her more pain.

He gestured to the man at the spigot, who turned off the water and carried the bucket over. Bruno took the bucket and flung it forward, drenching her in the cold water. She gasped her air as they laughed. The other man, who had done nothing the entire time, released her from the chair and tied her wrists to her ankles, forcing her back into an extreme arch. Her stomach was stretched out like a drum and her bones shook as if they were going to snap.

She cried openly and wished they would kill her and end this. And then she thought of Danno and how he must be looking for her and how the last time she saw him was not an adequate goodbye.

Ala rolled onto her side and she heard the thick metal door scraping shut. The rope didn’t feel as tight as before, but her body was worn and her fingers felt numb. She tried to remember Emanuel’s letter to her, yearning for a recollection of a passage that would warn her that something like this could happen. As if it wasn’t obvious that letting a stranger sleep in his bed and removing some of his very expensive possessions from his home were not obvious reasons as to why this had happened. The offer of ten thousand dollars had been ridiculous. If all of his art meant so much to him, why not hire a professional to watch over them? She was grasping for any angle to make the entire mess Emanuel’s fault.

Her neck itched and she jerked her head from side to side, only feeding her frustration. A muscle stretched and then froze in her neck. It was a deep pain and since she could not use her hands, laid there, very still, hoping to fall asleep again. Her wet clothes were cold and stiff and cramps spread throughout her stomach from hunger.

She had been spoiled. Emanuel had given her the least laborious summer job with the biggest payout she could ever imagine and she had not taken it seriously. She had abandoned all responsibility in her position. And the punishment was extreme. Bruno and those men could do anything they wanted to her. There was nothing anyone could do except find her, but she wasn’t sure if anyone knew that she was missing. Her parents thought she was staying at Emanuel’s house and finding them in the position she did, would not be concerned if she did not reach out to them or ignored their calls. Gene was angry with her and Gertrude was busy trying to find a husband. Danno was the only one who would think something was strange. Then again, he hadn’t known her long. He could think that she chose to shut him out and or worse, go back to Boston to be with Jase.

She was afraid to think of any escape possibilities. Most likely because she knew she would fail and they would catch her and kill her. And then, no one would know what happened to her even if they did start looking. There was a better chance she would be found if she stayed alive. The metal scraped again and out of the corner of her eye; Ala saw one of the masked men. His footsteps approached and she tried to keep from looking at him. She knew he was coming, but still felt caught off guard when he bent down toward her.

Something in his hand flashed in the light and he grabbed hold of her shirt and began to cut it off her back. The scissors creaked against her skin. He pulled the fabric off and threw it across the room. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up on her knees. He began to cut her shorts down the side of her thigh, clasping her bottom. She felt her breasts harden once the cold air hit her bra, while the arch in her back allowed him to drink in her exposed form. Mortified, she closed her eyes and waited for someone, anyone, to come in and shoot the man. The blistering desire she had for him to be dead was alarming. It was the first time she realized that there are circumstances when murder is the only option.

He mumbled words in his language under his breath. She believed that she was more afraid because he did not speak English or appeared not to. If he didn’t understand her words, there was no way he could fully understand the pain he was causing her. Her face could express her feelings to an extent, but to Ala, words had a higher capability for haunting someone later on, when they were alone with their thoughts. Perhaps the man had agreed to this job because he didn’t have to listen to people beg for mercy. He

couldn’t stand to make people suffer, so he felt relieved that he could not understand their words.

Ala felt a surge of strength spread through her veins when she realized that if he had the shallowest pool of compassion, she had a shot at negotiating with him. He removed one of her socks and she looked back to see that she had lost a shoe. She could not remember when or how. It made sense to her now that she had been so cold during the night. He removed her remaining shoe and other sock.

All that she was left wearing was her white running bra and a pair of black panties. All of her skin prickled from the cold air and humiliation. She braced herself for him to touch her. He pulled her knotted hair that was piled on top of her head, toward him. She heard a snap of the scissors and watched as strands of her hair landed all around her.

He made more snips without any calculation and she heard her voice begin to scream inside the walls of her head.

“Please, stop,” she said.

The man laughed maniacally. Who was Emanuel? He could be a cult leader or a spy or some boss of organized crime. He could be the devil, gaining her trust, testing her and punishing when she failed. She wondered if she really knew her parents or Gertrude, or even Jase. Danno was the one person she surely did not know, and still the only person she felt like herself with. She tried to focus on anything else, but the room’s walls and floor were white concrete and there was nothing to hear except the man breathing.

She looked back at the man, just as he lifted the wooden mask enough to expose his mouth. His purple tongue jutted out between rows of brown teeth. He was on his hands and knees. She turned back and stared at the wall. She felt his slime on the back of her thigh.

“Don’t do this,” she said, feeling the line trace down the back of her leg. She squirmed, but there was no way to shrink away, as her hands and feet were still bound. He lowered his head as his tongue reached her ankle. She heard the scissors snap again as he cut the rope around her feet. He pulled one foot away from the other, exposing her more.

He was not going to stop no matter what she said or how she cried. He lifted her leg slowly and placed her first two toes in his mouth. Her instinct was to laugh because she was so shamelessly ticklish, but she held it in. She brought her knee closer into her body, not enough so that he would

notice. She took a deep breath and with the thought of them stealing any more moments of her life, kicked her foot deeper into his mouth. Her heel hit the wood and she heard a crack that she figured must have been his nose breaking.

A low moan leaked from his purple lips. The mask, made from cheap wood, had broken and Ala felt some splinters stuck into the bottom of her foot. Pulling out splinters had made her squeamish since she was a child, and even with the situation she was now in, she shuddered to think of the process. She had not planned any action, other than getting the man’s tongue off of her skin, and she braced herself for his blow.

After a few seconds without any reaction from him, Ala turned her head and saw why. His entire face was now revealed except for his eyes, which had sharp pieces of wood sticking out of them. She turned her head to the side and choked up more bile. The man brought his hands to his face and felt his skin very carefully. When brushing over his eyelids, he yelped in pain.

She had blinded him. Her instinct was to help him, but then she looked down at her underclothes that he, most likely, had planned on removing. Her hands were still bound, but she was able to curl her toes and push herself up on her feet. Blood rushed to her ankles and her head spun as she tried to keep her balance. Unsure of attempting to step forward, she surveyed the room. The glass wall with the view of the mountains was still in the same place. The floor still felt like concrete, as did the porous

walls. She spotted her purse in one of the far corners.

They had brought the purse along with her to each location to avoid any trouble, to not risk the purse being recovered without Ala, later on. She lifted her foot and planted it down on the floor. Pain shot up to her knee and she stumbled. The man felt around the ground, his tentative hands staying close in front of him.

Ala intended on killing him, and then his twin and then Bruno. She would stop there. Emanuel was much larger in the world than she was, both with his influence and wealth. There was no way she would be able to get close

enough to take his life. She was better off hoping that he would never find her.

Slowly, she crawled toward her bag. Tiny rocks plunged themselves into her freshly scraped skin, burning and stopping against the bone. She would not let herself stop. There was no way to know what Bruno’s plans were, but she was sure that he would be back soon. The shock of seeing one of his men blinded would probably send him on a rampage. Ala would be the only target in the nearly empty room, in the middle of who knew where, with the striking mountain view.

The man clutched his face and grumbled out a stream of words Ala could not understand. The rhythm and inflection sounded like he was praying. He could have been praying for his eyesight or his mother. Ala ignored him and reached for her bag.

She bent forward to stick her face inside and, using her mouth, pulled out her phone and whipped it to the ground. It was dark and did not have any battery life left. She bit down the power button anyway, squinting to see even the faintest signal line on the dusty screen. Frustrated, she used her teeth to grasp the bottom of her purse and sat back on her heels, letting everything inside fall to the floor. The adrenaline ran as the blood rushed from her head, forcing her to stop to catch her breath. She leaned forward again and used her nose to comb through all of the items. There had to be something that could help her get out of the room.

There were several tubes of lipstick, all smoothed bodied with round caps. There were tissues, mints and loose change. She also found a matchbook from Flynn’s and her compact mirror with a peacock on the cover that Abigail had given her for Christmas one year. She stared at everything, trying to force an idea. They would be back soon.

The skin on her wrists stung from the scratches the rope made. She tries to pull her wrists apart, and after, the rope felt even tighter. The man was now crying. She could tell he was scared to move because he didn’t know what she would do to him.

"Think. Think. They are coming," she said. The mirror was easily the heaviest item. Fortunately, the clasp had been broken last summer after falling from her pocket, so she was able to open it with her teeth. The only

way to break the glass seemed to be to bite it, and this scared her, so she carried it in her mouth back to where her shoes had been removed. She dropped it to the floor and forced herself to her feet.

Cold sweat sprouted up on her back as she forced herself to balance while shoving one foot back into her shoe. It was still damp from her sweat and the water Bruno threw on her, but she was able to wiggle her heel all the way in. She raised her foot and crashed it down on the mirror. Her knees ached as she did this ten times. On the eleventh stomping, she heard a crack.

She carefully got down on her knees and saw her face warped in the broken glass. Her lips looked blue and she barely recognized her hair, slicked with grease and knotty in the angular cut the man gave her. The bones in her neck stuck out and her eyes were very dark and feral.

She struggled to sit on her bottom with the mirror behind her. The glass was loose in the frame, but she could not see what her hands were doing. She felt sticky warm blood and kept prodding around until she felt a sizable piece to reach for. She jostled the mirror back and forth and finally flipped it over, hearing the delicate shards fall to the floor. She located the largest sliver of glass and tried to grip it. It wasn’t possible to grip it and feel where to cut the rope.

The glass plunged into one of her wrists and she stomped her foot, stifling a scream. It was apparent that she would not be able to free her hands with the glass. She got back up on her feet and wobbled over back to the pile of purse contents. She looked over each item again, saying out loud, “What could I use this for?” to make sure there wasn’t an obvious solution she was missing.

She read “Flynn’s” again on the shiny blue cardboard and it hit her. People either want to get out, or they want to stay in and need to be forced out. There would have to be a fire.

She knelt down and picked up the cardboard cover with her teeth, being careful not to moisten the match. Ala had always been afraid of fire. She refused to sit anywhere near her parent’s fireplace or any fire pits their friends had in their backyards. When she was very young, her father left the grill on after removing hamburgers for a party they were hosting. Ala had always wanted to help him cook on it and was always told she could

not. She lifted the lid and watched the coals infused with orange and blue flames change colors. It was wondrous, something beautiful she had never seen and she reached in to touch it. She lost feeling in three of her fingers and had to visit the emergency room.

There was no other option. She would have to create smoke and hope that it would reach an alarm. She found her cut hair and kicked it into a pile. She dropped the matches and sat down next to them. Without any visibility, she grabbed the booklet with one hand and brought two fingers over from her other hand to rip a match out. She then laid the match on the ground and scooted onto her stomach. The saliva on her tongue adhered to the match, but she soon realized that she would not be able to strike it without the tip bending. She slid it further into her mouth until her teeth hit just above where the tip began.

She kept her eyes wide open and speedily dragged the match over the rough cement. She heard the whisper crack and knew it was lit. She dropped it on the pile of hair. While pungent, very little smoke floated up out of the flames. The man must have smelled it because he whimpered and clutched his knees tightly against his chest.

It took five seconds for the fire to burn out, leaving a black smear on the concrete. Discouraged, Ala walked over to the door. It looked sealed, but she could see light through roughly one-half inch of space at the bottom. Smoke could seep through if there was enough of it.

She kicked her shoes, clothes and purse into a heap close to the door. She then feared not being able to get out at all if there was a fire barrier in place and kicked everything to the center of the room. Sweat dripped down her chest. She began to feel faintish again from the lack of food, water and sleep on top of the high level of energy it took to move things back and forth without her hands.

When the pile was ready, she once again, sat on the ground, ripped out a match, turned on her stomach and positioned her head just so. She struck the tip against the ground and tossed it toward the only possessions she had with her. Her shorts caught on fire and then her bag. The flames were stronger and larger this time. Smoke billowed up to the ceiling and the man began to cough. She tried to hold her breath, as she could not use her hands to shield her airways from the smoke. The fire roared, now being fueled by

the whole pile. It was much more powerful than she expected. She stepped back, watching the smoke make its way out of the crevice between the door and floor.

“Where are they?” She said. “Come on.”

No alarm went off. Nor did anyone come to the door. The fire burned on, eating her shoe, with no sign of its hunger being satisfied. She coughed, pressed her chin against her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt like there was smoke trapped under her eyelids and had to open them, only to let more smoke in, making them itch.

