34
Liam is sitting at the dining room table, staring at his computer screen intently. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I ask angrily as I gather up my hair into a ponytail.
He raises his head. “Wouldn’t the Duchess like some coffee before she goes out to meet the commoners?” he asks in an amused tone.
“Stop, don’t call me that.” I shove my laptop into my backpack. “I’ve already missed two classes and I have to go to my professor’s class.”
“Your professor,” he hisses icily.
“Yes, and unfortunately he won’t be mine for much longer,” I say sadly.
“Why?” Liam asks curiously.
“Because he’s leaving to a different university. But I want to talk to him today about—”
“Great news!” he cuts me off. “One less bastard who wants to fuck my woman.”
“Idiot.” I roll my eyes and turn to the door.
“Fine, just show me where you hid my file and I’ll take you.” He stands up and I turn pale. “Elena,” he quickly walks toward me and grabs my arm. “Where did you hide the fucking file?”
“Ahh… I burned it.” I answer and watch his pupils dilate in anger. “But don’t worry, I have backup.”
“How did you back it up? Did you photocopy it?” I swallow as he shakes me. “Elena, answer me before I lose my mind. That file is my entire business, I thought you knew that.”
“It’s all in here.” I point at my head and place my backpack on the floor as I realize in frustration that I won’t be getting to campus anytime soon.
“What do you mean?” He looks at me suspiciously but stops shaking me.
“It means that I need a computer, a printer and a few hours of quiet.”
“It’s all in your head?” he wrinkles his forehead. “You remember every page in the file?”
“Unfortunately, I do.” I shrug. “When I realized what was in the file, I was afraid that they might search the house and find it. So, I photocopied the pages in my head and burned it.” I sit down at his computer. “What’s this?” I ask when I see the black site on the screen. “This doesn’t look like a regular site.”
“Because it’s not.” He pulls the mouse to him and exits the site. “It’s called the Dark Web. Even communication in our world is different than in your old world.”
“I’ve heard about that…” I try to re-enter the site, but can’t find the link. “Show me,” I say with a naughty smile, but he shakes his head.
“The Duchess hasn’t finished her first degree yet. She can’t jump ahead to her second degree.” He laughs at my disappointed expression, and then taps on the table. “I need all the information, so get to work.”
“Everything?” I ask in dismay.
“Everything,” he replies dryly. “Type it, print it and then we’ll burn the computer so that nobody can find the data.”
I stare at him in shock. I can’t tell if he’s serious or just kidding with me. I open up an Excel file, close my eyes and open the secret drawer in my brain. My eyes open and my fingers start typing. Each page I finish typing is sent to the printer. I don’t stop to drink the coffee he’s put on the table for me, or answer my cellphone, which doesn’t stop ringing. I just type and print. Liam asks me a question from time to time, but I ignore him and keep going. Finally, I raise my head wearily. “I’m done,” I announce, and Liam puts the last paper into his new file. I turn off the computer. “Can I go to campus now?” I yawn and rub my neck.
“I don’t think there’s any point in going at this hour.” He closes the file and tucks it under his arm. “Come to the bar with me.”
I pick up my cellphone and see that it is already eight p.m. “Damn it!” I say in disappointment.
“You missed a lot of calls. Don’t you want to check who’s looking for you?”
“It’s just my mother.” I pour myself a glass of water.
“Call her back. I’ll wait for you.” He sits back down on the couch.
“She probably wants to pressure me into coming home.” I look for something to eat, but the refrigerator is empty. I see that he’s still sitting and waiting, and reluctantly I pick up the phone and dial.
“Where were you?” my mother yells and I hold the phone away from my ear.
“Mom, why are you yelling?” I rub the back of my neck again and roll my eyes.
“Because I need you here!” she’s still screaming. “I thought I fixed everything when the bank took our house and car, but it turns out that your cowardly father owes money to criminals as well. To criminals!”
She bursts into tears and I lean on the counter and put my hand over my heart.
“Where is he?” I mumble.
“The coward?” she is still upset. “The coward ran off and left me to deal with the threats on my own.”
“They threatened you?” I peek at Liam and see that he is straightening up. She doesn’t answer and keeps crying. “Mom, calm down and tell me what they want.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she shouts. “You left me too. What do you think they want? Money. Lots of money.”
“How much money?” I ask fearfully.
“A hundred thousand dollars,” she replies, and I turn around so Liam won’t see the blood draining from my face.
“Is there anything left to sell?” I try to inhale, unsuccessfully.
