by Atieno Mzuri
“Made some meatloaf and salad. Chocolate cake and ice cream for dessert.” he replied.
“Sounds good.”
Matt and I walked slowly back to the apartment. On the way he talked about his new job-hunting activities. He told me about a gas station that was run by a certain Arab friend of his and which he had swung by that day and Ahmed had said that he could start working three mornings a week.
“I am so happy for you.” I said genuinely pleased that he had gotten something.
Even three mornings a week was enough to put food on the table. I didn't much care to continue scrounging on him as he fed me and I plotted against him. I desperately needed something good to happen to him so that I wouldn't feel so guilty as I finally stabbed him.
My mind was made up. I was going to betray him. It was just a matter of finding the right opportunity. Which had suddenly presented itself. If Matt was at work the whole morning, I could take the black laptop and sneak over to Jim Spencer and be back before Matt returned from work. And in the meantime I would reach out to a girl from Zimbabwe who worked as a nanny and who had said she could get me something similar. She had room and board and three days off.
Suddenly life seemed brighter. I could do this and get out before Matt became suspicious. And Matt could take care of himself. He had known Jim Spencer for many years. I didn't see why I had to be the sacrificial lamb in their duel.
We entered the apartment. He turned on the light. I looked around. Seemed like he had been doing some cleaning. The apartment was spotless. Instinctively my eyes turned towards the spot where the black laptop normally sat. There was nothing there. The black laptop was gone. My heart missed a beat. I looked up. Matt was studying me. His eyes were cold.
“Looking for something?” he asked.
“No.” I said. “You cleaned up pretty well.” “You sure?” he took a step towards me.
I took a step back. He took another step towards me.
“I am only going to ask you this once. Are you sure there is nothing you are looking for?”
“Yeah. Place looks good.”
Matt was swift on his feet. I didn't see the slap coming. I only felt it as it almost dislocated my jaw and blood spurt out of my mouth. He slapped me again hard.
“Atieno I didn't go to work this morning. I followed you to Jim Spencer's office. What did Spencer want from you?”
The beating continued late into the night. He alternated between slapping my face and punching me. He took a belt and I felt it cut into me. But I didn't scream or cry. I whimpered in self-pity. I didn't want the neighbors to hear any commotion and call the police. After all, as soon as they got here, they would ask for my papers and they would call the Homeland Security. And I would be on the first available plane back to Africa. Where I didn't have anything to return to.
“Here is what we are going to do.” Matt said. “In two days’ time, you are going to do as Jim Spencer asked. But first, we have to get you looking like your old self. No sense in him thinking that something happened here tonight. Are you going to tell him about tonight?”
“No Matt.” I whimpered. “Nothing happened.”
Matt took the medicinal alcohol from the First Aid box and swabbed my wounds. I didn't scream as I felt it burning into my cut skin. But silent tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Stop crying my love.” Matt said as he wiped away my tears. “It's going to end well.”
And then with one rapid movement, he lifted me up and placed me gingerly on the bed. Took off my clothes. I didn't struggle. Just wanted to die. But not yet, I thought. Not until my child was in a good place. I lay back and didn't struggle as he swiftly entered me. I took the pounding that he gave without flinching.
This was one of those times that Matt had been turned on without resorting to the use of porn or his normal wanking or thinking about other men wanting me. And he was hard for almost three hours.
I took the pounding as it was given. Without a whimper...
Chapter Eighteen (Enter Devon) For the next four days I lay in that bed with Matt nursing me, he bathed me and medicated my wounds. He had been to the pharmacy and bought some creams with which he massaged away my pain. He cooked, he cleaned, he apologized over and over but my mind had somehow blanked him out.
All I heard were words coming from his mouth and I didn't have strength to respond. Finally, exasperated he said he wasn't going to plead with me anymore to forgive him but he hoped I knew what the right thing to do was.
He reminded me that he was the only one who had been there for me in times of difficulty. And he kept telling me how much he loved me. He cried on some days, he cried for the two of us because I was dry eyed. Not a single tear fell from my eyes. I guess I was in shock or denial or both.
All I knew was that I wanted to die. But then I kept remembering my little girl whom I had left in Africa and I knew I had to be strong for her. I had last seen her when she was three years old and she was bidding me goodbye at the airport and she was asking me why I was going without her, why couldn't I hide her in my handbag and go with her? And I had explained that I would be back in December to get her. That had been in July.
Two Decembers had since come and gone and every time I spoke with her, she asked me if December had reached or when it would reach. At the beginning I used to call her every week, then I changed to every month, and finally I had just stopped calling because it hurt so much when she asked me when December would reach. The last time I had called, was when she had been hospitalized for Malaria and I had been so terrified that she would die before December reached and I would have wasted all those two years without her, without giving her the things that I really wanted to give her but which just weren't within my means at the moment. She wanted a scooter and I didn't have the money to buy it and I couldn't even explain to my sisters why I couldn't buy the scooter, which was approximately $50. How could I tell them that I didn't have the $50? When I had left home, I used to be able to afford stuff like that for her and we lived pretty decently and now I couldn't even send $10 for my child.