She decided she would need her hands free in order to control the fire, or to simply keep from dying from smoke inhalation. She walked closer to the flames and turned her back to them. Squatting down, she lowered her wrists just above the flames, trying to singe the rope. Her skin burned, as she tried to keep her balance and not fall backwards into the fire.

She moved her wrists apart and then together rapidly, trying to snap the weakened rope. She coughed and tears dripped from her eyes, which slowly seemed to shrivel up from the smoke. She saw the man rise and stagger closer to the fire.

"Stop. Don’t do that," she said, before remembering that he did not speak English. Surely, his sense of touch would indicate that it was hot, therefore dangerous, but he continued forward until his foot landed in the flames.

She ran over and tried to push him out of the way with her shoulder. He was very strong and would not budge. She leaned into him and pushed harder until he stumbled away. She looked down to see that his shoe had caught on fire. He must not had realized it yet, because he remained quiet. Ala bent once again with her wrists over the fire and continued to work the rope.

The man began to scream. He jumped around the room as his trousers lit up. She smelled what she could only imagine to be burning skin and flesh. She pulled apart as hard as she could and the rope fell off. The skin on her arms was numb and she could not bring herself to look at them. She immediately tackled the man to the ground, trying to snuff out the fire with her bare

legs. The man struggled with her, thinking she was trying to hurt him. The flames engulfed his shirt and she had to keep from getting more burns.

He hit himself on the chest and continued to scream. Ala lay on her stomach as low to the ground as possible and looked around the room to see what else she could use to put the fire out. She knew she had used everything she had to fuel it. And now it was not stopping and no one was coming.

The smoke was building up. Ala hurried to the huge window and saw the tiny lights on the houses tucked into the mountains. People were home and still awake. Someone would be terrified of the position she was put in and of her story and would have no choice but to help her. Although she was dehydrated and hateful, she knew there were good people within reach.

The man rolled on the ground, but the fire continued to spread over his body. She walked as far back across from the window as possible. She shook out her feet, one at a time, and ran as fast as she could. When reaching the glass, she threw herself against it. The severity of cold shocked her and she fell to the ground. She got back up and drew her leg up, bent her knee and kicked the window as hard as she could.

Pain rang through her bare foot. She knew that if she had a shoe on, she would probably be able to break through. She looked at the pile, now a heap of fused, smoldering rubber and cloth. The screaming had stopped, and to her horror, Ala saw that the man had rolled into the larger fire and was now burning to death. She ran over and reached around him, trying to drag him out.

The smell of his body burning invaded her nostrils and she had to let go once her panties had a hole burned into them from a rogue spark. She crawled over to the phone, the only item she had not burned, picked it up and hit the glass. It shattered. She hit harder and it cracked. She stuck her nose through the opening and coughed, trying to suck in fresh air. Being careful not to cut herself, she stuck her head further out and looked down. The window was flush with the mountain and it was a straight shot down the smooth rock wall.

She had climbed a rock wall several times during high school but had never attempted an actual mountain. Also, this facade had no cracks or indentations to tuck fingers or toes into. There was nothing to push off of or provide a resting spot or leverage. It was a smooth and glimmering slab of stone. If she had a rope or a sheet, she could have scaled the wall down. Although, there was nothing in the room to tie the rope around, so she would still be stranded. The only

the safe way out was the door. And even if she could get out that way, she had no idea who was waiting on the other side.

The fire continued to crackle, the smoke coming off ashy and black. Her lungs would soon be overwhelmed and unable to fight the poison filling them. The man’s body was a lot of ammunition and would take a long time to burn off completely. The thought of throwing the body through the window crossed Ala’s mind. Surely, someone who lived in one of the twinkling houses would notice a large fireball tumbling down the mountain. However, since the body was engulfed, there was no way to lift it without burning herself.

Also, throwing the man down the mountain would for sure qualify as first- degree manslaughter. While Ala believed she was responsible for taking this man’s life, it had been an accident. She had built the fire because she had wanted to sound an alarm to make someone come open the door. She did not intend for him to burn to death, and at this point, to possibly be killing herself as well. If she ever did make it out and somehow Bruno, or the other accomplice, came forward and pressed charges, at least this really had been unplanned. This would also mean a judge would have to overlook the kidnapping and assault in the first place.

She should have removed the man’s wallet to try to find out about his identity. Was he a citizen? Where was he from? He could have a wife and children. He could be someone entirely different to the rest of the world than she had known. This job could have been a small part of his life. Even though his profession was unsavory and he appeared to be a dangerous human being, doing one thing differently could have saved his life. He could have avoided the fire and spared himself.

Her head pounded harder. Even though she feared falling asleep, she lowered herself to the ground. Why hadn’t Bruno just taken her from Emanuel’s house? And how had he known she would be running on the beach that morning? If he had been following her for a while, Danno could be in danger as well.

She could no longer see through the smoke, but her stomach contracted as she heard the weighted door click and then swing open.

There was shouting in the man’s language that sounded closer as Ala scooted along the wall. She knew that the other man had come in, but was unsure if he was alone, and did not want to move quickly and draw attention to herself. She skimmed the floor with her eyes until she spotted her phone. It was the only possession, besides her frayed underwear, that had not burned in the fire. She crawled toward it slowly as the man stood at the edge of the fire.

“Drei! Drei!” He yelled, which Ala assumed was the man’s name who was burning alive. She wondered why the man didn’t run out and get water or something to try to swat the fire out with. Her joints froze up and nausea seized her as she thought about having to move without making a sound with the state her body was in.

Slowly, she shimmied to the phone under the cloud of smoke and picked it up. She had never been so happy to be able to hold something that belonged to her in her hands. She had taken everything and every person in her life for granted. And she could be killed in this room without ever showing her appreciation and without anyone knowing what had happened to her.

She shook her head, trying to focus and snaked her way past the fire and to the large heavy door the man had left open. The light outside of the door made her dizzy. She pushed herself onto her feet and slammed the door shut. It clicked and she imagined the man banging from the inside but could not hear anything through the metal.

There were pendant lamps lining the long hallway and she noticed, as she took her first step, that the floor was heated. She turned left and stepped lightly, terrified that Bruno would be waiting for her. It was amazing that there was no fire alarm or smoke detector going off, that a room existed where terrible things could be done and no one had to find out about them.

She grabbed for the wall and leaned against it, craving water, forcing herself to stay upright. She had to find the exit. At the end of the hallway was a steep staircase with a door at the top. She clutched the railing and raised herself up. After three steps, she got down on her knees and crawled instead. The air began to smell sweeter as she reached the top.

The door was unlocked and as her shaking hand turned the knob, she braced herself for an attack. But no one was there. She was in a living room. There

were sofas and books and a fireplace. There was art on the walls and area rugs. It was a beautiful house without any sign that criminals lived in it. No one seemed to be home. She crept through, wanting desperately to look for photographs, but knowing that she had little time to successfully escape.

After wrapping herself in a blanket she pulled from the back of the couch, she wandered until finding the foyer and looked on the side table for keys in case the bronze plated front door was locked. There were not any to be found, so she took a deep breath and pulled the door open. The outside air hit her face and she cried, feeling free. A high-pitched tone rang through her ears. She had tripped an alarm.

She ran outside and stubbed her toe on a large garden stone. She got back up and continued down a steep hill where at the bottom, she could see a small road. The moon and the grass and the hum of the bugs forced their presence into her awareness, making her tired. She forced herself to look ahead and not to turn back to the house. If someone was chasing her, knowing would only slow her down.

Something sharp plunged into her foot and she cried out before covering her mouth with her hands. Her own sound frightened her. She located the thorn in the bottom of her foot and yanked it out of her puffy skin. With her calculations, she should have been captured by now. She turned around and faced the house. It looked the same as the houses she had seen through the window on the other side of the mountain. She became angry, wondering if she had imagined the entire episode.

A car’s headlights filled up the road and she dashed down, waving her arms in the air and screaming for help. The car stopped and without hesitation, she opened the passenger door and let herself in.

The man driving asked where she was going and if she was all right. He wanted to know if he should call someone. Ala shook her head, placing her phone in one of the cup holders. The man handed her a cord for a phone charger that was plugged into his cigarette lighter. She plugged it into her phone and waited for the green light on top to go on, to indicate that it was working. She then leaned back in the seat and fell asleep. She dreamt of the fire, making her believe she was still locked in the room and dying

from the black smoke. She saw the man who burned alive, wearing a suit and holding an infant.

When she woke up it was morning, and the man driving the car had not murdered her. She was tempted to pull down the passenger mirror but did not want to have a panic attack in front of this stranger. The blanket made her itch, but she remembered the holes in her underwear and did not want to expose herself by adjusting it. She held up her phone, which was now fully charged. There were forty-three missed calls and twelve voicemails. She knew that if she started listening to them, she would break down in tears.

She wondered why the man had picked her up if he wasn’t going to try to harass or abuse her. It would be a long time before she would be able to trust anyone again, and had she not been so exhausted and frightened that she would be captured, she would never have gotten into a stranger’s car. At the time, it seemed the safer of two very dangerous options.

“Why did you stop?” She whispered.

“You looked like you needed help,” the man said, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. She noticed his upper teeth jutted out and there was a crescent shaped scar under his lower lip.

“How long have I been asleep?” She asked.

“About four hours,” he said. His voice was steady and he did not seem alarmed at all by her condition.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to drop you off in the nearest town with a bus station, and then finish my delivery.”

“I don’t have any money,” she said.

“I’ll take care of a ticket for you,” he said. She wanted to insist that wasn’t necessary, but there was no other way to pay for a bus ride. She thought of asking to be taken to a hospital but felt fine. “What happened to you?” He asked timidly.

“I was kidnapped by some men. They locked me in a room and stuck needles in me.”

“Are you serious?” He said, looking over at her. She suddenly felt ashamed for not having makeup on and nodded. ‘Well, don’t you think you should report them, go to the police?”

“No,” she said. “I just want to go home. I don’t want to cause more trouble.” He was kind enough to pick her up and was willing to help. She wanted him to believe she had a home so that he wouldn’t worry about her once he dropped her off. She did not want to incriminate him by informing him of what she would eventually do to those men.

She would no longer say anything that she did not intend to follow through with. Her mind was nearly taken from her. Mental control was something she had always assumed could not be taken away from her, barring disease. Now she knew that even though someone could not take it away, it could be diminished. She could be driven crazy and her thoughts could be taken over.

She would never again take advantage of her freedom and being able to say anything she wanted to out loud. She would never say she would harm someone without meaning it. And if she said something out loud about bringing harm to those men, she would be involving the person who was now saving her life.

The man turned into a fast food restaurant parking lot and approached the drive through.

“You should eat something,” he said.

She wondered how he could act so normal when she was barely dressed, had bruises and blood all over her body and was clearly and had just told him she was kept against her will. She did not want to eat in front of him because she worried that she had forgotten how and would spit up. She looked at the menu board. None of the sun- bleached pictures of food looked appetizing and all of the corners of the sign were caked with dirt.

“I’ll have a piece of chicken.” He nodded and ordered. She looked out the window, trying to recognize a store or a gas station.

The smell of the chicken was overwhelming and she could hardly unwrap it fast enough before taking a bite. Although juicy, the first bite was very salty and she swallowed quickly, burning her throat. The man handed her a cup of water as she peeled the skin off and threw it into the bag. She peeled the meat from the bone and chewed slowly. Just as she wished she had ordered another piece; the man handed her a biscuit.

“What is your name?” She asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious with her misshapen hair.

“Bruce,” he said and then didn’t ask her the same. “Thank you for everything,” she said.

“I’m just glad I was there. And I was just thinking, you don’t have any identification, do you?”

“I don’t,” she said, remembering the smoldering pile burning. He nodded.

“I should probably just take you all the way home then,” he said. “It’s not a good idea to travel without an ID.”

Bruce was right, but Ala felt herself growing angry with him, mainly because he was the only person around to be angry with. She had looked forward to boarding the bus, finding a window seat to curl up in, and calling Danno. Thinking about his voice made her fingers shake, and she knew calling him in front of anyone would make her self conscious, preventing her accurately telling him how much she needed him. Bruce must have sensed her shift in mood, because he leaned over and handed her a sugar cookie.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “We aren’t far now. She tried looking ahead and still could not recognize any of the signs for any restaurants or stores. It would’ve helped to know where Bruno’s team had taken her. It wouldn’t matter now though because she had slept much of the time that Bruce was driving. “How old are you?” He asked.

“Twenty-four,” she said, and then was sorry she had. He nodded and turned on the radio.

They listened to bluegrass music as she broke off pieces of the gritty cookie and shoved them into her mouth. She scrolled through her missed

calls to see if anyone other than Danno had tried to reach her. There was a call from Gene. Her parents had not tried to contact her.

