Of Stone and Sky

by Charissa Stastny

  Mama glanced at her and frowned. “Do you not feel well, bijë?”

  She shook her head.

  “Go outside for air. I’ll check on you soon.”

  Saemira ran through animals and people to get outside to a spot where the railing wasn’t missing. She leaned over and gagged, but nothing came out.

  “Vajze e keqe.” The man with the earring grabbed her arm and dragged her backward. “You pretend to help but steal from me?” he said.

  She cringed. He was hurting her arm. “I didn’t steal.”

  His fingers dug deeper into her skin as he pulled her inside another apartment and shut the door.

  “My gold amulet’s missing. It was near the boy when you worked on him.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Empty your pockets, thief.” He shoved his hands in her skirt before she could obey and brought out her magnifying glass and a gold piece of jewelry.

  “How?” Saemira started shaking. She’d never seen that before.

  “Gadji thief! You robbed me. I should call the policia. Have you thrown into jail.”

  “No!” Saemira cried. “I’m a good girl. I don’t know how it got there.”

  He shook her hard. “A little liar and a thief.”

  “No. I d-didn’t take your amulet.”

  “And yet it was in your pocket.” He shook her again. “The gods cursed Bengalo for his evil. Do you wish to lose half your pretty face by fire as well, Temptress?”

  “N-no.” She started crying. Why was he being so mean?

  He crushed her against his hard body and squeezed her face until it hurt. “Quiet, or I’ll tell the policia and your baba what you’ve done.”

  Vomit burned her throat as he licked her face.

  “Saemira!”

  “Mama,” she whimpered.

  The mean man squeezed her all over and pinched her bottom through her skirt. “May the gods curse you, little whore. Burn the thief out of you.”

  She didn’t want to burn like the boy, her skin melting like wax. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Do not speak, Temptress. I should tell your baba and mama what you’ve done.”

  “No. Please. Take my magnifying glass.” She held it out to him.

  “What good is that? I’d rather have you.” He licked her face again, making her gag from his foul breath.

  “Saemira!” Mama called again, closer.

  The man hissed like a snake. “If you speak of me, the policia will throw you in jail.” He squeezed her cheeks hard. “Understand?”

  “I-I w-won’t s-s-say a word.”

  He shoved her away, making her stumble. “Go. Mend your ways, whore, or the gods will drag you down into the fiery pits of dreqin.”

  She ran out the door, squinting from the bright sunlight as she staggered to the railing to vomit. Mama found her there and wiped tears from her face.

  “Ah, bijë. You must have eaten something that didn’t agree with you.”

  Saemira’s heart beat faster than hummingbird wings. What if the mean man came out and told Mama what she’d done? They had to get away.

  “Can we leave?”

  Mama wrapped an arm around her. “Soon. Baba’s almost done.”

  She stayed by her side as they returned to help the boy but she couldn’t stop looking back at the door. What if the man came in? Would he tell her parents about the amulet she’d stolen? Would they call the policia?

  The boy groaned. She peeked up at his scary face and feared the gods would burn her as they’d burned him. She had done a wicked thing by stealing.

  Baba spoke to a large woman and handed her a few bills before they left the broken, stinky village.

  Mama carried the empty water jug. Baba carried the medical kit. Saemira carried words in her head. Ugly ones.

  “What does gadjo mean, Baba?”

  He frowned. “Someone who’s not Roma.”

  “So I’m half-gadjo?”

  “That’s a bad word. Do not use it.”

  Her stomach still churned. Would it ever stop? “Why did the man call you that when you helped the boy?”

  “Helping does not make me one of them.”

  Not fair. “What will happen to the boy?” Would he die? Would she?

  “He will heal,” Mama said. “Compassion always heals, even if it doesn’t take away pain.”

  Saemira wanted to ask what a whore was. She wanted to know if someone could steal and not know it. She wanted to ask about the bad feelings inside her still from the man touching and licking her. She wished it was bath night.