So, I spent that week healing my body and trying to harness my spirit so that I could plan for the next move. I knew I couldn't make any move until I was completely healed so I settled back and let Matt nurse me back to health.
As I have said, he was extremely attentive and treated me with a lot of tenderness and apologized constantly. On the second day he had reminded me to call Jim Spencer and tell him that due to unforeseen circumstances, I was unable to go to his office and that I had not found anything worth delivering. As fate would have it, luck was on my side. I was informed that Jim Spencer was going to be out of town for a month and did I wish to leave a message or did I want to try calling back in a month? I said I would call back in a month and I breathed a sigh of relief that I had one more month before I had to deal with Mr. Spencer.
Matt had to resume work the next week since we were running out of food. He had been to the food shelf, the place where we picked some free food every week, but there were things that the food shelf couldn't provide, so he had to put in some hours at work whenever someone offered him a few hours of work. Getting a job was a nightmare for him. Not many employers will willingly take on a sex offender as part of their staff, because even though people politely say that they are willing to give others a second chance, when it comes down to the actions, they would rather not. So employers shied away from him and at some point, he had just stopped applying for jobs. His unemployment check of $1200 was still coming in but that just covered our rent and the utilities. I was bringing in no money. I had become more estranged from the Kenyan society as I sank into deeper problems and couldn't reach out to any of them.
On the day Matt resumed work, I dialed Jake's number and I talked to him. Our conversation was brief, I merely wanted to know when he would be back in town. He was still in Chicago and said that he had been given an unexpected assignment there that would cover another two months but I was constantly in his tho
ughts and he would contact me as soon as he got back into town. He asked me if I had as yet moved out of Matt's apartment and as I hadn't he said he was still urging me to move because at some point he did want to get back at Matt and he didn't want me to be caught in between.
Despair hit me like a brick, when I was through with the call. I hadn't realized how much I had counted on Jake being my escape plan. I lay there staring blankly at the TV screen as I thought of whom else I could call. Then I remembered that piece of paper that the black fellow at Jim Spencer's office had given to me. There was no harm calling him. I retrieved the piece of paper from under the mattress where I had hidden it and quickly dialed the number.
He answered after seven rings when I was about to give up. I found out that his name was Devon and that he had worked for Jim Spencer for several years and he said he had been listening on Jim's conversation with me, even before I came to that office and he had decided he would help me.
“Why are you wanting to help me?” I asked him. “Because you are black. And I can't stand by and see a black woman suffer in the hands of yet another white man. It pains me that our black women are being mistreated by white men and they don't even see it. They continue to grovel before the white man. Slavery ended a long time ago but sisters are still worshiping the white man. It's stupid.”
“How can I know whether you are for real? Why should I trust you?” I asked.
“You will just have to take a chance. It's up to you.” Devon said. “I can get you out of there this week. There is a white woman over in Burnsville who needs a nanny, she has two children and will pay you $400 a month and give you your own room and you would have three days off. Does this sound interesting to you or would you rather remain where you are?”
Sure it sounded interesting to me. I don't know why I was stalling instead of leaping at the idea. But I had become wary of men who said they wanted to help me. Everybody wanted a pound of my flesh. True, I know there's never anything for free but I needed to know Devon's price and see if it was too great to pay. If it was sex, I was going to pass because I couldn't bring myself to even like him or stand him that way.
“How long do I have?” I asked, stalling for a few more minutes to think.
“What exactly are you waiting for? What is keeping you that you can't leave tomorrow? The lady can take you in today.”
“I don't have my travel documents and my certificates.” I explained. “I think I need to get those first.”
“Why? Really? Are you travelling anywhere? Are you in a position to use those papers?”
“No.” I reluctantly admitted.
Our conversation ended on the note that he would come pick me up on Thursday when Matt was at work. I was to leave everything including my clothes in Matt's house and I would start afresh. The lady, my silent benefactor, would give me some of her clothes to start off with.
Matt was home promptly at 5.30. Matt is always on time, if he's going to be late even if it's five minutes he calls or texts. He made dinner as I slumped in front of the TV. He cleaned up and then he came to sit by my side on the couch.
Since I knew I had already made firm plans for moving away, I was good to him. I hadn't completely forgiven him for the beating but knowing that I now had an escape route somehow made it easier to talk with him. We discussed everything under the sun. It felt like the first days when we had just met and I was deeply in love with him. In many ways, I still was. But I knew the two of us were doomed as a couple. We just couldn't hack it. There was too much happening. Too many outside forces that wouldn't give us peace.
