“Let’s leave that for a day you open your eyes.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, flabbergasted, and he smiles, narrowing his gaze at me. No don’t do that, that’s magical. I feel my lips shaking. “Another thing I shouldn’t rush about?” I look at him playfully. Damn me! I fall for his trick knowing it’s a trick. He simply nods slowly, amused. “Okay then I’ll think of you as an angel till then, then.”
“Not entirely wrong, and definitely not entirely right either,” he offers me his left arm. “I should walk you in and leave you to get changed to meet me in the lobby, there’s much you would want to see here, and I would love to see your elated smile.” I take his right arm, crossing it with my left, smiling.
“That’s undeniably expected,” I utter as he walks me back into the room.
***
“Again, say what you said again?” Sergeant Befekadu sits, leaning on his elbows on the table as he allows his chin to be trapped between his palms. He is having a hard time trying to figure out what exactly happened to Adah Bamlakfekad Aschalew. It is a bit odd for him to make any kind of assumptions based on what her friends told him. Now this, this makes it even more complicated than it already is; after months of hard work, looking for the taxi driver who give her a ride home that night, he again falls back to square one.
Sergeant Befekadu is graceful and the right type of person for interrogation and the position he is entitled. His too-big-for-his-face eyes are highlighted by his too black skin. He knows how to use them to create fear; he widens his unfathomable fixed gaze now and then at his interviewee. He knows the distress it creates in people; the fearful reaction he gets towards his gaze and the undeniable terror it applies in their mind when he interrogates them. He never misses a slightest clue while working on any types of case, but this case seems to be the most challenging one.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the man looks up to the direction where the sergeant is sitting by. He looks exhausted, with fresh scars and bruises on his body. The injury seems to manifest his exhaustion boldly on his appearance more than his age. He’s sitting, trapping his hands between his thighs and is afraid to face the sergeant. “Are you saying I should repeat everything, again?” he asks, and the sergeant nods, pressing his lips and narrowing his gaze at him. “But I already told you over four times,” he says, perplexed at the situation and shrugging. Mr. Kifle was never in trouble that got him called down to a police station and he is really scared now; he just can’t face the sergeant in the eyes. He is looking down on the table to avoid eye contact with him.
“I wasn’t counting. And I’m asking you to repeat your story,” he breathes long, “and if that’s what I want, you will do just as I said.” He elevates his eyebrows in disappointment. He’s losing his patience over this case already; it’s testing his ability in ways never before. Her friends are telling the same story over and over and now, this driver is telling a story that can take his thoughts to another direction…perhaps a dead end if he can’t find something suspicious as he repeatedly tells the story. He anyways knows better, last moments are mostly filled with great surprises in his line of work.
“Okay,” he says, tilting a little to his left. He clears his throat roughly, pressing his lips in thin lines, “I was in my taxi, as usual. I think, it was about midnight,” he frowns, uncertain about the time. “I saw a car parked behind mine and a young girl walked out and talked with another who followed her, but she approached my car. I knew she was about to ask for a ride, though I found it odd that she was the one driving and had to take a taxi.”
“Why would that be odd?” Sergeant Befekadu asks, deepening his furrow lines between his thick and flat eyebrows. “Did you notice something that seemed to not fit the circumstances?”
“I don’t understand your question,” Mister Kifle says confused. He doesn’t want to implicate anything wrong about the story he is meant to present.
“Does she look disturbed, perhaps in quarrel with her friend, who walked out the car to talk with her?”
“Not really…or maybe they were,” he bites his lower lip, thinking, but his answer wakes Sergeant Befekadu up in excitement.
“Think hard,” Sergeant Befekadu frowns.
“I can’t be sure, but it seemed so. The other girl didn’t seem to like her taking taxi, but she was insisting anyway,” he shrugs.
“Did she say anything?”
“Nothing much, I mean I wouldn’t understand her well enough to converse with her in English. I spoke only to apologise.”
