by Tara Hart
She’s sitting on the edge of the sofa with her hands tucked tightly between her legs. She carries so much tension in her shoulders and her expression is grim.
“She’s fine,” I say, not knowing if it’s the truth. “Just daunting being out in the real world, you know?”
He nods his head. He understands. But I’m not sure if either of us can truly understand what has happened, the damage that has been done, both from being locked away for so long and for killing a man—killing my father.
Eric turns his head to the side, his words come out as a whisper. “You didn’t tell me she was hot.”
My fist meets the middle of his stomach. It’s a soft punch that makes him laugh. Leila looks in our direction, her eyebrows reaching up her forehead as she wonders what’s so amusing.
Eric walks over to her slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a shy toddler. He hangs his hands by his sides as he crouches on the ground before her.
“I’m Eric,” he says softly.
She smiles and then bites on the corner of her lip. “I know.” She holds her hand out to him, her shoulders instantly relaxing. “I’m Leila.”
Eric settles next to her and they make small talk for a while. Their conversation is smooth, effortless. It makes me happy to see them get along.
I silently walk to the bathroom leaving Leila in Eric’s company. I lock the bolt behind me as I let my weight fall back against the wooden door. My body slides to the ground, my ass hitting the cold linoleum floor with a thud. I laugh into the emptiness, delirium finally catching up with me. To an outsider I look like a crazy person, but I need this moment, a moment to reflect and ensure I’m alive. And for the first time in days, I feel as though I can actually breathe.
***
“I will be two hours, three max,” I tell her. “Eric will stay here with you. Once I’m back, we’ll get on the road.”
I take Leila’s hand in mine and press a kiss against the warmth of her palm.
“I have a friend in Seattle. We can head there until we figure out what to do next.”
Eric’s friend came through with a fake passport for Leila and now I can take her back to Brazil. She has already phoned her mother to let her know she’s alive and well. The call took its toll on her emotionally.
Her mother cried of course, Leila fielded her questions as best she could, giving her a watered down version of what actually happened.
She told her family she had been kidnapped and taken to a house where she was held captive. She didn’t speak of being raped. She didn’t think her mother could handle the truth in its entirety. She said she was held in the basement until she finally managed to escape.
It was true for the most part. She just withheld the vile details that we no longer spoke of.
As the story went, she made it to my house and I took her in, fed her and made sure no one would harm her again. This part she didn’t need to embellish, it’s the truth.
“Are you ready?” Leila asks, her face somber when it needn’t be.
I look at my watch. It’s just after twelve. I need to leave, but I’m stalling, delaying the inevitable. Leila studies me, waiting for my response. Her brown hair perfectly frames her face, her eyes are wide and full of kindness, and her lips are pursed ready to say something else. “Callum,” she whispers.
“I’m in love with you, Leila.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Her mouth falls open as she stares at me blankly. It’s not how I planned on telling her, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I shake my head, grasping her hands in mine. I can feel her body shaking just the slightest. “God knows I’ve fought it,” I continue. “I tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore.”
I loosen my grip on her hands.
“Leila…”
“I heard you.”
It’s not the response I anticipated, but I can tell her mind is working overtime trying to process my words, my confession.
She brings her finger between us, tracing my bottom lip gently, her eyes trailing where her fingertip has just been.
She licks her lips before she finally speaks. “You saved me,” she whispers. “You were sent here to save me and you did, in more ways than one. You gave me my freedom, but much more than that, you saved my life. You saved me from myself.”
A stray tear falls from the corner of her eye, trickling down the rosiness of her cheek. I reach forward and brush it away with the pad of my thumb.
“I love you, Callum.” She leans forward and presses her lips to mine.
It’s a slow kiss, full of angst and need, and promises for what’s to come.
I pull away too soon. Her lips remain pursed, her eyes hovering closed.
“I have to go.” I let out a heavy exhale.
Her eyes snap open. She watches me stand and adjust my blazer.
“Callum,” I sense the sadness in her voice.
Her eyes trail up my face. She bites on the corner of her lip, toying with the pink flesh that I just kissed.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m sorry.”
I understand what she is sorry for and yet she has no need to apologize. I take her in my arms and press a kiss to the crown of her head before I turn and walk toward the door.
I draw in a deep breath and then let it go. I’m ready.
I’m ready to bury my father.
I don’t cry. The entire service takes a little over an hour and I don’t shed one tear. Various people from the town took the podium remembering my father as a gracious, giving man. Lies, all lies.
Harry spoke. It was brief and somber. He didn’t mention how my father was a good man. He spoke of their childhood, a time when they were both happy and free, a time when my father wasn’t a monster.
The turn out is remarkable. Over two thousand people filled the church and made their way to the cemetery on the outskirts of Merling. Even as the rain pours down upon us, the people of the town are loyal to the very end. Paying their respects to a man who they barely knew.
The funeral took over a week to plan, which gave my face time to heal. The undertaker took care of most of the details. I was just there for show.