That night, I allowed him to pull me into his arms and I allowed him to kiss me and then he made love to me in the most gentle way that I could remember. At some point he was crying and finally all the tears I had held back over the past week, began to roll. The thought of a better future, allowed me to love him deeply that night. I was thinking that the past was the past and that night I forgave him for everything. I hadn't been a saint myself, I had lived off of him, I had plotted against him, and still he continued to love me. I knew it was going to be hard to move on, I knew I would never meet someone that would love me as much as Matt had loved me. But I would move on because I needed to.
Matt stayed home the next day and I stayed in his arms and we made love the whole day. I think he sensed that something had changed but he didn't ask me what it was. He took of me as I gave.
“I will move on, God give me the strength to move on.” I kept saying to myself. “I really do love this man, but I need to move on.”
On Thursday morning, Matt left for work. His last words to me were that he loved me and he would do anything for me and he hoped I loved him back the same way. And I told him I loved him and I couldn't wait to see him that evening.
Then I sat back and waited for Devon to come and take me away to freedom. Even though I knew I was leaving Matt, I went through my normal routine. I sat by his side and we had breakfast together and I was having difficulty swallowing and I was wondering whether I would ever meet someone else who would cater to my physical demands and needs as he had done. I was looking back at the eight months that we had been together which had been filled with love and tenderness, a connection of two souls, a deep love lately fraught with accusations and suspicion and recriminations, but which still hadn't turned to bitterness. If there was a magic way to wipe away the past this was the one that I would want by my bedside as I lay dying.
He was my best friend but I was about to take away the "forever" part by running away from him without telling him. I so wanted to say goodbye and wish him the best. Instead I hugged him tightly and claimed one last kiss and watched him walk through the door to go and hunt for our food.
And then I cleaned up as I waited. I noticed that the black laptop was back in its usual place and I looked at it with regret. The idyllic world I lived in had started going downhill the moment I started snooping and couldn't stop.
Devon was prompt, right on the minute as we had agreed. He took the interstate 35 and soon we were in Burnsville where he drew up to a townhouse and the lady of the house thanked him and led me to my bedroom to settle down. She brought me some clothes and new underwear and toiletries that she had bought for me that morning. The room was small and was furnished with a twin bed on which a dull brown duvet was spread. The walls were cream and bare of any decorations.
I felt as though I had entered a cell and I settled back to start my jail term.
Chapter Nineteen (Babysitter Duties) The Thursday I was leaving Matt, I went through my normal routine. I sat by his side and we had breakfast together and I was having difficulty swallowing and I was wondering whether I would ever meet someone else who would cater to my physical demands and needs as he had done. I was looking back at the eight months that we had been together which had been filled with love and tenderness, a connection of two souls, a deep love lately fraught with accusations and suspicion and recriminations, but which still hadn't turned to bitterness. If there was a magic way to wipe away the past this was the one that I would want. The man that I would have laying by my side, on my deathbed. The man that I would want buried next to me so that we would be together even in the afterlife.
“Remember to vacuum the carpet and put away the children's toys. It's very disappointing for me when I come home and find the house messy."
"Of course. ," I said politely. "I shall clean up!" What I longed to say was that her children were mean inconsiderate undisciplined brats. But I held my tongue. I needed to stay on this job, not just for the $300 that she was paying me but mostly for the room and board. I didn't have anywhere else to go. Dionne was a good woman. She had strikingly blue eyes, long blonde hair and a figure that belonged to an African woman.
Perhaps it was for this reason that she had gotten three children from three different black men. Only one of the men regularly supported his child and therefore she was forced to work two to three jobs at a time to cater for her family's financial needs.
After two days I had mentioned something about the children throwing the toys everywhere after I had cleaned up yet again. I was cleaning up every thirty minutes on top of trying to keep them entertained through painting, puzzles, and reading to them. There was no TV in the house. Dionne had this rule that her children would not be raised by the box. The children were of course bored and they went through the house like a hurricane and broke a lot of stuff. Not having TV meant that I was completely isolated from the world. But my trustworthy Facebook was active and I was getting news from home. I had informed my sisters of the new development in my life, and I had also asked them to send me copies of my passport and my birth certificate so that I would use these to apply for new travel documents through the Kenyan embassy in Washington DC. I had of course given them my new address.
Dionne had said she might have to charge me for the stuff if I didn't get the kids under control. I could understand her anger, she was working almost 24 hours to buy that stuff. And yet the paradox was that she wouldn't let me discipline the children in the only way I was accustomed to. She wanted me to make them take timeouts and stand in the corner and think about what they had done. Having been thoroughly unsuccessful at this, I had now virtually become a slave to the children.
Often I thought of the easy life I had led at Matt's house. And I missed him so much. I didn't have any adult conversation. I still didn't know where my future was heading. I had no concrete plans and was just taking it day by day.
I had been living with Dionne for two months now. During these two months I had never gone anywhere. I had been in that house 24/7 and thought I might run mad. I didn't have any dating life to speak of. One time a man I was talking to, a certain Stephen had driven almost 200 miles to see me on my day off. When he got out of his Cadillac and came forward with his hand outstretched to meet me it took everything in me not to turn away and tell him to go back home.