  But she bit her tongue, not wanting her parents to discover her evil and throw her in jail.

  Gemma

  A brisk breeze made the bare branches in the courtyard quiver. I tipped my water bottle to let a few drops fall to the cobblestone. An offering to the water gods for luck. In a few weeks, when spring began fighting winter for dominance, a flower might peek its hardy head out from between the stones, doubling mine.

  One could never have too much luck.

  Mama had said it was lucky for a man to meet a woman carrying a full jug. That’s how she’d met Baba. But American women didn’t carry jugs of water around, as in Albania. My thirty-two-ounce water bottle had to suffice. Baba had teased Mama about her superstitions, but maybe dismissing her gods had contributed to his tragic end. My life had been a chain of unlucky events until I’d reinstated Mama’s rituals. Now, I worked in an urban high-rise castle with a bunch of high-class white people, in my very own cubicle. I even had a high-tech trashcan that opened with a wave of my hand.

  I played with Mama’s amulet on the ride up to the sales floor. The necklace was one of the few possessions I had left of hers. She’d given it to me at a dark point in my life, saying it would protect me. And it had.

  The elevator dinged. I tipped the bottle to let a few drips fall to the floor and sent a prayer up to whichever god wanted to claim it.

  I had sales calls to make and quotas to break.

  In my cubicle, I propped my feet up on the desk and wiggled my toes. Pompoms had become my new best friend. Cheap, gorgeous, and cheery.

  Someone cleared their throat behind me.

  I whipped my feet down and swiveled in my fancy chair, worried it might be the intimidating CEO again. That guy had necessitated the trip down to the courtyard in the first place.

  It wasn’t him, thank the gods. A sour-faced, middle-aged guy with sandy-blond hair stood outside my cubicle.

  “Miss Stone?”

  “That’s me.” I tapped the name plate, displaying Angel’s dumb alias for me gorgeously displayed in white letters.

  “Will you please follow me to my office?”

  “Depends on what you want to do with me there.”

  He gave me a blank stare.

  I giggled to put the poor stiff at ease. Angel had said I could get anything if I laughed. I’d experimented with giggling to clinch sales, and people seemed to relax and let down their guard when I made them laugh. At least, that’s what my increasing sales stats seemed to suggest.

  “Just joking, Mr…?” I raised a brow, signaling it was his turn to give up info. It seemed off of him to show up at my cubicle and order me to follow him to his office without an introduction.

  “Mr. Davidson, from HR.”

  “I’d be honored.” I bowed, in case he was in charge of giving out the raise Mr. Carter had hinted at yesterday.

  We passed the CEO’s spacious office, and I glanced through the glass. My cubicle was cool, but king-man’s office made my space look like chopped liver. Not that I’d ever tasted that to know. Americans had strange similes.

  The CEO glared when he caught me staring. Crap! I focused on the back of Mr. Davidson’s boring blazer and hurried to the elevator.

  When we arrived at human resources, he ushered me into a room with two other people who appeared even grumpier than him.

  Note to self: don’t apply to work in HR.

  Mr. Davidson pointed to the other
man. “This is Mr. Jefferson, from security.”

  Nice. I wasn’t the only person of color in the room. Mr. Jefferson was a few shades darker than my olive tone.

  Mr. Davidson gestured to an angular woman with bright blond hair. “Ms. Hernandez, from Legal.”

  Wow. It must take lots of people to present a raise. EcoCore went above and beyond with everything, from garbage cans to pay raises.

  “It’s an honor to meet you.” I gestured to the woman’s feet. “Love your shoes.” They weren’t quite my style, but the pink pumps had potential.

  “Thank you. They’re Jimmy Choo.”

  I wiggled my painted toes to show off my cool wedges.

  “Mr. McConnell, the CEO, has asked us to discuss your employment.”

  I rubbed my hands together, eager to learn how much more moolah I’d be making.

  “He’s upset with your work ethic, or lack of it, and has asked for your termination.”