“Apologise?” Sergeant Befekadu stretches himself up in his seat, alert. “What happened?” he relaxes back, and a ghostly smile brushes his lips. This was not mentioned earlier, and this suddenly comes up on the fourth time of retelling the story of that night.
“Yes,” the man nods frantically, recalling the reason why he had to. “My car suddenly broke and I was struggling to start it,” he adds, rolling his eyes up, thinking.
“Why the apology?” Sergeant Befekadu feels like he’s a step close to something.
“Well, she was a bit disappointed, I think,” he looks up to meet the sergeant’s suspiciously penetrating gaze and feels a bit jumpy. “I mean, I took a while, trying to restart my car. Anyway, she said she would walk to her home, she said it was close and walks out…even tries a little Amharic. I guess that’s what she said,” he frowned as he thinks hard. “I apologised about that,” he presses his lips and shrugs his shoulders.
“You disappeared from your usual post for three months,” It’s not a question, just a statement; he is thinking out loud. He leans on his forearms, again, on his desk.
“I was in an accident that night and was hospitalised because of it,” he replies, nodding. “It was bad,” he adds, pressing his lips as he implicates himself and the state he is in. “As you can see, even after three months, the injury on my skin seem fresh. Praise the Lord, I survived in his will,” he adds.
“Accident the night Adha disappears could explain the disappearance,” Sergeant Befekadu mumbles loud.
“I beg your pardon?” the man looks at him…rather shocked about where the conversation is heading to.
“Never mind,” he says, weaving his right hand in the air. “Write down the hospital name you were in,” he hands him a pen and paper. The man can tell that the Sergeant is trying to draw lines to connect points that aren’t there. He takes the paper hesitantly and starts jotting the name of the hospital. “Mister Kefle Ayalew,” he says quietly, and he looks up to him in fear, a little jumpy.
“Yes, sir,” he answers, lifting his head looking into his eyes.
“Don’t leave the city since we might need you in for questioning,” he says as he takes the paper he handed him.
“I’m sorry, but,” the man says once again, asking in fear. “Why would I be needed here again? I did nothing wrong,” he asks and the sergeant smiles.
“Um,” he presses his lips, “I’m only saying we might need your collaboration with the low. I mean,” he licks his lower lip, frowning clemently, “You would collaborate with the low until we find this girl safe and sound, right?” he asks, but he once again narrows his eyes, tilting to his right. For Mister Kefle, the wide-eyed gaze is better than the narrowing. It’s making him uneasy, questioning himself about the phenomenon of that night; he couldn’t possibly miss anything, but who knows. What if the accident has made him forgot something or miss a point? It’s the gaze or his mind but he is in distress already that he is not sure entirely about what exactly happened that night.
“Most definitely,” he says, nodding as he stands from his seat. “It would be my pleasure to be at any help.”
“Very well then,” the sergeant stands from his seat. “You may see yourself out, good day.” He says and the man greets him off.
“Officer Kal?” he projects his voice and summons a woman in uniform, and she salutes him as the man leaves the office, jittering in fear.
Officer Kal steals a glimpse to the man walking out and she look
s back to the sergeant. She is short but she has grace in her confidence. Her chocolate colour matches her khaki uniform. She has a smiley lip, stretched sideways in beauty. Her eyes are upturned; when she narrows them her stationary smile tends to collaborate with her eyes and achieves a goal of honouring her with secretive intention, even if she don’t have one.
“I think he is hiding something, unless he forgets,” Sergeant Befekadu says, looking at her quizzical gaze up on the man. “I want you to check out for how long and why he was there, check his name and his car plate in the past months car accidents,” he writes Mister Kefle’s name on it and hands over the paper he gave Mister Kefle to write the hospital’s name on. “If his claim appears to be true, I need a search team to the perimeter where his car was in accident.”
“If you have doubt, why won’t I just follow him, discreetly?” she asks, with full confidence.