Her parents would not be hurt when she would run off with Danno and this was a relief. She had always felt pressure to try to keep them involved in her life and to make sure they weren’t lonely. She had thought that moving back from Boston would alleviate some of the tension that must have built between her father and mother, having only one another to deal with in the house every day. She hadn’t any idea that they were happy she was an only child. That once she was out of the way, they could have their lives back.

Bruce stopped at a filling station. When he went into the convenience store to pay for the gas, Ala gathered up the food and straw wrappers that littered the carpet on the floor of the car. She picked up the receipt from the drive through. There was the chicken and two ice waters listed, but no mention of the cookie. She tossed everything into the bag and tied the handles closed. Bruce came back with coffee.

“You don’t smoke, do you?”

“No, I never have,” she said, “Why?”

“You smell like smoke. Less now, but when you were first in the car, a lot.”

She decided not to mention the fire. Hopefully she could get home without relaying the whole incident to him.

“How long do you think it will take to get back?”

“A few more hours.”

“Do you mind if I sleep?” She asked.

“No, of course not. Should I turn down the radio?”

"No, thanks." She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. She did not feel tired but did not want to have to answer questions. There was the option of getting out of the car, but she did not want to walk around in a blanket and this was the only free ride she had.

She heard his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. They were not miming the beat of the music and it sounded strange, as if he was trying to keep her awake. She closed her eyes tighter and thought of bringing Danno to the part of the ocean that she swam in shortly before they met.

She heard the horse hooves hitting the soft ground as they drank vodka with ginger ale in the bar. The drumming stopped as she watched herself jump into the pool the night that she let Danno take her to dinner. She could taste the steak they ate before Rainbow showed up. She became tired scanning her mind for nice memories that had been covered up by recent events. She would sleep for ten minutes, she told herself. And when she woke up, she would get out of the car, no matter where they were, to call Danno.

When Ala’s eyes opened again, she could not see her hand in front of her face. Sweating from the warmth around her, she knew she was in a different place than where she had fallen asleep. What made her doubtful for a sliver of a second was that she had woken up in so many places recently, and she could hardly remember how it felt to wake up at home. The first alarming discovery was that she was lying horizontally and on something very soft. She had not had a healthy night’s sleep in a while, so lying in a comfortable position, with proper support, felt very unnatural. She ran her hand over her chest and felt a plush cover wrapped tightly around her body.

She wanted to believe she was only dreaming that she was sleeping in a wonderfully comfortable, warm bed because she had been so sleep deprived. Unfortunately, her ear was throbbing, most likely from infection, indicating that she was awake and was getting sick from being run down. And also, that she was no longer in Bruce’s car. She sat up in bed and flailed her hands around in the pitch black, trying to find a way to turn on the light. She flipped a switch and saw that she was in a modest bedroom with wood paneling on the walls, a small writing desk with a matching chair, and a nightstand with a glass of water. Aside from the cover, she was wearing a clean, white long-sleeved cotton nightgown.

She climbed out of bed and went to the door, which was locked. Her throat tightened and she pounded with her fist until a tall round lady with gray hair revealed herself on the other side. She looked Ala up and down and smiled warmly, wiping her greasy hands on her floral-patterned apron.

“I hope you slept well. I watched you for the first few hours, and then I had to get baking,” she said in a tinny voice.

Even with the residue from recent events fogging her thoughts, Ala was puzzled. She had been carried from the car to this room, exposed, dressed and tucked into bed to be watched while she slept. She had been taken somewhere against her will, again. Though there didn’t appear to be any immediate danger, Bruce still had not done what he said he would do. She was almost too tired to ask any questions.

After thirty seconds of looking at one another, the lady gestured for Ala to follow her. She was led to a small kitchen that smelled of bread baking. Golden loaves were lined up on an industrial metal table amongst scattered flour dust. The lady began to pile the loaves into a basket. A younger girl stood at the counter whisking deep red liquid in a bowl over an ice bath. The ladies wore the same pale gray dresses with their hair pulled back from their faces.

Ala took a seat on a wooden stool near the oven, letting the heat soak through the back of the nightgown.

“How long was I asleep?” She asked.

“Oh, well, let’s see. Bruce got in at around seven, so about twelve hours.”

Bruce had told her he was taking her home. He insinuated that it would be safer than taking the bus. She did not feel safe.

The young girl brought the bowl to another counter and began scooping the gelatinous substance into thin casings. She worked quickly, tying off each end, which left her hands covered in blood, before dropping each link into a different bowl filled with ice water. Ala nearly gagged. The metallic smell overtook the fresh bread and it was like witnessing murder. She steadied herself on the stool by wrapping her feet around its legs.

The older lady walked over to the oven and opened the large double doors, letting steam silhouette her body. She pulled out a rack with a dozen steaming loaves of bread on top. She used only a thin dishtowel to shield her skin from the metal.

“Where is Bruce?”

She stopped, pushed the rack back in and turned toward Ala with vacant eyes. She began wiping the flour from the counter and onto the tiled floor, averting eye contact.

“Hannah, where is Bruce?”

The girl wrapped tape around a link that had sprung a leak. The front of her dress and her neck was now spattered with blood.

“Not sure. Market?”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” the old lady said, resting one loaf at a time off to the counter.

Their behavior sent currents of doubt through Ala, but she did not want to ask where she was because it would make her appear weak.

“What did he do with my phone?” She asked.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she said while taking a bottle of milk from the refrigerator and pouring some into a saucepan on the stove.

“I had a phone with me in the car. It was plugged into the cigarette lighter.”

“I haven’t seen it,” the lady said, “Have you Hannah?”

Hannah shook her head. Ala got up and paced back and forth. She now had less than when she escaped, which she didn’t think was possible at the time. The younger girl carried the basket of bread out of the kitchen. Ala felt her feet weighted down and sinking into the floor.

“I am going to leave,” she said, “Bruce can take me to the bus station.”

The lady poured the milk into a glass.

“Well, you can wait for him to get back,” the lady said, handing Ala the glass, “And you can leave the nightgown we issued to you in your room.”

Ala left the kitchen. She didn’t want to hear anything else the senile lady said. She didn’t want her own aggravation and passivity to be mistaken for compliance to stay in this house. She didn’t want anyone to think that she was fine with Bruce bringing her here instead of straight home, as he said he

would. She didn’t want to admit to herself how reckless she was for getting into a stranger’s car. She hadn’t had much of a choice after fleeing the fire, but as soon as she had woken up would have been the correct time to get out.

Swiftly, she walked down a shadowy hallway, the wood under her feet giving with every step, threatening to split and send her falling to the floor below. She pushed thoughts of what could be under the house out of her mind. The hall became wider and grand dusty oil paintings hung on either side, all old-fashioned portraits. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have stopped to take a look. Whenever observing art, she would try to compare the subjects to people she knew or recognized. Her parents had taken her to a gallery held in an estate in the outskirts of Memphis a few summers before. While there was no likelihood of any of the portraits featuring her ancestors or friends, Ala roamed from room to room, squinting at each cracked face of cracked paint, fixed on recognizing one.

She reached a cluttered parlor that acted as a dead end. The windows were very high up and there were no doors in sight. To avoid wasting energy in this maze of a house, she found her way back to the room she had slept in and closed the door tightly behind her.

Pressing her back into the wall, she let her feet slide out in front of her and the nubby area rug felt warm against her bottom. She caught her appearance in a mirror hanging across the room and was alarmed that there were no signs that she had been part of a fire. Crawling closer, she noticed her hair was brushed soft and glossy, her skin was clean and smooth, and her fingernails had been filed.

They had bathed her in her sleep. How could she have slept through a bath? Bruce must have drugged her. She thought of the cookie missing from the chicken shack receipt. She pulled the nightgown away from her chest and looked down. Her whole body was fresh and gleaming. They had seen her naked. Those ladies, Bruce and most likely others had seen all of her.

The nightgown was making her skin crawl. She opened the closet to find that it was empty, besides a quilt, and continued to the bureau, which was filled with sheets. She looked under the bed, trying to find something else to wear. She didn’t want to speak to the women again. She would not eat the blood sausage. She would not interact with them.

There was a bible on a shelf under the nightstand. Ala needed to write to Danno to let him know what happened. The back of her mind warned of no postage or envelopes or pencils around, but she tore out a blank page from the back anyway.

She opened to the middle of the book and sped-read the page until finding the letter H. She had not been to service for years. Her parents stopped attending church when her grandparents had passed away. The last time Ala had seen a bible was in college, when classmates ripped out clumps from the Old Testament to use as rolling papers. What she was about to do felt indecent, but her temples buzzed and she felt her body trying to brace for her completely losing her mind.

She had to communicate. She had to try to connect. She folded the page and carefully tore out the letter. She bit her lip as she moved on and I, ripping slowly. She licked each dot of paper and stuck them to the blank page. She continued ripping out letters. When her hand slipped and a letter was torn, she found a substitute and took it out from another section.

Her eyes began to cross after a few minutes, but she was resolute in putting together enough words to complete a thought. She needed to leave what had happened to her on paper behind in case she did not make it out.

A quarter of the way through, she coughed, sending a whole sentence fluttering across the page. Tears well up in her eyes and she yelped, punching the wall with her fist, drawing a thin dotted line of blood across the knuckles. Taking a deep breath, she continued to work.

The room had blackened without her noticing. The letter was complete. The story began with her going for a run and ended with her sitting in this dark room. She could not fold the page, as the saliva was not enough of a binder to keep the letters in place. She gingerly lifted the paper flat and laid it on top of the bureau. Danno would not be able to read it, but she had to hope that someone would tell him what happened.

She picked up the marred bible and closed it, placing it back on the nightstand. She whispered to herself that she would not go to Hell for ripping it to shreds, because God knew that she needed to arrange her thoughts in order to survive. It was the only book in the room and she used its words to find her own.

She opened the door and walked into the hallway. She was going to get out of the house now. She had already killed a man to save her own life. Even though it was an accident, he died by her hand. And while she never wanted for a life to be cut short by her doing, she knew she was capable enough to follow through.

She could not leave without her phone. If she didn’t have a phone, she would have to hitchhike, and refuse to be in a position of feebleness again.

She opened each door on both sides of the hallway. There was a sewing room with a wedding veil draped over an armchair, an office with stacks of atlases on a marble desk, a nursery with a mobile full of dainty lambs; each room beckoning exploration, but Ala kept going.

The last room at the end of the hall had the ostentatious door with a shiny gold knob. She opened it and walked inside. The bedroom smelled of musk and burning wood. Bruce was on a king sized, gold-rimmed bed, lying on his side reading a book. His face looked pink and puffed in the firelight, as if she was recognizing him through an inebriated lens during a party. There was a tray of food at the foot of the bed and his shoes were lined up next to the mantle.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling.

She wanted to straddle him and strangle him and poke out his eyeballs with her thumbs. She smiled and nodded as he closed the book and sat up. He was still dressed in the clothes he had picked her up in.

“My mother said you weren’t hungry. And my sister thinks you’re pretty,” he said.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she said.

“Maybe you’d like to eat now. I have some cream of mushroom soup that Hannah brought up,” he said, gesturing to the tray.

“No. I don’t think so,” she said, gaining bravado from the deflated look on his face. Who gave me a bath?”

He stood up slowly and walked past her, closing the door.

“My mother did. Look, I’m sorry, but you were shivering. You needed some cuts cleaned up and something warm to wear. We couldn’t put you to bed in the condition you were in. I promise, I didn’t see anything.” She spotted her phone on top of the mantle. The screen was dark, but she was certain by the shape and size that it was hers. “All I want to do is save you,” he said.

“Save me?”

“I know you’re a sinner. That fire, I heard about it on the radio. You running in the night, practically naked. I don’t need to know about the girl you were before I found you, I just want to help you.”

“Why didn’t you bring me home?” She said, hearing her voice escalate.

“We need to get you back on the right path,” he said softly, removing a thin gold pocketknife from his pants pocket. He flipped the small, but sharp, blade out. “One girl we saved turned out to be my wife.”

Ala was not frightened of the knife. All she wanted was her phone. She knew he would not stab her, because he could have done so in the car, or anything else he wanted.

“What do you want me to do?” She said.

“Lay with me,” he said, climbing back on the bed. She followed and lay down next to him on her back. He turned on his side and pushed her hip up so that they were spooning. He traced a circle around her belly button with the blade. “Start by telling me what you’ve done to soil your reputation. All the nasty things.”

“Where is your wife?” Ala said, trying to keep him in a humane state of mind.

“She died a few weeks ago,” he said, caressing her stomach with his fingers.