  The bouncing energy inside me froze like a polar vortex of catastrophic proportions, the kind that must’ve buried the dinosaurs beneath miles of ice.

  “Say what?”

  Botox lady dangled a ballpoint pen in front of me. “Sign here. Mr. McConnell was gracious and paid you for the next two weeks so you won’t be without income.”

  I blinked. “This uh, must be a mistake.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Please sign.”

  What the freak was going on? I took the pen from her vampire fingers and glanced at Mr. Jefferson, hoping for a sign of camaraderie. But he looked unmoved.

  “You have the wrong person,” I said. “Mr. Carter told me yesterday—”

  “The CEO himself fired you for”—Mr. Davidson glanced at a paper—“giggling and wasting time on the clock. You have no recourse but to sign and be escorted from the premises.”

  Wasting time? Were they smoking something? I’d been doing my job. Quite well, in fact.

  “We need your signature,” Mr. Davidson repeated.

  I scribbled my alias where Botox lady had X’d, hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

  “My men will escort you out,” Mr. Jefferson said.

  “I need to collect my things.” And talk to my manager. Mr. Carter would stop this madness.

  Meeting him months ago had been a blessing from the gods. I’d been vacuuming and dusting offices in the wee morning hours, when I’d opened his door to find him already there. I’d almost wet myself. But he’d been cool and had struck up a conversation. In the end, he’d told me to visit human resources and to say Joe had sent me. I’d explained that I had no sales experience, but he’d said he had a feeling about me.

  “Your desk and cubicle have been cleaned out. Your personal belongings are in a box outside.” The gruff voice startled me back to reality. “My men will see you to your car.”

  Well, weren’t they efficient.

  I staggered to the door, my wedges heavy as concrete blocks. Two security guards waited for me out in the hall. One held a box with my sweater and satchel strap sticking out of it. Had they found the copies of Popular Science I’d taken from the lobby? Would they add theft to the reasons to fire me?

  I struggled to breathe as we took the elevator to the bowels of the parking garage. How would I pay rent? Where would Altin and I go?

  The guards stayed beside me as I approached old Fisnik. Gray, beat up. Like how I felt. I set the box on the backseat, noticing the magazines under my satchel. Guess I’d keep them.

  “Hey Gemma.”

  I turned to see my boss, Mr. Carter, getting out of his car.

  “You heading to lunch early?”

  I slammed the door and huffed. “How could you get my hopes up for a raise then fire me?” Tears threatened, but I refused to lose it in front of these people. “I thought you valued my contributions.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re my star team member. What’s going on?” He glanced at my goon escort.

  “Mr. Davidson fired me on the CEO’s orders because I giggled on calls. Giggled!”

  He made a face. “That’s ridiculous.” He gestured for me to follow him. “Come on. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  My jailers blocked us. “Our orders are to see Ms. Stone off the premises.”

  “I don’t care what your orders are.” Mr. Carter tried to shove past them, but the oafs didn’t budge.

  “We can’t allow Ms. Stone back inside the building. Mr. McConnell’s orders.”

  My boss always smiled. But not now. “Wait in your car, Gemma.” He glared at the guards. “Don’t send her away or you’ll answer to me.” He pushed a button on the elevator. “I’ll be back.”

  Though Mr. Carter was the least threatening man I knew, he seemed like the Terminator right then.

  Hopefully, he would not fall back to being Mr. Rogers.

  3

  Lincoln

  The latest edition of the Salt Lake Tribune lay open on my desk. Angeline had released a statement claiming SmartGlass as her intellectual property, not mine. As if she knew the difference between an algebraic equation and the X’s and O’s slapped on a love letter. She was suing for half of EcoCore’s current shares, claiming the company’s growth was due to her brainchild. If she won, she’d be the majority shareholder since I’d split my shares with Joe when the company had teetered on the brink of bankruptcy.

  I swept the paper onto the floor.

  My attorney had denied her allegations, calling them meritless and frivolous, but I’d learned that truth didn’t matter in court. The person who played dirtiest and threw the most money around usually won. And no way would I outdo my ex when it came to playing dirty.

