The Exile

by Gregory Erich Phillips

  Her concern was for the future, but the past also reached back toward her on those cool, solitary days. Her mind kept wandering back to her childhood. Vague memories of her mother stirred in her heart. She remembered the children she grew up with. Those had been hard, frightening years, but there were good times too: playing football in the streets, dancing in the plaza at night, spontaneous swims in the ocean before they had any idea how dirty the Cartagena Bay was. There was a freedom to being a child of the streets, but there was no future except for the dark underworld offered by Paulo and similar men. She knew that at a young age and never regretted giving up the freedom for the opportunity Manny had offered her.

  Leila wanted to give her child both—opportunity and freedom. She wanted to give the security of not wondering where their next meal would come from or fearing that any day they would be dragged away by cruel arms. She wanted to give her child everything.

  She placed her hands on her stomach, realizing that she was eager for the day when she would feel it beginning to expand. Yes, she wanted this child, needed this child. She was scared, but it was a fear she had longed for.

  On Friday morning, she left the seashore inn. It had been a good respite, but she could only run away for so long. She called Ashford before leaving and asked if they could meet for coffee the next morning. It felt like too casual of a suggestion, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  While driving east across California and into Arizona, she realized that, while Ashford had been there abstractly in her vision of a future family, she hadn’t really thought about him much at all this week. Circumstances had so quickly taken her thoughts beyond the joy of what they had shared, all too briefly, with each other. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. That warmth of first attraction should have lasted longer. It was gone for her already.

  Before eleven a.m. on Saturday, she sat at an outside table at a small café beside an outdoor Scottsdale shopping center, uncharacteristically early as she watched for him. She had suggested this place because it was near his house but wished she had picked somewhere less crowded. At least she had found a table around a corner so they would be able to talk with some privacy.

  It was early November; the daytime weather had cooled from sweltering to pleasantly warm. Snowbirds had begun their flight south for the winter. She saw them mobbing the nearby mall in their shorts and sandals. In other places, the leaves changed color in the fall; in Arizona, the license plates changed color. She watched them driving in and out of the parking lot: Minnesota, Michigan, Illinois, the various provinces of Canada.

  Ashford appeared across the parking lot. She saw him coming toward her before he saw her. He wore jeans and his characteristic untucked, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was the first time she had seen him since that night at his house. Her heart went out to him. Yes, the attraction was still there, even if it wasn’t new and carefree anymore. She remembered the feel of his hands on her, his kisses, the passion with which they made love, all his tender words. Something of him had remained inside her. Their relationship was still brand new, but it was inseverable now.

  His eyes found her, and he smiled. She felt less afraid.

  She stood up and hugged him—their bodies together again, the scent of his neck, their intimacy remembered. She held him for several long seconds, then reached up to kiss him.

  “Go ahead, get yourself a coffee.” She already had hers.

  She waited until he came back with his cup and settled into the wire chair across from her.

  “So, Ashford Cohen, how do you feel about being a dad?”

  Perhaps it wasn’t the most elegant way for her to tell him, but there it was.

  He took some time to process the news. She waited, forgetting for a moment that this had been her reality for several weeks while he had only been able to wonder. From his look, she surmised that parenthood had not been a dream of his the way it had been for her. She tried her hardest not to judge him for that.

  “I’m scared.”

  She appreciated his honesty. “Me too. But I also feel joy. We’ve never talked about it. We barely know each other. But I’ve always seen myself as a mother, so I’m not sad, even if I don’t feel ready.”

  He nodded. She wasn’t sure if he understood, but she had needed to say it.

  “I don’t suppose I can ask much from you at this point. I don’t even know what we are to each other. We haven’t talked about it.”

  “You’re my girlfriend. I insist now.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand.

  “I like that.”

  “This will be my baby too. I’m freaked out about it. Wow, I’m only twenty-five! I don’t even have a job. But it happened. I love you. When I told you I would be here for you, I meant it. We’ll make this work.”

  Leila yanked her wire chair noisily across the concrete until it was beside him, then tucked her head under his arm and placed it on his shoulder. It felt so right to be back in his arms. The weeks since they had seen each other melted away. The future looked less frightening.

  “We have to keep it a secret for a while. Not just the pregnancy but that we’re together at all. I need to start looking for another job. It would be good to get one before I’m showing. It’s supposedly illegal to make a hiring decision based on that, but you know it happens. The mortgage business can be pretty screwed up.”

  “My mom will be upset, but are you so sure she’d actually fire you?”

  “We’ll see.” Does he not know his mother at all? He’ll be no match for her.

  “I have some good news too,” he said.

  She turned to look at him.

  “While you were gone, I interviewed for a nursing job at the hospital in Glendale, and I think it went well. It would be a part-time assignment for now, which is perfect because I need to finish my internship at the university hospital. They said it could transition to full time once my internship is complete.”

  “That’s wonderful! When does your internship end?”

  “March.”

