“I’m out?”
“Afraid so. You’ve done amazing work though, Chai. There’s a lot to be proud of.”
“I made too many errors. A couple that could have cost lives.” The memory of Aanwat telling him he’d been followed had been eating at him all night. How had he let that happen?”
“What errors are you referring to, exactly?” the captain asked.
“For one, putting Suda in harm’s way.” Chai cast his eyes to the grungy linoleum floor. He didn’t want to admit what had happened, but he knew he would feel like a liar if he didn’t tell her his part in Aanwat finding Suda.
“In what way?” she asked.
Chai clenched his jaw and then admitted it. “He followed me to where she was staying. And then he saw Suda at the safe house.”
“Really?” the captain paused and looked at her desk. She lifted a stack of papers and then slid a notebook out from another pile after spying a protruding edge. She flipped it open. “That conflicts with the statement Suda made. She informed us that he saw her getting into a car and then waited until she returned to confirm it was her.”
“What?”
“Look,” she passed the notebook to Chai who began reading it.
He looked up and smiled, shaking his head, giddy with relief. “He told me he followed me.”
The captain raised her eyebrows. “Sounds as if he was turning the screws.”
“I’m so relieved I’m not even angry,” he paused. “Still, I didn’t get to the top. I wanted that name.”
“I know,” the captain put her hand on his shoulder, “but someone else will have to pick up where you left off. I can’t send you back in if you’re compromised. You know that.”
“But we don’t know I’ve been compromised.”
“My gut is saying that you have been, and I’m not willing to take the chance. We don’t know what Aanwat said before he got you into that storage container. We can’t be sure, and if I’m not sure, you’re being taken out.”
“Understood.”
“How do you feel about going back to detective work?”
Chai paused a moment to reflect then said, “Ambivalent. A little relieved. A bit pissed.”
“I get it,” she said. “But I think it will be best. Your old desk is waiting for you.”
“And Suda? Will we be able to get asylum for her?”
“She can certainly prove her life is in danger if she returns, so I’m guessing yes. But,” she looked at Chai while she scratched the back of her neck, “it will be a process. You know that.”
Chai sighed again. He had hardly slept and felt bleary eyed, having first gone to the hospital with Simone and then having been in questioning until the wee hours after leaving her x-rayed, splinted, and safely checked into her room to spend the night.
“But she can stay at Hope House for now?”
“Yes, but we had to notify our friends at ICE.”
“Ugh.”
“Sorry. It’s protocol. And I would get her a good immigration lawyer.”
“Will do,” Chai said and stood to leave. “Thanks.”
Chai climbed into his white Prius, placed his hands on the wheel at ten and two, and then laid his forehead at twelve o’clock. He couldn’t deny feeling a sense of relief to be out of the game. It was ugly on the inside, and he hated the way it was seeping into his very being. But he had failed to get what he had been after and that gave him a deep sense of dissatisfaction.
He gently thumped his forehead on the top of the steering wheel a few times then sat back up. He thought of Simone and what it would be like to simply go by her bakery and not have to worry about being followed or about hanging out for as long as he wanted. And, he had to admit, he wanted to spend as much time as he could with her. She was a truly exceptional woman and going through the ordeal they had just experienced together only served to confirm his high opinion of her. He started the car and headed in the direction of the hospital with a stop planned along the way.
His shoes squeaked on the shiny hospital floor as he walked past the nurse’s station, down the hall to the room Claire and Simone strategically shared. He arrived, a bag of fresh glazed donuts and hot lattes in hand for the invalids. Chai was surprised to find Simone up and dressed in fresh clothes, eagerly awaiting her release. The light dusting of freckles shone up stronger than usual against her pale skin. Her eyes looked tired but animated.
“Hey there,” he said when he came through the door. “It looks as if I got here just in time for you to be leaving.”
“I’m ready. Just waiting for the word.” She spied the donut bag and smelled something sweet. “For us?” Simone asked taking a latte and reaching into the white bag and finding a donut. “Oh, my gosh, they’re still warm!” she said, biting in. “Claire, you have to have one,” Simone handed the bag over.
“Coffee and donuts? Isn’t that awfully Hawaii 5-0?” She reached in to take a circle of puffy, sweet dough from the bag. “Thanks, Chai.”
“You’re welcome,” he said and lifted the coffee cup to Claire with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, please, sir,” she said, accepting the cup. “The coffee here sucks, and they woke us up about ten times during the night to check on us.”
“What’s the prognosis?” Chai asked, taking them both in.
“Simone here gets to fly the coop,” Claire answered. “Whereas I have to remain in custody for another day or two, according to the doctor.”
“In custody is putting it a bit melodramatically, isn’t it?”
“She has to stay in the hospital for a couple of days at least because she lost a lot of blood,” Simone explained. “But because the bullet went through the muscle and missed the bone, the healing process should be pretty quick.”