“How?” “Drowned. When we were baptizing her, she forgot to hold her breath.”

“That’s terrible,” she said, wincing.

“I know,” he said. “All we wanted to do was save her, and her child. His voice trailed off. Ala could smell liquor on his breath. He would be asleep soon.

“What were you doing driving around that night?” She said.

“Looking for girls to help. There are a lot of junkies around there. A lot of loose ones. So many to save before it’s too late.”

After another minute, his hand stopped and she looked back to see his eyes closed. She wanted him to be in a deeper sleep but didn’t have time to waste. She lifted his arm from her torso and got up.

The wood creaked under her as she went to the dresser to retrieve the phone. He turned over and muttered in his sleep. She could not risk walking across the room to open the heavy door. And even once back in the hallway, the house had winding hallways, leaving no point of reference as to where the front door could be.

She pushed some gingham curtains out of the way from the window and discovered that it was unlocked. She pushed the window open slowly and stuck her leg out into the chilly night air. She noticed that the gutter pipe ran the height of the house but looked flimsy. If she used it to support her weight, it would collapse and wake everyone. Relief came in not knowing how many stories up she was, because the only option was to jump. The nightgown did not have pockets and while her instinct was to hold the phone in her mouth, she knew that her teeth would break upon hitting the ground.

Holding on to the sill, she brought her other leg out and let go. She tried bending her knees before hitting the ground and while it was not a perfect landing, she was able to get to her feet and walk. She paused, anticipating barking from a hefty beast, foaming from the mouth. There was only quiet though.

She picked up her phone, which now had a shattered screen, and turned it on. The reassuring blue beamed like lightning through the cracked glass and she jumped up and down with gratitude. Only a sliver of battery remained, and she could not risk going to Bruce’s car to get the charger. Not to mention there would not be an outlet to plug the charger into, so she had to choose her phone call wisely.

She crept around the house to the front lawn, which looked normal enough, strewn dandelions and rose bushes. The front gate was open and out she went into the street, trying to contain the brimming adrenaline from escaping her lips.

She could not call the police and risk linking herself to the fire and the manslaughter. Bruce now knew she was connected, but that wasn’t something she could concern herself with now. She could not go into any diner, or even gas station, wearing a nightgown and no shoes.

She walked to the corner of the residential block. She would not call her parents, paralyzed with fear that they would not answer the phone. There were no people or cars in sight. According to her phone, it was around four in the morning.

She tapped Danno’s number and waited. He answered on the first ring.

“Is this really you?” His voice was all of the single earrings, the doll clothes, the lip-gloss, the socks; the treasure trove of everything she had ever lost in her life, coming back to her.

“Yes,” she cried in between gasps.

“Tell me where you are and then hang up. I’m sending a car.”

Danno told her that watermelon would act as the password between her and the driver and not to get in the car with anyone who came to pick her up who did not know it outright. She nodded and hung up, and then waited under a nearby tree whose shadows swallowed her from the street view. The car that came was black with tinted windows and gold rims. The driver wore a gray blazer and stubble sprinkled his jawline and tree trunk of a neck. Looking straight ahead, he rolled down the window.

Ala approached, suddenly feeling ridiculous about having to ask him for a password, when she would obviously do anything to get out of the area at this point. Bruce was probably awake and looking for her, calling the police to tell them he knew that Ala was involved in the fire.

“Did Danno give you a password?” She said, not knowing what to do with her hands and holding them behind her back.

“Watermelon,” he said. “Get in.”

She let herself into the back, pulling the nightgown so it covered her knees. The driver lit a cigarette and turned the radio on. Whatever career path he had pursued most likely promoted more excitement than driving a girl with an awful haircut and no shoes around in the middle of the night.

A blues song vibrated in the back speakers, forcing her to bite down on her lip to keep from audibly crying. She turned her face toward the window and let a few tears leak out before straightening out in the seat. She had almost died. And now another chance had come from someone who loved her and didn’t bother asking questions.

They passed the local library after twenty minutes. Bruce did not live that far away from her parents, yet his neighborhood had been unrecognizable. He probably visited the same library. His mother probably shopped at the market that Ala’s mother shopped at. They probably had seen each other before. A strong gulp managed to push the bile back down her throat.

She rolled down the window as the car turned onto the street where her parents lived. It looked the same as always when she had returned from a trip. The houses looked smaller, cozier, as if she had conquered somewhere more important, and was coming home to recharge. Now her heart banged against her chest with the thrill of being safe, of coming back from the dead.

Before the car came to a full stop, she opened the door and spilled out in front of Emanuel’s house. The car stopped sharply. Danno came out the front door and nodded, sending the car on its way. Before Ala could comb through her hair with her fingers, she was in his arms.

Her knees buckled and he held her around the waist, searching her eyes.

“Come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her toward the house. “Watch the glass.”

She sidestepped away from a pile of broken shards and, making her way up the porch steps, saw what his nerves must have been in the crystal ashtray packed with butts.

The house smelled of smoke, but some windows had been opened and a heavy-duty fan was on full blast. Everything seemed in its place, and she decided to wait on looking at the office. Danno sat on one of the side benches and pulled her onto his lap. He ran her hair through his fingers and looked at the faint bruises on her arms.

“I lied to you,” he said.

Frayed emotions kept her from getting up. Instead she rested her head on his shoulder, pushing her nose into his collar.

“How?”

“I said we could go away together. You might not see me for a while.”

“Stop,” she said.

“I mean it.” He tilted her chin up to meet her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

“I’m not. And I don’t even want to hear about it.” He pushed her hair away from her face. “You look like a concentration camp person.”

“I just need to eat,” she said, standing up and going to the kitchen. She shielded her eyes from the white light pouring in through the windows. She took a nearly rotten banana and snapped off the top. The smell made her stomach heave, but she forced some into her mouth. Danno came in and lit a cigarette, sat at the counter.

“I’ll be careful. I won’t get caught.” She turned and faced him, the speed of the movement making her dizzy. “You just said I wouldn’t see you for a while.”

“It’s done,” he said, walking out to the pool.

She threw the banana in the sink and turned on the garbage disposal. The sputtering reminded her of the fire crackling and she slammed it off. He was probably already sending people to kill the men who took her, even though

he didn’t know who they were. She went to the guest bedroom and found her bathing suit. Her skin was clammy and pale and badly in need of sunlight. She peeled off the nightgown and threw it in the bathtub. She carefully tied the straps of the bikini top across her back.

She found him with pants rolled up and his feet in the water. She lowered herself in and swam over.

“Let’s just start clean, okay? I don’t think retaliation is sexy, you know?”

He laughed. She wanted him to make her quiet, but she knew he was too worried about her to be forceful.

“I’m not doing it for that. Nobody takes from me.”

“Don’t you see how weird and lucky it is that we met? Use your head. Tell yourself that me being okay is enough.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he said, stubbing the cigarette out. She rolled her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll try.”

“I don’t know if I can. Look at what they did to you. Your hair...” his voice trailed off. She kissed him.

“It’ll grow back. You know you belong with me.” She hugged him around the waist and he let her pull him into the pool with her.

After swimming for a half hour, Ala laid on a blanket sprawled on the grass. The sun seeped into her skin and, smelling the coconut tanning oil baking all over her, she felt rejuvenation spreading over her body. Danno came outside and set a tray down next to her. He removed his shoes and sat on the edge of the blanket. She sandwiched a thick slice of salami in some French bread and, pressing it flat, ate slowly. She wanted to eat the entire roll in one bite but feared being sick. She smoothed her wet hair back from her forehead.

“You look like a movie star like that,” he said.

She did not feel like one and looked like a different woman from the one he met. And she knew he didn’t care and this made her chest twinge because

he really did love her back, and she really could be hurt if something happened to him.

“Want to go back in?” She said, peeling another salty slice off the pile and shoving it into her mouth.

“No, let’s get some real food at the track.”

She bowed her head and began to cry. His smile dropped.

“Hey what’s wrong?” He said, taking off his sunglasses. "What is it?”

As she shook her head, she raised her fingers to the corners of her eyes, scooping away tears.

“No, I just—I’m afraid.”

“Of what? I told you I’d take care of this.”

She became paranoid that there may be a bug or cameras throughout the house. Emanuel would know that his money and paintings were taken from the house, and she did not want Danno to incriminate himself on top of everything else, by saying he would kill anyone.

“No, no. I don’t want that. I want to leave here. I want to get out.” She got to her feet and ran into the house.

“That’s not going to fix anything,” he said. “What are you doing?”

She closed the door behind her and ran her hand along the baseboard. She pushed herself into the refrigerator, moving it forward and forced her head behind it, searching for a camera.

“But that’s what I want. And I want you to come with me. You said we could leave.”

He snickered as she pushed the appliance back in place.

“That was before this mess. Come on, let’s have lunch,” he said. She continued on to the office.

“Is the cash back?” She yelled behind her.

“Yes.”

Turning on the light, she saw that the artwork was in place. She stood on the desk chair and searched along the border for a recording device.

“Ala, what are you doing? You’re going to fall.”

“Listen to me,” she said, jumping off. “I can’t stay here. The whole reason I took this job was to get out of here. You don’t have to come, but I’m leaving.”

He pressed his face into hers, visibly stricken by her threat. She could tell that before she had said that she would go without him, he had thought that she was just traumatized and was tiptoeing around her.

He kissed her.

“I meant what I said before about us leaving together. I just don’t want you to leave because you’re scared.”

“I’ve wanted to for months. I’m just glad it didn’t happen and I met you instead.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Burma,” she said.

He didn’t flinch but took her hands and nodded.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said.

“How long was I away?” She asked, and then stepped away. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” Finding out the days she lost would make her angry and she had to focus. “Emanuel could be coming back today for all I know. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Go get your stuff together. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Ala went from room to room, folding clothes she forgot she owned and stuffing them into her suitcase. She was so relieved to be leaving this house.

Danno stacked all of the mail and left it on the kitchen counter. He then put on a shirt and started up the lawnmower, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

She let hot water steam the surfaces of the bathroom before getting in the shower. Even though someone had bathed her at Bruce’s house, she had not felt clean in what seemed like weeks. She coated herself in soap, scrubbed until her skin was red and lathered up for a second time. Her wet hair felt foreign in her hands, as it was a third of the length she was used to.

The lawnmower died down as she toweled off and dressed in clothes that hung on her svelte body. Her stomach gurgled and even though she wanted to go to the airport as soon as possible, she feared fainting in the security line. She also wondered if she should let Gertrude know her plan to leave.

She sat down at the dining room table to begin a note to leave for Emanuel. She would tell him that someone in her family died and she was leaving town. But then he would inquire with her parents and they would all know she had lied. She needed another excuse.

Her phone rang in the bathroom and she answered without checking who was calling.

“Hello?”

“Ala, it’s Gene,” he said quietly. It sounded like he was holding the phone away from his face.

“Oh,” she sat on the edge of the tub. “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you. Can you come outside?”

She pressed the phone against her temple and went to the window. Gene was standing on the lawn, shielding his eyes while looking up at the balcony. Danno must have been in the backyard working.

“Yes,” she said and hung up.

She ran to find her comb and forced it through her wet, tangled hair. There was no time to put on any makeup. She wanted to get Gene away from the house before Danno saw him. Gene was most likely still upset with her and she didn’t want his hostility to be taken the wrong way by Danno. She

found flat sandals and put them on while dashing down the hallway and out the front door.

Gene’s mouth hung open as she rushed to him and taking his arm began leading him away from the house. Grass clippings clung to her moist toes and the itch was unbearable so she stopped and shook each foot.

“What happened to you?” Gene said with a slight quiver of worry in his voice.

“I got a haircut. I know, it’s extreme, but it’s been so hot and I just needed it chopped off.”

“Not just your hair.” He took a step back to take in her whole frame. "Have you been starving yourself?”

“Me, starve myself? Stop it Gene. I’ve just been running a lot.”

“You look like you haven’t been in the sun in weeks.”

“I went swimming just this morning. You’re making me self-conscious.” She began to speed up, hoping he would catch her hint to come away from the house. He took her arm and pulled her back. “Ouch, what are you doing?”

“I’m supposed to believe nothing’s going on with you, come on!”

“I’m fine, stop it.” Danno came from around the yard holding a pair of shears. “Ala?”

Without missing a beat, she grabbed Gene’s hand and tugged him over to meet Danno in the middle.

“This is Gene, one of my best friends. Gene, this is Danno.”

Danno hesitated, then wiped his hand against his pant leg and stuck it out for Gene to shake.

“Good to meet you,” he said.

“You too,” Gene said.

Ala felt sweat pooling under both of her arms.

