Snow, Blood, and Envy

by Haus, Jean

  “Here.” He hands me the first thing he finds. I wipe my mouth and drop my hat on the splattered mess across the sidewalk. He pulls me away. “I’m not getting that.”

  “I don’t want it,” I mumble, refusing to look at my battered breakfast.

  After turning a corner, he drags me through a doorway. The smell of laundry detergent and the sound of pressurized water make me realize the long rows of shiny boxes are washing machines. Are my clothes dirty? Had I puked on them? The rush of embarrassment sweeping my body causes me to shudder.

  “You okay?” he asks in the between the rows of metal.

  “What are we doing here?” I whisper while sweat pours out of my skin. My clothes stick to me. My skin is clammy. I can feel temperature again.

  “Taking you someplace safe,” he says as his hand pushes me behind a counter.

  We enter a world of colors hanging in the air. Colors encased in translucent covers. Bags and bags surround us. Air blowing the plastic from above makes the space whimsical. A small, old man materializes from between the bags. His eyes are mean and beady. “You promise. No more. No more strays.”

  What am I a cat?

  Jai speaks back, but I can’t understand a thing. Chinese, I guess. The words sound angry. The man’s gaze hardens at Jai’s harsh words. He marches away with a huff.

  Jai helps me down a dark staircase. We travel through rooms filled with boxes, go down a long tunnel, and end up in a small cemented room. I prop myself against the wall while he opens the doors of a tall cabinet and wonder what is going on, but I don’t have the energy to ask. He takes something out of his pocket that looks like a garage door opener. I hear a soft click and gasp when he pushes the back of the cabinet open.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Home,” he says, shutting the door behind us.

  He lives in a basement under a Laundromat through a cabinet? Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, I wonder if I’m still hallucinating. Instead of a rabbit hole, I’ve fallen into a washing machine.

  At the flick of a switch, a single bulb hanging from the rafters illuminates cement walls. Not much of a home. We pass a shabby table surrounded by metal chairs. At the ancient refrigerator, he snags something before pulling me into a small room lit by the glow of a huge aquarium. He urges me onto something soft and shoves a bottle into my hands. “Drink this.”

  I take a sip of water and stare in amazement at the fish swimming by. Then another and with a final gulp I empty the bottle. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.

  Jai kneels before me and I stare at the shadows the dim light creates on his sculpted face. “What are you doing?”

  He pulls my boot off. “You need to rest.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes.” He tugs my other boot.

  “With the fish?” I wonder aloud.

  He urges me back. “They’ll watch over you.”

  I shoot up. “I want you to watch over me.”

  His face softens. “I will too,” he says, pushing me back down again.

  The warmth of a blanket covers me. With the knowledge of his presence and the hum of gurgling water, I plunge into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 14~Snow

  I wake with a cloudy head. The dark beamed ceiling and cement walls puzzle me. The soft trickle of water brings back a myriad of muddled memories: a fish tank, Monotone Smith, his needle, the man with the melting face, and Jai coming to rescue me. I spring up at the thought of him, remembering his promise to watch over me. But across from me sits a girl flicking through a glossy magazine. Her eyes scan pages while her fingers snap through pages. Um, I’m pretty sure I’ve never met or even seen her before. “Who are you?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  Her dark eyes flip to mine for a quick second. “Song,” she says, licks her finger, and pushes another page over.

  I blink in confusion. “Where’s Jai?”

  She flips another page without looking up. “He had things to do.”

  “So he left me with you?” My tone borders on incredulous.

  Her eyes roll. She still doesn’t look at me. “Like I said, he had things to do.”

  Still confused, I look around the room. The lamp behind her on a make shift desk reaches into the shadows. The entire wall, except for the center desk, is a huge bookshelf made of bricks and boards full of floor to ceiling books. A giant red rug covers the floor. Banners with Chinese symbols hang from the opposite wall and a large mat like the ones used in wrestling leans against the bottom of the banners. The fish tank fills up the end wall and under that are more piles of books. “Where am I?”

