Snow, Blood, and Envy

by Haus, Jean

  My brow scrunches. It has to be past ten at night and this boy is coming home from work? “He can’t be more than thirteen.”

  Jai sets a cup on the table. “He’s twelve to be exact.”

  “He lives here? He works all day? At that age?”

  “Tired of his old man beating the shit out of him, he ran away from home.” He fills the glass with milk. “When his foster parents didn’t treat him much better, he took to the streets.”

  “So you took him in?” I ask incredulously.

  He nods. “After I saw him scrounging in dumpsters a couple of times.”

  “Wouldn’t he be better off living with a family and going to school?”

  “Probably.” He shrugs. “After his experience he won’t go. I tried taking him to social services. Twice. He just comes back.”

  Wow. Poor kid. “Okay, but what’s with all the hate?”

  Jai ruffles though the bags. “He’s just worried that’s all. No one knows we all live here. We like to keep a low profile. Anytime someone new comes they freak out.”

  “So Juan thinks I’m going to report him?” And Song thinks I’m going to steal you away?

  “Yeah, something like that.” Gripping a Styrofoam container and grabbing the glass of milk, he says, “I’ll be back in a minute.” He pauses in the hallway and looks over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t try to take off. Those guys will still be looking for you.”

  Frowning, I watch him disappear around the corner into the hallway. I turn back to the table. Okay, so maybe I was thinking about taking off. But with no money and an unbelieving father, I have nowhere to go. I’m still unsure about staying here with Song and now Juan.

  The door opening again breaks me from my thoughts.

  A boy, maybe age fourteen or fifteen, stands staring at me. He has dark hair and a round face. The surprised O of his mouth slowly turns into a grin. “Hey beautiful— ” he starts, but a push from behind has him snapping his mouth shut. He whips around and shouts in what I guess is Chinese.

  Another boy pops out of the doorway. They yell and shove each other. I can’t understand a word. Regardless of the language, the words are heated. Kicking at one another, they crash past the door into the cement wall. I jump up. Wrapped in a mutual headlock, they are about to collide into the table, the food, then me.

  “Ping! Chang!” Jai’s shouts stop them from crashing into the table. They drop their hands instantly. “What the hell are you doing?”

  The slightly taller one points at the other. “He’s trying to make me look like a fool.”

  “You are a fool,” the other one says with a laugh.

  Jai shakes his head and gestures to the table. “Juan brought dinner.”

  They immediately sit and ruffle through the bags. Other than a minor difference in height, they look like twins. Both have thick, dark hair and wide grins.

  “Nivi,” Jai says, gesturing to each of the boys digging through the bags of takeout. “This is Ping and Chang,” they grin at me, “or as Juan refers to them, the butthead brothers.”

  Their grins expand.

  “Hi,” I offer not knowing what else to say.

  “You Jai’s girlfriend?” Ping, the slightly shorter one asks.

  My eyeballs almost pop onto the floor. “No,” I blurt out, realizing since they don’t know his girlfriend it really must not be Song. Jai hadn’t really sold me on his denial earlier.

  Jai shakes his head. “She’s just staying here a bit till things cool down at her house.”

  Chang flips a lid open and looks at me with a speculative gleam. “Where’s she staying?”

  “In my room,” Jai says.

  My mouth opens to question that statement, but Ping slaps Chang on the back. “Friends with benefits.”

  I’m about to go off on butthead number one when, whap! A sauce-covered mushroom hits him in the eye and his brother Chang bursts out laughing. “I’ll be sleeping in your room,” Jai says nonchalantly. “So one of you can blow up the air mattress after you eat.”

  Ping wipes his eye. “You do that again and I’ll-“

  Jai grabs a napkin. “You say anything like that again and I’ll pound your face into the container in front of you.”

  Chang laughs again. Jai silences him with a look.

  Ping glances at me and opens his mouth. At Jai’s steely expression, his jaw snaps shut. He reaches for a fork with a sullen face and then I’m forgotten as the brothers shovel in food.

