by Dara Girard
“Was the door damaged?” she asked, using the same hushed tone he did.
“No.”
“Can I see?”
“From a distance.”
She inched forward and saw the door ajar—strange that they’d pick the lock to her place.
“You’ve seen. Now go.”
She turned and hurried to his apartment. She didn’t give herself much time to look around, although from her brief assessment it suited the man. Neat, orderly without much color. She thought of dumping her drink down the sink, but didn’t think she had the time and didn’t want to leave it out in the open, so she quickly shoved it into his fridge. When she closed the fridge door, she saw a business card with the words Harlow Security on it and a quickly scrawled note that said “For Karim,” ah yes, that was his name, she thought with satisfaction before she hid in the back of his bedroom closet.
Hours seemed to pass and there was no sound of a key in the lock, no footsteps, no sound of a microwave. What was going on?
She thought of emerging from her hiding place and confronting him.
Then she heard footsteps, they paused, retreated then headed forward again. Seconds later she heard a grunt then a thud.
A few more seconds passed before she heard the ‘ding’ of a microwave.
Anita cautiously made her way out of the closet, then his bedroom. She stopped when she entered the hallway and saw an unconscious man on the ground. Karim secured his hands. He glanced at her over his shoulder then said, “Do you know him?” He lifted the man up by the hair.
Anita looked at the bruised face and shook her head.
Karim took out his cell phone and held the screen out to her. “How about him?”
She stared at the image of another bruised face and again shook her head. “But—”
He hefted the man over his shoulder. “Give me a minute while I take the trash out,” he said then casually left as if he were doing just that.
“Do you have any enemies?” Karim asked as they sat facing each other in his living room.
“Not that I know of.”
“Someone doesn’t like you. I saw it first when someone tried to take out your tires.”
“My tires?”
He nodded.
“And that car that nearly ran me down wasn’t an accident?”
He shook his head.
She blinked. “But that doesn’t make sense. I’m a science tutor for crying out loud.”
“Perhaps an angry parent? A child who failed?”
“All my clients succeed,” she said trying not to sound affronted. “None of them would want to hurt me and I get most of my business through referrals.”
He sighed. “Well, someone doesn’t like you.”
“What were they looking for?”
He rubbed his chin. “That’s what I can’t figure out. Your place wasn’t trashed. They were waiting for you. At least one was. That’s what made me suspicious. The two were usually together, but at the coffee shop I only saw one. That’s when I thought one may be at your place. It’s likely the first one saw us leave together and followed us. I caught him by surprise before I faced the second man.”
“That makes sense.”
He shook his head in disagreement. “But there are still too many questions. It may take more time for me to get information out of them.”
“You mean you didn’t call the police?”
“I will once I get what I need,” he said in an even tone.
“Where did you put them?”
“They won’t hurt you.”
That wasn’t what she’d asked, but his tone made it clear he didn’t plan to give her a straight answer. “Can I go back to my place?”
He stared at her for a long moment, the same assessing look that made her feel tense, then nodded. “I’m coming with you.”
Her apartment didn’t look like it had been robbed; it looked like it had been destroyed. Anita saw her dining room table lying on its side with a leg missing, her mail scattered on the ground. A dented lampshade sat on the couch, missing the body of the lamp, her couch seemed to have been shoved several feet from its original position.
Anita shook her head confused. “I thought you said my place wasn’t trashed.”
Karim cleared his throat. “I caught him by surprise and he wasn’t willing to leave so I had to persuade him. Sorry, about the mess.”
It was an odd thing to say considering he’d saved her life, but she didn’t make fun of him. She just shrugged. “It’s okay, I needed to redecorate anyway.” She gathered up the letters, and saw a drop of blood on her father’s envelope. She glanced at a side table and saw an empty space where a purple and blue glass vase use to sit. She saw small shards on the ground. He’d tried to clean up, which explained why the bottom half of the lamp was missing. What a strange man.
He noticed her glance and said, “Just tell me how much it cost and I’ll—”
She shook her head. “It’s okay, I told you that.”
A muffled noise from somewhere down the hall, made him stiffen and go on alert.
Anita tensed.
Karim pulled out his gun. “Go back to my place.”
Before she could do anything, a tabby cat let out a loud cry before it dashed across the room.
Karim looked at her. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”
“I don’t,” she said and with that she saw Karim’s face change as he looked past her. With lightning speed he dived for her as a loud sound pierced through the air. He covered her body with his as he had last time, but this time she felt pain radiate through her body, down her leg as she hit the ground. She craned her neck and saw a man, staring at them with dead, soulless eyes and saw something familiar on his wrist. But only for a split second because Karim took him down with one shot. The man collapsed to the ground, holding his left shoulder and swearing.
Karim walked over to him. “Only your mouth is allowed to move.”
The man said something crude and reached for his gun.