  She slaps the magazine shut and with a curled lip says, “Under Chinatown.”

  I ignore her animosity. “You mean in a basement?”

  “A person,” she gives me a pointed look, “who doesn’t know where they’re going could get lost down here for weeks.”

  Wondering if that’s supposed to mean I shouldn’t be here, I shake my head as if to clear it. I’m not sure if it’s the drug Smith injected me with, the situation, or the rude girl. I’m guessing my confusion is a mixture of all three.

  Her arms cross over chest as she stares at me with contempt. “Years ago, this apartment was used for human trafficking. Over fifty people were locked in here nightly.” She raises her round chin. “Now it’s a poor couple’s apartment.”

  The heavily enunciated word couple hangs in the air until I realize she must be Jai’s girlfriend. I look at her more closely. With large almond shaped eyes, pale skin, and short, sleek hair, she’s very pretty. She also looks a bit spiteful with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. It’s quite evident she’s not happy I’m here. And to be honest, I can’t help feel dislike for her too. Petite and graceful she’s the opposite of lanky me. And to think I tried to flirt with him when this was waiting at home. Ugh. Could I have been more of an idiot?

  Desperate to get away from her narrowed gaze, I swing my legs over the side of the mattress, which is on the floor, and the room sways. I sway with it.

  She raises a brow at what has to look like a drunken display. “You gonna fall?”

  That’s quite possible, but I’m quite sure she won’t be helping me up. I bury my head in my hands as the room spins, the bookshelves tilt, and the fish swim in a circle around the room. “I’m alright,” I mumble through my fingers as the wooziness slowly passes.

  When I sit up, she motions toward the door with a flick of her wrist. “There’s a bathroom across the hall.” She then picks up her magazine from her lap and starts pushing pages.

  Slowly wobbling into a stance, I watch her flick pages less than two feet away from me. She’s so flippant, so icy. I can’t believe Jai left me here with her. From what he said when he got me the taxi, he knows she’s crazy jealous. I stumble past her almost hoping I’ll fall and crush that petite frame. Somehow, I make it across the hall and inside the tiny cement room. Though the sink and toilet are chipped, the walls cement block, and the bulb above naked, the room is spotlessly clean.

  At the sink, I splash cold water on my face again and again hoping my mind will start working normally. The water helps a little. Though still fuzzy, I hope I can put at least two thoughts together. I stare at the wet droplets on my ashen face in the tiny speckled mirror. Okay, I’m in a basement, under Chinatown with a jealous witch because my chauffeur tried to drug me. My temples throb as I frown at myself. Stupidly, I feel lost without Jai. The thought has me leaning against the wall and groaning. Again, I’m such an idiot.

  I finally open the battered bathroom door to find Song waiting in the hall. She holds my book bag out. “I couldn’t find a coat.”

  I shudder, recalling how I left it with Smith. “I don’t have one.”

  “Here,” she lifts the book bag out until I take it, “I’ll get you something.” She disappears down the hall. Still in a fog, I wait in the dark hallway and grip my bag until she comes back. She tosses a sweatshirt at me. “That should be better than nothing.”

/>   I set my bag down and tug the shirt on like a robot. While too tight—it must be hers—the shirt smells freshly laundered at least.

  Biting her lip, she watches me while twisting her hands nervously. “You ready?”

  Though not sure for what, I nod.

  “Let’s go then.” She leads me though the room with the ancient fridge and the battered table then out through the cabinet to the box-filled basement. At the top of the stairs, she turns to me with a worried look. “You have a phone? Money for a taxi?”

  I nod this time finally understanding what she’s doing. She’s getting rid of me, getting me away from her boyfriend, which is more than fine. Though Jai makes me feel more like the girl I used to be, that girl’s gone. She didn’t survive my mother’s death. And beside the fact he has a girlfriend, being around him would just be painful, a continuous longing for that girl I was.

