He tried again. “The thing is, I’d like . . . very much for you to . . . give me another chance.” The last four words came out clipped. He exhaled loudly.
So this was where my inability to express my feelings came from. Another great inheritance! I’d never known that about Robert. Mom had always been there to do the talking. He’d always been good when it came to piggyback rides or cheering at soccer matches. Emotions—I understood now—were not his department.
I considered for a long time. He waited, looking nervous and expectant. I found a twisted pleasure in his anxious expression and considered telling him I’d think about it. But his worried face told me what I needed to know. That he cared, that he wanted me to say yes, that I mattered to him—when all this time, I’d thought he didn’t give a damn whether I lived or died.
When he started looking gray with angst, I responded with as much grace as he.
“All right.”
17
With you, always with you.
Faris’s words hounded me all morning long. It wasn’t only his words, though, but the fact that they were true. I could feel it, a presence like August’s summer breeze on the back of my neck, like gravity pulling me down. Undeniable.
Anger simmered in my gut, threatening to give me an ulcer.
I grappled with that and the fact that Javier hadn’t shown up to work. Worried, I called his cell phone but got no answer. Robert stayed, claiming he could help, but he was spending more time sitting, catching his breath, than actually getting anything accomplished. On top of all of that, customers poured in and out at a steady flow.
At lunch time, Robert offered to get something to eat. He came back with Chinese fried rice and sautéed prawns, a choice Javier never would have made, but which I found comforting.
“I hope you still like this.” He topped two paper plates with food and drizzled the excess chili sauce from the takeout box onto the prawns.
“Yeah, I do.” I smiled despite myself.
He gave a satisfied nod and smiled too, a bit of his old vivacity flaring in his eyes.
“So where is . . . your helper? Javier, is it?” he asked.
“Yeah. I don’t know. I tried to call him, but no answer.”
“Is this pretty common?” he picked at his food and ate small bites. “I mean, does he always miss work like this?”
“No!” I exclaimed, feeling a need to defend Javier. I fought not to say that he wasn’t the type to bail. “He’s very responsible,” I added, instead. “Always tells us ahead of time or calls when he can’t make it.”
Sadness hit me when I realized there was no “us” anymore. I doubted there’d ever be one again. It would be stupid to hope for anything of the sort with Robert. He wouldn’t stay sober long enough to make an “us.” I saw him try before he left, but life without the numbing quality of intoxicants had eluded him ever since Mom died.
If I’d decided to give him a second chance, it was because I owed it—not to him—but to myself. The last thing I wanted was for regret or remorse to come back to haunt me one day. I’d already decided I needed to face this situation head on. He would never be the man I remembered, not without Mom and his alcohol problem. I wondered vaguely about using my second wish to get rid of his addiction; was that a possibility under Faris’s rules?
“About . . . this Djinn business,” Robert interrupted my train of thought, “is it—”
His question was cut short by the door chime and Javier’s frazzled figure rushing down the middle aisle.
“Señorita Mariella.” He eyed Robert with a suspicious look before continuing. “I’m sorry to not come today.” He looked over his shoulder. I followed his gaze and saw Anita through the gate, idling in her beat-up Blazer.
“Is something wrong, Javier?” I asked.
“I can talk to you?” He pointed to the shack. “Privately?”
“I think I can manage,” Robert said. “I remember lunch time is always slow, anyway.”
Once in the shack, I asked, “What is it, Javier?”
“I’m sorry it happen so sudden, Señorita Mariella, but I cannot work here no more.”
“What?! Why? Are we not paying you enough? Because I can try to—”
“No, Señorita. You pay me fair and treat me good. Always. Is my son and my wife. I tell you the other day. Mother-in-law call last night. Benito no come home for days. He’s mix up with a gang, she say, and now he’s missin’. No one know where the boy is. Anita can’t take it and want to go back to Guadalajara. I think before that I could stay and work to help them, but the thought kill me, Señorita. I have to go, too.”
“Oh, Javier. I’m so sorry. I . . . I don’t know what to say. This is terrible. I hope Benito is okay.”
“No, this no your fault, Señorita. I feel bad to go like this ‘cause I know you need help, especially right now. It’s hard to find good workers, Señor Iris tell me when he give me the job, so I feel terrible to do it.” He raked a hand through his hair. “No easy to go for me. Maybe a mistake after all the hard work we do in this country and things how they are back home. But family come first, right?” He looked at me questioningly, as if I could offer some advice that might make the decision easier. But what could I say?
The thought of using my second wish to help Javier had crossed my mind the day we talked. The idea involved getting Benito a visa and plane ticket, so he could come live with his parents. But now the boy was missing and I had no clue if Faris could find him.
“Javier,” I said, suddenly willing to do everything within my power, “could you get Anita? I’d like to talk to her.”
“I . . . I dunno . . .”
“Don’t worry, I just have a question for her . . . and for you. I think you need to hear me out.” As he exited the shack and closed the door, I bit my tongue as I tried to pronounce the name of that . . . scumbag.
