by Marian Tee
“I really understand.”
“I’ve always liked you, Ilse. You know that, right?”
She remained silent, not knowing exactly what she should say or what he wanted to hear. Yes, she knew he had a crush on her since they were five. But was that supposed to make her feel better?
“I’d even marry you in a heartbeat. You’re my dream girl. But you have Jan—-”
“I always had Jan, and I will always have him,” Ilse couldn’t help pointing out helplessly. “It wasn’t like I hid him.”
“I know, I know,” Issac rushed to assure her. “And I’ve always thought it’s amazing, the way you were so proud of him—-” His voice trailed off. “What I’m saying is, I knew he was there, but it didn’t really sink in that he’d always be there until...”
“Until I didn’t have enough money to support him, and you realized that if you had me as your girlfriend, you’d be the one supporting him instead.”
“It’s not like that.”
But it was exactly like that, Ilse thought tiredly, and she didn’t hold it against him. Jan was part of her family, not anyone else’s. She didn’t expect anyone to have the same devotion she did to Jan.
“Ilse—-”
“You have no need to explain,” she said gently.
“If there’s anything else I can do—-”
“Yes,” Ilse heard herself say. “Actually, there is something you could do.”
After a beat, Issac said, “Sure.”
She almost laughed at the wariness in his voice. Oh, Issac. You never learn. He was always so quick to promise her the moon and the stars. And now he was doing it again, his knight-in-shining-armor complex making him utter rash words of promise that they both knew were nothing but painfully empty words.
“It’s nothing onerous, I promise.”
Ilse could practically feel Issac relaxing at her lightly spoken words, the way she meant him to.
“Still using big words on the lacrosse player,” Issac teased back, his relief audible.
“It will always be our thing,” she told him solemnly.
“Riiiight.”
Ilse waited for his chuckle to fade before saying, “About that thing I mentioned—-” She didn’t give him time to react. “I just have one question to ask. Just a question.”
“Oh. Okay. Shoot.”
“Who else has Natalia called?”
IT WAS JUST TWO DAYS before Christmas, and the air in the city hummed with life as people rushed to find the perfect gifts for loved ones. A large number of men lounged outside the boutiques, impatient but somewhat resigned to the fact that they had no choice but to wait for the women in their lives to finish shopping for gifts.
Moments later, heads turned one by one as a curvy dark-haired girl came walking down the street at a steady, graceful pace. She had a startlingly beautiful face, made even more exquisite by an air of self-composure that was not commonly seen in girls her age.
She looked neither left nor right as she came to a stop at the end of the block, and by doing so, she had crushed the hopes of both boys and men around her without even being aware of it. There was just something about her that warned them off. You may look, but you may not touch.
Still unaware of the admiring glances that came her way, Ilse couldn’t help grinning when she spotted a familiar-looking car bearing down her way. It stopped right in front of her, and as the passenger door opened, a boy stepped out, dark eyes shining and chubby cheeks flushed with excitement.
Bending down, she looked past the boy, saying gratefully, “Thank you for driving him here for me, Mrs. Norris.”
“Anything for you two, dear. Are you sure you don’t need a ride home later?”
She did, but Mrs. Norris was seventy-one years old already. It was more than enough that their neighbor had taken the time to bring her brother here. And so Ilse shook her head firmly, saying with a smile, “We’re good. Be dankt.” Thank you.
“You’re always welcome, luv.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Norris.” She gestured for Jan to say the same, and her brother hurried forward, saying cheerfully with an energetic, “Vrolijke Kerstmis!”
Mrs. Norris laughed. “Merry Christmas, Ilse, Jan.”
After watching their neighbor speed away in her trusty Peugeot, Ilse turned to Jan and automatically reached for his collar to fix it. Jan waited patiently and with marked disinterest. There were times when he cared about his appearance, but there were also times – like now – when he didn’t care at all.
When she was done fixing his collar, she asked him, beaming, “Are you ready?”
Jan grinned. “Ja!”
“Then let’s go!” Taking her brother’s hand, Ilse led them to the ticket stalls of Amsterdam Arena. This was the first Christmas that it would be just the two of them, and she needed it to be special.
Her parents’ faces flashed in her mind—-
Their papa asking them to hurry up with the shopping—-
Their mama waking them up in the morning so they could have breakfast together for Christmas—-
She quickly pushed the thought away. Yearning for what’s forever lost only makes the pain worse, Ilse. Remember that.
There is never any point, she told herself strictly, yearning for what’s forever lost.
The lines at the ticket stalls were long, but Jan and Ilse patiently waited for their turn. When the cold started to bite, she pulled her coat more tightly around her and turned to Jan, asking, “Are you cold?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
But his teeth had chattered just a bit, and Ilse swiftly took off her gloves, insisting that he put them on. When Jan started to protest, she gave him her best evil eye, saying, “Do you want to watch the game or not?”
“I want.” Jan’s tone was meek.
