by C. I. Lopez
Trying not to arouse suspicions at this stage, Yasmin got up. She opened the package, arranging the blouse on her bed for Tomas to see.
“Put it on,” he said. “I’d like to see it on you.”
Fortunately, the faithful Rebecca made sure the blouse Yasmin carelessly picked was the right size. Yasmin removed her pajama top, putting on her new blouse, making sure to keep her back to her husband while undressing. She turned around for him to see the garment once she had it on.
“It looks beautiful on you, baby,” he said, moving closer to her. When she stiffened visibly, Tomas pretended not to notice, slipping his hands inside her new blouse to feel her breasts. “Mmm,” he said, trying to arouse his wife.
Yasmin maintained her stiff demeanor, afraid of what might come next.
Fortunately, Tomas wasn’t drunk and feeling no arousal from her; he removed his hands from under her blouse, seemingly satiated. “Maybe another time, baby, when you are in the mood.” He turned to leave the room.
Not realizing she’d been holding her breath, she now released it. Noticing the careful grooming and smell of cologne on him, he was probably on his way to the club. He wasn’t that interested in sex with her.
*
Finally, Yasmin felt comfortable that enough time had passed since her last visit to the boutique for her to return with her letter. She’d waited a week before pushing the button that rang for Pedro to take her out. Her letter carefully pinned under the skirt she planned to wear, vigilant to keep it out of her purse, which Tomas often inspected before any outing.
“Where to, Ma’am?” Pedro’s usual response, which always made her smile since she was only allowed to go to one place. A subtle friendship had developed between Yasmin and her faithful chauffeur over the past three years.
“Take me to my favorite boutique, Pedro. Last time I was there, I saw several new items that I’ve been thinking about since, and today I am in the mood for shopping.”
“Will you be long, Ma’am?”
“I plan to try on several dresses so I might be a little longer than usual. I hope you don’t mind.”
“It isn’t for me to mind, Ma’am, only to know, so I can prepare for how long to wait.” He reached behind him and picked up two magazines from his stack in the garage, so Tomas didn’t see him.
Yasmin was containing her excitement at being able to send a letter to her family for the first time since that fateful night, hoping to hear news from home soon. Federico had been on her mind, yet she thought with a shudder that there was only one way out of this marriage to Tomas.
The fact that Pedro took magazines with him, Yasmin thought, must mean that he was starting to feel more comfortable about watching her. Although, she knew that he would look at them only peripherally while searching for her every movement in the store.
Rebecca was happy to see the girl after the week’s absence. Her enquiring look asked if she had the letter, but the older woman knew better than to speak about it outside the vestibule. The store owner loaded her arms with the most fashionable designer creations in the store. Besides, she carried a rack of the latest arrivals, leading her customer to the private dressing room. Once there, Yasmin was handed a couple of outfits to try on in her private dressing room.
Yasmin whispered apologies to Rebecca for not having an envelope or a stamp for the letter, while handing the folded piece of stationery underneath a dress which she’d tried on and returned to the store owner.
The smile and nod from the store owner were enough confirmation that Rebecca had the letter firmly in her hand, and that she would provide the envelope and stamp required.
Yasmin took her time trying on clothes and looking through the store, pretending to pick at clothes to avoid suspicion from Pedro’s eyes. While looking through the clothing, Yasmin’s heart skipped a beat when she noticed a door, painted the same forest green color of the wall, hidden behind one of the clothes racks in the dressing room. The door stood next to the public bathroom, not apparent at first. It seemed to be a metal service door with an arm lock, camouflaged by the same color as the wall. When they were in the vestibule, Yasmin casually asked Rebecca where the door led.
Rebecca confirmed that behind it was where the deliveries came in. “There’s another room behind that door with an automatic metal garage door that opens for the delivery truck driver when he drops off new orders.” Rebecca’s eyes squinted as her hand covered her mouth in surprise, realizing the reason for the girl’s questions.
