Deviant Fixation

by Valencia Carmelita

  "Umm sure that'll be fine, thanks." I answer, albeit I disliked coffee in comparison to tea.

  But I didn't want to come across as a picky guest and nor did I want to bother her too much than she already appeared. She nods and exits the room, leaving me to wander inside.

  The drawing room is comfortably furnished in the same cream and beige coloured couches and armchairs as were in her salon headquarters.

  There is a homely and intricately bordered fireplace on one side, with two armchairs sitting infront of it and in between them a small round glass top coffee table.

  But it's not the furnishing that grabs my attention right away, it's the large family portrait hanging on the wall directly above the fireplace. I stride over to closer inspect the portrait.

  There sitting on a throne like chair, is one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid eyes on. She appears to be in her mid forties, dressed in a white gown. She's cradling an emerald eyed blonde baby wrapped in white.

  The woman's pale golden hair frames an angelic and smiling face, it cascades around her shoulders in gentle ringlets of curls. She bares resemblance to Katie except she doesn't posses green eyes. Instead her's are a very familiar and startling ocean blue. I can't help but wonder.

  Those are exactly Vladimir's eyes!

  And no surprise there he is. A younger teen version of himself, solemnly standing to her right side and dressed quaintly. He holds a German shepherd puppy in his arms.

  On the left side dressed in cream coloured and classy gowns, stand two girls in their late teens or early twenties. One of them I distinguish as Rachael.

  The other who looks similar in features could be another one of her sisters?

  Behind the woman, holding on to the top frame of her chair with sturdy hands, is a tall and strikingly handsome man in his late forties-also dressed stylishly old fashioned.

  Except for his cheerful emerald eyes, most of his features including his shiny dark blonde hair are similar to Vladimir's. But yet Vladimir's visage appears more aesthetic.

  So these are their parents...what an attractive family!

  As if reading my thoughts I hear Rachael affirm from behind me. "yes, those are my parents and siblings."

  She ambles her way over with the tray of cups and coffee pot next to a plate full of biscotti. Immediately, I help her set it down on the table between the two armchairs.

  "MashaAllah! They are truly beautiful!" I breath as I look back at the portrait and then at her.

  She raises a confused brow and I explain to her. "Oh! MashaAllah is Arabic for God has willed it, and we say that so God protects the person from the evil eye."

  "Oh, thank you" she offers a wistful smile and her gaze adjusts on the portrait. "God wills it huh? Well, God willed my parents to depart this world..."

  Momentarily, I stare at her dumbfounded before what she says registers in my brain. "Oh my God, you mean they have passed away?"

  She nods slowly. "Not long after this picture was taken."

  "I'm truly sorry for your loss." I apologize earnestly. Before I could prevent myself, I ask. "What happened to them ?"

  Her throat bobs as she gulps, a melancholic glint appears in her eyes. She adjusts her gaze on me, that wistful smile lingering on her face and answers. "Don't mind dear, but I prefer we not discuss that."

  "I'm so sorry!" I face palm myself. "That was so very rude of me."

  "No need to apologize, you did no wrong in asking." She reaches out and gives my upper arm a gentle reassuring squeeze. "Also I wish to apologize for my brothers rudeness towards you, he's normally not like this with anyone."

  "So he hates me specifically or just all Muslims in general?" I blurt out the question that's been bothering me since I've met the jerk face.

  "No, I doubt he hates for the sake of hating alone, he's just very protective of the family." Rachael assures me albeit in a nervous tone of voice.

  But for some odd reason I sense she's concealing something deeper.

  "But he's so ..so so uh.." I am striving not to call him a control freak from the attitude so far I've witnessed from him today.

  "Handsome ? Indifferent?" She vocalizes some of my unwanted deeper thoughts with a raised brow. "It's either one of those I hear from girls."

  My face reddens with a blush, I wasn't going to admit he is handsome.

  "Controlling!" I scoff and roll my eyes.

  Which was true. His personality seems rotten! That only made him unattractive looking to my eyes.

  Liar! A tiny voice of my conscience in the back of my mind accused me.

  Then why do you get so mesmerized when he appears ?!

  Why do you get tongue tied ?!

  But that's because he's so rude and mean. I shook my head angrily in denial at the voice in my head "Stupid voice!"

  I only realize I've said that out loud instead of in my mind. My face reddens even more and I hope Rachael doesn't notice.