“Gene just came by to say hello, I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

“Is that right?” Danno said, squinting at Gene’s face and playing it off to be squinting at the sun in his eyes.

Ala could tell by Gene crossing his arms in front of him that he did not like Danno. And she really could care less, except that if Danno could tell, she would have a problem.

“Actually no. Ala looks very sick to me and,” he looked Gene straight in the eye, “I’m worried. I haven’t seen her like this ever.”

“Do you feel sick?” Danno said, petting the side of her face.

“No. Maybe I’ll lie down for a while. Maybe I’m just tired,” she said, smiling.

“I’m going to get back to work. It was nice to meet you, Gene.”

Gene nodded. Danno walked to the bushes in front of the house and began trimming them.

“We need to talk,” Gene said, in an irritable tone. "When we blew up at each other, it was stupid.”

“I think I really should rest. Do you mind if I give you a call later?” Ala said, for the first time in her life, lying to him.

He wanted to yell at her but refrained. Instead he took her into his arms and put his mouth against her ear. She was terrified that Danno would turn around and see and kept her eyes on him methodically snipping at a rose bush.

“I know you aren’t telling the truth. Are you afraid of him?”

“No,” she whispered.

“I’m going to keep coming back until you tell me what’s going on.” He kissed her cheek and walked away.

She went back inside of the house, ripped up the note she started to write Emanuel and threw the pieces in the trash.

She dragged her suitcase, which inched on explosion from the last pair of shoes she had wedged, to the car and Danno lifted it into the trunk. She then walked back through the house, making sure windows were shut and that the back door was locked. She threw away any foods with debatable freshness and made sure there weren’t any dishes in the sink.

This was all she had to do. This was enough. A note left for Emanuel could incriminate her, at the very least he could bring it to her parents. And she couldn’t handle any disruption in her plans to leave. She arranged her hair the best she could, using a bobby pin to smooth away the cowlick that seemed to spring forth with the hacking off of her hair. Her mind wandered into a trance as she wondered whether or not the man who cut her hair had had a family.

“Are we leaving?” Danno called through the screen door.

“Yes,” she said, doing one last scan to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind.

She turned the dial in the car quickly, trying to find jazz music on the radio in order to take her mind off Danno driving to the racetrack, which was the last place she wanted to be. They hadn’t discussed going, but she recognized the route and knew it was better not to dispute the visit. He had to go, and that was final.

Her parent’s house looked dark, even with the sun shining across the roof and front lawn. She didn’t see cars in the driveway, but this didn’t mean they weren’t home. Her stomach constricted as they cruised past and she tried to take deep breaths and not think about how there was a good chance that she would never see them again. And there was a possibility that they wouldn’t care if they were out of her life.

She rubbed the back of Danno’s neck as he turned into the parking lot. He pulled into a spot and left the engine running as he reached for a file in the backseat. A large woman with greasy long hair rushed two small children

into a car across the lane. One of them, a small boy, was crying and she grabbed his arm while stuffing a French fry into his mouth. The child coughed, gritty white potato pieces flying from his mouth, and the woman slapped his face. Ala’s cheeks grew hot as they did whenever she watched someone innocent endure violence on television. She reached over with a shaky hand and opened the car door. Climbing out, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Let him go!” She surprised herself by the volume her voice reached.

The boy looked at her with pink eyes as the woman cocked her head to the side.

“What did you say?”

“Let him go you awful cow.” Danno was now out the car and rushing around to Ala’s side.

The woman grimaced and twisted the boy’s arm, making him scream in pain. Ala ran over and grabbed the woman’s damp hair. She twisted and pulled as hard as she could. The woman let go of the child and elbowed Ala in the ribs. Immune to the pain, Ala stomped down on the woman’s foot as hard as she could. She had never laid a hand on anyone before being taken away and held against her will. It felt really good and terrified her. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to kill this terrible woman.

Danno was now trying to break the women up as a security car that often circled the lot was now headed toward the scene. The little boy climbed into the car next to the other child and slammed the door shut.

Ala blocked out the obscenities the stringy woman screamed at her and watched the spit fly from her crusty lips. She smiled.

“You’re an animal,” Ala said.

“It’s none of your damn business,” the woman said, scratching at her scalp. The patrol guard stepped out of the car calmly and addressed Danno with a head nod.

“Is there a problem?” He said, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“Well...” Danno started.

“Yes, there is. That woman was abusing that boy. I saw her nearly rip his arm off.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” the woman said. “She yanked my hair out. I wanna press charges.”

“I can contact the police if you’d like,” the guard said, “You’ll both have to give statements.”

Ala looked at the small boy, who somehow seemed to be drifting off to sleep amid the chaos. This was not the first time his mother had touched him, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last if she didn’t do something.

“Call the police,” she said.

“Ala,” Danno whispered, “What for?”

“That boy isn’t safe.”

“We’re supposed to be getting out of here,” he said, with his hand on her chin. The patrol guard walked back to his car to get his phone. Ala looked into Danno’s pleading eyes. He did not want to even be going to Burma, but he was for her. She could tell her was afraid, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

“Hello Arlene, it’s Cliff. Yeah, I’m going to need to contact the authorities,” he said into his radio. The woman leapt into her car and started the engine.

“She’s leaving! Stop!” Ala yelled as the woman sped away, leaving a cloud of dust. Coughing, Ala ran after the car, but had to stop to avoid oncoming traffic. Danno had followed her and now took her hands.

“I got her plate number,” he said. Ala began to cry, knowing that the boy would probably be given a severe punishment because of her.

“We can file a report in the office,” the patrol guard said.

“I’ve got a few things to take care of,” Danno said, relieved the woman was gone.

“I’ll go,” Ala said, climbing into the patrol guard’s car.

After Danno wrote the license plate number on a slip of paper, he folded it into her hand and opened the car door for her. Being hot in the patrol car agitated Ala. The windows in the back were broken and unable to roll down. She, however, did not feel comfortable sitting in the front seat with Cliff. She watched through the back window as Danno retrieved the folder from the car and locked it.

On the grove, there was a wedding party mingling while a photographer set up to take photographs. The bride was swathed in white chiffon with a floral headpiece. A plucky woman, most likely her mother, hurried and held a drumstick in front of the bride’s mouth, on which the bride nibbled carefully. The mother then blotted her lips with a napkin. A bridesmaid followed closely behind the bride, fluffing her gown. There was a trainer hooking up a horse to a carriage that the groom was already sitting in the back of, smoking a cigar.

Ala pressed her head into the back seat and closed her eyes. She was nauseous from the excitement during the short day so far. There was the plane she would have to board, filled with stale air, which would also make her queasy. The car stopped.

“Well, here we are,” Cliff said, opening her door.

“Is this report even going to do any good?” Ala said.

“If the woman comes back here it will.”

The building smelled like heated tar and the hallways needed to be cleaned. Overhead lights buzzed and several flies floated along, seeming to bounce off the walls with no way out. A woman sat behind a counter, writing out a list and blowing her frizzed blonde curls away from her eyes. There were curlicues of smoke climbing up from a cigarette in ashtray on her

desk. Since she was the only person that seemed to be around Ala decided to approach.

“I’m here to file a report,” she said.

The woman kept writing for an extra second, hoping Ala would see that she was busy and not disturb her. She turned her head slowly, revealing a scar underneath her eye.

“Oh yeah, Cliff called over. I’m Arlene.”

“Wow. Hi, I’ve been meaning to call you and thank you for finding my wallet,” Ala said.

Arlene’s eyes widened as she pushed the notepad aside.

“So, you got your wallet back?”

“Yes. It was dropped off.” She remembered the pang in her stomach she felt when she saw Danno step out of the car for the first time.

Arlene nodded rapidly, picking up her cigarette and inhaling a little too long.

“Sure. Yeah, of course. Sometimes people around here will just go ahead and return lost items, if there’s identification. Just to make it easier.” The last sentence sounded as if Arlene was trying to make herself believe it.

The tiny white hairs Ala imagined to be on the back of her neck sprung up. Her wallet was stolen from this office. Arlene had forgotten or hoped Ala had picked it up when she was off duty. Either way, Arlene wasn’t sure the wallet was ever returned, which meant that Danno had taken it without permission.

“I think I left something in the car,” she said, backing away from the desk.

“Oh, let me call Cliff,” Arlene said, picking up the receiver.

Ala turned and left the office and struggled for air down the hallway. She saw a restroom and threw her weight against the door. She turned on a creaking faucet, and the frigidity stung her skin as she slapped handfuls of water against her face. Some of the water got into her eyes, which caused rapid blinking. What Arlene said couldn’t matter after everything that had happened. After all, she could’ve been planning to take the wallet herself, if Danno hadn’t

first. Ala never had asked him how he got her wallet, most likely because she didn’t want the answer to be that he stole it. He should have told her about it, of course. And then she wouldn’t have had dinner with him. And she certainly wouldn’t have him now.

She blubbered loudly, realizing she hadn’t even filed the report with Arlene and now the little boy had no chance of escaping his rotten mother. It was all her fault, but she couldn’t face Arlene again. It made her insides shake to think of speaking to anyone right then.

Grabbing a brittle paper towel from the overstuffed dispenser forced it to tear out in pieces. She rubbed the paper against her skin until her nose and cheeks were inflamed, then stepped back from the mirror, smoothed down her hair and left the bathroom. She walked across the promenade toward the clubhouse, wondering if she had unplugged all of the gadgets in Emanuel’s house and also if she had turned off the lights. She had left most of her things at her parent’s house and would have to decide if she wanted to go get them and risk seeing them in the middle of another unnerving gathering.

The bar was empty, besides Glenny wiping down the bronze cash register. She spotted Danno sitting at a patio table on the terrace. The wind had picked up, forcing the petals of the gardenias in the arrangement on the table to flutter, along with his hair. She could see that he had ordered a drink and was halfway through it as he watched the horses trot around the circle with his back to her. A chill invaded her, as she considered turning and leaving, without saying anything to him.

Her ankles felt heavy and the ceiling seemed to be lowering slowly to eventually press her into the ground. She wobbled to the closest booth and climbed into a fetal position to rest. Glenny either didn’t see her or didn’t care. She assumed he would have had to learn to mind his own business working at a bar in a racetrack. She tried to keep her eyes closed to invite the illusion that she was getting rest.

She could hear several pairs of footsteps coming over, and then bodies shifting into the booth next to the one she was trying to nap in. There were a few male voices discussing money, women’s bodies, who was going to win Friday’s fight and other topics that seized Ala’s interest enough to keep her from sleeping.

Her phone began to ring and she heard the men pat their pockets to check if they were getting a phone call. She sat up and dug her phone out of her purse. Danno was calling her from the terrace outside. She ignored the call and climbed out of the booth.

“Hey,” a ruddy faced man wearing a pinky ring said, “We didn’t know you were in there. We would’ve watched our mouths.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I must have fallen asleep,” she said, pulling her bag over her shoulder.

“Well, now that you’re awake,” the other man with hair plugs said, “come have a drink with us.” He motioned her over by cupping his hand and wiggling his fat fingers.

“No, that’s alright. Thanks though,” she was hoping Glenny was watching the interaction, but his head was down as she swept behind the counter.

“Come on, one drink won’t hurt. Let us get to know you. You seem like fun,” the first man said, wiping sweat from his forehead with a cocktail napkin.

“It’s the hair.” the second man said, “That’s a hot, wild look.”

Her face burned with detestation for them and she turned to walk away. She thought of the man throwing clumps of hair he hacked off as she trembled in her underwear.

“Guess we won’t find out if the curtains match the drapes,” one of them said, causing his friend to erupt with laughter and hit the table.

“Hey, don’t walk away when we’re talking to you. Mangy slut.”

Before her next breath, Ala was back at the table, and in what seemed like a second, had picked up a full glass, smashed it against the booth and was holding the serrated base near the ruddy man’s neck.

White light flashed in front of her as someone was pulling her away from behind. She turned to see that it was Glenny, whose frail frame was surprisingly strong. Danno must have rushed inside when hearing the

commotion because he was now covering his eye with one hand and examining the bloodied knuckles on his other hand.

The scene was quiet except for the piggish man, now on his feet and screaming in Danno’s face, with dark blood running from his nose. His friend was on the phone, most likely with the police. Ala dropped the glass and let Glenny walk her away toward the bar.

“I would suggest leaving,” he said. She watched as the man wound up to punch Danno, who hit him in the stomach before he could, causing him to fall back into the booth.

Rushing over, he took several hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet. Glenny shook his head in protest, but Danno shoved the money into his apron. He grabbed Ala’s hand and jerked her out of the bar.

“I just,” she stuttered.

“Don’t talk right now,” he said. Her whole body was quaking with adrenaline. She nearly slit the man’s throat or at least could have cut him severely. They ran through the parking lot to the car.