“When does the delivery truck usually get here?” Yasmin continued while they were alone in the private vestibule.
Once Rebecca was over her initial shock of what the girl was asking, the woman answered directly. “They are always here at exactly two in the afternoon. They are very punctual.”
“What street is back there? Is it a main thoroughfare where public buses move?” Yasmin asked, now unabashed.
“I don’t want to know your intentions, but yes, there are public buses that pass there every fifteen minutes. One stops across the street at precisely two in the afternoon unless it gets delayed by traffic. It goes directly to the terminal where there are buses that travel to any place in the country. I can give you the address of the house across the street and behind the terminal. You can use it as a way to confuse the driver. I know there is no one there during the day.”
“Rebecca, you can forget this conversation, but I need to ask you for two big favors, please. I would like to have the address of the house behind the terminal, which I will memorize and not write down anywhere. In case one of Tomas’ friends sees me, it will give me an escape route. The other favor is significant. I would like you to buy me some items, inexpensive things, which you could keep in that delivery room inside a knapsack.”
“Let me know what you need, Yasmin. I will never tell, and the address will be an easy cover, as it is on the block behind the terminal. It can be reached by crossing the yard and walking one block to the terminal on the street directly behind it.”
“I don’t want you implicated any more than necessary, Rebecca.”
“Go on, Yasmin, tell me what you need.”
“I will need some scruffy jeans, a loose t-shirt, a blonde wig, dime-store sunglasses, sneakers, socks, and dangling earrings.”
To add to the effect, Rebecca suggested earphones and a cheap portable player with music to keep plugged in her ears all the time, like all the other teenagers. Her costume was supposed to resemble any teenage girl on the street these days. Someone who would not be associated with her glamorous self, thus reducing the possibility of being recognized. Although it seemed unlikely that any of Tomas’ friends would ride public transportation, she wanted to cover all the bases. The people Yasmin remembered usually sported fancy cars and even had chauffeurs. However, one of Tomas’ goons might use public transport, and she wanted to be sure not to be recognized.
*
After each of the above purchases were made intermittently over several weeks, Rebecca smuggled them into a tote bag she often used herself. She kept it locked in her office, where it would arouse no suspicions from her employees.
In the bathroom at home, Yasmin packed some personal hygiene items tightly. She then taped them beneath the sink, where she hoped they would remain until she was ready to retrieve them. She planned to place them in the large purse she’d bought recently.
“Is that all you’ll need from me?” Rebecca asked, suspecting the girl’s plan, but accepting Yasmin’s wishes not to say it directly for her own protection.
“I’ll need one more favor, but we will have to do it on a day when you have busy employees. The green door that leads to the delivery area is inside the private vestibule, so no one should see you open it briefly while I am supposedly trying on outfits. If you were to open this door for me at exactly five minutes to two in the afternoon one day, and the steel curtain security door in the delivery room, even two feet off the floor, I could slip under and be gone before the truck arrived. I
think the whole operation can be completed within less than two minutes, yet it will almost coincide with the time of delivery if anyone sees you near the door. Right now, I can’t tell you which day I will need you to do this for me because I’ll have to wait until my husband is out of the country.”
Rebecca agreed by nodding her head, taking it all in and feeling confident that she wanted to do it.
“Rebecca, I have a few more questions to ask you. Do you have surveillance cameras at the delivery door?”
“No, I don’t. I only have surveillance cameras at the front door, where you enter the store.”
“Hmm. That’s a problem for me too. Would it be possible to have the cameras off that day?”
“No problem at all,” responded Rebecca. I only turn them on when I close the store at night. And, yes, I will do those things for you. God bless you.”
Yasmin remembered the last time she’d heard those words. It had been from Ofelia, as she was leaving her home before daylight about three years before. An omen? She decided this was no time for superstitions.
While in the dressing room, Yasmin hugged Rebecca, and whispered, “Thank you.” She paused. “There’s one more thing, Rebecca. Eventually, Pedro will come in here looking for me, what will you say? I couldn’t bear you getting in trouble because of me.”
