Chapter 26
Nora
The evening of my arrival home is a nonstop stream of crying, hugs, and questions about what happened and how I managed to come back.
I tell my parents as much of the truth as I can, explaining about the plane crash in Uzbekistan and Julian’s subsequent capture by the terrorist group he’s been fighting.
As I speak, I can see them battling shock and disbelief.
Terrorists and planes downed by missiles are so far outside of the normal paradigm of their lives that I know it’s hard for them to process. It was difficult for me once, too.
“Oh, Nora, honey…” My mom’s voice is soft and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry—I know you loved him, despite everything. Do you know what’s going to happen now?”
I shake my head, trying to avoid looking at my dad.
He thinks this is a good development; I can see it on his face.
He’s relieved that I’m most likely rid of the man he considers to be my abuser.
I’m certain both of my parents think Julian deserves this, but my mom is at least attempting to be sensitive to my feelings.
My dad, though, can hardly hide his satisfaction at this turn of events.
“Well, whatever happens, I’m glad you came home.” My mom reaches out to take my hand. Her dark eyes are swimming with fresh tears as she gazes at me. “We’re here for you, honey, you know that, right?”
“I do, Mom,” I whisper, my throat tight with emotion. “That’s why I came back. Because I missed you… and because I couldn’t be alone on that estate.”
That much is true, but that’s not the real reason I’m here. I can’t tell my parents the real reason.
If they knew I came home to get kidnapped by Al-Quadar, they would never forgive me for that.
Despite my exhaustion, I barely sleep that night.
I know it’ll take some time for Al-Quadar to respond to my presence in town, but I’m still consumed by dread and nervous anticipation.
Every time I drift off, I have nightmares, only in these dreams it’s not Beth who’s being cut into pieces—it’s Julian.
The bloody images are so vivid that I wake up nauseated and shaking, my bedsheets drenched with sweat.
Finally, I give up on sleep altogether and pull out the art supplies I brought with me in my suitcase.
I’m hoping that painting will prevent me from dwelling on the fact that my nightmares may be playing out at this very moment in some Al-Quadar hideout thousands of miles away.
As the light of the rising sun filters into the room, I stop to examine what I painted.
It looks abstract at first—just swirls of red, black, and brown—but a closer inspection reveals something different.
All the swirls are faces and bodies, people tangled together in a paroxysm of violent ecstasy.
The faces reveal both agony and pleasure, lust and torment.
It’s probably my best work to date, and I hate it.
I hate it because it shows me how much I’ve changed. How little of the old me remains.
“Wow, honey, this is amazing…” My mom’s voice startles me out of my musings, and I turn around to see her standing in the doorway, gazing at the painting with genuine admiration. “That French instructor of yours must be really good.”
“Yes, Monsieur Bernard is excellent,” I agree, trying to keep the weariness out of my voice. I’m so tired that I just want to collapse, but that’s not an option at the moment.
“You didn’t sleep well, did you?” My mom furrows her forehead, looking worried, and I know I didn’t succeed in hiding my tiredness from her. “Were you thinking about him?”
“Of course I was.” A sudden swell of anger sharpens my voice. “He’s my husband, you know.”
She blinks, clearly taken aback, and I immediately regret my harsh tone. This situation is not my mom’s fault; if anyone is blameless in all this, it’s my parents. My temper is the last thing they deserve… particularly since my desperate plan will likely cause them even more anguish.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, going over to give her a hug. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay, honey.” She strokes my hair, her touch so gentle and comforting that I want to weep. “I understand.”
I nod, even though I know she can’t possibly comprehend the extent of my stress. She can’t—because she doesn’t know that I’m waiting.
Waiting to be taken by the same monsters who have Julian.
Waiting for Al-Quadar to snap at the bait.
The morning drags by. It’s a Saturday, so both of my parents are home.
They’re happy about that, but I’m not. I wish they were at work today.
I want to be alone if—no, when—Majid’s goons come for me.
It had been relatively safe to spend the night, since Al-Quadar would need time to put whatever plan they have into action, but now that it’s morning, I don’t want my parents near me.