  Jai sets two plastic cups next to the milk. “You hungry?” he asks me. I shake my head. Though I should be, the thought of food still has my nervous stomach turning. He glances at the human shovels at the table. “Come on.” He gestures toward his room across the hallway.

  Inside, he goes to the aquarium and sprinkles food across the water’s surface. I plop down on the chair in front of the desk. “So you’re all just a bunch of kids living on your own?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose. I told you about Juan. The brother’s parents are working off their gambling debts in a forced sweatshop. They also work in a restaurant. Song and her mother were brought here as slaves. She escaped and somehow she found me. She sews fake designer purses.”

  “And you take care of them?”

  His head tips in thought as he sets down the fish food. “Kind of, but we’re all just trying to survive.”

  To think I thought my life was bad. Jai’s roommates give ‘poor me’ a whole new meaning. I wonder how bad his story is, how he came to be a delivery guy living in a basement with a group or orphans. “Your parents?”

  He glances at the bright, nibbling fish. “My mother’s gone.”

  “Oh,” is all I say. Gone in like dead? Gone in like left? I’m not sure what he means, but that ends the topic. Of all people, I know what it feels like to talk about such a subject. And I’m more than aware he left out his father. Knowing my own strange relationship with mine, I don’t ask about his either. Suddenly exhausted, I bury my face in my hands. “I don’t know what to do, how to make my father believe me.”

  “Maybe you should try talking to him again.”

  “I tried. He just dismissed me,” I mumble through my fingers.

  “What about your mother?”

  I swallow the dry lump suddenly stuck in my throat. “She’s gone too.”

  The lines of his face become stark and he crouches next to my chair. “I’m sorry.” I just shake my head. “Okay, why do you think your father won’t believe you?”

  I drop my hands. “I don’t know. He agrees with my stepmother that the depression over my—my mother’s death is making me crazy, making me make up things.” He raises an eyebrow. I let out a sad laugh. “I know. The explanation is beyond lame.”

  Jai lifts his hand to my neck to where Smith injected me. His touch, though gentle, sends a spark through my tired body and I flinch. With a frown, Jai pulls his fingers away. He leans back and sets his elbows on his knees. “Maybe if you showed him your collection of bruises and talked to him without your stepmother around he’ll be more likely to listen.”

  I shrug. Sadly, I really don’t know my father very well. Not well enough to make that kind of judgment, which really sucks.

  “What if I went with you and backed up your story?”

  I sit up straighter. The thought of him by my side boosts my confidence. Where can I meet my father alone without Mali around? I suppose at his work, but there are so many hoops to get to his office on the top floor from security guards to secretaries, I just don’t like the idea of going there. Suddenly, an idea comes to me. “Today’s Wednesday, right?” In all the craziness of the day, I’ve lost track of time.

  Jai nods.

  “My father always goes to his private club for lunch on Thursday’s at two o’clock by himself.” Except when I used to visit during the summer, my father would always take me to the old-fashioned private townhouse for lunch. Private and upscale is a quite a different experience. I look down at my dirty skirt and laced up boots. “We nee
d certain clothes.”

  “I can get us clothes.” He grins. “I do live near a Laundromat.” His grin has me smiling. I’m feeling better, not so lost. More in control.

  He rises and opens the large metal trunk at the end of the mattress. “You should get some sleep after the day you’ve had.” He pulls out a t-shirt and jogging pants. “These will probably be too big—”

  “They’ll be fine.” I stand and take them from him. I clutch the clothes to my chest and face him. “I want to thank you for coming to get me, for saving me from those guys, and especially for offering to go with me tomorrow.”

  The flush of embarrassment on his face is more than endearing. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly before stepping past me. He pauses at the door. “And don’t worry. Everything will turn out alright. By tomorrow you’ll be home.”

  I nod. I’m so hoping he’s right because if my father won’t believe me, I not sure how long I can stay in this basement with all the animosity and longing surrounding me.