“Get in the back,” he yelled.

“No!”

He grabbed her arm.

“Get in the backseat and lie down. You’re going to have a heart attack,” he said, opening the door and shoving her in. She folded herself onto the hot leather seat, like she had in the booth, and checked her arms for any blood. She was clean. Danno sped out of the lot, swearing under his breath. She heard the click of the automatic locks. He thought she was insane and was going to throw herself out the moving car. She felt like a caged animal and wanted to claw through the interior. “We’ve got to get cleaned up,” he said.

“Can’t we just go?”

“No, we’ll get too much attention. And I still have work to do. I wasn’t planning on running out of there.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You’re not sorry. You’re not yourself. Just rest back there.”

She was herself. There was nothing wrong with what she had done. She tried to be polite, but those men had tried to rape her with their eyes and words. And she couldn’t let that happen. One by one, she bit all of her nails off and spit them onto the tattered car rug. The car stopped and she sat up to look out the window.

They were at The Dachshund, a five-star hotel Ala had been to only once for a luncheon during her mother’s charity work. The carport had an ornate gold fountain with stone cherubs that spouted water. Danno took one suitcase from the trunk, opened Ala’s door and handed the keys to the valet. He handed her a plastic key card.

“Go up to room 530. I have to make a phone call.”

“Don’t we have to check in?”

“No,” he said as he headed toward reception. The lobby housed a giant chandelier and a lounge with plush ivory armchairs.

She found the elevator bank and went to the fifth floor. She walked slowly down the hallway, looking both ways, with the feeling that someone was going to kill her. She bolted the door behind her and got undressed. She didn’t even bother looking at the accommodations, which was always her favorite part of staying in a hotel.

The hot shower brought such instantaneous comfort that she let go and sobbed again, startled that she could feel so melancholy without any medication.

Heavy pounding on the door made her heart pulse swiftly, and she left the shower running and went to the door without a towel. It could be one of the men from the bar. It could be the man from the house she was locked up in. It could be Bruno. It could be Emanuel. It could be Gene. It could be her parents. She crouched into a ball on the carpet.

“Ala, it’s me,” Danno said coolly. “You bolted it.” She used the knob to pull herself up and opened the door. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Do not answer the door without clothes on. I made you an appointment downstairs.”

She walked back into the shower and finished washing the cold sweat away. She got dressed and helped Danno clean the cut around his eye with the corner of a damp washcloth. Remarkably there was no discoloration, only some swelling. She didn’t want to know how many times he had been hit.

“You don’t sell tapestries or whatever,” she said.

He kissed her hand.

“No.”

After he showered, they lay in bed under the sheets not talking until it was time for her appointment. Then he walked her down to the lobby.

“I’ll be right out here waiting,” he said, which made her smile.

The stylist, Raffi, was petite and talked with his hands, which interrupted the work she was doing on her hair, stretching out the appointment and her patience.

“So was this a dare?” He said.

“A dare?”

“Did someone dare you to let someone cut your hair?”

“No,” she said.

“So, you’re in a band?”

“Yes.”

He laughed and coiled pieces of her hair in between his fingers before letting them fall.

“So, what are we doing?” He asked, grinning.

She looked at her whole face in the mirror, turning her chin every way, her neck would allow. She looked terrible, like she had been wrung out and

beaten with a paddle. Her skin was sallow and her eyes were muted, like she was waiting to die.

“Do whatever you think will help,” she said.

“Girl please, you’ve got great features,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “Good. Then use them,” she said.

She kept her eyes closed during most of the appointment, but still answered all of Raffi’s questions, mostly with lies. She could tell he was coloring her hair when she felt the warm globs nearly run into her eyes. He talked about being from the West Coast, following a man here, being broken hearted when the man had a child with a woman, and now was ultimately grateful because it led him to his dream career.

The whole charade sounded exhausting and Ala sucked in breaths to keep from yawning. She supposed that her stories about the men in her life sounded the same way. The sleepless nights she had because of Jase’s behavior. The confusion and self-doubt she felt because of Gene. She couldn’t even think about her father’s contribution to her distrust at this point. And of course, to a traditional person, the relationship with Danno would sound preposterous and completely out of control.

The difference was that she was choosing every step with him. She couldn’t blame him for anything that she wasn’t happy about. Even if he wasn’t honest about everything, she didn’t feel like he was trying to manipulate her emotions. Her reactions were very real and didn’t require the drama usually injected into relationships to keep them exciting. She didn’t want to question everything about him. She didn’t want to think about the whole of her future. She was just happy to be with him.

“Open your eyes beauty queen!” Raffi squealed. She looked in the mirror and liked the black hair he had cut so close to her scalp. Anyone who had known her for years would be very alarmed and might even think she was a mental patient.

“Let me do your lips,” he said, applying a shade of red so bright that it made her look like a ventriloquist dummy.

She waved Danno inside, who didn’t even look twice at the transformation. He paid Raffi, tipping him well over the cost of the makeover.

“Enjoy this one,” Raffi said, winking at Ala. She couldn’t tell if he had thought Danno was attractive, or if he was attracted to his money.

“I got the bags,” he said.

“Let’s go.”

Danno drove slowly, letting other cars pass them on both sides of the road. Ala held tightly to his arm, slightly squeezing it every time she thought about bringing up the wallet.

“I feel better,” she said.

“So do I. You look better,” he said, gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, sending shivers down her spine.

“We should buy some boots at the airport. For hiking.”

“Do they sell them there?” She asked.

“I’m sure. They have everything else you could need. You’ll also have to teach me about all of the poisonous plants and trees to avoid.”

Ala tried to recall the books she had read about Burma. When she first became infatuated with the idea of a visit, she had chosen the books on a romantic whim, rather than practical preparation. Sitting in a dust ridden hidden corner or the library, she had paged through each volume, running her fingers over the pictures printed on the old paper, smiling. The more severe the argument with Jase was, the more seriously she studied the text.

She learned about arrow poisons and gloriosa root. She had chosen a wardrobe from a catalogue fit for hiking through the jungle toward the love temple. It was important to wear sturdy soled shoes, but not anything that could be destructive to the land. All of the clothes she had with her now were frilly and pretty, meant for a summer filled with parties and boat rides. She would have to wear layers until they could find proper gear.

“We still haven’t eaten. Is the club okay?”

“Fine,” Ala said. Danno cared a lot more about the kind of food he ate than she did. Her parents had always ordered out when they were home. Neither could use a microwave properly. Prime rib was a favorite, along with buttered noodles for Ala. It was the only dish she wanted to eat because

meat and onions terrified her. Her parents never pushed her to try anything else.

Danno reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“This was in the mailbox,” he said, handing it to her.

She felt the grain of the thick ecru paper that she remembered to be Emanuel’s stationary. It matched the envelope from the letter he had given her which proposed the summer house sitting job. She put it inside of her purse. It was important to relax before the flight. If she were to have another outburst, Danno would not let her anywhere near the plane.

He pulled over on the shoulder before the airport entrance. A car pulled up and dropped off a man with shiny shoes and teeth. He approached the driver’s side.

“Hello.”

Danno stepped out and opened the trunk. The man stepped aside and twitched slightly. His head moved back and forth rhythm Ala only noticed because she was staring. She let herself out of the car and hurried over and he placed all of their luggage on the curb.

“What is going on?” She asked.

“Give me a minute,” Danno said in a voice that wanted to yell at her but held back. He closed the trunk and tossed the keys to the man. Then, he opened the door to the other car and gestured for her to climb inside.

Rainbow was behind the wheel and nodded in the rearview mirror. Danno climbed in and tapped Rainbow on the shoulder. He started driving and turned on the radio.

“I sold the car,” Danno said.

“What? Why?”

“Airfare,” he said.

She had forgotten to take money into account. It was the reason she hadn’t gone to the temple sooner. Now she believed she hadn’t gone so that she could meet him. Still though, she knew he had a lot more money than what the car cost. The sinfully beautiful car that he could have had many of for all she knew. She didn’t know if the car meant anything to him, but it meant a lot to her.

He smiled and looked out the window. He was happy about the transaction. She nestled into the nook of his arm and took a deep breath. He wasn’t attached to things like she was. He was used to moving on.

Rainbow pulled into the drop off lane at departures.

“Bye,” she said. He nodded. Danno got out without saying anything. An attendant came over with a rolling cart and loaded their bags onto the deck. The wheels squeaked and made her very nervous, like everyone was going to notice them and know they were trying to get out of the country.

The airport was very crowded for it not being a holiday weekend. The line for security was wrapped around three cues. There were suitcases stacked on trunks and strollers used for random bags and children clung to their parents’ legs.

“You don’t look so good,” Danno said, his face nearly losing color. “Go sit down. I’ll get our tickets.”

Ala pulled out her compact mirror. Her face was deep red, almost resembling a rash. Her feet barely moved forward. She had to find a way to calm down. This trip was what she had wanted. This was the reason she took the job. She made her way over to a scratched plastic chair and sunk into it. She watched families and businessmen pass by, nearly colliding into each other from opposite directions. No one seemed to look where they were going. Her hands shook as she reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope.

Her nails scraped against the sealed flap as she looked around to make sure no one was watching her. Everyone seemed to be concerned about the directions for boarding gates or taking items out of their suitcases to meet the approved weight for checking bags.

Ala thought about calling her parents to let them know she was leaving the country. She was used to doing so even if she was only leaving the city and couldn’t imagine their worry when they realized they had no idea where she was. This, however, was before their hobby had taken such precedence in their lives.

If she called her parents, and they bothered to pick up the phone, they would try to stop her from getting on the flight. Her father would probably drive to the airport. They would see Danno and would want to talk to him. They would think he was trying to coerce her to leave the country.

The seating area was hot and she could feel the bottom of her feet sticking to the leather in her sandals. She loosened the straps, took them off and stretched her toes. She ripped the edge of the envelope open slowly.

“Ms.?”

She looked up and saw a security guard towering over her. He wore a hat that was too small for his head and had a radio in his hand ready to notify someone if he needed help.

“Yes?”

“I have to ask that you put your shoes back on.”

“Why?” She said.

“It’s a public area. And shoes are required for sanitation reasons.”

Ala looked past him at a young woman changing a baby’s diaper on the floor. A man next to her was sleeping with a stream of drool dripping onto his shirt. Another man ate from a cardboard container and picked at his ear. It was hard to believe that she could be singled out as being the most disruptive out of these people.

“What about them?” She said, pointing at the group.

“What about them?” He said, shifting his weight, growing impatient.

“They’re clearly not taking sanitation into account.”

“They all have shoes on.”

“You mean to tell me that I can wipe up shit in the middle of this sea of people, but I can’t take my shoes off for a minute? Even though I’ll have to take them off for security?” She heard her voice getting sharper.

“Yes,” he said, smiling. His teeth were brown around the gum line and it bothered her. She didn’t like taking criticism from people who were themselves making the same mistakes. She had always had difficulty with supervisors that she didn’t feel matched her intelligence. Now it made her furious that a man was referring to her as unpolished, when he himself seemed to have poor hygiene habits.

She picked up one of the sandals and stood. Her intention was to smack him across the face with the dirty sole.

“Is there a problem?” Danno said, approaching with the boarding passes.

“Yes. He won’t let me take my shoes off for a minute even though all of those foul people over there are doing whatever they want.” This she said too loudly and summoned several dirty looks.

Danno smiled at the guard and gently removed the sandal from her hand.

Dropping it to the ground, he said, “Do me a favor and put your shoes on.”

“Why?” She said, knowing that she would be putting them back on, but feeling ashamed that the security guard was going to get his way.

“So, we can get on with the trip. Come on. Just do it. Please.”

She rolled her eyes at the guard and sat back down. Danno nodded at him as he strutted away. Ala nearly broke one strap by tugging it roughly across her foot. She straightened her dress and swung her purse over her shoulder.

“I got our tickets. There’s only one issue. We couldn’t get on the same connecting flight from Seoul,” he said.

“Oh really?” She said, deflated.

“You’ll get there before I do.”

“How long will we be apart?”

“About twelve hours. We’ll be so exhausted at that point, you’ll barely notice. I did my best.”

“I know. Thank you,” she said.

“We are carrying on, so security should be quick.”

She followed him into the snaking line and waited, making sure she did not make eye contact with anyone.

“And how are you today?” A man checking their tickets asked.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Danno said before Ala could respond. She could tell he felt like she was yanking him into the quicksand with her. She wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to drug her before they boarded the plane to avoid any confrontations.

They found a table by the window in the club cafe. The glass slanted forward enough to be able to see planes taking off. The linens and china were elegant and Ala felt under dressed. She put on a pair of sunglasses and arranged her hair so that she had more of a side part.