“Thirty-four stitches,” Claire nodded, eyebrows raised proudly.
“Impressive,” Chai said. “And how’s the nose?”
“Hurts almost as much as my leg, but aside from all the cotton shoved up there, they don’t have to do anything to fix it.”
“How are you?” he turned to face Simone.
“She’s good,” Claire said before Simone had a chance to answer. “Busted collarbone, but that’s it. Nothing as exciting as being shot.”
“And, in solidarity with Claire, I am not taking any pain meds aside from Tylenol.”
“You two are impressive, I’ll tell you that.” Chai lifted his latte in a salute to them.
“I can’t believe you guys were in a shipping container the whole time,” Claire shook her head. “Kind of ironic; right?”
“No reason to look smug,” Chai furrowed his brows as if to look angry. “How’s Suda?”
“I’m anxious to get home and find out,” Simone said “I’ve talked to Grace, and she said she’s quiet but seems pretty good. She’ll see her therapist today to process, but still. I want to be there.”
“They’re not going to deport her, are they?” Claire asked.
“I don’t think so. We should get a good lawyer for her just in case.”
“I’ll marry her if it’ll help. Same sex marriage is legal, now.”
“That’s sweet, Claire. Not a bad idea. I’m going to give that some food for thought,” Chai nodded
“Or, hey, you could marry her,” Claire said. “Or Simone. Either of you could.”
“Actually, we can’t,” Chai loosely put his hands over Simone’s ears, but she could hear every word, “because I intend to marry Simone, which will take us both out of the game. But don’t tell her.” He winked at Claire.
Simone’s head snapped toward him, “What did you say?”
“What? Nothing at all. I didn’t say a thing.”
Claire looked almost as shocked as Simone did but was, for once, speechless.
“Are you ready to go? I could give you a ride home,” Chai asked
, as if he’d said nothing shocking.
“Yes,” Simone said, still not at all sure how to respond to what Chai had just said. “Could you just give me a minute with Claire?”
“Sure, I’ll wait for you in the hall. See you soon, Claire,” he waved and then stepped out.
“Did you hear what he said?” Claire whispered excitedly as soon as Chai was out the door.
“Yes,” Simone answered, “but I’m sure he was joking because of your suggestion of marrying Suda.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think he was dead serious.”
“I doubt it,” Simone laughed. “Will you be all right if I leave you here for now?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking out the window. “No problem.”
But she found that she, in fact, did mind. She was worried that they would slip from her grasp if she didn’t have them all in her sight. A feeling she found both thrilling and disturbing. She wondered whether the terrifying aspect of belonging was how it felt to be a part of a family and smiled a little bit in spite of herself.
Suda
Suda lay on her bed in Simone’s small living room and contemplated the word hope. She said it aloud in English first and then in Thai. Hope. It was an elusive thing. How could it be defined, really? Wishing for something that might be possible? Kind of. Maybe it was more the expectation that something could happen. Something good actually could come to pass.
The pillow and mattress were soft, the comforter thick down wrapped in a white duvet. She felt safe, clean. The sunlight streamed in the window she was no longer afraid to stand in front of. She pulled back the curtain and looked out at the day and drank in her new sense of freedom.
She thought of the contrast between this bed and the many others she had lain in at different times in her life: The low pallet of her childhood, where she felt protected and had no idea of the future; the thin, hard, mattress where she worked and slept in the brothel; the bare mattress she’d clung to in the dark, frightening shipping container crossing the ocean from Thailand; and finally the dingy mattress she’d been on in the motel.
While she and Claire had been lying side-by-side, tied up on the stained blanket covering the uncomfortable mattress, Suda had—oddly—felt a sense of hope. It was not the hope that Aanwat had changed and would take her away, or that they would live happily ever after. Not that her circumstances would even be okay. After all, she had been laying tied and gagged, in a run-down motel room. Still, she had a sense that life was more than what was happening in the moment. She had a sense of peace, and the only reason she could conceive that it had happened was that it was somehow tied to the hope that Simone had been talking about. She didn’t understand the whole Savior thing, but she realized she felt that she wasn’t alone. How did it work? She was unclear. Yet there it was again—a sense of hope.
And she had come through it, with the help of Claire and the police. Now, she was determined to stay in this country that was so different from hers. She again thought about being in the shipping container—crossing the deep, tumultuous ocean. She had traversed windswept, choppy waters that threatened to drown her, and yet she had come out on the other side at last in spite of the many hands that had shoved her beneath the surface. She was now bringing air into her lungs. Alive, not drowned. The tears that slipped down her face were the same saline as the sea and would be a constant reminder.
She heard the downstairs door click, and Simone yelled up to her as she climbed the stairs.
“Suda?” Simone’s American accent still didn’t get the tone right, but Suda loved the way her name sounded coming from her.
“Here! Hello!” She responded in English, just as Simone and Chai came into the room.