  I’d have to win another way.

  A disturbance in the outer office made me glance up. Joe Carter yelled at Lionel in the other room and pointed my direction. Catching me watching him, he marched past my guard dog.

  “Have you lost your freaking mind?” He slammed my office door.

  Lionel raced in after him. “I’m sorry, Mr. McConnell, I’ll—”

  “It’s fine.” I waved him away and powered off the SmartGlass to give Joe and I the privacy we needed. My friend hadn’t been this worked up since junior high when some jocks had dunked Tony Meyers’s head in a toilet. I gestured to a couch. “Have a seat, Joey.”

  He pounded a fist into his palm. “Why did you fire my best team member without consulting me?”

  I kicked a leg up on the coffee table. “I did you a favor. Ms. Stone was making personal calls on company time. I caught her myself.”

  Joe scowled. “You arrogant, bitter fool.”

  I clutched my heart. “Such language, Joey. You wound me.”

  Joe was a clean-cut, conservative, goody-goody church boy who didn’t swear, didn’t drink, and didn’t miss a day praying to God. I was the opposite—an agnostic, die-hard liberal pessimist. Despite our differences, we’d been friends since junior high.

  “You need to void her paperwork. Gemma’s out in her car right now being treated as a criminal when she’s done nothing but make you money. Lots of it. I had the paperwork ready to take to HR to give her a raise. She’s freaking gold. And you fired her?”

  “She kept giggling.” I clenched my hands. “I caught her with her feet on the desk. I won’t tolerate laziness, even if you will because you’re too nice to do anything about it.”

  “Lazy?” Joe threw his hands up and stormed out of the room. Maybe I’d gotten through to him.

  I returned to my desk, but Joe walked back in and slammed papers down in front of me. “I’ll grant that she’s unconventional but check out her stats.”

  I tossed the quarterly report aside. “I’ve read this. Your team did well.”

  He banged my desk. “Look at Gemma Stone’s stats, you bloody idiot.”

  I clucked my tongue. “You can still go to hell for cussing in Brit, you know?”

  “Read the damned report.”

  I stood and pointed. “Sit your ass down and remember your place. I’m still your b
oss.”

  He didn’t move. “Not if Gemma leaves. If she goes, so do I.”

  I blinked. Joe had been with me from the beginning. We’d struggled together to build the company into what it was today.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” His heart belonged to EcoCore, like mine.

  “I’m not joking, Link.”

  “Fine.” I scanned the page for Stone. “These figures can’t be right.” I added up the numbers in her column again. “You must’ve entered the data wrong.”

  He set another paper on top. “I knew you’d be stubborn, so I brought Accounting’s report.” He tapped the column with her name. “Note the amount collected matches her stats on the sales report.”

  I compared both and scratched my chin. “This can’t be.”

  Joe sighed. “You can be so damned infuriating.”

  “You’re going to have to pray longer tonight, Joey. You’ve used more cuss words in the last five minutes than you have in your whole life.”

  “Because you...you make me so mad.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick straight up. “How could you fire my top team member without consulting me?”

  “I’ll void it.” Obviously, I’d screwed up.

  “No.” He stood and paced in front of my desk. “I’m sick of your unending grudge against life. I’m sorry Angeline hurt you, but you need to stop taking your bitterness out on the rest of us. You humiliated Gemma for no good reason. Now, you’ll beg her to work for EcoCore again and give her a huge raise. Or I walk.”

  Did he really see me that way? As a bully?

  “I’m serious, Link.”

  “Fine.” I waved him away, done with this conversation. “I’ll call HR and have them send her up.” The things I did for him.

  He left, and I shoved my nagging conscience aside. So I’d made a mistake. Big deal. It shouldn’t be difficult to fix.

  Saemira

  Age 8 - Fushë Krujë, Albania

  SQUANDER: to waste an opportunity. Baba made me bite a bar of soap because I squandered. Blech!