  "Stupid voice?..Oh well that's a first for him." Rachael looks startled and then chuckles. "He does have a distinct foreign accent. He's lived most of his life in Britain, Norway and Germany so it's a mixture of those but people mistake it mostly as upper class British."

  I rather not explain to her that I was berating my inner thoughts, so I merely impart casualness. "Oh..I see."

  "And to address your remark of him being controlling, Vladimir is very obdurate." Rachael states nimbly as she hands me a cup of coffee. "He's a bit of perfectionist as well. Besides me, many others can attest to that."

  The aroma of the steaming cup of coffee soothes my nose. As much as I preferred tea over coffee, I loved the smell of coffee more.

  "That gives him no right to take your children away whenever he feels like it. Isn't he younger than you ?" I blurt my annoyed thoughts. "Just because he's involved with the Mafia, gives him no right to use that and dictate his family!"

  "Yes he's younger but as I've said before, he's very protective of our family." Rachael states in a clipped tone and gazes at me disapprovingly.

  I end up regretting what I said. He was after all her brother. She would defend him obviously.

  She looks away from me and takes a sip from her cup before adding. "And if you're wondering, he didn't choose the Mafia, the Mafia chose him."

  "Oh." I answer, puzzled.

  "Sanam, don't mind but I'd prefer we not discuss this matter further." She quips sternly as she turns her face to me again and places her hand on my lower arm with a pat.

  "Alright." I answer sheepishly.

  I had no right to be this intrusive, I am her guest.

  Behave yourself !

  Wanting to rid of the sudden disheartening mood, I decide to shed my attention on the series of smaller and framed pictures sitting above the fire place's double mantle shelves.

  Noticing my focus on them, Rachael stands right next to me and starts an explanation with the first one. "This photo is of Vladimir rock and cliff climbing, he's very much into outdoorsy nature adventures."

  I peer at a profile picture of a very determined Vladimir in his late teens, climbing some dangerously high jagged cliffs without any safety rope attached to his waist or belt. He's dressed in khaki shorts and shirt like Indiana jones.

  The second photo is of him diving into a darkly ominous looking cavern with scuba gear. Rachael remarks on it. "We expressed him not to do this since it looks awfully dangerous, but to no avail, he went ahead and nearly got killed. It's underwater cave diving and that's one of the most dangerous caves in the world."

  I don't bother masking my shudder of fear as I stare at the dark murky depths of the cavern in the photo.

  This guy is insane for jumping into that !

  The third photo is of him in his early twenties surfing a giant menacing wave in the ocean on his silver surf board. He's dressed in a sleek silver surf garb-eyes narrowed in a very focused expression.

  Fourth photo is a collage of three pictures, in which the first one shows him clad in carpenter clothes, hamme
ring a large nail onto wooden planks.

  The second shows what appears to be half complete frame of a manor with dozens of men on ladders working. The last of the collage photo is of the grand manor fully completed with him and the men standing infront of it, facing the camera.

  He's got his toned, sturdy arms crossed over his broad chest. There is a streak of soot on his cheeks, a stubble sweeps his chiseled jaw. while a triumphant ghost of a smirk plays at his otherwise austere facial expression.

  His eyes gleam in smugness and all I can think is how rawly masculine and commanding he appears.

  "That's the family manor! He's designed it, overlooked it and built it along the crew he hired everyday till completion." Rachael expounds proudly. "He loves to build things with his hands, he's got a degree in civil engineering."

  Impressive! I thought but then reminded myself he's still a jerk!

  The next framed photo is of him atop a snowy peak of what could be a mountain. I can't see his face behind some form of oxygen mask and clad in heavy mountaineer gear.

  "That's him having reached the summit of Mount Everest." Rachael says and then she points to the next photo of him dressed like an archeologist standing infront of the great pyramids in Egypt. "Well this picture is self explanatory. He's a history buff."

  Okay this guy is just something else!

  I had to admit I was finding these pictures ridiculously intriguing. There are a couple more casual photos of him, traveling all over Europe and the Middle East.

  In Some pictures of Europe, there is a cheerful Rachael and Katie besides him along with Arielle and a baby Charlie.

  Then I find one photo shocking where he is tackling playfully a pack of huge menacing grey and white wolves along a giant grizzly bear.

  It's the only photo of Vladimir grinning-and my cheeks flush at the thought of how attractive yet completely in control he appears even when he's with such vicious wild animals.

