A New Beginning

by Mark David Abbott

  Slowly, he reached through, careful not to cut himself on the shards of glass, unlatched the window, and pulled it open as wide as he could, then pulled himself through the opening. His feet crunched on the broken glass as he walked across the bedroom and cracked open the door. The apartment was dark and empty. Pausing for a moment, he listened for any sign of Hassan, then walked across the living room to the kitchen. Opening the door, he stepped inside and flicked on the lights.

  Spotting the servants’ room, he walked over and slid back the large bolt securing the door and pushed it open. Inside, Amira lay curled on her bed, her face streaked with tears, the side of her face swollen and bruised. She looked up in terror… then relief. Jumping up, she threw her arms around John and started sobbing.

  34

  “It’s okay, it’s okay.” John held her tight. “You are safe now.”

  Her sobbing slowly subsiding, she pulled away and wiped the tears from her face.

  “Amira, we need to leave. Do you have a bag? Is there anything you need to take with you?”

  “Just some clothes, but I don’t have a bag.”

  “Okay, get your clothes together, and I’ll find a bag.”

  John walked out into the kitchen and looked around. Walking over to the sink, he opened the cupboard underneath, and searching around, found a roll of black plastic rubbish bin liners and tore two off. He opened them both up and put one inside the other, then walked back to Amira’s room. “Here use this.” He looked at his watch. “We have to hurry.”

  Amira threw her meager possessions into the bag, then looked up at John, a new determined look on her face.

  John smiled.

  “Everything will be okay. Ready?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Let’s go.”

  John strode out into the living room and toward the front door. He peered through the peephole, but the lift lobby outside was clear. He turned back to see Amira standing in the middle of the living room, the black plastic bag under her arm, gazing around the apartment.

  “Everything okay?” John asked.

  She looked back and nodded—a forlorn young girl in shalwar kameez and rubber flip-flops.

  “Yes, Sir. Just saying goodbye to the house... It was my home.”

  John smiled and waited.

  When she was ready, he opened the door and held it open for her to walk through. Pressing the button to call the lift, he turned to Amira.

  “Amira, it’s better we don’t leave together. You go down first and go out the gate as if you are going shopping. Turn right and go to the end of the road. Adriana is waiting for you there. I will follow behind.”

  Amira nodded and clutched the bag tighter to her chest.

  John reached for the bag. “Here, let me take this. The security won’t question me, but if you leave with this, they might think you are stealing something.” Amira nodded and passed the bag over just as the lift arrived.

  “Now, go. Remember, turn right and go to the end of the road.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  “My name is John, Amira, not Sir,” he smiled. “Go quickly.”

  The doors closed, and John looked up at the digital display and watched the numbers decrease as the lift descended. Once it was halfway down the building, he crossed to the fire stairs, opened the door, and jogged down three floors before entering the lift lobby for the twentieth floor. He pressed the button for the lift, rolling the black plastic bag into as small a bundle as possible while he waited.

  As he walked out into the ground floor lift lobby, he looked around but couldn’t see Amira. That was a good sign. He smiled at the security guard who was watching a Thai serial on a TV on his desk.

  “Khop Khun Kup. Thank you.”

  The guard nodded back. “Kup,” and went back to staring at the TV.

  John strode confidently to the door, walked out of the street, and turned right.

  Adriana was waiting with Amira at the end of the street, her arm around her, holding her close, and when she saw John approaching, she flagged down a taxi. The two women climbed in the back, and John jumped in the front seat, glancing over at the expectant taxi driver.

  “Soi ee sip see kup.”

  “Kup,” the driver replied and pulled out into the traffic.

  John turned in his seat and looked back, a big grin on his face. Adriana smiled back, her arm still around Amira who was leaning against her and staring out the window, watching the buildings rush past.

  John turned around, settled back in his seat, and breathed out, the adrenaline from the past hour finally dissipating. He felt happy. He had done some good. Maybe this deed would go some way to helping him atone for the bad things he had done before. He didn’t know, but at least now, Amira might have a chance of a better life. He thought back over what he had just experienced and shuddered as he remembered the slide down the water pipe. One thing was for sure—he was never doing that again.

  35

  John opened his apartment door and waited for Adriana and Amira to walk through. They had agreed earlier they should stay the night at John’s apartment. He had an extra bedroom, and it would be more comfortable for all of them. Amira stopped in the doorway and waited, not sure what to do.

  “Come in, Amira.” John waved to the door of the second bedroom. “You can stay here until we work out what to do next.” He walked over and opened the door. “This is your room. There’s a bathroom inside.” He passed the plastic bag of belongings to her. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Amira walked inside, clutching the plastic bag to her chest, and looked around. The room was four times the size of the room she had been staying in. She sat down on the double bed and placed the bag on the bed beside her. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked up at the doorway where John and Adriana were watching her.

  “Thank you,” she sniffed and wiped her cheek with her palm. “Thank you.”

  John moved away from the door and walked toward the open kitchen. Opening the cupboard, he took out a bottle of Botanist.

