Always

Three

Three  

 

 

            My eyes are heavy, I try to open them but it’s as if they are glued together. My lids feel like lead but I eventually manage to open them. I can feel that they are swollen. The bed I’m sleeping on is so soft I don’t want to leave it. here is so much space to spread my legs unlike the bed I usually share with my cousins. The thought of my cousins makes me sit up. The movement is so abrupt my head reels.
            It’s morning. I can tell because the sun is streaming in through the windows, the curtains are pushed back but thankfully the windows are closed, because the cold morning air in Arusha can be a little harsh. The morning light makes the room look serene and beautiful like those overly lit heaven scenes in movies.
            Everything in here is white; the color puts an emphasis on how clean it is. I appreciate the design and the furniture and how everything is laid out in a way that I could not of have done the previous night.
            My stomach doesn’t feel as knotted as it was. I actually have to consciously remind myself of the kind of dangers I am in. I did not just go against my Uncle but I cost him money as well. He could kill me, or worse, he could do things to me that would make me want to kill myself. So why am I so calm?
            I run a hand through my face hoping to grasp more memories from yesterday but the last thing I remember is crying in Nikolai’s arms. The thought makes me blush, I duck my head even though there is nobody around to see me blush; I don’t relish crying in front of people, it’s a form of weakness that I never once possessed the luxury of expressing to a person other than my mother. Maybe if I was the friendly type and I had a close girlfriend, maybe then I could cry on her shoulder but just the thought of it makes me cringe. But not as hard as the thought of crying in Nikolai's arms makes me cringe.
            But where is Nikolai anyway?
            “Nikolai?” I call out as I set my feet on the floor, its cold.
            I wait a while but there is no reply. I decide to grab a quick shower and brush my teeth before he comes back; lord knows I have the worst kind of morning breath.  
            The water is so warm and soothing; I don’t want to stop showering. And I don’t until it runs out. When I step back into the room, there he is. Taller than I remember, the gray t-shirt he has on must be tighter than what he had on last night because I can actually detect a bit of muscle underneath it. I notice now just how lean he looks. It makes him look more sexy than cute but his face is so boyish you can't just forget how cute he is. It makes me think that I wouldn’t mind sleeping with him, which is a thought I rarely have about guys who are not on the T.V.
            I raise my head so he doesn’t catch me ogling his abs but it doesn’t get much better for me. He already caught me staring. His eyes tell me so when they settle on mine. His eyes do not seem as dark as they did last night, right now they seem like honey but it’s not the color that disarms me. He has this expression that I hope is just a mask but the expression he wears detached but calculating. There is something about him that makes me think he can be manipulative. At least his features are so boyish; he would be extremely intimidating if he had a sharp face.
            I’m dressed in the same clothes he lent me the previous night, so I hold the t-shirt and say, in the most self-conscious voice that I can “I’m sorry, I imposed myself on you last night but I think it’s safe now. I’ll go.”
            “Morning,” he says smiling brightly at me. That smile is disarming, it softens every feature on his face, his eyes especially and for a moment he doesn’t seem calculating at all. He just seems like a man.
            “Morning” I say returning his smile, because how can I not, that smile.
            He stares at me and I just stare back at him. It feels like there is something brewing between us, if I was in a state that could welcome it I would try to define it. I know I might have an idea what it is but right at this moment everything feels so heavy.
            “I got you this,” he hands me a bag, inside there are clothes in my actual size. I beam up at him. In return he smiles even wider, his eyes even softer before he places a hand on the back of his neck and looks away.
            “You didn’t have to,” I say “thank you,”
            “It’s nothing,” he stands then walks towards me, his face back to its cold mask.  “So,” his lips are no longer carved up in a smile, a thin line replaces them instead “I handled that man, Mr. Mh-bo-ma?”
My heart sinks at the mention of that name, he means my client. If he knows that I had a client will he want to – “I’m not like that!” I say because I cannot handle being thought of as a prostitute by anyone. I never want to wear that label.
He cocks his head to the side and scratches his neck, disturbing the waves of hair “Oh, I know. I mean if you were I would-” he cuts himself off but it doesn’t seem like he just suddenly realized that he had over spoken but that this was what he intended to do, to make me think of what the end of that sentence was.
“You would what?” my voice is a little hard for someone who's at this guy's mercy but the game he wants to play slowly eats away at the gratitude I feel for him.
“I mean, I would…” his cheeks become red and I wonder maybe he’s never found himself in a position to buy a woman before, I hope that’s true, I hope that that’s the reason he’s blushing.
“Buy me?” I’m careful to keep the outrage out of my voice until he admits it. And he does with a small nod.
“I’m not for sell!” my voice wavers like I want to cry, it doesn’t express the anger that I feel at that insinuation at all.
He suddenly stands taller, like he’s sure of something “I was hoping you would say that.” he smiles at me, it’s an apologetic smile this time. Was he testing me? Why would I be in his room, if I really was selling myself?
“You really don’t know who I am?” he asks, I can tell that this is an important question to him.
I shake my head no. I think I’m still in danger of crying.
“That’s good, so the man told me that some Abdul will still want you back and that he might still try to sell you? But you said you were leaving the region, will that be far enough?”
I just stare at him, I try to read his eyes but it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to manipulate me now.
“He’s my uncle, I think leaving his turf will help.”
“So he won’t find you if you leave?”
“Look, thank you, for everything, really. But you don’t have to strain yourself or ask all these questions.”
“I don't have to but I am asking,” I feel like a child for a moment, like I must answer as the adult demands but then I remember that this is my life.
“Look, like I said, thank you so much for everything. So, I’ll just go change and get out of your hair.”
“I’m trying to help you,” his voice is strained like he's trying not to yell.
“I don’t need it.” My voice is so low I doubt he heard me.
I head back to the bathroom then observe the clothes he bought for me. It’s a cute floral blouse and a pair of jeans. There’s a dark blue hoodie, it’s made of cashmere, and I think I’m already in love with it because it makes me feel so warm and it hugs me so well.