“Faris,” I croaked, swallowing my pride. He materialized in the back, shrouded in strange shadows that made his features indistinguishable. “I assume you heard and can probably guess why I’ve called you,” I wanted to say as little as possible to him. My consolation was that, after this, I would only be one wish away from being rid of him and finding out Grandpa’s last wish. “Can you find the boy?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
“Good. I’ll call you back when I need you.” My tone was businesslike. I peered into the shadows, but he was gone.
Javier returned with Anita a minute later. Her eyes, partially hidden behind swollen lids, remained downcast. She clung to her husband’s arm and sniffled.
“Hi, Anita,” I said. “I’m sorry you’ve been having such a rough time being away from your son. I should have known.” I felt myself flush, embarrassed. “I hope he’s okay.”
Her shoulder shook slightly as she started sobbing.
“Ya no llores.” Javier wrapped an arm around her shoulder and rubbed her arm.
“What would you say if I told you that I could help your son come live with you?” I asked.
Anita stopped crying and looked up at her husband. “Puede ella hacer eso?”
“No,” I answered, after translating every word successfully. “I can’t do it myself, but I know someone who may be able to take care of it.”
“But how?” Javier asked.
“Well, it’s complicated.” I thought about telling them the truth but didn’t know where to begin. It made me understand why Grandpa had kept his wishes a secret. Anyone in their right mind would think I’d gone nuts if I started talking about a wish-granting Djinn. And what if they believed me? The secret would be out and only God knew what could happen after that. I trusted Javier and Anita, but greed could make some people do twisted things. I didn’t want to end up dead if someone got the brilliant idea of stealing the stone from me.
“How you find him, though? He’s missin’ and no one know where he’s gone.” Javier’s expression could be described only as skeptical.
“Don’t worry about how. All I need
to know is if you want your son to live here with you or not. If you want to go back to Mexico, that’s okay. I understand. I’m just trying to help.”
Javier looked into his wife’s face with intensity. “¿Qué piensas?”
Anita nodded, not without hesitation.
“All right. Let me get some information from you.” I didn’t know if Faris would actually need any of it, but it seemed like the logical thing to do to prevent suspicion.
“It is safe, yes?” Javier asked, after writing their Mexico address and other pertinent things about their son.
“Yes, quite safe. You have nothing to worry about.”
“When—”
“Soon,” I interrupted.
Javier’s brow furrowed.
So much for not making them suspicious. A swell of excitement in my chest seemed to guide me, though. I was doing something worthwhile, helping someone I cared about.
“Yeah, soon, if . . . things go really well.” I gave them a crooked smile. “Just don’t worry about it. Give me a few days, at least. And if it doesn’t work out, you can go back home as you’d planned. Okay?”
They agreed although they didn’t look very convinced. After they left, I stared at the foreign address, name, and phone number, thinking my words over very carefully, then I straightened and took a deep breath.
“Faris,” I called out.
“Yes, Master,” he said.
I repressed the urge to lash out at him, to tell him to go to hell. I wouldn’t fall victim to his lies and manipulations again. I was going straight to the point.
“This wish and all the others have to remain a secret. I want to make that clear.”
He nodded, looking angry, but I didn’t care.
I handed him the piece of paper and avoided his accusing eyes. He needed to stop looking at me like that. I didn’t care if he spent the rest of eternity stuffed inside a grain of rice. I didn’t!
“I wish,” I spoke deliberately, “for Javier, Anita, and Benito to be together here in New Orleans. Legally and without cause for suspicion.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He lifted a hand as if to touch mine. I took a step back, afraid of the contact. Something appeared on his palm, as hurt flashed in his eyes. “This is for Javier and Anita. Their son will be on a plane tomorrow morning. I, myself, will make sure of it. He’ll think his parents sent me. No one will suspect anything.”
I looked at his hand warily. Two cards rested on it.
“They’re green cards. They’ll be able to visit their relatives, whenever they want. Their son will have one, too. It will allow him to stay in the country.”
I snatched them, biting my tongue to stop the words of gratitude that rose to my lips.
“They’re good people,” he said. “You’ve changed their lives today, and they fully deserve it. Your generosity is—”
“Don’t patronize me.” I cut him off. “After you deliver the boy safely, I will make my third wish. That is all. You may go, now.” I turned around to leave, chest tight and eyes burning with tears.
“I didn’t charm your mother,” he said.
I spun on my heels. “Don’t you dare talk to me about my mother. You say you can’t lie, but you sure get around it nicely. Well, I learned my lesson. Your words are poison, and I’ll hear no more of them. Leave.” My voice broke. “Go, I said!”
Faris’s fist landed heavily on the desk. I jumped, startled. He shook violently as if fighting some inner demon.
“Forgive me,” he managed. “Hope abandons me yet again. It is unbearable. I truly thought . . .” His words sounded strained. Pain became tangible on his contorted face. “I’ve said . . . all . . . I . . . can . . .” He exhaled and bent over, holding his chest.
I shuddered, feeling his anguish like rippling electricity. It seemed real, oh so real. But how could I trust any of it? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
“Bravo,” I said, mock clapping. “That wins the Academy Award.” My tone was brittle and gave away my uncertainty.
