Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Six years. Only four at this school, though."

  "Where are you from?"

  "Kansas." She glanced at me again. "I'd tell you exactly where, but would it mean anything to you?"

  I had to shake my head, and she laughed. "Then let's just say Kansas. We have quite a few Americans at the school. No Canadians at the moment. Other than you, of course. And several Britons and an Egyptian, plus our Kuwaiti staff. You'll get to meet them all on Monday morning. Or tomorrow at the end of the school day if you feel up to it."

  With the time changes over the flights, I must have lost track of the day. "Isn't tomorrow Sunday?"

  She nodded. "Weekends here are Friday and Saturday."

  "So shouldn't I be teaching tomorrow?"

  She chuckled. "If you can arrive here this late and ignore your jet lag to get up tomorrow to be at school for seven, you're a tougher woman than me, Larissa. No, Monday will be fine. I wish I could give you a few days to get yourself settled but I'm desperate to have you at the school."

  We turned off the highway and onto another one, which ran along a body of water.

  I looked out the window at it, thought back to the map I'd seen on the plane's screen near the end of my journey, and decided to take a guess. "Is that the Persian Gulf?"

  She nodded. "This is the Gulf Road," she said, but added, "You should call it the Arabian Gulf, though. Persians aren't too popular here."

  "Oh," was all I said, but she took it as a reason to give a history lecture on the region. I did my best to listen but her words seemed to flow over me without sticking. They might have been a lullaby for the effect they were having on me, but I kept blinking and turning my head sharply to snap myself awake and managed not to pass out.

  At last, mercifully, Janet drew the car off the Gulf Road and drew her speech to a close at the same time. After a couple of turns she stopped beside a gatehouse in front of an apartment building of six or seven stories. A man in a khaki uniform stepped out of the gatehouse holding what looked like a mirror on a stick. He walked around our car holding the stick so the mirror was out of my sight then got back into the gatehouse and opened the gate for us.

  "What was he doing?"

  "Checking for bombs under the car," she said as she drove on, and her matter-of-fact tone left me speechless.

  She parked outside the building and we went up the elevator to the sixth floor. The elevator opened onto a hallway that reminded me of a Florida hotel I'd stayed in once, with all the apartment doors along one side and the other side open and overlooking an in-ground swimming pool. I'd never lived anywhere with a pool before.

  "Here we are," she said, unlocking 606 and holding it open for me. I went in, turning on the hall light as I did, and she said, "Now, do you want me to walk you around and show you where everything is?"

  Remembering that she'd said the school day started at seven, and suspicious she might get there even earlier, I said, "I'm sure I'll be fine on my own."

  Her smile said I'd done the right thing. "Good enough." She handed me the key. "There's a list of phone numbers on the kitchen counter. If you need me, give me a call and I'll get back to you when I get a chance. Otherwise, I'll call you tomorrow afternoon and then send a driver to bring you to the school. Okay?"

  "Okay," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else to say.

  She gave me another smile and left, and I locked the door behind her and stood in the darkened foyer again hearing my mind ask, "What have you done?"

  I took a deep breath and pushed the question away. It didn't matter. As of right now, I was the new Larissa, and she hadn't done anything yet. But she would. She'd do everything the old one hadn't been able to manage, and it would be great.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Madam? It's Mohammed the harris. Your driver is here."

  Janet's notes had explained that a harris was like a concierge back home, but that didn't help me much because I'd never lived somewhere fancy enough to have one. "Okay, thank you. Where do I meet him?"

  "In the down, madam."

  "Where?" I said, feeling lost.

  "Down. Take the elevator to the lobby, madam."

  I agreed to this and hung up, but gave myself a moment for several deep breaths before leaving the apartment. I hadn't been outside all day, other than sitting on my balcony wondering how on earth I'd gone from looking directly into the next-door apartment building at home to having the Arabian Gulf spread out like a postcard before me, and I didn't feel ready to change that or to talk to people. But Janet had called me mid-afternoon, sounding pleased that I was awake and apparently coherent, and suggested that I come to the school at the end of class time to meet everyone, and so I had to go.