I step out of the bathroom and he’s the one staring this time. I start wondering if the jeans are too tight. He got the size right but my thighs are too thick for my dress size. I start fidgeting with the blouse, like I’m shy, which I’m not except for when I’m around strangers. And he’s a stranger.
 “You look really…,” I stare back at him waiting for him to finish his thought “nice,”
            I smile, blushing once more so I duck my face and avert eye contact until I no longer feel the blood rushing to my cheeks “Thank you,”
            “Where are you going?”
            “Nikolai, you really don’t have to worry, I can take care of myself.”
            “Okay, will you be safe there?”
            “Yeah,”
            “Can I just give you a ride?”
            I want to say no, I want to be independent; I want to be like my mother when my grandfather kicked her out, fearless and certain but I’m not there yet. “Sure.”
            “Let’s go,” he says.
            I walk self-consciously hoping the man hunt on me got called off. I feel like no one would pay attention to me if I was by myself but the fact that I am walking with Nikolai seems to draw so much attention. All the women we pass by on our way to the lobby seem jealous. I almost want to tell them that we are not together but I honestly wouldn’t mind, except I think I would, I mean this is not the best time for me to be thinking of being in a relationship. Or situationship. 
            We go out to find a sleek black range rover with a driver seated in it. It’s the kind that I’ve yet to actually lay my eyes on. I don’t know the model but it’s not the kind of car that passes by in my streets. There’s a man outside of the car, an elderly white man with graying hair and no visible laugh lines. His face is harsh, his eyes are cold but I try not to judge a book by its cover.
            “Your h-”
            “You need not come with me, Paulsen.” Nikolai says and then adds something in a language I can’t even identify. Paulsen replies in kind, his tone is admonishing. I can tell with how his eyes swing my way that he’s talking that way to Nikolai because of me. I self-consciously place my hands in the pockets of the hoodie.
            Paulsen eventually opens the door to the back seats and rather reluctantly he says “Miss,”
            I don’t know what to do until Nikolai says “Waridi, get in the car, please.”
            I comply and he gets in with me. He tells the driver to take us to the bus station and I add “Stendi ya mabasi ya mkoani,”
            It’s a long ride from the Serengeti to the Arusha mjini. It’s a long enough time for me to second guess myself. I mean, Uncle won’t really kill me he was just saying that, right? I know it’s the fear of the life I’m going to have talking to me.  
            Nikolai reaches for my hand, he pulls it out of the hoodie pockets and squeezes it, and to prove that he can read my mind he adds “You'll be fine,”
            I nod.
            He holds my hand the whole way there. It feels as though we have been holding hands a while, like I've know these hands for more than twelve hours. Actually the feel of his skin on mine is so distracting I don’t think of anything else other than that.
When we get to the bus stand, I get out of the car and he follows me.
            “Thank you so much,” I tell him “You’re a life saver, really.”
            “It was my pleasure,” he says.
            “Okay then,” I have a loose braid and I want to put it behind my ear but his hand is there before I even raise my hand “Bye,” I say but it comes out weak and breathy. Like it’s the last thing I want to say, and it is. I know my circumstance doesn’t leave me with a lot of room to consider anything else but survival but I feel like there is something here.
            “Do you have the money to get you settled in once you get there?” I want to tell him I’ll figure it out but he’s taking out his wallet. He has a lot of red notes in there; he takes a hand full and gives them to me. Usually I would say no (or pretend to) but it’s hard to have pride and standards when you’re down in the gutter. It’s really hard accepting money this way when it goes against everything you believe in but I have to remind myself that I have received money from men before. It’s okay.
            “Thank you,” I say as tears fill my eyes “Thank you, so much.”
            “Will that be enough?”
            “It’s more than enough, really,” I feel a tear about to fall so I flick my eye and place the money in different pockets of the jeans I’m wearing and some in the purse I had from last night.
            “Okay,” he says and I notice that he’s also nervous.
            “Well, bye.” I turn to go but he holds my elbow before my back has completely turned.
            “I know you told me not to worry about you but I do, I will.” He says and then he slowly pulls me into an embrace, I don’t know how long we stay like that. It feels like eternity but then it feels like a mere second once the moment passes. I’m ready to turn around and go but then he says “Can I have your number?”  
I thought he would never ask.