“I can handle Pedro, Yasmin, don’t worry. I will be fine, but I will worry about you. If anything happens to you, it will make the newspapers, so I will be hoping not to hear any news, knowing that you will not be able to contact me for a long time, if ever. I want you to be safe and free.”
This time, Yasmin thought it proper to pick two particularly glamorous outfits to take home.
PART TWO
Chapter 7
Tactics Training
While Yasmin was recovering from the wounds inflicted by Tomas, he went out almost every night to clubs without her. It was the same vicious cycle of returning home drunk and stinking of alcohol mixed with cheap perfume. Knowing that he’d be gone in the evenings, Yasmin felt free to explore the house further, always looking for a way out. Aware of the devil’s eye spy cameras that followed her like a hidden demon, she pretended to go to the kitchen for something to eat. She was looking in every direction for a way out, knowing the guards would be in constant watch through the many monitors.
She took to wearing a black bathrobe with a hood she had purchased at Rebecca’s with the cameras in mind. The girl inspected all the rooms, making mental notes of the surveillance cameras, noting that some cameras didn’t move. Maybe the black cape was not visible to them, or they weren’t turned on at the time. It occurred to her that perhaps only some cameras were turned on at night. Another mental note. She never turned her head directly on the cameras but used her peripheral vision.
The immaculate, commercial-looking kitchen was the final destination for Yasmin’s explorations of the house so that if anyone was watching, it looked like she was looking for a snack. The refrigerator door opened, she stared at the contents in a daze, not really wanting anything but usually settling for some piece of fruit.
One day, she was startled by the faint sound of a woman’s voice singing softly, almost undetectable, to the beat of drums. The exotic, soothing sounds calmed the girl’s nerves and induced a longing for company. The music mesmerized Yasmin, making her want to follow it like the rats of Hameln.
Curious of the beautiful sounds, Yasmin followed the music into a deep pantry in the kitchen. She wondered why such soothing music would emanate from a pantry. Opening the large door and following the sound of the music through the long, dark room, she saw a red door at the end with light showing underneath.
Desperate to hear human voices where there was only the humming of electrical appliances at night, Yasmin dared to place her hand on the doorknob. It felt electrifying and inviting, so she turned it and found the door wasn’t locked. Abruptly, it was pulled open from the other side. There stood a smiling Miss Belky, dressed in a flimsy, almost see-through long red shirt and wearing a red kerchief covering her dreadlocks.
Yasmin realized that the song had come from Miss Belky’s sweet voice.
The drumming sound in the background was still heard, almost inaudibly, but the singing had stopped. The musician was a handsome young black man sitting on a rug on the floor. He resembled Miss Belky in his beauty and demeanor.
Embarrassed at her intrusion, Yasmin stammered, “I’m so sorry, Belky, but I heard such beautiful music and was compelled to see its origin. I am sorry to interrupt like this.” Yasmin quickly turned to leave, but before she reached the doorknob, Miss Belky smiled and reached for Yasmin’s hand.
“Please, come in, Boss Lady. I was just enjoying some music. You like it? It’s music from my native Haiti.”
“I find it mesmerizing,” the girl answered, “and beautiful.”
Looking around Belky’s apartment, Yasmin was enchanted to see that it was all red. The walls were painted red, and a diaphanous sheet of red material hung over her lamps and a window, giving the entire room a red glow. She immediately liked Belky’s apartment. It consisted of two dimly lit rooms at the back of the house and a table in the center of the living room, littered with ashtrays and cigarette-making paraphernalia. There were two long-stemmed glasses and a wine bottle on the counter by the kitchen.
A lumpy armchair with a floral cover from some prior generation was next to a table, and a large mattress laid against the other wall made up the rest of the room. Looking around curiously, Yasmin noticed an opening onto a small balcony closed to the outside with wrought iron bars. The balcony was filled with red geraniums in pots.