  Once I exited the elevator in the lobby, an older Middle Eastern man with short black hair and deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth stood up at a desk near the door. "Madam Larissa. Yes?"

  I nodded, and he gave me a big smile that creased his face on all the laugh lines. "Welcome to Kuwait. You go outside through there." He pointed to glass doors, beyond which I could see a sidewalk and a street and a parked black car. "Mohammed is waiting for you. In the car."

  I blinked. "Mohammed?"

  He gave me a grin. "Yes. He and me both. If you forget a man's name here, call him Mohammed. You most likely will be right."

  Despite my nervousness, I had to giggle. He smiled again then said, "If you need anything, at any time, call down and I help you."

  I thanked him then went out to meet my second Mohammed in as many minutes. This one was younger and thinner, and a little less friendly, but he did smile at me and waited patiently until I got myself buckled into the back seat before driving away.

  I looked all around as we drove, since last night it had been too dark to see much of anything, and found myself constantly swinging between "it looks just like I'm used to" and "I've never seen anything like this before". Next to a dry cleaner, which could easily have been in Toronto except for the Arabic signs next to its English ones, I saw a building that appeared to have been bombed and was now nothing but a pile of rubble. Beside that was a building shored up with stacks of old tires, and then an Internet café. Everywhere I looked, something surprised me.

  That included Mohammed. When I glanced at him I realized he had his left foot tucked up under him while his bare right foot worked the car's pedals. I couldn't imagine what a Canadian cop would think of this driving style, but Mohammed seemed perfectly comfortable and I decided I'd have to follow my dad's old rule: when in Rome, do as the Germans do.

  I turned my head and stared out the window again, but I wasn't seeing my surroundings any more. I was thinking about my dad and his butchered sayings. I'd never known whether he knew they were wrong or honestly thought he was saying them properly, because whenever anyone asked him he gave a goofy smile and acted confused until they stopped asking. I'd copied his habit of mangling proverbs while he was alive, since he smiled whenever I did it, and I'd kept it up ever since, and while I did know I was doing them wrong I also copied his style of pretending ignorance. The whole thing felt like a way to honor his memory. But my new coworkers wouldn't understand so I told myself to keep the sayings under wraps for a while.

  We pulled up to a two-story beige building with pillars and a guardhouse out front, and Mohammed turned to me. "Two KD, please."

  I was about to ask him to repeat himself when it hit me what he must mean. I went digging in my wallet and found three ones in my collection of Kuwaiti currency. I handed the bills to him, and he smiled and wished me a good day then waited for me to scramble out of the car before he drove off.

  The guard waved me over, and when I reached the window of his little house he said, "Are you Madam Larissa?"

  I nodded, and he did too then picked up a phone and let loose with a stream of what had to be Arabic. I didn't catch a word except "Larissa". He hung up again and said, "You may wait inside to avoid the cold." He pointed at the f
ront door. "Zainab will meet you shortly."

  Since it was a beautiful warm day I didn't quite understand his words, but I smiled and nodded and went inside as instructed. I had a feeling there was a lot of smiling and nodding in my future.

  As I waited for Zainab, I realized that every Middle Easterner walking outside wore a heavy coat, and to my shock I saw a woman in a parka carrying a small child stuffed into a snowsuit like an Arabian Maggie Simpson.

  After doing my makeup in my usual neutrals so I'd look professional, I'd spent ages testing and discarding outfits, which brought back unpleasant memories of preparing to go out with Greg, before I'd settled on simple black pants and a long-sleeved brown blouse. I hadn't added a jacket, or even a cardigan, and I was perfectly comfortable. Did they really find this weather that cold?

  "Larissa?"

  I turned, unreasonably relieved not to be called "Madam" for once, and saw a beautiful woman in her early twenties with rich dark skin. Her hair was completely hidden under a black headdress, and she wore a long dark green skirt and a blue sweater with a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. "That's me."