  Chapter 18~Snow

  Sleeping late—like past noon—I wake to an empty apartment and a note from Jai that essentially says; he had errands to run, but will be back in time with the clothes, and also to help myself to anything in the fridge. After a long shower, I spend most of the afternoon eating two bowls of Lucky Charms out of a paper bowl while thinking about what I should say to my father. With the way he’s acting, I need to be prepared to talk with him. Once I have a general idea, I let it go. If I sit around and think about it all day, I will make myself crazy.

  Done eating and definitely done thinking about my father, I wander into Jai’s room. The books stuffed into the small space are astounding. There are textbooks, poem anthologies, novels, and even graphic novels, some I own, but the largest part of his collection deals with architecture. Beginning architecture, Asian architecture, classic architecture, modern architecture, commercial architecture, and on and on, practically anything you’d want to know about architecture is in this basement. It’s pretty obvious where Jai’s dreams and aspirations lie.

  I’m skimming through The Shape of European Cities and trying to read Jai’s extensive notes written in a long loopy scrawl when I hear the front door—if it can be called a front door—opening. I quickly reshelf the book and then pause, hoping it is Jai or one of the boys or even Song. Just not someone after me. Footsteps sound on the cement. I scan the room and look for somewhere to hide.

  When Jai steps in the doorway, I’m able to breathe again. “Here,” he says, holding up a paper and string wrapped bundle. “It took longer than I thought to find this stuff, so we have to hurry if we want to make it across town in time.”

  “I’ll hurry.” I snag the package from him and head into the tiny bathroom. Inside the wrapping, I find dress pants, a blouse, a blazer, slip on shoes, and dark glasses. An outfit for someone close to fifty. Quite lame. At this point, I’m not about to complain. The pants are a bit too big at the waist. The shirtsleeves don’t reach my wrists. And it takes me three times to tie the scarf at my neck that’s part of the shirt. Luckily, the blazer fits and covers up all the awkward parts. And a pair of sunglasses cover up the bruise left by Mao’s elbow. Once I turn my ponytail into a bun, I’m ready to go.

  Jai’s waiting in the main room. He’s wearing dress pants and a sweater. The front of his hair is gelled into a spiky swoop and his collar under the sweater is up. College preppy turned hottie. I’ve never been attracted to the type. Now I have to force myself not to stare.

  He hands me his gray canvas coat, tugs on a beat up leather one, and we exit the cabinet. I follow him through the basement. Instead of going into the Laundromat, he leads me to the alley where his bike waits. Once I’m wrapped around him again—I’m beginning to really like this mode of transportation—we’re soon cruising through the city. Twenty minutes later, he parks a block away from the townhouse—showing up on his motorcycle might not get us in the door—we leave our beat up coats on the seat, and walk down the cold townhouse-lined street.

  On the porch with his hand about to push the bell, he turns to me. “You okay? You ready for this?” I nod and smile weakly. Having him here, having some support keeps my nerves in check. “Okay,” he tugs his collar back up, “I’m going to let you take the lead just ask me and I’ll confirm everything you say.” He pushes the ornate doorbell and a soft dinging melody sounds.

  A middle-aged man dressed like a butler from carriage and horse times answers the door. He looks down his nose at us. “Yes?”

  I raise my chin. “I’ve come to lunch with my father, Drew Nash.”

  At my father’s name, he snaps to attention, steps back, and motions with a wide arm arc. “Please come in.” He leads us past a formal lounge and into a room of square tables, white linens, and fresh flowers. I spot my father in the far corner of the room. Scrolling through his Blackberry and surrounded by papers spread out before him, he doesn’t notice us until the antique butler pulls out a chair.

  “Nivea,” he says and practically drops his phone to float with the olives in his martini.

  “Hello, father,” I say as if this is just a normal luncheon meeting. My father glances at Jai. I smile lightly, keeping all the anxiety coiled inside of me down. “This is Jai, a friend who’s been helping me.”

  Jai says hello while my father’s lips stay in a tight line. Once the antique butler leaves, he hisses, “What is going on, and where have you been?”