“That would be too much, besides, we should provide something tangible, something that would indicate us to him having something to do with her disappearance.” He is saying the last word like he doesn’t believe it.
“With all due respect, sir, why do I have the feeling that you think she might not be alive?” she utters, frowning.
“Because that also might be possible, though I need to hope for the best,” he spreads his right arm with the paper towards her and she takes it and salutes him firmly and leaves his office.
Chapter Four
Sometimes all we need is time away from the life that we’re used to. Loop is all about redundancy and in it, we see things in black and white. Despite the less comfort I might host; for me it was all about staying right in every way possible, in the eyes of everyone around me; even the way I dress was most of the time based on the comments from those around me. I never got the chance to look back to myself until today. I’m away from home and those I know, I don’t know how exactly I got here or how far I have come, but I doubt if I care either. I’m realising things I never paid attention to about myself. I’m discovering things like a stranger, about me. I feel like an infant who has just started to walk and it feels like I’m running already.
I never thought I would feel this happy about seeing long dresses in a wardrobe, and the walk in the closet is filled with great collection of it. Different colours and styles and the texture quality of all the dresses are amazing and again, I am not an expert in this as well, just saying what I loved and admitting what feels different and awesome. If I can, I would wear or take all of these before me, but I don’t even know if any of these are my size. I’m surprised I’m even interested in a dress as it is.
I must choose one, as I should, I think to myself, tapping my chin with my right hand’s index finger. I shake my head to wake myself back to the reality that he is waiting for me while I waste time going ‘wow’ over everything I am seeing; I pick a dress anyway; tan buttermilk floor-length long slit dress, with arm length sleeves, bodycon on top and loose silk chiffon top layered on the bottom. I smile, looking at the dress lovingly as I think about shoes. Wow! What to go for? I elevate my eyebrows at the multiple choices before me; I don’t know which one is good for the dress I just picked. I cede to my comfort and pick black ballerina flats. It shouldn’t take me long to start taking the stairs to the lobby he said he would be waiting for me by. I thought shrugging. I change as fast as possible and walk out the room as fast as I can.
Wait what if I don’t look good? I wonder ceasing on my walk, to the post-to-post style of stair that takes down to the lobby, for a moment. Why the second thought? I’m too late for second choices, anyway. I bite my lower lip as I proceed on my walk down the stairs. I think the colour choice is bad; It blends with my colour a little too much. I press my lips to the inner me, irritatingly thinking about my own poor choices. Blame it on the material, and the blessed hands and brain that designed the dress. It’s beautiful, but that doesn’t mean it looks good on me. I walk down, pressing my lips as I shake my head exhaustedly to my restlessly criticising thoughts.
“So beautiful, elegant,” his roaring voice pours into my ears, echoing from one end of the wall all the way into my ears, making my heart feel a bit jumpy. I inhale heavy in awe; following the voice I look to my right, as I release tension through a long exhalation of air.
“I’m not so sure,” I smile breathy as I cease on my steps.
He is standing with a young Asian girl. She looks beautiful and her purple silky exotic dress makes her look brighter and even more beautiful. She seems like she’s blushing hard, and to avoid eye contact with me, she looks down as she meets me, turning my attention fully towards their presence.
“Why not?” he presses a smile, to me and then a glimpse to the lady. He then starts towards me slowly and I stand still, waiting.
“I don’t know, the colour?” I press a smile, elevating my eyebrows in uncertainty as I shrug my shoulders.
“Everything agrees with you.” He turns to the young girl, standing still in deep thought and behind him, right where he left her moments before he starts towards me. “Baozhai, won’t you agree?”
Like waking up from a dream, she shakes her head and turns her attention to our direction and presses a fake smile, nodding.
“Come here, meet Adah,” he adds, and she lean a little to hold her dress up in her hands, so she walks in comforted speed towards us. Her fishtailed hair moves to her left shoulder and falls on her chest all the way down to her thigh, like a cobra moving freely, surprising me openly; it’s well decorated and beautiful. She moves a little too much that it seems like she’s trying to hide hurt feelings on her face.