  "I'm Zainab," she said in accented but clear English, holding out her hand to me. We shook, and she said, "Welcome to Kuwait and to the school too. How are you feeling?"

  With the jet lag and my inability last night to fall asleep for a full hour after I went to bed despite my exhaustion, coupled with the constant surprises in my environment, I felt like an alien dropped on another planet. But I was more energetic than I'd have expected, probably also due to those surprises, so I smiled and said, "Not as bad as I thought I might."

  She smiled back. "I've never flown from North America but from what I hear it can be difficult. I'm glad you're doing well."

  "Thank you," I said, suddenly a little shy and feeling stupid about it.

  She smiled again. "Are you ready to meet everyone?"

  Not even a little bit. "Absolutely."

  She led me away from the front door, pointing out classrooms and offices and the gymnasium, and as we went it began to sink in. I was going to be working in a school. With kids. I didn't hate kids by any means, but other than Candice's two I hardly ever saw any. There'd be more than two in my class tomorrow. Could I cope?

  I didn't have time to worry, because Zainab turned down a short hallway and I had to scamper back because I didn't realize she'd changed direction.

  She stopped and smiled at me when I caught up. "I'm sorry, I'm so used to where I'm going."

  I mumbled an apology of my own for not paying attention then added, "Your English is wonderful."

  Her smile grew. "Thank you. I have tried hard. I'm a graduate of the school."

  "That's great." Maybe someday I'd be the school's director and one of the kids I'd teach tomorrow would end up working for me. Sure, and maybe someday every Muslim on the planet would eat a pork chop at once.

  We started walking again, and she turned another corner and put us face-to-face with a huge framed portrait of a man wearing one of those headdresses that always reminded me of a tea towel held on with a loop of rope. The man looked down on me because the portrait was hung at the height of the ceiling but I felt like if I met him in person he'd look down on me too. Something in his eyes said he had no doubt he was above me in all possible ways. "Who is that?"

  She looked back and I pointed at the portrait.

  "It's the shake," she said.

  I blinked. "Pardon?"

  "S-h-e-i-k-h," she spelled. "Shake. You don't know this word?"

  "I do, but I thought it was pronounced sheek."

  She smiled. "Now you know."

  Now I did. If I ever met him I wouldn't mess up.

  Zainab and I passed through the doorway beneath the portrait and she said, "I've found her."

  Janet jumped to her feet and smiled at me. "Larissa! You look wonderful. Are you one of those annoying people who has no trouble with jet lag?"

  I smiled back, shaking my head. "I think I'm running on fear and adrenaline."

  She laughed. "That works too. Zainab, could you bring some coffee for us? We have a bit of time before the meeting and it'd be good to keep Larissa awake until afterwards."

  Zainab nodded, smiled at me, and left.

  "She's great," Janet said when the door closed behind her. "I've never had such a good secretary. Is everything okay in your apartment?"

  I nodded. "Thanks to your notes. I did still have trouble with the shower but I'll get it." 'Trouble' was an understatement: I'd almost scalded myself to death after hopping into the shower and then turning on the water like I would have at home and forgetting that the hot and cold water taps in the shower were on the opposite sides from what I was used to.

  Janet smiled. "I had the same problem. Fair warning, you'll just get used to them here and you'll go home for a visit and freeze yourself instead. Did you manage to do any unpacking?"

  "All of it, actually." I'd been disgusted with myself anew when I found Greg's ring in my luggage, and after some consideration had stuffed it into the back corner of my bedroom dresser's bottom drawer beside my tarot cards. I could ignore them both back there, pretend they weren't with me, and with my makeup in the bathroom and my clothes in the closet the apartment was beginning to feel a bit like home. "And thank you for all the food in the fridge. It was great."

  "You're welcome. When you need more, get Mohammed the driver to take you to the Sultan Center. Big grocery store. He knows where it is, and he'll leave you there while you shop then come back to get you. You found the cell phone I left you, right?"