Even though he was a full-grown adult, her brother’s condition ensured that he would always look, think, and act like a child. He remained obediently still as she helped him put on her gloves. When they were done, she asked him, “What do you say?”
“Thank you,” her brother said cheerfully, dutifully, and his chubby cheeks turned red with pleasure at being able to do something his sister approved of.
Ilse dug her hands deep into her coat’s pockets, and when she turned away from Jan, she realized belatedly that some of the people standing in line with them had overheard their conversation and were giving them odd looks for it.
Ja, Ilse thought indifferently. Her brother suffered from both a mental disability and a hormonal disorder. She had long gotten over it, and so they would, too.
When it was their turn, Ilse handed the salesclerk her credit card. “Two tickets for general admission, please.”
A moment later, the salesclerk handed it back to her, and Ilse’s worst fears were confirmed.
“It’s been declined, mevreow.”
She had thought this could happen, had tried her best to prepare herself for it, but even so hearing the words still felt like a hard slap to her face. Forcing herself to smile, she gave the salesclerk her second credit card, asking brightly, “Could we try another one?”
You are not the only one to have your credit card declined, Ilse told herself bracingly. It was an embarrassing experience, but it didn’t mean it was the end of the world, ja?
It took but another moment before the salesclerk handed Ilse her second card back. “Sorry, mevreow. This one is not working either.”
Ah. She could feel the people behind her staring, could feel their pity gradually turning into impatience. She tried not to let it get to her, but it was hard, and Ilse hated the way her fingers shook as she pulled out her last card.
Two cards down, Ilse thought, and something that felt too much like panic started to claw out of her stomach.
Jan, who had been watching the entire time with worried eyes, asked, “Will we still be able to watch?” His loudly voiced question drew more pitying looks their way, and for one weak moment she had the craziest urge to screa
m at him.
Think about my pride!
But the moment passed, and sanity returned.
This was Jan, and he was special.
“Yes,” she told her brother firmly. “We will.” And she added a smile to it because it was not Jan’s place to worry.
Turning back to the salesclerk, Ilse gave the older woman her last card, smile still in place. “Third time’s the charm.”
“Of course.” The woman’s slightly bored tone almost made Ilse’s smile slip, but she held on to it with all her might.
Ilse watched the salesclerk swipe the card on the reader, and her heart started to beat hard. It was like asking someone out, she thought, and not knowing if that other person would say yes—-
Beep.
The official receipt started to come out from the machine.
Oh, thank the Lord the machine said yes!
They were still going to watch the game!
Tickets in hand, she and Jan hurried up to the very top of the stadium, and when they were in their seats, she immediately bought a hotdog sandwich and bottled water for Jan.
“You’re not eating?” her brother asked, surprised.
She shook her head, lying, “I’m not hungry.” But the truth was, they only had cash enough for Jan’s food and the cab ride back home.
The game started without Ilse noticing. She had been too busy making calculations in her head, trying to figure out how to make her meager pay from her office job sufficient for Jan’s needs.
A buzzer sounded throughout the stadium, interrupting her thoughts, and when people surged to their feet and chanted their favorite team’s name, Ilse realized that the game had already ended.
Jan was jumping up and down happily, saying over and over, “We won! We won! We won!”
She looked at him, at his cute and perpetually boyish face that made him seem no older than eleven when he was in fact already twenty-two-—
Jan turned to her with a grin. “We won!” No trace of despair or loneliness in those shining eyes—-
Jan started jumping again. “We won!” Nothing that would suggest he understood or even knew the predicament they were facing—-
Ilse hurried to her feet, saying with equal cheerfulness, “We won!” She bumped fists with her brother. “Yay!”
“Yay!”
As they headed down the stairs to reach the exit, Jan talked her ear off, recapping the game with blow-by-blow details and then relaying the current team standings to her. It was amazing and uncanny, the way he could memorize the standings of every team in the NBA and yet get an extraordinarily low score on an IQ test, low enough for him to be classified as someone with mild to moderate intellectual disability.
“He will never grow old in here,” Ilse remembered the doctor tapping the side of his head as he relayed his diagnosis to her and her parents on Jan’s eighteenth birthday. “He may eventually be trained to perform basic to moderate chores, but he can never be fully independent.”
And the way the doctor had spoken, it was as if he believed Jan was a noose around everyone’s necks.
When they made it back to their place, it was quiet and dark, and she told Jan to hurry and change his clothes while she prepared their midnight snack. It was a Christmas tradition their parents had started, and even though they were gone now, Ilse was determined for the tradition to continue.
As she took out a knife from one of the kitchen drawers, she heard Jan’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Later, she heard his voice coming from the living room and knew that her brother had already started role-playing.
It was one of his favorite pastimes, and as she listened to his imaginary conversation, she knew that right now he was pretending to be an NBA coach.
How nice it was, she thought absently, to live such a carefree life.
She began slicing the one-day-old Christmas loaf she had bought on sale.
He will never be fully independent. The doctor’s words echoed in her head.