I watch as they lower the coffin into its final resting place, taking a handful of soil, I throw it to the mahogany coffin that matches my mother’s. The procession follows suit, throwing handfuls of dirt as a sign of their lasting respect.
I spot Rosa on the opposite side of the six feet hole. I approach her slowly, my hands hanging out of my pockets. She doesn’t budge. I offer her a soft smile as she stands in place.
“I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Callum,” she mutters under her breath.
“Thank you, Rosa.”
I notice the expression on her face. One of apprehension and fear, she knows what’s coming. “Why, Rosa?” I ask. “Why did you let him get away with that all those years?”
Tears fill her eyes before she speaks. “Because Mayor Mathers was the only family I’ve ever known.”
“And he was a monster,” I say. My voice is soft enough that no one else will hear it.
I look toward the coffin as it travels lower into the ground. People are starting to file away from the cemetery. A few pat me on the back as they pass by. Most leave without acknowledging me at all.
Tears stream down Rosa’s cheeks and my first instinct is to comfort her, but I can’t. Even though Rosa gave me the knife, the knife that killed him, I can’t forgive her.
“I knew he was a bad man, but I couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t have accepted my resignation. I knew too much.”
Rosa looks up at me, tears streaking her round face. “And he told me that no other family would hire me. He would make sure of it.”
I try to fight it, but I do feel bad for her. She was doing the only thing she knew how to do, care for her employer, but that meant she was caught up in some nasty shit.
“I hope you get a fresh start now, Rosa,” I tell her. I mean the words, even after everything that has happened.
“You too, Mr. Callum,” she says, her hand squeezing mine before she turns her back and walks away.
The cemetery is practically deserted now. The groundkeepers give me some space to pay my last respects. I walk the two small steps to my mother’s gravesite.
Adored wife, loving mother, the stone reads.
I drop a rose on the headstone and even though I fight it a few stray tears escape. I wipe at them. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry today, but I’m not crying for my father. The tears are for me, my mother and the lie we once lived.
This is the closure I need, our final goodbye, and the last time I will ever step foot in this town.
Chapter 42
Leila
I’m not in the room. It’s not dark. It’s light and airy. This surprises me—confuses me.
I’m about to get on a plane, my cheeks hurt from smiling. I am going to America. My dream is finally coming true.
I settle into my seat with my knees tucked against my chest, my feet resting on the edge of the cushioned chair as I look out the window and wait for take off.
I sleep for most of the flight, because that’s how it happened. I wake up only at mealtime and even then, I’m too excited to eat. My life is finally coming together.
The plane lands and I reach the exit. I don’t have a bag to pick up, I only brought the backpack hanging over my shoulder, a few necessities and that’s it. I see the sign. Leila Nunes, it reads. He must be from the agency. I smile at the man, but he’s all business.
“This way,” he tells me in Spanish. I don’t bother telling him I’m Brazilian, I can understand him well enough.
He’s wearing a tailored black suit and he’s tall, so tall that it takes two of my steps to match one of his. He takes my bag and tells me that we need to walk to the car. I follow him, I trust.
We reach the car, which is actually a van. It’s an oversized black van with dark tinted windows. When I step inside I take in the new car smell. The seats are soft and smell of leather. I settle in my seat, the same smile still hung on my lips. I cannot wait for my journey to begin.
I wait for the driver to get in his seat and start the car, but he doesn’t. He’s nowhere to be seen. I peek my head out the door and look both ways. Where is he? I step out of the van and round the vehicle. I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach, something is wrong. My eyes search the parking garage and then I feel his hands snake around me. Then everything goes black.
My body is covered in sweat as I startle awake. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I’m in my bed, next to Callum in our Seattle home. It was just a dream, but it felt so real.
“What is it?” Callum grabs my shoulder and pulls me back into his arms. “Did you have another dream?” he asks, gently placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Yes.”
“The same one?” he asks.
No. It wasn’t the same dream. This time it was different. New. I haven’t dreamed this before and it brought the memories flooding back. That’s how it happened. That’s how I ended up in that house, in that basement. I trusted too freely and believed a girl like me could have a fresh start.
“No. This time it was different,” I finally answer.
He seems surprised. “Oh yeah, how so?”
“I dreamed about when I left Brazil, when I boarded the plane and how I arrived in America.”
He rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin of my shoulder. “What happened?”
“I got to the drivers van and then it went black.” I think for a moment. “It was a memory and not a dream.”
He sighs softly. “That’s good, Leila. Something to tell Dr. Pride next week.”
I nod my head as I snuggle into his chest.
Dr. Pride is my psychiatrist. I have been seeing her for two months and we’ve made progress. She doesn’t say much really. She just listens and tells me when my thoughts are irrational. The irrational ones are usually about Callum. How I think he’s only with me because he feels responsible for his father’s actions. He feels the need to fix me.