  I follow Song through the bags and past the washing machines. This time I notice people. Some stuff clothes into the various machines; others sit in a small sitting area near the front. None pay attention to us.

  At the door, Song steps to the side. Her eyes shift past me. “Well, good luck and try not to get lost.”

  Before I can answer, she‘s already moving back through the machines. I’m reassessing my stupid crush on Jai as I watch her walk away. If this is what attracts him, then he’s so not for me. Unable to help myself I yell out, “Tell Jai I said good bye.” She stiffens, but doesn’t turn around. After copying her eye roll, I take a deep breath and step out onto the street.

  Chapter 15~Snow

  Not sure what to do or where to go, I wander aimlessly. Moving through people, sidewalk wares, and wooden boxes of food, I realize my knees, which may be permanently chapped after the week I’ve had, are frozen. It has to be less than twenty degrees out. Yet sweat drips from the palm holding my bag. The outpouring of sweat has to be the effects of the drug. Hopefully the last effects. Though I really have no idea about drugs. I’ve never done any.

  The heavy traffic has me reaching for my phone to check the time. My feet pause as I read the numbers. It’s past four in the afternoon, which means I must have slept in that basement for like four or five hours. I’m wondering just what Smith injected me with to knock me out for so long?

  Almost out of Chinatown, a restaurant with the very original name Chinese Buffet in bright neon letters looks good enough to get warm, let my brain thaw some more, and decide what to do. Past a few patrons at the front counter, I find a booth in back, fling myself in the far corner, and breathe in garlic and ginger scented air.

  Though I order a Coke, the waitress bugs me until I add a cup of soup. She then asks to see some money. With my dirty school uniform, my lack of coat, and my beat up book bag, she probably thinks I’m a homeless runaway and looking for a warm place to stay, which kind of feels spot on. I dig for a twenty and lay it on the table. She snatches up the bill and marches off.

  After she drops my stuff off—minus the change—I sip my Coke, stir my soup, and stare into space. I need to understand why Smith drugged me, but my brain’s still not working smoothly. I recall the real life detective shows Rosa likes to watch while she cleans. The key to all those cases was motive. I need a motive.

  Yesterday Smith was trying to take me someplace in Chinatown. I think. Then the next day he drugs me. So what is he up to? Is he some pervert who likes underage girls? Nausea flips my stomach and I push the uneaten soup away. Okay, onto other theories. He’s a psychotic murderer who drugs his victims first? Geez, I’m scaring the shit out of myself. Or maybe he wanted to hold me for ransom? My father is bucco rich. Then wouldn’t he be the police’s prime suspect since I was with him last? Maybe he has an alibi worked out. I run my hands through my hair in frustration. I should have paid more attention to the detective work in those shows because all of my theories are beyond lame.

  At a dead end, I let out a sigh and reach for my phone. I’m so hoping my father will believe me this time. He answers with my name on the second ring. “Yeah Dad,” I say, which is odd. I never call him dad.

  “Where are you?” he demands.

  “Ah…somewhere safe.” My voice doesn’t break in the lie.

  “Tell me where you are and explain why you ran off on Smith again.”

  I imagine the vein pounding near his temple. “I ran off on him after he stuck a needle in my neck, pulled my hair, and slapped me around.”

  There’s a long pause before he says, “Mali warned me you’d have a ridiculous explanation. Smith says he tried to drop you off at school.”

  “He’s lying! You think I’d make up something like that?” I hiss. I feared he wouldn’t believe me, but I’m actually shocked at how much he is blowing me off. And the reference to my stepmother is so not helping. “Look, I’ve got nothing against Mali, but how would she know anything about me?”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about your mother over the phone. You need to come home right now. Then we’ll talk about this.”

  The word mother makes my head pound. I ignore the pulsating throb. “Is Smith still going to be your driver?”

  “Are you making demands?”

  “Whether you believe me or not, the man attacked me!”

  “What has gotten into you? You’re acting crazy.”