  The two wire chairs pushed together were not the most comfortable, even though Leila liked to be next to him.

  “Let’s walk.”

  They took their coffee cups and walked toward the nearby shops holding hands. His hands were larger than hers, and as they strolled, she rested her head on his shoulder, a little higher than her own. It was comforting. It made her feel feminine and secure.

  “It’s funny,” he said, “all my life I’ve had whatever I needed, but I’ve never had any money to my own name. My mom just bought me anything I wanted. She still pays for everything. If I want something—even if I just need cash—she gives it to me. But I always have to ask, which never feels good.”

  “Makes it hard to date.”

  “Having a job will make a huge difference, but I’m pretty far from being financially independent.”

  He started laughing. It surprised Leila, but she enjoyed hearing it, particularly at a time like this. He had such a kind, musical laugh.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Earlier this morning, I stopped at this naturalist’s shop nearby—a great hippie named Minerva. I often sell her my herbs for teas. This morning, I brought her a couple of pounds of stuff, mostly dried yucca and dandelion root, the result of two months of collecting. She paid me sixty bucks. Right now, those sixty bucks, minus the price of this cup of coffee, is basically all the money I have to my name. It was so funny to think about that I had to laugh. Yet there’s something about it that’s decidedly not funny.”

  Leila almost told him how much she had saved over these last few years, to assure him that he could lean on her if his mother kicked him out. But this wasn’t the right time. Telling him he could rely on her wasn’t what he needed to hear. He needed to know he could make his own way. She needed that too. The security of his large hand and strong shoulder were false comforts. She liked that he was going through these sorts of thought processes. Despite the shock of the pre
gnancy, he was starting to plan, which was important for the man who would be her child’s father. That was real comfort, real security.

  “Has Samantha ever mentioned Stewart to you?”

  “No. Who’s Stewart?”

  “He was my brother.”

  Leila stopped and looked at him. “Was?”

  “He died almost eight years ago.”

  Leila was amazed. Samantha had never mentioned having a child other than Ashford.

  “Mom didn’t handle it well. I mean what mother would? But it really messed her up. It happened during my senior year of high school and while I had been considering going away to college, after that I decided to stay and go to Arizona State. She needed me close. Now, though, it makes it even harder to break away and become independent.”

  So much more made sense now. Leila didn’t want to ask him any more about it—he would offer if he wanted to tell her. She felt closer to Ashford, knowing the loss he had suffered. She’d thought he hadn’t had much to test him in life. She had been wrong.

  “Do you miss him, your brother?”

  “I do. We weren’t close. He was a lot older than me. He had a physical problem—an irregular heart—and he overcompensated by feigning strength. I was an easy target for him to pick on. I was glad when he moved away, but after he died, I only remembered all the things I loved about him.”

  Leila squeezed his hand. She couldn’t really imagine having a sibling, much less losing one.

  “I never grew up as an only child,” he continued, “then suddenly I was one. I felt a lot of responsibility for my mom after that. Maybe too much, when I think about it. I’m seeing now how she’s used that to keep me close. Dad told me she’d make it hard when the time came that I’d want to leave. I never really listened to him. I didn’t need to until now.”

  A sudden breeze kicked through the palms that lined the sidewalk.

  “You’ve never told me about your dad. Where has he been through all these years?”

  “He lives in LA. He’s a wonderful person, but not really a model for who I want to be. He can’t hold a job for long and never can save any money.”

  “How odd to think of someone like that with Samantha.”

  “Not really. He’s a charmer and an artist. Mom was young when they married. I think it took a few years until she realized that she didn’t want the life he offered. After Stewart, and when I started school, she went into sales. She was great at it, and after a few years, she was making far more money than Dad ever had. He spent all of her money he could get his hands on and seldom contributed much in return. So, she divorced him.”

  “Interesting.”

  “She was always fair to him—I’ll give her credit for that. She never asked him for child support, which wouldn’t have made any sense. She knew that Stewart and I would be better people for having a relationship with our dad, so she let him see us whenever he wanted.”

  He looked over at her with a smile. “It was my dad who got me started on the plant-based medicines.”

  “Really? I can’t picture Samantha with anyone who liked to grind up yucca root.”

  “He’s an incredibly creative person—full of ideas and full of love, but always with his head in the clouds. Stewart was that way too.”

  “I want to meet him.”

  “You will. Hopefully soon. I think you’ll really like him.”

  “I want to know everything there is to know about you.” She squeezed his hand again, pressing her body toward him. “I like having a boyfriend.”

  They spent the rest of the morning talking and walking through the shops. They ate lunch, then drove back to Leila’s apartment. Her complex was growing fuller with Phoenix’s expanding winter population. Soon, she would have to start leaving notes on the cars that took her assigned parking spot. She showed Ashford the correct guest parking area. Romeo ran and hid when they entered the apartment, unsure of the stranger.

  They made love all afternoon.

  The crisis had happened. There was no undoing it. They were united now for better and worse. Leila wanted to let herself fall all the way in love with him.