Karim pulled the trigger again, hitting the man’s arm, shattering his humerus and he went still. “Damn, the cat must have wandered in, I didn’t think—” He turned to her then his face paled.
She didn’t know why at first until she followed his gaze to her leg. She looked down and saw blood spreading down her thigh. She wasn’t afraid, she was glad to know why she hurt so much.
He rushed over to her, fell on his knees and swore. “He got you. I’m sorry.” He grabbed a cushion and pressed it against her leg. “Hold this there until I get back.” He ran down her hallway and she heard a door open before he came back with towels and tied one around her leg.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said more as a command than as assurance. His tone said “You’re not allowed to die,” and she wanted to listen, but her body felt heavy as if every time her heart beat her breathing slowed. She knew he’d called the ambulance, she’d heard him, but she also knew there wasn’t much time.
“The…watch,” she said.
“What?”
“The man works…for my…brother. He gives out…watches like that …to his top employees.”
“Okay.”
“Tell the police in case…”
“You’ll be able to tell them yourself.”
Anita felt a little guilty. This was the most she’d ever spoken to him and at such an awful time. She’d been the one with trouble following her, not him. He must have thought she was cursed. Now she was glad he was always there. Each time. Every time. He’d protected her. Now she wanted to know everything about him. Not just that he operated a security firm and liked to jog no matter how cold the weather. She wanted to know whether he liked his eggs scrambled or sunny side up or even if he liked eggs at all. Her heart turned over and a warm glow spread through her as she studied him, wanting to remember every feature of his face, the slope of his nose, the shape of his arms.
“I love you,” she said, because she wanted to love someone. She’
d kept her heart closed up for so long and she didn’t want to miss this chance. To be real for once. If this was her last moment, she didn’t want to waste it.
“I love you too,” he said softly.
She didn’t believe him, but was glad to hear it. Was he saying what a dying woman needed to hear? Did he pity her? Did it matter? A tear escaped and slid down the side of her face.
“Since the first time I saw you,” he said his voice barely a whisper. He brushed her tear away, and his hands were rough, but she didn’t care. It felt good to love him and to be loved. If she lived, she’d never waste another moment again. She shifted her gaze to her father’s blood stained envelope, wishing she’d opened it.
Karim sat in the hospital cafeteria where Anita had been for the past four days. The bullet had ripped through a major muscle. She’d made it through surgery, but there would be grueling months of physical therapy. He’d visited her only once, with her father, but she’d been groggy and probably didn’t remember. He frequently came to the hospital to check on her progress, although he didn’t see her. He’d wanted to visit her every day. Every minute of every day, but he stayed away as much as he could. He didn’t know what they could call their relationship yet, not even sure they had one. She’d told him she loved him. But what she’d said had come from shock. He knew people would say anything when facing death. He didn’t want to press her to feel something she didn’t. He remembered seeing her cup in his fridge, he should have thrown it out, but hadn’t yet.
He also stayed away because it hurt too much to see her. There were so many other choices he could have made to keep her safe. He replayed them in his mind.
“This is your chance,” his sister had told him through a video chat session. “Tell her how you feel.”
“She already knows.”
“You’re always too hard on yourself.”
He knew that. It didn’t change anything or make him feel any better.
“The biggest problem with you is that you’re only comfortable in battle or when you’re on alert. Taking charge, giving orders. You need to know that the quiet moments can be just as powerful.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop being afraid of saying the wrong thing. It may feel like life or death, but it’s not.”
She should know. He remembered her speech therapy sessions, the way the kids would make fun of her at school. She still continued to joke and talk no matter the sting. That was bravery, she taught him that every day. He had no excuses.
“What should I talk to her about?” he said.
“Oh…maybe that her brother hired three hit men to kill her so that he could get her inheritance?”
He frowned. “I’m not going to bring that up.”
“It made the news. It’s a juicy story.”
“I’ll find something else.”
“Good. As long as you do.”
Anita stared at the cooking demonstration on the TV attached to the corner wall of her hospital room. She still couldn’t believe her half-brother had tried to get her killed. She’d guessed when she’d noticed the watch, but it was only when one of the hit men Karim had tied up and stuffed in the utility closet had started talking that all the pieces fell into place. Her brother had given them each a chance, raising the stakes each time they failed so that they’d become more committed to her demise. The first attempt had been a bomb that hadn’t detonated properly. They’d bribed the mechanic to lie about the cause of the damaged tire. Karim had disrupted their second and third attempt. That day in the courtyard, if she hadn’t turned to look at him, the bullet would have hit her instead of the pigeon.
It was the third hit man, who stayed out of sight giving Karim the impression there were only two of them, who thought to kill Anita in her apartment. They’d hoped to stage it to look like she’d come upon a burglar, but Karim had ruined their plan.
However, the third guy had been determined to use surprise as his strategy. After Karim had encountered the second man in Anita’s apartment, he’d remained hidden, ready to shoot Anita when she returned, determined to get the fifty thousand her brother had promised.