“Nothing, Elena. Nothing,” she sobs, “they said that they would do terrible things to me if I don’t get the money by Friday. Terrible things that I can't even tell you.”
“I see,” my hand is trembling on the counter.
“Please, come home,” she whispers.
“All right.” I answer wearily and end the call. I feel his shadow above me, and I can’t turn around. I pour myself another glass of water, but I can’t drink it. It falls from my hand and shatters on the floor.
Liam pulls me gently to the sofa and sits down next to me. “Tell me what happened,” he asks softly, and I shake my head. If I don’t repeat what she said out loud, maybe it will go away. “Elena,” he strokes my head. “Tell me what happened.”
The unbelievable amount of money that my mother mentioned is spinning around in my head like a slot machine in a Las Vegas casino. I don’t know why my brain’s telling me to keep the information from him, but I accept the warning signs it’s shooting at me. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and slowly exhale.
“Never mind, she’s just being dramatic.” I fake a smile and open my eyes. “This day exhausted me. Maybe I won’t join you at the bar tonight?”
He looks at me suspiciously and I see that he’s struggling to decide whether he should just leave the matter alone or continue and demand answers. “Liam,” I place my hand on his thigh, “it’s my mother, a drama queen. It’s our regular conversation where she begs me to come home and I say no.”
“But you said ‘all right’ at the end of the call,” he’s still looking at me suspiciously.
“I agreed to call again and discuss it,” I lie calmly. “Can I go to sleep now?”
“Don’t you want me to order something to eat?” he looks at me with concern, and I shake my head and walk to the staircase. “I just want to sleep.”
“I’ll try not to come back late.” He stands up with the file in his hand, and watches me until I disappear upstairs. I sit down on the edge of the bed and as soon as I hear the garage door close, I grab my suitcase, shove everything I find inside, and call a cab.
Several minutes later I drag my suitcase to the garage, press the garage door's remote control, and run to the cab. The Volvo isn’t parked in the street and I sigh in relief. One less reason to worry.
The cab takes me to the airport, and I text my mother to send me her new address. I don’t think about my man, who will soon be going crazy because of me. I don’t think about my studies, my job, my professor who has abandoned me, the truce or the gang war that’s starting up again. For the first time in a long while, I think of my mother, the huge debt and the threats… Who would believe that my aristocratic, classic French mother would ever have to deal with criminals?
I walk out of the Houston airport in the early hours of the morning. I’m home, I think sadly. I hate this city and I’d be happy if I never had to come back here. I give the cab driver the address and he starts driving. I try to see where we’re going but I don’t recognize anything. A half hour later he stops in a small street and I peek out the window. “Are you sure this isn’t a mistake?” I ask as I look in disgust at the garbage piled up outside, the loud kids sitting on the porches, and the poor condition of the house I’m meant to enter.
He repeats the address I gave him, and I don’t need to look at the message on my phone again to realize that there is no mistake. My mother lives in a distressed neighborhood. If it weren’t so awful, I’d probably laugh.
I drag my suitcase up three steps and knock on the door.
“Who is it?” I hear my mother’s gentle voice on the other side of the door.
“Mom, it’s me.” I try to open the door as I hear the key turn, but it’s still locked. Another lock is opened, then another two and finally she opens the door cautiously, sticks her head out and looks to the sides fearfully. “Come on, mom, let me in.” I push the door. She helps me with my luggage and turns back to lock the door again.
“You sleep at the door?” I ask in shock when I see the pillow and blanket by the wall.
“I was waiting for you,” she replies angrily and stands up straight. Even in her black nightgown she looks like she’s ready to go out to a concert. Her long black hair is stretched back and her face is glowing. “Stand up straight,” she taps me gently on the shoulder and I let go of the handle of my suitcase and straighten up. Suddenly I remember her old obsession and I burst into laughter.
“Mom, is my posture so important to you even in the middle of the night?” I shake my head in despair and she groans and goes to the kitchen. I follow her into a badly kept room. The cupboards are painted in faded green, the refrigerator door is rusty and peeling, and the tiles on the floor are in disgusting shades of brown. However, it’s also clean, practically sterile, and the plates and glasses are arranged neatly.
“Do you want something to eat?” she turns on the kettle.
“I really do.” I clutch my stomach in pain. “I haven’t eaten anything today.”
“Wonderful,” she says sarcastically and takes two plastic boxes out of the refrigerator. “Didn’t I teach you to eat three meals a day?”
“Mom,” I groan, “I’ve had a hard day. I flew here as quickly as I could and now, I’d like some quiet without you criticizing me about everything I do.”