  Ashford left as the sun was setting. Leila wished he could spend the night, but it was too soon for that. She stood in her doorway at the top of the stairs, covered only by her bathrobe, watching him drive away.

  Samantha could fire her. She could kick Ashford out and cut him off. But if she tried to turn him against her, Leila would fight her tooth and nail. Maybe Ashford was no match for his mother, but Leila sure as hell was.

  22

  LEILA HAD TRIED not to think about the work that would await her when she got back to the office on Monday. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to go much longer. She had updated her resume the night before.

  She arrived just after nine, hoping to slip in quietly. To her surprise, everyone was there already, but nobody was working. Not a single phone receiver was off its hook. Samantha’s office door was shut. Leila looked around.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You picked a bad time to go on vacation,” said Cox.

  “Things were so quiet when I left.”

  “Well, they’re not quiet anymore.”

  She sat down at her desk and opened her email, but didn’t start sifting through any yet, scared of what she might find.

  Samantha’s office door opened and two men in suits walked toward the elevators, not making eye contact with anyone.

  “Do you think they’re the feds?” Dennis asked.

  “No way,” said Cox. “The feds always come on Fridays, and they wear black suits. That guy’s suit was gray.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Dennis was clearly on edge.

  Samantha appeared in her doorway. “Leila!”

  She obeyed the summons, terrified. The door shut behind her.

  “You sure left me in a hell of a mess.”

  “I’m sorry.” Leila sat down, not able to imagine what was going on. Samantha leaned back against the front of her desk. She looked exhausted for a Monday morning.

  “The least you could have done was answer your cell phone.”

  “I was out of coverage range. What happened?”

  “Desert Villas is in crisis. The new houses aren’t appraising for half what the first batch closed at. Buyers are walking away from their earnest money deposits. Better than taking a bath by closing, I suppose.”

  “Isn’t Marshall Berg still doing the appraisals?”

  “Fuck Marshall! That ass has betrayed me for the last time. I’ll have his license before this is through. Leila, I need you to call Paul. He’ll listen to you. He panicked when you were gone last week. He needs to hear your voice. Tell him everything will be fine with the two Kumar loans and we’ll find a way with the others.”

  “Kumar? But the Kumar loans funded over a week ago, before I left.”

  “We’ve still got them on our warehouse line of credit. The investor pulled out. I’ve tried everywhere. Sun Trust won’t touch them. Neither will Countrywide.”

  “Shit. Who was that Kumar guy anyway?”

  “Amit Raj Kumar. He’s a British investor. He bought two of the biggest houses with five percent down payment on interest-only loans.”

  “Well, if the new appraisals are right, he already owes more than they’re worth. How long can we afford to keep them on our warehouse line?”

  “Not this long. It’s bad. When you left a week ago, we were a healthy company. Now, we’re a whisper away from insolvency.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I have a potential investor in Sweden.”

  “Sweden?”

  “And if that doesn’t work out, there are those guys you just saw walking out of here. I can’t talk about it yet, but they’re my last resort.”

  “How are you funding the other loans?”

  “The smaller ones we still have room for on the line.”

  “Three big ones are supposed to fund on Wednesday.”
r />   “I’ll have to cover some of that out of my pocket.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I have to. If the feds find out, they’ll be here on Friday to put handcuffs on the doors and we’re done.”

  Leila stood up and walked toward the door.

  “What should I tell Paul?”

  “I don’t know. Use your charm. Whatever the hell you do, don’t tell him the truth.”

  Leila put her hand on the doorknob but turned around one more time. She couldn’t help it. “What is the truth?”

  Samantha exhaled audibly. “Nobody wants to live in those houses they built in the desert. They sold to investors and speculators, but who are they going to sell or rent them to, coyotes and rattlesnakes?”

  Leila walked back to her desk. Not two months ago, they celebrated Desert Villas as the new frontier of Phoenix real estate. How quickly it all came crashing down.

  It was a strange week in the office. Samantha hardly spoke to anyone. There wasn’t much action on the phone lines. Cox and Tommy each managed to lock a loan, but those were the only two names on the board. The three loans funded on Wednesday. Leila wondered if anybody else knew the strings Samantha had pulled to get it done. Fortunately, the investors came through the next day. Meanwhile, the Kumar loans remained on the books. Time was running short.

  Leila began sending out her resume.

  On Friday morning, the two mysterious men were back. They were in Samantha’s office for over an hour. At the end of the meeting, they shook hands in her doorway, all smiles as everyone watched nervously.

  “May I have everyone’s attention, please?” Samantha said after the men left. She wore a big smile that would have looked fake if not for the relief it showed. “I am thrilled to announce that our company is merging with Alamo Trust Bank, a super-regional that has a big presence in Texas and New Mexico. They already have a small mortgage office in Phoenix and are excited for the opportunity to grow in Arizona. Next year, they plan to open a couple of deposit branches here.”