It didn’t seem like much to take a life, but she didn’t know his circumstances nor care.
All she knew was that greed had turned a happily married father of two into a killer. Her half-brother wanted to gain the entire inheritance. He’d gone through the money his father had loaned him to start his club marketing enterprise where he’d over expanded and was bleeding red every week. He hoped his mother’s money would save him.
But she hadn’t left him anything, except some jewelry and ornaments she’d hoped he would give to his daughters. He’d pawned them instead, angered that their mother had given Anita everything he thought mattered. Anita had never felt easy about her mother’s decision, feeling the weight of her mother’s guilt instead of her love. Her mother had foolishly written in her final decree that she hoped by giving Anita the money she could have a closer relationship with her half-siblings. She’d been wrong. Her half-sister still called, but their relationship was just as uneasy as before. Perhaps time would change that, she wasn’t sure.
Her father came to visit her in the hospital. And he read to her.
Karim visited her too, but only twice. “I don’t want you to focus on what happened,” he said, never mentioning he told her that he loved her. She remembered the brief touch of his hand. “I want you to focus on getting better. I’ll give you space until you’re ready.”
She didn’t tell him she didn’t need space. Didn’t want space. That he could visit her every day, but she hadn’t had the strength to fight his formal, distant words. And part of her wanted him to wait until she was stronger. She didn’t want to be a reminder to him of what could have happened. She saw the uncertainty and guilt in his gaze and knew it would take time for it to fade. Yes, he could have kept her at his place; yes, he could have moved faster, but he hadn’t and that was okay. She didn’t need him to be perfect. She didn’t want him to see her as weak. She didn’t want this awkward silence between them.
But she did want to see him again.
She went through two months of physical therapy for her leg. She used a cane now, but in a few days she wouldn’t need it anymore. She shuffled through her mail then smiled when she saw her father’s handwriting on an envelope. She ripped it open and saw a quote: “When the choice is now. Tomorrow is too late.” Then in his beautiful lettering he wrote, Don’t be shy to make the first move.
She’d shared her uncertainty with him, and he’d given his response. It was just the nudge she needed.
Anita put the letter down and went to Karim’s apartment. She knocked and waited, but no one came to the door. She glanced at her watch. She knew where he would be.
But he wasn’t there.
There was the same hiss of the espresso machine, the gentle murmur of voices, the scent of pumpkin spice muffins, but he wasn’t there.
Anita let her eyes sweep around the coffee shop once more, moving aside from the doorway when a couple bundled up as if they were going to the North Pole instead of outside into the crisp winter air, needed to exit. She’d hurried there, hoping to see his shadowy frame in the corner with a cup on the table and his keys. But the table was occupied by three teenagers wearing the same dark rimmed glasses, one had a buzz cut with pink tips.
Anita sighed, walked to the counter and ordered a cinnamon latte and muffin. Too late she realized her mistake. Carrying a tray would be hard with a cane. She managed to balance the muffin on top of her coffee as she slowly walked to a table. She rested it down with satisfaction and waited.
He still didn’t show. The one face she was looking for, the one person she wanted to see, wasn’t there when she most wanted him to be. She ate slowly giving him plenty of time.
He still didn’t show.
After an hour, Anita finished her drink and muffin then left, favoring her right leg, although her left was getting stronger. But she was feeling a litt
le sorry for herself. Maybe it had all been just words. Maybe he regretted what he’d said that day when she’d been shot. It had been dramatic and emotional. Even in the hospital there had been an awkward tension time should have lessened.
But perhaps it hadn’t. Nobody needed this much space. She hardly saw him anymore. She didn’t bump into him in the grocery store or in the courtyard. In the hallway he was always in a rush, he’d give her a brief cordial wave then take the stairs instead of the elevator. Maybe just as she’d once hated to see him, he now felt the same.
Anita stopped walking when she heard running footsteps behind her. She spun around too fast, putting pressure on her bad leg. She lost her balance. He caught her before she fell.
“Did you just come from the coffee shop?” he asked, his breath coming out like a mist in the cold air.
She nodded, blinking back tears. She didn’t want him always coming to her rescue. She didn’t want him to think he needed to.
“Were you waiting for me?”
She nodded again unable to speak, so many thoughts swirling in her mind.
“Things got busy at work. I’d wanted to be here,” he said, ducking his head.
And that’s when her tears dried up and her worry fell away, her heart renewing with hope. He was shy. She’d never thought of that, never imagined that his silences could be anything but cold detachment. She stared at him with the same eyes of love that she had two months ago. She knew what he needed. If he was shy, she could be bold.
“Sorry to make you wait, I—”
She didn’t let him finish, kissing his words away. His lips felt cold and he smelled like spearmint. She didn’t need him to apologize. He was there now.
And now was all that mattered.
Dorcas
Dorcas
* * *
About the Story
"I want you to promise to lie for me.”
The promise seemed harmless.