  “Crazy? Crazy!” I can’t help raising my voice. The busser cleaning a table across the room stops wiping and stares at me. I turn toward the wall. “Yeah, I’m crazy,” I continue in a lower voice, “whatever her psychotic driver injected into me made me nuts. I’m not coming home until he’s gone.”

  “You’ll come home now!”

  Fright crawls across my skin at the thought of seeing Smith. “I can’t.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Smith was going to hold me for ransom? Murder me?” The last two words come out in a squeak.

  There’s a longer pause than before. “I think you may need some help.”

  My first thought is, duh. That’s why I’m calling you. Until the meaning of his words dawn on me. “You think I’m crazy don’t you?” My voice sounds hysterical even to me.

  “No, no, not crazy, merely…in need of help. Mali thinks your depression over your mother’s death may be distorting your view of reality.”

  I pause. Isn’t that what I had thought just the other day? But really, imagining the day I had is even beyond my imagination. “I can’t believe this.” Hysteria now pours out of me. “Has she brainwashed you or something?”

  “See, you’re always blaming others. Listen, I don’t want to—”

  “No you listen—”I stop as the waitress drops off a new Coke and my ears ring with my father talking to Mali. I realize she’s been sitting there listening to our entire conversation. I can’t believe he’s now asking her what he should do.

  While the waitress reaches for the discarded soup, he again demands that I come home. When she leaves, I say, “I’m not coming home.” I’ve never out right gone against my father—I’ve never had to we’ve always just occupied the same space—but the fact that he’s conferring with Mali has my blood boiling. My temper on the edge of exploding.

  “Nivi!”

  “I’ll call you later,” I say and hang up before my anger has me saying something I’ll regret, something that can’t be taken back. Resentment rushes through me at his refusal to believe me. My father has never been much of a father, but to dismiss what I told him, to agree with Mali—as if she knows anything about me—to tell me I need help, and to demand I come home…it’s like he didn’t even hear a word I said. It’s like he rejected me.

  I slowly peel my fingers from their tight grip on the edge of the table and lay my forehead on the table. My skin sticks to the Formica. I don’t care. Just like my head, I’m stuck in Chinatown again. Only this time I’ve nowhere to go. I feel so alone, so desperate. So in need of my mother. She would believe me, no questions asked. The thought has me concentrating on holding in a sob until th
e feeling of someone watching me has me looking up. The busser still stares at me.

  “You need to take a picture?” I practically snarl.

  He shakes his head, grabs his tub of dirty dishes, and disappears through the kitchen doors without looking at me again. The doors swing while my muddled brain tries to figure what that was about. Suddenly a head with a white, paper cap peeks out from between the doors and the searching eyes of a cook find me. When the man notices me staring back, his head pops back into the kitchen.

  Unease pools in my stomach.

  Standing up, I chuck my phone in my bag and look for my waitress. Of course, she’s nowhere in sight. My bag trembles in my hand and I almost drop it. Maybe—hopefully—my paranoia is just an after effect of the drug, but I’m not going to wait for my change. At least the waitress will have a good day with such a big tip. I rush out of the Chinese Buffet. Time to get lost in another part of New York. Preferably far from Chinatown.

  Outside in the twilight of the coming night, I don’t even make it to the corner before hands grab me.

  Chapter 16~Snow

  I spin around to find not the busser, nor the cook holding my arm, but a dark haired stranger wearing a long leather jacket. His hair is sharp, spiny spikes. He sneers at me with a mixture of dominance and cruelty and my knees start to buckle. Despite the fact that I now live in New York, I’ve never worried about getting mugged. Though very scared, I somehow find my voice. “Get your hands off me!”

  He tugs me closer until we’re nose to nose. “Shut up and pay close attention, Nivea.”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. He knows my name. This isn’t a random mugging. Thoughts evaporate from my head as survival kicks in. I bash him in the side with my book bag—the weight of my homework never felt so good twice in one day—while my knee finds his groin. He gasps but his grip tightens. Instinctively, I knee his groin again and he lets go to hold himself.