Danno ordered a bottle of white wine for them since it was so hot and a platter of oysters. Ala worried that her stomach would turn if she had only that before flying and decided to order a chicken salad as well.

“Are you excited?” He said, beaming at her. Among her anxiety, she had forgotten how much she looked forward to spending each day with him.

“I can’t wait to get there,” she said.

“What’s the first thing you want to do?”

“Meet you at your gate.”

“And after that?”

“Visit the Bogyoke Market and buy hats.”

“That’s a great idea. I read that it’s common for scalps to start frying within the first hour.”

“The book used the term scalps frying?”

“Of course. Crouton?” He dangled his fork in front of her face.

“No thank you,” she laughed. “But what are you going to do while we’re apart?”

“Work, no doubt.”

“From Asia?”

“Of course. I used to work out of Guyana years ago.”

“Don’t you think you’ll want a new job?” She said, toying with the hard-boiled egg on her plate.

“Well sure, but not until I learn Burmese.”

“What about working in tourism?” She said. He placed his hand over hers on the table.

“Believe me, you won’t want me to have a different job. No one will bother us. That’s the beauty of working remotely.”

“Alright,” she said, finishing her wine. He leaned across the table and kissed her.

They lingered at the magazine stand so that they wouldn’t have to pace around the gate. Ala bought several books and a large blanket. Danno bought cough drops and a neck pillow.

“My throat always hurts during plane rides.”

“Maybe they’ll serve some nice warm fish soup to soothe you.” He grabbed her and, pinning her arms to her sides, blew against her neck. “Stop!” She squealed.

The cashier rolled her eyes as she handed them the bags.

The first six rows of the plane were empty and Ala hoped the stewardess would permit them to move up to first class, even though it was unlikely. She settled into her window seat as Danno tucked the blanket around her legs. Takeoff was smooth and the few people on the flight were quiet. Ala drank ginger ale to settle her stomach and was soon asleep.

Waking up, she looked at the black sky out the window. She liked the idea of flying over the ocean at night, of being midair in the pitch black. Danno was asleep next to her and she was wide-awake. She wanted to wake him and pull him into the bathroom after her, something she had never done. She felt like a restless honeymooner.

A subtitled movie hummed from the screen in front of them but she had no interest. She took one of the new books from the bag and into page three her eyes began to burn. She took her purse from under her seat and found her lip balm. Applying it, she saw the envelope and took it out. She finished opening the flap and unfolded the pages.

Dear Ala,

Please read this letter in its entirety. While I know your instinct may be to tear it up, or act as if you’ve never received it, please work against it. It is imperative you know that I am not writing to you out of anger for what may or may not have happened. I am still out of the country and, while I have received disturbing news about my property being disrupted, I am a firm believer in assessing a claim before reacting. This only has to do with...

Her seat seemed to slump and began to shake suddenly. Danno woke up and took her hand. Their tray tables rattled, spilling her ginger ale on her legs, and the seat belt lights blinked incessantly. The stewardess wobbled toward the front of the aisle and picked up the intercom speaker.

First, she spoke in Korean and then, Ala assumed, repeated, “Please everyone take your seats and fasten your seat belts. We are experiencing some turbulence and at the captain’s request, please remain in your seats.”

Ala had acquired the bad habit of never wearing her seat belt on flights. She reached down to find the buckle and the plane shifted again, slamming her forehead against the tray table.

“Oh no, here sit back, let me see,” Danno said, rubbing the spot on her forehead that she knew would later erupt into a bump.

The vibration grew quicker and the stewardesses strapped themselves into the seats parallel to the rows in the front of the cabin. Ala shoved the letter into her purse and zipped it, making sure all of the compartments were closed. Her legs shook and she felt her stomach drop, as the plane seemed to turn in the opposite direction.

The intercom came on again and a man’s voice took over. He spoke Korean in a calming tone, but Ala could tell there was vomit rising in the back of his throat he was trying to keep down. The speaker cut out before he could repeat himself in English.

A drink cart came crashing down the aisle, slamming into a man’s elbow. He screamed.

“Put the Goddamn brake on that cart!” He yelled. A stewardess unstrapped herself from her seat and ran over. Grabbing the cart handles, she struggled to push it forward. The man got out of his seat to help her.

“I’m sorry Sir. The brake was on.”

An alarm went off and the tension among the few passengers flourished, as the air seemed to tighten around them. Ala pictured them plunging into the black water and being ripped apart by whatever unseen beings they would disturb. She felt up and down her seat, trying to find the flotation

device. Danno took her hand.

“Calm down. The plane isn’t going down. It’s a storm.” He pointed to the droplets covering her window. “Don’t waste your energy being hysterical.”

“But it might go down. Everyone is scared,” she said.

“Come here,” he said, wrapping his arm around her. He pulled the blanket up over both of their legs and put his neck pillow behind her back. Even with the awkward armrest jutting into her ribs, she began to feel better.

“Apple,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Apple.”

She looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Now you say a food that begins with the letter B. The stewardess reached into the drink cart and pulled out a few ice cubes. She wrapped them in a napkin and handed them to the man to hold against his elbow. The lights flickered in the cabin. Ala tried to hold in her urine. “Come on,” he said.

“Bologna,” she said. He nodded.

“Chicken Cordon Bleu. That’s two points for me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I used the letter C twice.”

“Fine. Dagwood Sandwich,” she said.

“What is that?”

“You know, from Blondie. The sandwich looks like it’s twelve layers of meat and cheese.”

“What’s Blondie?”

“The comic book? The sandwich enthusiast. My father and I used to read them on weekends.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She had avoided her parents and now was going to drown in the dark before ever seeing them again. The pressure around her heart made her nervous to move any part of her body.

“Fine, the point is yours under the condition that this so-called sandwich has been attempted by someone other than a fictional character. Éclair.”

“Fettuccini.”

“Gazpacho”

“Haddock.”

“Ice cream.”

An overhead bin opened, tossing a trunk out that burst open when it hit the floor. A lady screamed and made the sign of the cross against her chest. Ala closed her eyes.

“Jell-O”

“Hardly a food, but fine.”

“You’re sort of a pain in the ass with this game.”

“I just play fair,” he said, rubbing the palm of her hand. “Kale.”

“Lemongrass.”

The plane veered sharply and straightened out. The alarm stopped pulsing and the lights stabilized. Ala was sure they had crashed and that she was watching the scene while dead. The stewardess tried to adjust her cap and walked back to the intercom.

“It seems that we are through the turbulent portion of our flight. The captain asks that you please remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened. We will come through with beverages offerings once we receive clearance.”

“We’re okay,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure I won.”

Ala pinched his forearm and then rested her head against his chest. She drifted off just as the sun cut through the black sky.

Ala awoke with Danno sleeping with his head on her shoulder. They had landed in Seoul safely. Her head was tender from the stress of the turbulence and the sleep she managed to get was not restful. She unbuckled her seatbelt and gently climbed over Danno’s seat. Her legs nearly gave out when her feet hit the floor and she headed toward the restroom.

“Ms., please sit down,” the weary stewardess said slouched in the seat she was still strapped into. Her jacket was off and her eye makeup was smudged.

“I really need to stretch. How much longer until we’re off the plane?” Ala said.

“A few more minutes, when we get word from the captain.”

“We’re on the ground. I don’t understand the hold up,”

Danno woke up and immediately registered the exchange going on between them. He got up and took Ala’s hand.

“Let’s just sit down,” he whispered.

“Stop acting like I am crazy. I have every right to stand up after a whole day on this plane.”

“I know. We’re almost done. Let’s sit.”

She let him pull her back to their seats. He took her hand into his hands.

“We made it through the plane almost crashing. The last thing we need is for you to be detained in South Korea for mouthing off to a flight attendant.” He kissed her.

She took a compact out of her purse and ran her fingers through her hair, which looked better after she had slept on it. She turned on her phone, even though she knew the staff would take issue with this if they saw her. She had missed eleven phone calls during the flight and could see the most recent three were from Jase. Her face grew hot and she leaned forward, afraid she was going to be sick.

“Ala,” Danno rubbed her back. “We can get off now. Are you okay?”

She nodded and made sure she had all of her things. Their luggage was still intact there a sense of relief among the passengers that the flight had come to an end without the use of an emergency slide Some of them even thanked the stewardesses while leaving the plane. Ala walked straight past them without making eye contact.

The waiting area was very hot. The smell of people who had been on planes and in airports for multiple days overwhelmed her. She and Danno held hands tightly and squeezed through the crowd.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Let’s go to the lounge, so I can have a cigarette.”

She wondered how soon into their relationship she could mention that his smoking bothered her. It added to his sex appeal, but now she was concerned about both of them being alive and healthy for years to come.

Danno took out his membership card and showed it to the pretty hostess who was wearing a sea green kimono. They took two armchairs away from everyone else and ordered some tea. He lit a cigarette and, leaning back in his chair, winked at her.

“Do you think anyone else has had a crazier time than we have?”

What she had learned for sure this summer was that there were crazy people everywhere and that there was no reason to believe that she, or anyone else, was ever safe.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” she said, walking to the window that overlooked the tarmac. She didn’t know what time it was back home but knew that Jase wouldn’t care when she called even if it was the middle of the night. The phone only rang once.

“Ala?” His voice was badly broken like he had been walking through a blizzard with bronchitis. She knew he had been up drinking.

“Hi. Did I wake you?”

“No, I’ve been up. Where are you?” He said with urgency in his voice.

She bit the side of her cheek. She always got really honest when she felt like he needed her help.

“Jase, what happened?”

“My mom died.” She pushed the phone against her ear, picturing Abigail’s face.

“I’m so sorry.”

“She was alone. I don’t know how, but she was all alone when the hospital called. My idiot brother.”

“Oh Jase, I-” She felt her throat constricting, trying to hold back tears.

“Can you come home? Or here? I need you.”

She looked back at Danno who was also on a call. Panic flowed through her aching legs. They were not together anymore, but she knew this day would come and couldn’t imagine not being there.

“I can’t come right now. I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow then? Please Ala, I’ll never ask you for anything again.”

“I don’t think so, Jase.”

“Where are you that’s so Goddamn important?” He yelled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look just please; let me get you a ticket. We can talk when you get here.”

She shook her head.

“I just can’t.”

“I’m always going to be waiting for you,” he said, starting to cry. She hung up the phone.

She walked back to Danno, wiping both eyes with her fingers, as he was putting his phone away.

“I love you,” she said, sitting on his lap.

“Are you crying?”

“I just love you.”

“I love you,” he said, pulling her mouth to his mouth. “You’re going to have to board soon. Finish your tea. I’m going to use the restroom and then I’ll walk you to the gate.”

She took her seat and made herself take a sip of tea. It burned her mouth. She took a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table and lit it. She inhaled and the smoke seemed to make tiny hatch marks down the back of her throat. She coughed violently. Several people dressed in suits looked over at her. She took another puff and eased back into the chair.

It wasn’t possible to go back for Abigail’s funeral. There would be too much pain and too many people who had known her as someone else. She would be uncomfortable the entire time and Jase would lean on her for more support than she could give. Years later, she could imagine feeling like a heartless person, and if that happened, she would apologize then.

She opened her bag and put her phone away. Emanuel’s letter was crumpled toward the bottom. She smoothed the pages out on her lap and a smaller slip of paper fluttered to the ground. It was a check for ten thousand dollars. She folded it in half and shoved it into her wallet.

She stubbed out her cigarette and continued to read.

“...I am still out of the country and, while I have received disturbing news about my property being disrupted, I am a firm believer in assessing a claim before reacting. This only has to do with the current company you keep, specifically Danno. As someone who has known his character well for years, I feel it is my duty to warn you that you are in danger.”

Sweat spiked up on the back of her neck. She wanted to reread but had to keep going.

“When I hired Bruno ten years ago, I thought he was a lowly gardener who hadn’t had much luck. Being from my native land, I trusted him without any idea that he was acting as Danno’s informant. I am not going to delve into the kind of business we do, since I have a feeling that in your current situation, time is precious. I can only say that my fortune is spoken of often in my industry’s circles and that the two of them have been working for quite some time to drain my assets.

Apparently Danno and Bruno’s relationship has gone south, and Bruno was not paid what was promised to him. This is where you came in. There aren’t any known people or things in this world that would affect Danno’s decisions, but you apparently have done so. This is not something to be proud of. I am only relieved that you had enough fight in you to stay alive.

Please do whatever you have to and get away from this man. Even if he doesn’t kill you himself, his line of work will. You will have no way of reaching me once I send this letter. I hope that for you and your parent’s sake, you leave this unsavory character’s side and find safety.