  I nodded. She'd also left a spare refill card for when I needed more minutes, along with instructions on where to get more when I needed them. "Everything was so clear. You did a great job getting the place ready for me."

  Her smile was weary. "Sadly, I've had a lot of practice welcoming new staff." She leaned back in her chair. "It's not easy being here. Especially not at the beginning. A lot of people end up homesick and taking off in the middle of the night. 'Pulling a runner', we call it. I really hope you won't do that."

  I shook my head firmly, not only to reassure my boss but because I knew I wouldn't. I had nothing to run to. I couldn't lose this one opportunity to fix my life.

  "Excellent. All right, let's get all this paperwork done then you can meet your coworkers."

  "Sounds good," I said, though I wasn't sure I meant it. They probably wouldn't appreciate me, a non-teacher, showing up and thinking I could do their job.

  Janet took a stack of papers easily half an inch high from a folder, and we began working through it. Zainab returned after about three forms were finished with a tray containing two tiny gold-trimmed glass cups and a bowl of what I thought might be dates. The smell of coffee was instant and tantalizing.

  "Ah, lovely. Thanks, Zainab. Cashew-stuffed dates, my favorite."

  The secretary smiled and left and Janet handed me a cup. "It's strong," she said, "so I won't be offended if you're not a fan."

  I took a tentative sip of the hot liquid. If she'd told me you could stand a spoon up in it, or in fact that it could dissolve a spoon, I wouldn't have been surprised, but despite its strength and the lack of sugar I found I loved it. It tasted like what every coffee bean aspired to be but didn't quite manage.

  When I drank more, Janet laughed. "Good girl, Larissa. You like it?"

  I nodded, then gave an involuntary shudder as the caffeine hit my system.

  Janet laughed again. "It's got quite the kick to it, doesn't it? Good thing, though. It'll keep you going to meet everyone."

  Fear flooded me again along with the caffeine, but I managed to smile.

  We finished the paperwork, while I ate several of the delicious dates and Janet polished off the rest from the bowl, then once the kids had left she showed me how to find my classroom before we went to the staff meeting, which turned out to be one she'd called only for introducing me to the other teachers in the elementary school division.

  I'd assume
d there would be one class for each grade but in fact there were two grade four classes beside mine and nearly sixty teachers on staff. I smiled and nodded and tried hard to remember names as Janet worked her way from kindergarten to grade eight and then through the Islamic Studies and Arabic and art and music and physical education teachers, but since half the women were named Amal and half the men were Ahmed or Mohammed I couldn't keep everyone and their subject straight in my tired mind.

  Everyone began leaving when Janet had finished the introductions, and I stood awkwardly for a moment until Leon, the American grade six teacher who was one of the few people whose name I'd managed to remember because he bore more than a passing resemblance to Kegan and his good looks and sexy green eyes had caught my attention, came over and said, "Got plans for dinner?"

  I shook my head, and he smiled at me and called to the group at large, "Who's up for taking Larissa out for some food?"

  A hint of disappointment flickered through me that it wouldn't be only us, but I squelched it hard. Getting to know more of my coworkers would be a good thing, and there'd be time later to see if Leon wanted to be more than just a coworker.

  Most people smiled and said they had other plans, not a surprise since they'd had no notice. Janet politely declined too, then said with a laugh that it would give the others time to tell me all about how bad she was as a boss.

  "It's only one dinner," Leon said, with a slightly twisted smile. "Can't tell her everything."

  Janet tossed her fluffy hair. "Well, just don't scare her off. I need her."

  While we'd been dealing with the paperwork Janet had taken care of two discipline problems and a homesick teacher and I had been impressed with her calm manner. Even if I hadn't had nowhere else to go, I didn't think anything they'd say would make me want to quit.

  In the end, five of us were available for dinner, and Leon said, "What do you want to eat, Larissa?"

  I blinked. "I don't know what's available."

  A tall woman in a head-to-toe black robe with her hair pulled back under a matching headdress into a huge bun that made the back of her head look misshapen said, "Anything you want, really."