“A hard day,” she repeats disdainfully. “I'm in a nightmare and you complain about one hard day.”
“I’m not really hungry,” I say and stand up. “Show me where the bedroom is.”
“No. I apologize.” She turns to me and suddenly bursts into tears. She comes close and hugs me. I can’t remember the last time she hugged me, and I have no idea how to react to this burst of emotion. I pat her back gently and she lets go of me, picks up a napkin and dries her tears carefully. “I'm so glad you're here. I started to feel that I'm losing my sanity.” She places a cup of coffee in front of me and puts a plate in the microwave. “I don’t know what to do and there is no one to help me. I am alone for the first time in my life.”
My heart goes out to her and I wonder how to comfort the woman who never tried to comfort me. “Mom, let’s sit down together and think logically how to solve this.” I sip my coffee and she takes the plate out of the microwave, sets it in front of me and gives me a fork wrapped in a paper napkin. I guess that old habits never change, even when you’ve been thrown out of a luxury apartment and into a slum.
“I've already thought of everything.” She sits upright across from me and adds half a teaspoon of sugar to her coffee. “I can’t think of any solution.” She places her trembling hand over her mouth.
“Don’t you have any idea where dad is?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “If I did, I could send them to him.” She is silent for a moment and closes her eyes in pain. “Elena, I would do it. I would turn him in without hesitation.”
“I can understand that,” I reply dryly. “I never understood what you saw in him. He wasn’t much of a father.”
“With all his faults, he still loves you,” she says and lowers her head. “I think that he never wanted children, and when you came along, he thought he could continue living the life of a wild bachelor.”
“Forget him now,” I say angrily when I realize that I have no feelings for the man who calls himself my father. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
She takes a sip of coffee and starts talking. She tells me about the day they called from the bank, the repossessions, the embarrassment, being shamed in front of the neighbors. About the day he disappeared from rehab without even leaving a note. About moving to this apartment, her new job. And then she falls silent.
“Keep going,” I encourage her, and her eyes fill with tears.
“I thought that I reached the lowest point of humanity when I had to move here,” she sniffs, “but then I found out that there was an even lower place to fall.” She takes another napkin and wipes her eyes. “A few days ago, I came home from work. A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. I thought it was one of the neighbors coming to welcome me,” she laughs bitterly. “As soon as I touched the door handle, three young men burst in. They were wearing shorts and filthy jerseys, they were all covered in tattoos.” She grimaces in disgust. “Without saying a word, they started breaking things and I started screaming.” She groans and continues, “They said that if I don’t tell them where Henry is they will burn the house down with me inside. I screamed like a madwoman, begged them to believe that I don’t know anything but they continued to shatter everything they saw.” She drinks some coffee and suddenly she looks twenty years older. “In the end one of the men asked his friends to stop. I thought they believed me and that they would leave me alone, but he pushed me up against a wall, held a knife to my neck and said that my husband’s debt had passed to me and that I have until Friday to pay it. I thought it was a few hundred dollars.” She rubs her neck and smiles wearily. “When I heard the amount, I think I fainted. They slapped me a few times and I had to agree to pay. Elena, I thought they were going to murder me.” She bursts into tears. “And none of the neighbors came to check why I was screaming like a madwoman.”
Tears fill my eyes. “What did you do after that?” I ask and lean forward, putting my hand over hers.
“I went to the police,” she shrugs. “I thought they would be shocked, I thought they would send patrol cars out here until they catch the criminals. But do you know what they did?” She closes her eyes. “They showed me some books with pictures of criminals. They all looked the same to me,” she sobs. “You know my memory was never very good.” I nod sadly. “When I couldn’t identify any of them, the policemen sent me home and told me to call if they come again. They don’t have enough manpower to guard one woman.” She shakes her head in exhaustion. “Maybe after they murder me someone will remember that it was important enough.”
“Nobody will murder you.” I stand up and go over to stand behind her. I lean down and hug her tightly, finding the inner strength to show my love for her. She looks so broken and miserable, I yearn to comfort her. “Mom, I’m here now and we’ll find a solution.” I say confidently, wishing that I felt it as well. “Let’s go to sleep.” I put my plate and our cups in the sink, and we go upstairs arm in arm to the only bedroom in the house. She lies down and I lie down next to her and cover us both with a blanket. My phone is downstairs on the dresser and it doesn’t stop ringing. I ignore it and close my eyes, trying to be strong for the person who should have been strong for me but failed.