The security detail Julian put in place around my family would ensure their safety, but those same bodyguards may also interfere with my abduction—and that’s the last thing I want.
“Shopping?” My dad gives me a strange look when I announce my intention to hit the stores after breakfast. “Are you sure, honey? You just got home, and with everything going on—”
“Dad, I’ve been in the middle of nowhere for months.” I give him my best men-just-don’t-get-it look. “You have no idea what that’s like for a girl.” Seeing that he’s unconvinced, I add, “Seriously, Dad, I could use the distraction.”
“She’s got a point,” my mom chimes in. Turning toward me, she gives me a conspiratorial wink and tells my dad, “There’s nothing like shopping to take a woman’s mind off things. I’ll go with Nora—it’ll be just like the old times.”
My heart sinks. I can’t have my mom coming along if the point is to have my parents away from potential danger.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mom,” I say regretfully, “but I already promised Leah I’d meet her.
It’s spring break, you know, and she’s home.
” I had seen an update to that effect on Facebook earlier this morning, so I’m only partially lying.
My friend is indeed in town—I just hadn’t made any plans to see her today.
“Oh, okay.” My mom looks hurt for a moment, but then she shakes it off and gives me a bright smile. “No worries, honey. We’ll see you after you catch up with your friends. I’m glad you’re distracting yourself like that. It’s for the best, really…”
My dad still looks suspicious, but there is nothing he can do. I’m an adult, and I’m not exactly asking for their permission.
As soon as breakfast is over, I give them each a kiss and a hug and walk over to the bus stop on 95th street to get on the bus going to the Chicago Ridge Mall.
Come on, take me already. Fucking take me already.
I have been wandering through the mall for hours, and to my frustration, there is still no sign of Al-Quadar. They either don’t know that I’m here, or they don’t care about me now that they have Julian.
I refuse to entertain the latter possibility because if it’s true, Julian is as good as dead.
The plan has to work. There is no other alternative. Majid simply needs more time. Time to sniff out that I’m here alone and unprotected—a convenient tool that they can use to force Julian to give them what they want.
“Nora? Holy shit, Nora, is that you?” A familiar voice yanks me out of my thoughts, and I turn around to see my friend Leah gaping at me with astonishment.
“Leah!” For a second, I forget all about the danger and rush forward to embrace the girl who had been my best friend for ages.
“I had no idea you would be here!” And it’s true—despite my lie to my parents this morning, I had not expected to run into Leah like that.
In hindsight, though, I probably should have, since we used to hang out at this mall nearly every weekend when we were younger.
“What are you doing here?” she asks when we get the hug out of the way. “I thought you were in Colombia!”
“I was—I mean, I am.” Now that the initial excitement is over, I’m realizing that running into Leah could be problematic.
The last thing I want is for my friend to suffer because of me.
“I’m just here for a brief visit,” I explain hurriedly, casting a worried look around.
All seems to be normal, so I continue, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was home, but things were kind of hectic and, well, you know how it is… ”
“Right, you must be busy with your new husband and stuff,” she says slowly, and I can feel the distance between us growing even though we haven’t moved an inch.
We haven’t spoken since I told her about my marriage—just exchanged a few brief emails—and I see now that she still questions my sanity…
that she no longer understands the person I’ve become.
I don’t blame her for that. Sometimes I don’t understand that person either.
“Leah, babe, there you are!” A man’s voice interrupts our conversation, and my heart jumps as a familiar male figure approaches Leah from behind me.
It’s Jake—the boy I once had a crush on.
The boy Julian stole me from that fateful night in the park.
Only he’s not a boy anymore. His shoulders are heavier now; his face is leaner and harder.
At some point in the past few months, he’s become a man—a man who only has eyes for Leah.
Stopping next to her, he bends down to give her a kiss and says in a low, teasing voice, “Babe, I got you that present…”
Leah’s pale cheeks turn beet-red. “Um, Jake,” she mumbles, tugging on his arm to draw his attention to my presence, “look who I just ran into.”
He turns toward me, and his brown eyes go round with shock. “Nora? What—what are you doing here?”