  "Those were his pet bear and wolves." Rachael chuckles. I stare horrified at her and she laughs some more before admitting. "Yes everyone thinks he's nuts for being around such wild life but he raised them to adulthood in Siberia."

  The thought of his threat weeks ago about feeding me to his pet wolves flashed through my mind. I grimace in sudden fright.

  "How did he find them?" I query cautiously. "Does he still own them?"

  "Well the bear cub was found near its mother's body-shot dead for the fun of it by local trouble makers. And the wolf Cubs were abandoned by their packs." Rachael states grimly "Vladimir housed and reared them before freeing them into the wild. The authorities there had a hard time preventing those men from killing the bears so Vladimir took the matter into his own hands. He went after the perpetrators and well..he dealt with those men severely. They never tried such a thing again."

  "Oh..that's nice of him!" I remark in curiosity "He helps the police jail criminals."

  She looks at me blankly before answering. "No, he completely broke their arms himself and rendered them disabled for life."

  Again, I gape at her gobsmacked. "errr.." I trail off in alarm.

  That was unexpected!

  And cruel!

  But I wasn't really sure if I should pity those bear killers. Vladimir on the other hand now appeared even more frightening to me after viewing all these outrageous photos.

  Rachael moves onto another picture of him standing on a red carpet amongst a crowd of rich people and news reporters with camera men.

  He's dressed quaintly in a business suit while snapping away with a set of giant scissors at a red ribbon laced before an entrance to a three story edifice.

  The words Nielsen Shelter For The Homeless And Needy labeled in bronze above the entrance of the building.

  "That's one of the first homeless shelters he established." Rachael smiles exultantly.

  This would be the third time I was completely taken aback by astonishment. And here I didn't think previously there would be an ounce of compassion or kindness in that frigid countenance of his.

  So there is another side to the jerk ?

  I stare at the photo in a mixture of wonderment and disbelief.

  But he's in the freaking Mafia !!!

  "You must really love your brother, so many pictures of him on this mantle." I remark pensively.

  "I love all of my siblings, but Vladimir has done so much for me and Katie. I could never repay him for what he's done after our parents passed away." She answers earnestly. "He's very dear to me, they all are."

  I'm very curious as to ask her about that other sister in the family portrait, who is missing in every other pictures of later years.

  But what prevents me from delving into that is my inner caution and the intrusive questions I had asked her earlier from which she grew stern and refused to answer.

  ◆◆◆

  After finishing our coffee over random chat of trivial things, I had excused myself to make an important phone call to baba.

  "You sure you want to contact your father ?" Rachael asks with obvious concern lacing her voice. "Do you think he may object and persuade you to return to your husbands home?"

  "After I explain to him everything, he would do no such thing." I answer knowingly and she nods in understanding while leaving me in privacy.

  But unfortunately i'm proven wrong no later than twenty minutes into the phone call with baba.

  "How dare you ! Sanam! Have you no shame ?!" Baba yells accusingly on the end of the line. I cringe, nearly distancing the receiver from my ears a few inches.

  "But baba, I explained to you what happened ! What they were doing to me!" I protest for the third time.

  Ofcourse I didn't reveal to him every detail Mister Mirza had unveiled to me. Such as Naheed wanting to have me ruthlessly murdered by Imran's gang friends, or that Imran and his mother Razia Mirza diabolically schemed to murder Mister Mirza for his wealth and frame me for it.

  Mister Mirza had specifically had me promise not to disclose this information. Except, the only excuse I was permitted to make was the fact that Imran did nothing to prevent his friend Yasir from trying to sexually assault me.

  "Where are you !!?" Baba barks. "Are you living with men ?"

  "I can't tell you where I am, but I'm safe and no I'm not living with men." I groan with frustration.

  Why can't he ask about my safety ?

  Why can't he show gratitude that I'm alive ?

  "Return at once to your husband, young lady! Members of the Muslim community here knows of what you've done! I'm ashamed to be seen at work, my customers openly remark about your infidelity to your husband right in my face!!" He continues yelling at me. "I'm ashamed to be seen at the mosque!"

  "I can not, I am not safe with him, he's abusive! Please baba try to understand!" I implore painfully.

  "You've tainted my honour!" Baba snarls. "Get home now !Or never ever show your face to me again in the future!"

  "I can't do that, I'm sorry." I sob, I hadn't realized I started weeping.