“I leave you now, beautiful Marielle.” And with that, he left.
In the instant he disappeared, my insides collapsed, as if something vital had been pulled out from under me. I tightened my fists. The green cards cut into my palm.
“I don’t care about him. I don’t care about him. I don’t care about him,” I repeated over and over inside my head.
18
“Everything okay?” Robert asked when I stepped out of the shack.
I figured I must look terrible. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”
“Did you straighten everything out with Javier?”
“I think so.”
We worked quietly the rest of the day. When five thirty finally arrived, I locked the register and walked to the front to lock the gate. I was about to click the padlock when Maven pulled into the parking lot.
He hopped out of the truck. “Ready for that movie? Oh, don’t tell me you forgot?” he said when he noticed my expression.
“I did forget. I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy day.” I put a hand to my stomach, feeling a sudden queasiness.
“But we can still go, right? I even showered,” he joked, sniffing his shirt. “What? Don’t I look nice?”
“Sure, you do. But I’ve been working all day, haven’t showered or changed.” I ran a hand down the length of my dusty work clothes.
“I don’t care. We’re just going to the movies. Nothing fancy.”
“I really shouldn’t. Besides, how are things in your house with Samuel?” I asked.
“Never mind that. C’mon, it’s Friday night. What are you gonna do? Go home and go to bed?” He made a face to show how lame that would be. It made me laugh.
“Well, I guess . . .” I wanted to say no, to heed my instincts and go home. Instead, I said, “Sure, why not? Wait here. I’ll go and . . . um . . . I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t in the mood for explaining Robert’s return.
As I locked the door and walked back inside, I took a hard look inside myself. Why were my feelings toward Maven so out of whack? Something kept nagging at me, telling me to turn him down, but why? Going to the movies was better than going home to wait for Robert to break out the vodka. Wasn’t it?
“Ready?” Robert asked, walking in my direction.
“Yeah, I locked up already. Listen, my friend and I are going to the movies. I’ll see you later.” I picked up my bag and handed him my car keys.
“But I thought we could, I don’t know, order take out.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” I walked away.
He followed me. “Wait, when will you be back?”
I stopped and gave him a sideways glance. “Seriously?”
He bit his lower lip. “All right. Can I at least have your friend’s name? Your cell number?”
“No. You’ll have to earn that right.”
“I just want to make sure you’re safe. That’s all.”
“You never cared before.”
“Yes, I did. I always have.” He stared at the floor. “Dad filled in for me, now it’s my turn. You need someone to watch over you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“We all need someone, Marielle.” Now he looked me in the eye, saying more with his gaze than he could manage in words, saying that he also needed me.
After a moment’s pause, I pulled out a pen and piece of paper from my bag and jotted down my number.
He took it and smiled. “Be careful. I’ll make sure everything is locked. Don’t stay out too late.”
I gave him a don’t-even-try-that look.
He put his hands up. “Had to say it, kiddo.”
***
After a dinner of hot dogs and French fries, Maven and I made the late show. The same doubts hit me on and off, but I stuck to my guns. True to his word, he got seconds for our large popcorn bucket and super-size drinks. True to his word, he hadn’t tried to kiss me.
“That was painful,” he said as we walked outside of the movie theater. He clutched hi
s chest, feigning a heart attack.
“Yeah, it was a bit sappy,” I admitted.
“A bit?”
“Okay, a lot.” I laughed.
“Thank you. Thank you.” He sounded vindicated.
We stopped at the sidewalk and looked around. “Where to now?” he asked.
I looked at my watch. “It’s late. I should get back.”
“For real?”
I shrugged.
He threw his head back as if he’d been wounded. “You’re killing me.”
I frowned at the sight of his stubbly chin. The scar I’d noticed the other day wasn’t there. Had I imagined it?
“Something wrong?” he asked when he noticed me staring.
“Oh, no. Sorry. I’m just tired. I should go home.”
People trickled out through the front doors, walked to their cars and drove off. The parking lot was quickly starting to look deserted since ours was the last show. Maven grabbed my elbow, leading me. “Let’s go for some Starbucks or something.”
“You know what? Just take me home.”
“O-kay. No problem.”
I reached in my bag. The motion pulled my arm out of his grip.
“No messages.” I held my cell phone and smiled sheepishly. I hadn’t liked the forceful pressure of his fingers against my skin.
Across the street, a couple headed to their car. The girl walked backward, poking the guy in the ribs, laughing and saying she told him so. Her face looked familiar. I squinted under the street lamps and searched my memory. Maven walked ahead, unconcerned by the rowdy couple. Unable to place the girl, I switched my attention to the guy. My lungs seized as a wave of recognition hit me like a sucker punch.
“What’s the matter?” Maven asked.
The couple climbed inside a gray truck and drove off. A gray truck! I went for a reasonable explanation. Logic had to prevail. “You said Samuel’s still at home getting used to things?”
One Wish Away: Djinn Empire Complete Series Page 13