“Pleze met you, I’m Baozhai,” she utters, with exotic escaping accent in her tone. She still doesn’t show her teeth and her smile is an obvious forced stretch on her lips.
“Pleased to meet you too, I’m Adha,” I answer, taking her right hand with mine, putting up a good struggle to keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t want to guess or butt in a business that’s not mine and bring trouble upon myself; I’m only a guest here.
“I should go now,” she utters, avoiding eye contact to any of us. “We’ll meet letaa,” she closes her eyes, struggling to maintain her composure.
“Sure, be about your business, let us not keep you for long,” he says, fixed on that magical ghostly smile.
“Sure. Yes, I’ll look forward to meeting you again,” I nod her as she nods herself to walk past me and up the stairs.
Man, her perfume, I think to myself. That girl knows what to choose, I wonder, sending her off to the long stares she’s taking up, rather in a hurry. “She’s beautiful,” I smile, as I point to her direction with my thumb, but my eyes are fixed on him, staring back at me. What am I trying?
“Indeed,” he offers me his left hand and I lock him with my right.
“Finally,” I breathe long as I clear my hair to my back.
“What is it?” he asks, as we walk the last three golden-edged white ceramic tread to the stairs and to the grey ceramic walling.
“Nothing,” I shrug, smiling innocently. “I just hear you admitting something in your world is beautiful.”
“Oh, there are things I can’t deny,” he presses a genuine smile and I follow… Okay, I admit, I kind of get a bit envious that he is admiring her beauty.
No, no way, you can’t say I’m too fast…I was but not anymore. Calculate this; though I kind of just met him, I gave up what’s most precious for me just like that – my body. I feel like we’re connecting in ways no one ever does. I am allowed to have the audacity to host rivalry about and towards his feelings towards anyone. I think I was too fast to share my body…perhaps faster than lightspeed, but after that, it’s only right to feel the way I am feeling now.
“Don’t duel or jump to conclusions, not yet,” he says, like he can read my mind. “Anyway, are you ready for the grand tour?” he stands giving me another choice to go for.
Oh boy. No one has ever asked me if I want anything in my life, now that he’s asking, I feel a bit oblig
ated to comply with his offers.
I take a moment, looking to the house that is placidly quiet. You know what, it’s actually bigger than I imagined. Every detail of the place is beautifully set and well thought of. From the way out, the house seems like a circle from the huge French window and, or, half circle…since from the bedroom balcony, the building seems straight lined; over all view, it’s more like a protractor shape. I cease on my survey as my eyes reach back to the staircases. Everything is grey but the golden treads and the huge golden chandelier. I wonder how the rest of the house is decorated. I turn my eyes back to his presence, only to meet his lovingly melting gaze fixed at me.
“Yes,” I gasp a little and answer him with a smile. Nodding, he starts walking me out the oak big door, which opens as it senses our approach towards it. He walks me out as he leads me down the doorstep and I stay frozen, gasping in smile to what my eyes meet.
A Fully shining black horse, with a white tail and mane, three times bigger than the horses I know, is waiting for us with a horse drawn carriage. It’s so big that I can see its muscles stretching as its tail flogs on its sides now and then; tapping its flank once and slides down to its thigh and gaskin and all the way down, and weaves to the other side, playing over and over again with the tail.
He walks me straight towards it and I follow him with my right hand in his left and my left holding the rest of my dress off from the ground; enough to help me walk as comfortably as possible, with my leg escaping through the slit. Everything feels like a travel back in time but still forwards at the same time. Perhaps, this is the ultimate world every naturalist would dream of having, would dream to leave in. I’m just glad that I am one of them to enjoy this now, glad that I get this chance to experience. But there’s got to be a reason that he kept telling me to not jump to conclusions, so I must have a lot to see, to learn yet, in this world.
Hell Again Page 4