  I reach for the yellow, fan folded napkin in front of me. “Well, since you wouldn’t believe me over the phone, I decided to explain things to you in person.” I spread the linen across my lap as if I belong in this upscale private club.

  The waiter comes. My father glares at me while I order a Coke and Jai orders an ice tea.

  Once the waiter leaves my father again demands, “Where have you been?” Instead of answering, I take off the glasses. He lets out a gasp and rears back. “What happened to your eye?”

  I fold the glasses and set them on the table. Jai just watches us, which is fine. His presence keeps me composed, keeps me in line. The calmer I appear the more likely my father will believe me. Very aware of this I’m trying to take time with all of my responses, make sure they’re clear and articulate. “Two men cornered me last night. At first, I thought they were muggers, but they knew my name and tried to kidnap me. One of them elbowed me,” I wave my hand in front of my face like I’m a display model and I’m selling my bruise, “when I tried to escape.”

  As the waiter sets down our drinks, my father motions me to put the glasses back on. I concede with a sigh. After he tells him we still need to look at the menu, he asks, “So how did you escape?”

  I take a sip of my Coke with its floating lemon. “Jai saved me,” I simply say not wanting to share that violent encounter with my father. The less he knows about Jai the better. I don’t want him coming to any wrong conclusions, like thug conclusions. Because right now Jai looks rich, looks like someone my father would approve of.

  He glances at Jai, who nods. After taking a long drink of his martini, he asks, “So I’m guessing you think Smith has something to do with this?”

  Okay, here’s where I have to be super calm. I remove the glasses again and slowly tug the bow at my neck free. Then craning my neck, I place my fingers at the punctured bruise. “When someone tries to drug me in the morning then two guys attack me later, I can’t help thinking they’re related.”

  My father cringes at the injury before rubbing a temple. “I’m not sure what to think.”

  Jai leans forward. “Sir, your daughter’s in some kind of trouble. You can’t deny that.”

  Frowning at him, my father drops his hand. “No, I suppose I can’t.”

  I’m holding in a smile at how smooth everything is going when the one empty chair at the table is suddenly pulled out. I look up to see the antique butler and Mali. “Good afternoon,” she says with a syrupy smile.

  Shit. Minus Smith, Kevin, and Mao, she’s the last person I w
ant to see. She’s going to ruin everything.

  My father rises and helps her tug off her long white leather coat. “I thought you couldn’t come?” He hands the dead animal to the antique butler.

  Her smile somehow becomes more syrupy. Her red lips an off center bow. “I had a client cancel an appointment.” She glances at Jai. “Who’s your friend, Nivea?” Before I can introduce them, she notices my eye and her face twists with fury. “What happened?”

  My father pushes in her chair. “Nivi is still not only claiming that Smith attacked her, but that some street men tried to take her and roughed her up.”

  Mali’s hand covers the jumble of silver hanging from her throat. “That’s awful! Just awful. Yet,” she shakes her head, “I did check into your claims about Smith.” She places a palm on my father’s shoulder. “A teacher at your school witnessed Smith trying to drop you off, before you ran away. I know you don’t like him, but…”

  I jerk back from shock. What teacher would lie like that? Did Smith pay them off?

  My father’s eyes look strangely blank before he pins me with an angry look. “Making allegations against people isn’t a joke or a way to get what you want. Such behavior is irrepressible, which makes me wonder if the story about your eye is also fictitious.”

  My mouth falls open. The clink of dishes sounds from the kitchen. A door upstairs shuts somewhere. The large grandfather clock on the far wall ticks. Inside the overwhelming silence, I can’t even speak. For him to come to such a conclusion…it’s like he slapped me. Anger, disappointment, and hurt spiral in my chest, want to explode out of my mouth, but in shock, I’m mute.

  Jai sits forward. “Sir, I picked up Nivi yesterday from the warehouse area in Sunset Park. She did look and act…” it’s evident he’s trying not to use the word but finally says, “drugged. And I saw the man elbow her in the eye last night.”