  Adriana followed him and watched as he took out two glasses.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

  Adriana smiled and moved around the kitchen countertop and took both John’s hands in hers.

  “Thank you, John. You did a good thing today.”

  John smiled back self-consciously, his heart beating fast again as he looked into her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. She stood back and smiled again.

  “You’re a good man, John Hayes.” Her brow furrowed as her fingers felt his hands. She looked down and turned his hands over until the palms were facing up.

  “What happened to your hands?”

  “It’s best you don't know.”

  Adriana studied his face. “You never told me how you would get into the apartment. How did you do it?”

  John grinned and pulled away. He walked to the fridge, opened the freezer compartment, taking out a tray of ice.

  “Let’s just say, I never want to rescue anyone else in the same way again.”

  Adriana watched as he filled both glasses with ice, then poured a generous measure of Botanist into each. From the fruit bowl on the counter, he removed an orange, sliced it, and added an orange slice to each glass before topping up both glasses with chilled tonic from the fridge. He handed a glass to Adriana before raising his own.

  “Cheers.” He clinked his glass against hers and took a large sip. “I needed that. How’s yours?”

  “Delicious. Thank you.”

  John took his glass and gestured toward the sofa. Glancing inside Amira’s room as he passed, the bathroom door was closed, and they could hear the shower running.

  John sat down, and Adriana sat to his left, facing him, her right knee on the sofa, her glass held in both hands. She studied it for a while before looking up.

  “What do we do next?”

  “I don’t know,” John replied. He took another large sip of his drink
and swirled the ice cubes around gently in the glass. “I hadn’t thought much further than getting her out.” He glanced over at Adriana. “Would you mind staying here tonight? I think she will be more comfortable knowing you’re in the apartment too. You can have my room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Adriana said nothing for a moment, just looked at John, then nodded. “Of course.”

  She took a sip of her drink before going back to studying her glass. They sat in silence for a while, not needing to say anything, just comfortable in each other’s presence.

  The door of Amira’s bathroom opened, and she walked out. She had showered and changed into a fresh shalwar kameez and stood in the doorway, hesitant, not sure whether she could come out. John jumped up.

  “Hungry?”

  Later that evening, after a meal of takeout Thai food, John lay on the sofa. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, flashbacks of his death-defying climb rushed past his eyes. So, he lay there looking at the patterns on the ceiling from the faint light filtering through the blinds on the windows and wondered what they could do next. The doors to both the bedrooms were closed, both Amira and Adriana no doubt asleep for a while.

  He thought about Adriana, how her sudden presence in his life was affecting him. He could almost feel her in the next room. He no longer felt guilty about allowing another woman into his life. He had been alone for a long time and having Adriana around made him realize how lonely he had been. Perhaps he could start afresh? Perhaps Adriana was the one to help him?

  He closed his eyes again. He was tired, the day exhausting mentally and physically, and he needed to rest. He slowed his breathing and counted back from one hundred. He had reached fifty for the second time when he heard a creak of a door handle and the soft pad of footsteps across the apartment floor. He felt a lump in his throat and didn’t dare look in the sound’s direction. He sensed a presence beside him and opened his eyes.

  Adriana stood beside him, silhouetted against the light from the windows, the light from the moon like a halo around her head. John felt a stirring in his groin and a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. Adriana reached out and took him by the hand, pulled him off the sofa, leading him into the bedroom.

  36

  John lay on his back, watching the early morning sun’s rays filter through the blinds. He looked down at the arm draped across his chest, turned his head, and gazed at the sleeping angel lying next to him. Her lips were slightly open as she breathed softly, and a lock of hair hung down across her cheek. He shifted slightly and reached across with his free hand to tuck the hair behind her ear, his fingertips gently tracing the line of her earlobe. He studied her face, the shape of her eyebrows, the length of her eyelashes. He felt a warmth in his body, a tingling in his chest, sensations he hadn’t felt for a long time—too long in fact.

  Could he actually have a chance of feeling happy again? Of sharing his life with someone? He hoped so. He would give it a try, but deep down, it still scared him. Scared once again someone could break his heart, that this beautiful woman lying next to him could be taken away from him.

  Adriana stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. She saw John watching her, and smiled. “Good morning.” She slid forward and kissed him on the lips, then propped her head on her right hand and gazed down at his face, her left finger tracing the line of his nose, then his lips.

  John’s heart quickened, and he pulled her closer to him.

  “Mr. Hayes, are you planning to take advantage of me again?” Adriana giggled.

  John lifted his head and pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth opened, and his tongue traced the inside of her lips. He reached up with his right hand, slipping his fingers into her thick mane of hair, and pulled her on top of him.

