Chapter 58
"The past is never where you think you left it." —
7Katherine Anne Porter
A soft tap on my door interrupted my thoughts.
I was surprised when Catherine peeped into the room. I hadn't seen her since the day of my botched escape.
"Catherine, it's been a while, how are you?"
"Zeynep, please don't be angry with me," she said, sitting on my bed. "I shouldn't have left you like that that day. I should have stayed back to help you. I was so distressed about what happened that I wept all the way to new york."
I smiled. "What kind of help would you have given me? Those gangsters would have just flung you to one side."
But she didn't even smile. "I heard about what Ibrahim did to you. I heard you almost died."
"Well, I didn't die," I answered with a flippant shrug.
"What about you? What brings you back to Boston? Your boyfriend finally released you? Or has his wife found out about you?"
She laughed, not taking any offence. "He's there. He got me a small flat in New-York, where he comes to visit me from time to time."
"New York? I thought you said he lives in Canada."
"He moves around a lot," she answered. "But he comes to New-York often."
She didn't offer any more, and I didn't ask. They probably had that arrangement so she would be as far away from his wife as he could manage.
But as complex as their situation was, at least she had the luxury of freedom, the freedom to come and go as she pleased. I would have done anything to have that.
And then I had an idea.
"Do you have your phone? I need to make a call," I asked her.
"Sure," she answered, digging into her bag. "I have more than enough bar, so talk as long as you want. I'll give you some privacy."True to her word, she left my room after handing me the phone.
Upon her exit, I dug up my old notebook and dialed Demein's number. As I punched the digits on the sleek smartphone, I couldn't help but wish I'd written down Jacobi's phone number as well.
Yes, I had decided to set him free, but I would have done anything to hear his voice again.
"Yes?" came my brother's gruff voice.
"brother, this is zeynep," I said. "your sister."
"zeynep! So, you actually remembered your wretched me today? To what do I owe this 'honour'?"
"You know I don't have a phone. I told you that the last time I saw you was at dad's place."
"So, you're using a can of Coke to call me, right?" he retorted.
"Please, brother. I'm telling the truth. I had to borrow someone's phone to make this call," I cried.
"I need to leave this place. Please, get me out of this dreadful place."
He laughed. "You're hilarious. You need to leave where? I thought you loved it there, with your flashy clothes and big cars. Isn't that what you like?"
"brother , I'm a prisoner here, I've been nothing but a prisoner in all the years I have been here," I wailed. "It is too much for me. I can't take it anymore."
His laughter stopped, and I knew my tears had hit a nerve. "If you want to leave, then leave. Is anybody holding your legs? Why can't you just walk to the airport and be on the next flight home?"
"I wish it were that simple," I answered, and then proceeded to tell him all that had happened in the twelve years it had been since we had last talked, really talked.
I told him about all the threats, the continued abuse, the beatings, the humiliation…everything.
He listened in silence, and when I heard a sound he quickly dropped the call but he called back immediately.
When I was done talking, he was quiet for so long, I thought he had hung up.
"ummi will be rolling and crying in his grave now," he finally said, sighing deeply. "I was surprised when you decided to go back to America after Orion's death. After that night we spoke, after you told me about all that old man and his son were doing to you, I thought you were going to stay in India and rebuild your life. We would have managed somehow. When you decided to go back to him, I was so upset with you, zeynep. Upset and disappointed."
"I had to go back. I couldn't get any work, and don't forget you were still in school…"
"I would have sorted myself out, and you know it," he cut in. "When you got back there and stayed, I thought things had changed for you. I thought you had found a way to make yourself happy with your husband's wealth. I even resented you for it, for the way you would flaunt his money anytime you came to India to see father, changing cars like you were changing your underwear. Why didn't you tell me about this before? And you say the last time that fool beat you, you ended up in hospital?"
I nodded as if he could see me, all the pent up emotion over the years cascading down my face in the form of tears. "But he can't continue to keep me here, not if my family comes to demand for my release. If the same people that gave me away come here to take me back, even tradition will not allow him to hold me here like an animal."
"You want father and I to come and get you?"
"Yes! With Uncle Mathias and all the people that married me off if possible. Let them all storm this place to take me back home."
"Uncle Mathias that can barely walk from his bedroom to the bathroom? Is that who you think will be able to confront your mad dog of a husband? Forget about him, zeynep." G
Demian retorted. "Don't worry. I know what to do. Taking you away is not enough. We need to show them they didn't pick you off the street. So, the man's bastard son has not only been raping you, he stripped you naked and beat you almost to the point of death? Twice?They must pay for this. They must all pay!"
"Brother, please," I implored, suddenly fearing the tone of his voice. "I just want to leave here. I don't want any trouble, please."
"zeynep, don't you worry about the details. You will surely leave that place. Just go to bed and sleep well tonight. I know exactly what I'm going to do," he answered. "I can reach you on this number, right?"
"If you can't, just leave a message," I answered. "The owner of the phone is a good friend, her name is Catherine. She'll find a way to get it across to me."
"No problem. You will hear from me," he answered.
And with that, the phone went dead.
I didn't quite know what to make of the conversation.
On the one hand, I was relieved to have told someone in my family about the horrors I had been exposed to for so long, but on the other hand, there was something in his voice that was ominous and worrisome.
The last thing I wanted was for him to try anything stupid.
He might fancy himself a hero, but he was absolutely no match for Ibrahim. None at all.
The knock on my door made me jump this time, and I was relieved to see it was only Catherine back in my room and not Demian emerging like a ghost, mere moments after our talk.
"Thanks so much for the phone. Please don't be angry, I took so long ," I said, handing her phone back. "Don't worry, I'll give you money as an apology for it."
She chuckled at the mere thought. "Zeynep, you're too funny. My boo will send me more, or I can even just buy some myself. He gives me a lot of money."
"Please, my brother might call you later. He's the one I just spoke to," I cut in, not really interested in hearing any more about her love life. "If he calls, and you're not nearby, please just take a message. , it's very important—"
Loud voices from outside caused the words to die on my lips. Catherine and I exchanged a bewildered look before rushing to my window to see what was going on. All we could see were three of the minister's cars parked in front of the house and a few of the older staff smiling and talking loudly.
Unable to contain my curiosity, I left the room and made my way downstairs. From the stairs, I could see almost all the staff crowded around someone. I noticed several bags and boxes, and then I saw him.
Kamsir Ibrahim's twin.
I couldn't control the hiss that escaped my lips. So, all this noise and raucous had been for him? It made no sense. Not only had he visited only a few years before, I knew he wasn't particularly anyone's favourite person on the ranch.
He looked up, and as we locked eyes, I could see the hatred was still very mutual.
But as I reached the stair landing, I realised the celebration hadn't been for him.
As our eyes met, my heart jumped straight into my throat, a mix of surprise…and fear.
It had been two decades, but the shame I felt made it feel just like yesterday.
Yusuf had come back home.