Simone dropped her stuff on her kitchen table and then as best she could, wrapped her arm around Suda.
“Suda, Suda, Suda,” she said. So happy to have her right there, accessible, touchable. “I was so scared. I prayed and prayed. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you back.”
Chai translated while Simone kept her arm wrapped around her.
“How are you?” Simone asked her directly.
“Good,” Suda smiled and nodded, speaking in English. “I am good.” She said each word individually and distinctly.
Simone turned to Chai, “Will you ask her how she really is. Dig in there in Thai and find out please.”
Chai sat on the couch and motioned Suda to sit next to him, and while Simone made a pot of Thai tea for them all, Suda and Chai talked. She recounted everything she could remember from the moment Claire yelled her name until Grace picked her up at the hospital.
“What will happen to Aanwat?” Suda asked. In spite of everything that had happened, she wanted to know if he would go to jail here for what he did, or whether he would be sent back to Thailand. They had both come from hill tribes and had understood each other because of it. She felt only pity for him now. And sorrow.
“He’ll be deported,” Chai said, but left out the fact that they would be using him to get to the man who ran the brothel she’d been kept in. It would be better to let her move on without adding that worry to her mind.
“Will I be sent back?” She looked at Chai, trying to read his expression.
“We’re going to make sure you don’t,” he said and squeezed her shoulder.
“Were you afraid?” Simone asked, and Chai translated, while she brought tea and set it on a tray for them to share.
“Yes, but it was a different kind of fear. When I was brought to the karaoke and told what was going to happen, that was the most frightening moment of my life. Maybe even more terrifying than when it actually happened. I refused, and they beat me,” she looked down. “They beat me so many times. This was a different kind of fear. I felt calm in spite of what was happening. And Claire was with me. She was bleeding, and I was more afraid for her than for me. At first I thought she would die, and if that had happened because of me, I wouldn’t have been able to stand it.”
A tear slipped down Suda’s cheek, and she wiped her nose. Simone grabbed the box of tissues for her.
“I had a plan, though,” Suda continued. “I had decided to go with him and then call you as soon as I could.”
“I’m relieved it didn’t come to that, and I’m glad you knew you could call us, no matter what.”
“I thank you, Simone,” Suda said in her limited English and then began crying in earnest. “I think hope. Thank you, Chai.”
Suda hugged him, touching him for the first time since he had carried her into Hope House months ago. He felt honored by her trust and hugged her back.
“I think maybe your God was with me. I felt a sense of peace I couldn’t explain,” she said. Chai’s expression made Simone wonder what Suda had said, and when he told her, Simone gave Suda an extra squeeze.
“Are you hungry?” Simone asked.
“Yes, and you know what?” Suda asked in the midst of her tears, “For the first time in so many months, I am in the mood for Thai food. Maybe pad thai and some spicy curry soup?”
“You got it, sweet girl,” Simone kissed her cheek and walked to the phone to call her favorite Thai restaurant.
Claire
Grace gently knocked on the door to Claire’s hospital room before entering. It was dim inside, and at first she thought Claire was sleeping, but then noticed her sitting up in bed, statue still, gazing out the window at the darkening sky.
“Hey,” Grace said softly.
Claire turned toward her, surprised out of her dark musings, “Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?”
Grace thought she looked especially thin and vulnerable in her bed, propped against the pillows, silhouetted in the window, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The bandage on her nose overwhelmed her face. With her standard issue Giants baseball cap absent from her head, Grace could see the delicate bones in Claire’s face.
“
Came to check up on you.”
“Oh,” Claire said, tucking her arms protectively across her body.
“How are you? Does your leg hurt too much?”
“I’ve experienced worse.”
“Always our tough one.”
Claire shook her head, with the corners of her mouth turned down, and looked out the window.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked.
Claire shook her head again but still didn’t speak.
“What is it?”
Claire sniffed, biting back tears.
“I was just thinking about the fact that I’m ruined. My body is ruined. My life is ruined.”
“Not ruined, my sweet girl. Just interrupted. You’ll get back on track.”
Claire shook her head again. “Polluted with disgusting men and drugs. It’ll be with me—a part of me—always. It can never be undone, and I hate it. But it’s me; don’t you see? So, I hate me. I’m rancid.” She said the words with such vehemence that Grace could physically feel her emotional agony and self-disgust.
“Oh, Claire,” Grace came and wrapped her arms around the fragile young woman who worked so hard to appear hardened and uncaring.
“What brought this on?”
“Simone and Chai. He loves her so much, and it’s because she’s good through and through. Anyone can see it. But I’ll never have that.” She paused and shook her head. “Because I’m not good. I’m …” Claire paused, but no word came to mind.
“Listen to me,” Grace said. “Simone is good, no doubt, but she is flawed and still lovable. She’s both. Just like I am flawed and still lovable, and so are you.”
Across the Deep Page 24