  37

  Hassan yawned and stretched, then rubbed his face. It had been another late night with lots of alcohol, and his mouth was dry. The familiar dull ache in his temples was there. He needed caffeine and food. He rolled out of bed, and paused as the blood rushed to his head, increasing the throbbing in his temples. He grabbed the robe from where he had dropped it on the floor, cinched it around his waist, then shuffled out into the apartment. He was about to call out for Amira when he remembered he had locked her in her room. Stupid little bitch, drawing maps of her home for some reason. She was up to something, but he didn’t know what. Even after beating her yesterday, she had said nothing. Anyway, there was little she could do from here.

  He walked into the kitchen toward her room and stopped. The door was open. What? Impossible. He had locked it himself from the outside, the reason he had fitted the extra bolt. He rushed over and pushed the door wider. The room was empty. He looked at the shelf where she had kept her clothes. Empty. Walking back out, he examined the door. How the fuck had she got out? It could only have been opened from the outside. He walked over and leaned with both hands on the kitchen countertop. The pounding in his head was getting worse.

  When he had returned home the previous night, the front door was definitely locked, of that he was sure. He had fumbled with the keys when he was letting himself in and dropped them on the floor. It was impossible for her to get out and impossible for someone to get in. He slammed his fist down on the countertop. How the fuck…? Bitch! She couldn’t have got far. He would hunt her down and make sure she never worked again. She had no passport, no friends, and could barely speak Thai. Yes, it would only be a matter of time before the police picked her up. He turned and leaned his butt against the kitchen cabinet and crossed his arms. She had no money either… maybe she had stolen something so she could sell it for money?

  He walked out into the living room and looked around, couldn’t see anything missing. He walked into his bedroom and into the walk-in wardrobe. Moving his shirts aside, he checked the safe set into the wall. Still locked. Anyway, she wouldn’t have known the combination. He shook his head. He still couldn’t figure out how she had escaped. He walked out, entered the second bedroom and looked around. Again, no obvious sign of anything missing. He opened the door of the next bedroom. The room was hotter than the others, and the noise from the street outside more noticeable. Fuck!

  He spotted the broken window, the glass fragments, and the shattered plant pot spread across the floor. What the fuck was going on? He crossed the bedroom, careful to avoid the broken glass, opened the sliding door to the balcony, and stepped out. He leaned over the wall and looked down at the ground far below. He turned and looked up toward the roof. No sign of any ropes or ladders. Someone had come in through the window but how the hell had they managed it? Who was it? Fucking Spiderman? And why the hell would anyone bother about her? She was just scum from the slum. The little bitch. He would find her and break her fucking legs. He returned to his bedroom, picked up his phone, and made a call.

  38

  “What do we do now?” Adriana asked as she lay in John’s arms.

  “I don’t know.” John traced a line down her shoulder and along her back with his fingers. “Let’s take it slowly.”

  Adriana was silent for a while, then, “No, I meant with Amira.”

  “Oh yes, of course.” John pulled his arm out from under her and sat up, smiling down at her.

  “We’ll work something out. Let’s have breakfast first. I’m starving, and I can hear Amira moving around.” He leaned down and kissed her between the shoulder blades. “Everything will be fine now.”

  Showered and dressed, John walked out of the bedroom. He could smell coffee, and noticed the dining table was set for three.

  “Good morning, Sir,” Amira greeted him from the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Amira, and please call me John.”

  “Yes, Sir... umm ah… John.”

  John looked around the kitchen. Fresh coffee was brewing in the French Press, and a plate of cut fruit was ready on the counter.

  “Amira, you don’t have to do this. You are free now.”

  Amira blushed. “But John, Sir. I wanted to. You and Ma’am have helpe
d me so much. I can never repay you.”

  “Amira, you don’t have to repay us. What was happening to you was wrong, and we wanted to help. So, don’t worry. Now, let’s have some of that coffee.”

  “Yes, Sir… John. I wanted to make chai for you, but I couldn’t find any ingredients.” Amira filled a mug with coffee. “Sir, do you take milk or sugar?”

  “No, thank you. Just black.”

  “And Ma’am?”

  “She will be out in a minute. She’s having a shower.” John sipped his coffee. It was stronger than he made it but not bad. He leaned against the kitchen counter, the coffee mug cupped in his hands.

  “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yes,” Amira grinned. “The bed is so big.”

  “Good. Treat this as your home until we can work out how to get you back to your family. If there’s anything you need, please tell me.”

  “Yes, John Sir.”

  “No need for sir,” John smiled. “Tell me, how did you learn such good English?”

  “At school S… ah, John. My parents always wanted my sister and me to go to school because they never did… I loved school… but I had to stop…” She bowed her head, embarrassed. “My family doesn’t have money.” She stopped speaking, fiddling with the hem of her kameez while John watched her. When she looked up, she had a fire in her eyes.

  “That is why I came here. I have to earn money, so my parents can rest, and my sister Zaara can continue at school. They work so hard, but now it’s my turn to look after them…” She trailed off, her defiance fading away. “But it didn’t work out.”

  They both turned as the bedroom door opened, and Adriana walked out. She wore one of John’s shirts over her jeans, the light blue cotton sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

  “Good morning, Ma’am,” Amira rushed over and held her by the hand.