Yasmin felt strangely comfortable in this environment. She then noticed there was a chess game set up on the floor over a small rug where two people could sit to play across from each other.
Standing up, the young man offered a hand to Yasmin, introducing himself as Miss Belky’s brother, Prince. He was as black as Miss Belky, tall and muscular with a powerful physique. He smiled knowingly. “Mrs. Chacon, how nice to meet you.” Noting Yasmin’s interest in the chessboard with its thought-provoking pieces placed in a scattered manner on the squares, Prince asked Yasmin if she knew how to play chess.
“No, I have never seen such beautiful pieces on a board game. I have no idea how it’s played, but I have interrupted your game. How did you learn to play it?”
“Our parents taught us to play the game as children in our home in Haiti to distract us from the noise of the soldiers who roamed the streets with big guns. Would you like to learn how it’s played?”
“Oh, yes,” Yasmin answered excitedly at the thought of learning something new.
“Then, sit on the rug opposite me and let me teach you,” Prince said, sitting cross-legged across from Yasmin, with the chessboard set up between them. He began by telling the apprentice the finer points of the game. “The idea is to capture your opponent’s King,” he said, “but it requires planning your moves, or your opponent will capture your King. All these other pieces are protecting the King.”
Prince held up the pieces as he talked about each one. “The Queen is the best protection the King has, so it’s important to avoid her capture and keep her active. The opponent is forming his or her own strategy to remove as many of your pieces as possible. This is done while making moves to endanger your King. The two Kings are the only pieces not removed from the board during the game. When an opponent is threatening the King, they say ‘Check’. When the King has no possible move to evade capture and he has no protection from other pieces, the opponent will say ‘Check Mate’. At such a point, the game is over. It requires the use of strategy to anticipate your opponent’s moves as if you were directing an army into a war.”
“I would love to learn,” Yasmin said excitedly.
Meanwhile, Belky approached and sat down on the floor beside Yasmin. “Back in Haiti, my brother, Prince, went by the name of Nomm Mistè.”
“What does Nomm Mistè mean?”
&n
bsp; “Man of Mystery, in your language,” she said, smiling.
Prince laughed and told Yasmin he could make wishes come true, and that was why he was called by that name back in Haiti.
The shy girl looked at him, taking note that he could make wishes come true, although she didn’t believe anyone could do that, of course, it made her happy to hear it.
Shifting that trail of thought, Yasmin looked around the small apartment. “Is there an outside entrance into this apartment?” Getting up, she looked in the direction of the kitchen where she saw the same kind of baroque iron bars that covered all of the windows in the house. She was curious as to how Prince entered the apartment. Looking out in the dark, she saw a tan Fiat parked in the shadows and wondered if that might be Prince’s car, but decided this wasn’t the time to ask too many questions.
“Ah, no, Boss Lady,” Belky teased, wanting to change the conversation. “He is a magic man. Now you see him, now you don’t. Prince works for the Boss Man too.”
Yasmin noticed Prince shared some of Miss Belky’s features, including her charming smile. The soft accent and voice were pleasing to Yasmin’s ears. He didn’t have the seedy look of the other men who worked for Tomas, but rather a regal semblance, much like Miss Belky. She wondered if he was one of the guards watching her when Tomas raped her. She decided she liked Prince and liked being in Belky’s apartment, and she wanted to learn more about playing chess.
Knowing how confusing the chessboard must seem seeing it for the first time, Belky moved closer to teach Yasmin the exciting names of each piece. She explained the different ways in which they moved across the board.
It seemed very confusing to Yasmin.
Prince suggested letting the girl watch him and Belky finish the game they’d started. “It’s your move,” Prince said. While waiting for Belky to make her move, Prince stood up and searched in one of Belky’s dresser drawers, returning with cigarette rolling papers and a bag of what he called hashish. After Belky made her decision, her brother looked very smug, as if he already knew what his next move would be. He took time to roll a cigarette before making his next move.