If she only had herself to think of, Ilse knew she could and would make it.
But with Jan around—-
Her reflection on the knife caught her eye, and Ilse’s fingers stilled.
It would be so, so easy to kill herself.
She liked to think that the thought came out from nowhere, but she knew that wasn’t true. Lately, the thought of giving up had taken on a sweet scent that lingered in her dreams, tempting her every night, when she was alone in the darkness of her room.
Wouldn’t it be better if she killed herself?
At least then, the government would have no choice but to take care of Jan.
At least then, her worries would be over, and Jan would be in a better place.
She could just do it right now.
She could aim for her heart, thrust it deep, and—-
“Ilse?” Jan suddenly appeared on the doorway.
The knife fell from her grasp, clattering to the marble countertop.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
How had she become so weak?
Jan walked into the kitchen, and she swallowed past the painful lump in her throat. “W-what is it?”
He handed her several pieces of mail. “I forgot to give you this.”
“T-thank you.” She managed a smile. “Go back to the living room. I’ll bring the food out when it’s ready.”
“Okay.”
She waited for him to leave before reluctantly reaching for one of the envelopes on the table. It used to be that prospects of receiving letters excited her, but now it only filled Ilse with dread.
Tearing the envelope open, she pulled out two greetings cards and was startled to find that it was from her parents and Jan. They were dated almost exactly a year ago, a day after Christmas.
She read Jan’s card first, her lips curving at his familiar and nearly illegible scrawl. Everything was also written in big block letters, mainly because he found it the easiest style to write.
DEAR ILSE,
MERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!
SORRY IF I MAKE YOU ANGRY SOMETIMES.
I LOVE YOU.
JAN
She folded the card closed with shaking hands.
Our dearest Ilse,
May this be such a wonderfully sweet surprise that you will think it is your most precious gift, and you will have no need to burn a hole in our pockets like you usually do. Even now, we can’t remember how it is you’ve convinced us that it’s okay for you to shop for your own Christmas gifts.
We love you very much. You are the image of perfection the first day you were born, but when we saw how much you love your older brother, we realize that you were even more perfect than we realized.
We used to worry about Jan, wondering who would take care of him if we were gone, but then you came into our lives, and we realized that God has answered our prayers through you.
Stay as you are, our beloved baby girl.
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Mama and Papa
Chapter One
Present Time
Red Light District, Amsterdam
As the sun slowly set on the horizon, its last golden rays retreating from the picturesque canals, another side of the city of De Wallen gradually emerged, one whose narrow alleyways shone like rubies under the glow of neon red lights. By 11 PM, the city had completely transformed itself into a paradise of sin. Every square foot of its area now lived up to its name as the Red Light District, and there appeared no end to the merrymaking as tourists, mostly made up of first-time visitors, poured into the streets with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
Fondly nicknamed RLD by its patrons, the area was richly steeped in history, as evinced by the historic buildings and churches ironically located in proximity of sex shops and adult theaters. And yet, despite being the subject of countless documentaries and having every street painted with promises of sexual decadence and euphoria, the city was somehow able to maintain its intoxicatin
g air of mystery.
Its allure was as lurid as it was timeless, and those who understood this were certainly poised to earn a lot of money.
Case in point being his favorite tour guide, Jaak de Konigh mused.
She was still a few meters away, but he recognized her easily. Her long brown hair was tied back in a severe bun, and the sight had the Dutch billionaire actually fighting the urge to free her locks from its confines.
And it was quite a familiar urge, Jaak acknowledged to himself. He remembered feeling exactly the same way when he met her months ago for the first time, remembered spending a full five minutes imagining how her hair would look cascading down her back.
It spoke a lot to just how much he found her attractive, considering how he needed much less time to make a woman come – or break her heart.
When she reached him and the rest of her tour group, a slack-jawed silence fell over the other men, a reaction that the billionaire could perfectly understand. Her hair might
be her crowning glory, but the rest of her features were just as divine. Her oval face was fine-boned, dominated by big brown eyes that seemed to issue a challenge to every hot-blooded male her gaze came into contact with.
Seduce me.
Fuck me.
Taint me.
And then there were her lips, so full and lush that just the thought of them wrapped around one’s cock could probably have prepubescent boys cumming in their pants.
Beautiful didn’t cover it, really, the billionaire mused, but what truly made her every man’s sexual fantasy come to life was her body. Her hourglass figure was a throwback to an era when women unashamedly celebrated their curves, and tonight’s outfit certainly served to showcase her abundant breasts and generous hips.
Her long-sleeved blouse, albeit primly buttoned all the way to her neck, was also incredibly tight, the fabric straining across her chest and looking like the buttons were fit to burst any moment. Her tight, black A-line skirt was no better – or worse, depending on how one looked at it – the hemline falling well below her knees but with a slit at the back promising a glimpse of her underwear...if one was lucky.
The look was completed with crimson stilettos and a pair of black, wide-rimmed glasses.