Dr. Pride says that there are no indications of this. When Callum comes to our sessions he is nothing but loving and supportive. She says that soon enough I will see the truth.
After three months of freedom, I’m still afraid to leave the house. Anxiety and agoraphobia, Dr. Pride tells me. We work on ways to face these fears, but most days I’m too afraid to go outside without Callum. She says this is understandable and with time it will get better—easier.
Callum wraps both arms around me and kisses the crown of my head. “Go to sleep, babe.”
And that’s what I do. I go to sleep, because sleeping in Callum’s arms is easy.
Chapter 43
Leila
“Leila, tudo bem?” My mother hugs me warmly.
She holds me at arms length. I see the wrinkles around the corners of her eyes, the tears now streaming down her rosy cheeks. She squeezes me as if she’s afraid to let me go.
“So skinny,” she says.
I turn to my brother. He looks so…grown up. It makes my heart ache that I missed watching him turn into a man. He’s so handsome and I wonder if he’s got a girlfriend. I need to meet her. I decide to question him about it later.
“Luizinho.” I take him into my arms. He is taller than me now. My little brother is no longer little.
He wraps his arms around me and I rest my head against his chest. I dreamed of this moment for so long and I thought it would be like hugging a stranger, but it’s not. Somehow it feels like no time has passed, even though everything has changed.
He kisses each of my cheeks and then looks at my face. “I missed you,” he says and I struggle to hold back the tears.
Callum steps out from behind me, nervously hanging his hands from his pockets.
“Mrs. Nunes pleased to meet you,” he says and I smile at his attempt at Portuguese.
I lean close to his ear. “That fifteen minute Portuguese did you wonders on the plane.”
My mother takes him into her arms and then kisses each of his cheeks and then his mouth. He looks surprised and I laugh. He isn’t accustomed to this type of greeting.
“Obrigada, Obrigada,” she repeats again and again.
“She’s saying thank you,” I whisper to him.
He rolls his eyes. “I know. I learned that on the plane.” He bumps my shoulder with his and I feel my cheeks warm.
He turns back to my mother. “De nada,” he tells her. You’re welcome.
I giggle and he swats my ass gently before turning to my brother.
“Luiz, tudo bem?” Callum gives him a half handshake, half hug, as men do.
“Tudo,” Luiz answers shyly.
And just like that, Callum is welcomed into my family.
My mother arranged a small gathering at the house with only a few aunts and uncles as per my request. I still don’t like to be around too many people at once. Surprisingly, it feels like I never left. My family acts the same way, but occasionally I catch my mother staring at me, making sure I’m really here and it’s not just her imagination.
Callum fits in and my family loves him. The American with blue eyes they call him. I’m sure he can’t understand a word they’re saying, but that doesn’t stop him from joining in, laughing when others do.
After lunch I take him to the beach, just Callum and me. I am thankful for the break, for the silence. I feel as though I can finally breathe.
“So this is Maceió?” He looks out toward the ocean. “It’s even more beautiful than you said.”
He wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses my temple.
“It is, isn’t it?”
I had forgotten the beauty of this beach, but it doesn’t take long for me remember.
We sit on the sand and watch the waves crash against the shore. We are silent, yet happy.
We’ve been back for one day and yet the memories come flooding back, reminding me of everything that was once too painful to recall.
> I love being in Brazil, but it reminds me of the old, naïve Leila. At the time, I didn’t know what life was about and I didn’t know what I was looking for. Now I can’t wait to return to Seattle with Callum. I am so excited to see where this life takes us.
All of a sudden Callum pushes against me, crashing into my shoulder.
“What the fuck,” he shouts.
I look to his side and laugh. “I told you there are monkey’s here.”
A small monkey has settled by his side. He’s holding a nut, his eyes fixed on Callum’s hands. Callum leans against me, trying to place some distance between him and the monkey.
“Don’t be afraid.” I giggle.
“He might bite me.” He sounds like a little girl.
“Here.” I wave a shell at the monkey and he takes it from my hands. “See. He is harmless.”
He assesses the shell, but when he realizes it’s not edible he throws it to the sand. We watch the monkey as he casually makes his way back to the overhanging trees.
Callum’s body relaxes.
“Americans.” I roll my eyes.
Callum nudges my shoulder. His eyes shine in the sunlight as he looks at me. I press a kiss to the corner of his lips before looking back out to the ocean.
We sit and watch the waves lap against the shore, the gentle sound something I thought I would never hear again. I watch a bird glide through the air. It soars high and then off into the distance. The bird is free.
Callum squeezes my hand just to let me know he’s still there. I never knew so much could be said without uttering a word. I smile to myself.
“Te amo,” he tells me.
“I love you too.”
And having uttered those words, I finally feel content.
Epilogue
Leila
7 months
2 weeks
3 days
That’s how long I’ve been his. This time I’m excited to belong to a man, because in truth, he belongs to me too.
My favorite time of day is when he returns home from work, always a smile on his face, always happy to see me.