Best regards,

Emanuel”

She slammed the pages down on the table. Both hands shook uncontrollably and she feared she might lose control of her body. She picked the letter back up and skimmed for keywords, tried looking it over to find where she misread. The words stayed the same. Danno knew Bruno before he ever knew her. He knew Emanuel. He knew where he lived. He never would have come to her town if it weren’t to try to get Emanuel’s money.

She stood, letting the papers fall to the floor. Everyone was still working on their computers or talking on their phones. Men were drinking beer with their suit jackets on the backs of their seats. There was no earthquake happening except inside of her. Everything inside was pushing her to

go. Every thought she had was prefaced with “Go now. Take your bag and go.”

If she left, Danno would be worried. She knew he loved her, which was the worst part. She knew he didn’t care about the deal or the money. She knew he would die if anything happened to her. She knew their time together changed him, as it had changed her. It was the worst part because there was love.

She slumped back down in the chair.

“More tea, Miss?” a server asked meekly. “No, thank you. Just the check.”

“It’s on the account Miss.”

“Yes, okay, thank you.”

He ran his world by signing his name. His name took care of everything. He lived differently than people who had to apply for credit or hope they could

save enough money to retire. He risked a lot, but the reward was living a life that wasn’t confining day after day.

Her chest tightened as she folded the pages and shoved them back into the envelope. She knew Emanuel was telling the truth but felt better trying to find holes in his explanation, to prove him wrong. Why would he still pay her when he knew something, anything, had gone wrong?

She could confront Danno and ask him to tell her the truth. He of course would know that she already knew what the truth was to even ask in the first place. He would know she knew about all of it. What did he do to people who knew too much? Did he kill them or have someone else do it? He wouldn’t actually kill her if he loved her, she thought. Then again, she had nearly forgotten that a man burned to death because of her. Self-defense or not, she had taken a life.

He could be the only kind of person with the only kind of life that she could actually build something with. They both did things the way other people didn’t do them. They both felt connected to one another. She wouldn’t be able to find anyone who made her feel that way he had. And he meant the most to her since she left the country with him and didn’t tell anyone she knew that she was going.

She held her hands out and tried to steady them. When this didn’t work, she did her best to dry her eyes by waving them rapidly. People began to look at her. She was the most underdressed in her sundress, damp with sweat, sandals and sunglasses. She took another cigarette out and lit it. This time the smoke entered her lungs easier.

“Get up and go. Leave,” she whispered. She zipped up her bag and swung it over her shoulder.

“Hey, are you smoking?” He said, coming up behind her. She jumped, sending ashes all over the armchair.

“Just one,” she said, stubbing it out next to the first cigarette she had smoked.

He sat on the coffee table in front of her and took her face into his hands.

“This flight is not going to be as long. Just have a nice dinner, read a little and I’ll be at the gate in no time.”

She nodded and let tears slide down her cheeks, into his hands. He hugged her.

“Come on. Everything is going to work out.”

He signed the check and took her hand, walking her out with his arm around her.

“I have to use the restroom,” she said.

“Sure. To the right. I’ll wait.”

“Do you want to come in with me?” She asked, winking.

He looked at his watch.

“Now?”

“Why not? It didn’t happen on the plane.”

“There was extreme turbulence. And, I didn’t think it would happen on the plane.”

“I just want to be alone for a minute,” she said, taking his hand.

She led him through the crowd, ignoring the noisy announcements and bright ads blaring from the large screens overhead. She would have to decide what was going to happen in this restroom. It was the most private area she could think of in this overpopulated airport. She wanted to tell him what she read in the letter and hear his response.

They stopped short once Ala saw the line of women stretched down the hallway. Danno checked his watch again.

“Ala, maybe we should get you to the gate.”

“No,” she said. She could not board the plane feeling how she did. Something had to shift in order for her to have peace of mind. “Go see if the men’s room is empty.”

He scoffed and ran his hand through his hair. “What? Why? What are we doing? This is crazy.” “I was crazy to have dinner with you. Go look.”

He walked in as she surveyed for security. She did not notice anyone wearing a uniform. Danno leaned the hallway out of the entrance and waved her inside. The restroom was surprisingly clean with white tiled walls. Ala opened the first stall and he followed her in. She made sure the lock worked and hung her bag on the hook.

They heard footsteps come through and Danno clamped his hand over her mouth, which prompted her to start laughing. They listened to the stream of urine. If Ala confronted him in this stall, her life could be in danger. He was a lot stronger than she was. He could snap her neck and leave her in this stall. She would not be found until long after his flight took off. Everyone in her life would never know why she died in an airport in South Korea. The man turned on the faucet to wash his hands.

But really, what was in it for Danno this whole time? Of course, there was the money, which is why they met in the first place. There was no arguing that. And he may have been surprised that he found her to be so attractive. And she did make herself easily available very early on.

However, he could have killed her the first night. It could not be that difficult for him to find women to spend time with. He was powerful and charismatic. He had taken care of her when she found her way back home. They had so much beyond what was supposed to have happened that summer. She had everything with him.

The harsh overhead lights made her skin look grayish green and the dried sweat on her dress was now being reconstituted as she figured out what to do next. Before she could peek through the hinges to see if the man had left, Danno had lifted her against the stall door and kissed her. She kissed back, violently and hungrily. The adrenaline from surviving the flight kicked in for both of them, followed by the idea that they would be spending half a day apart.

He pushed her against the opposite wall and unbuckled his pants. She hopped up and wrapped her legs around him. The sound of her breathing

filled her ears; it was all she could hear. Reaching up her dress, he tore off her panties and shoved them into his pocket.

She was terrified of getting caught. She had no idea what the laws were in this part of the world. This fed into her urgency and she pulled him closer to her, knocking her sandals off. She yanked his hair and, once again, his hand covered her mouth as he carefully lowered her to the ground. He held her close to him. She wanted to live in this restroom with him and never speak to anyone again.

“Do you want to change clothes?” He asked.

“Okay.”

“I’ll wait outside.” He stepped out of the stall and used the sink. Ala opened her suitcase and found fresh panties and a long dress. She stepped out of her sundress and wadded it into a ball. She gathered her purse and stepped out, throwing the dress in the trash can. She rinsed her face and the back of her neck.

He held out her ticket.

“Are you ready to take off?” She nodded and let him take the suitcase.

“I have to tell you,” he said, guiding her to the terminal.” He was going to confess the whole story in the middle of the airport. He probably assumed she wouldn’t be able to react in front of so many witnesses. She braced herself.

“What?”

“You’ve become my best friend.”

“Oh,” she looked down and kept walking. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she tried to wipe them away without him noticing.

“This is it,” he said, double-checking the sign. “They’re probably already boarding your group.”

“Alright,” Ala said, taking the suitcase from him. He took it back from her and set it down on the ground. He hugged her with his whole body.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he whispered. She wiped her eyes against his shoulder.

He squeezed tighter before letting go. She got into the boarding line. She saw him watching her in the corner of her eye. She read the ticket and quickly looked behind her. He was gone.

Her legs weakened. The line was long and the people seemed to be closing in on her, threatening to swallow her up. She tried to fan herself with her ticket, but the paper was too flimsy to have any effect.

The line seemed to be stopped and she couldn’t see far ahead enough to tell what the holdup was. Her stomach twisted and she felt light-headed. She should have eaten. The tea was not enough. Between the flight, the letter and the farewell from Danno, she was ready to pass out. She put her hand on the man’s back in front of her, trying to steady herself. He turned around and gave her a dirty look. His wife began yelling at her in another

language. People turned and stared.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but the woman continued to yell, getting closer to her face. Ala could smell remnants of meat on her breath. Ala’s eyes watered as she felt the fullness make its way up her throat. With chipmunk cheeks, she ran out of the line down the hall in the direction she remembered the restroom to be.

There was still a line outside of the ladies room, so she ran into the men’s room and vomited, missing the stall by three feet. She got down on all fours and closed her eyes. She needed to lie down. She needed to eat. She needed someone to tell her that she could make it through the flight if she just stood up, rinsed out her mouth and boarded.

She stared at the puddle. Because she was so hungry, it was mostly frothy bile. She carefully rose to her feet and grabbed a stack of paper towels. She threw them onto the mess and tried to wipe up as much as she could with her foot. The nausea returned and she lied down on her stomach, letting her face rest on the freezing tile.

Her phone rang, and very slowly, she sat up and took it out of her bag. It was Jase calling. She chose to ignore him. Once again, she stood up and kicked the soggy paper towels into the corner. She had to get to her seat as quickly as possible. She could relax then, and possibly even get some sleep.

Leaving the restroom, she realized that she had left her suitcase at the gate. This panic brought her to a jog even though she still felt like crawling. The boarding area was empty. She read the monitor to make sure she was in the right place for the flight. Her suitcase was gone. She looked under the row of seats. She went to the personnel desk, but no one was there to help.

It appeared that she had missed her last call for boarding the plane. There would have been announcements, but she wouldn’t have been able to hear them while vomiting. She had gotten to the gate as quickly as possible. She would have to find Danno and see if there was a way she could switch to his flight instead. She would also need to report her missing suitcase. She tried to remember if anything valuable was packed inside.

All she could think of was a brooch her mother had given her when she was seven years old. They were Christmas shopping in the city in the middle of a blizzard. The lady who helped Ala’s mother take care of her was supposed to go with her to carry bags but had gotten the flu. It was a very special day for Ala. She and her mother had lunch in the tearoom and she was permitted to order off of the full menu, rather than the children’s portion. They had bought presents for relatives who would be coming in for the holiday, back when Ala’s mother still invited people to come stay.

They hurried through the street, struggling to grip the bags blowing in all directions and made it to the revolving door of the grand department store. This was their last stop of the day. They both laughed with relief as soon as the warm air hit their faces with the rich new perfumes of the season surrounding them and stepped onto the escalator.

Ala’s mother tried to untangle her purse strap from the cluster of bag handles, when the brooch on her coat fell off. Ala knew this was a gift from her grandmother and followed it with her eyes as it fell against the slatted step.

Ala looked up and saw the steps being swallowed, one by one, as they reached the top. She quickly crouched down to grab the brooch before it fell

through the grate. Her small fingers gripped the gilded edge of the large pearl encrusted plate just as her mother turned to see what she was doing.

“Ala! Are you crazy?” Her mother yelled, grabbing the arm of Ala’s coat and yanking her up and off of the last step. She shook her shoulders hard. “Do you want to get your hand cut off?” Ala had no idea the escalator was dangerous. She held out her hand to reveal the brooch, which had pierced and was stuck in the palm of her hand.

“I wanted to save it for you,” she whispered, now embarrassed at the few shoppers watching them.

“That?” her mother scoffed, “Keep it. It’s fake. Come on!”

Ala didn’t realize her mother had meant that the large pearl in the center was not an actual pearl, but painted plastic. She had thought it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen and loved it because her grandmother had loved it. She swallowed hard to avoid crying and pulled the needle from her hand. She followed her mother into housewares, shoving the brooch into her pocket.

She found a seat facing the wall of windows, and slouched down, watching the planes take off. Now the brooch was with whoever stole her suitcase. Even if she reported it missing, she knew she wouldn’t get it back. She felt violated at the thought of someone looking through her underwear.

The plane she was supposed to be on backed out and taxied down the tarmac. Ala opened her purse to make sure that her passport, license and the check from Emanuel were still inside. It would be inconceivably difficult to leave the airport, had her identification been in her suitcase.

A woman screamed, throwing her hands to her mouth and pointing to the window. Ala whipped her head around to see the fluffy clouds of black smoke floating up from the bright orange flames shooting out under the right wing of the plane. She stood up slowly and pressed her face against the glass.

An emergency chute sprung out and one by one, like wind-up toy soldiers, tiny figures slid down and ran. There was a loud pop and people gathered around her at the window in time to see the large fire cloud engulf the plane, flames snaking both wings and all sides. Banging on the glass and screaming continued as Ala squinted ahead, trying to make sense of what was happening. Fire engines and squad cars surrounded the dying star, and the few who had escaped huddled together.

Running commenced with people going in all directions, crashing into one another. She didn’t know what to do or who to call. She would’ve been dead had she made it on in time. At least she had been with him one last time. She heard people shouting and shoes squeaking, babies crying and whistles blowing. She could smell smoke and wasn’t sure if it was from the cigarette she had or the world ending outside.

Danger had followed her. She wasn’t safe being who she was. Her phone rang. She took it out of her bag and, without looking to see who was calling, tossed it in the trash can, along with her ticket. She put her sunglasses on and looking straight ahead, walked quickly toward the exit of the airport.

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