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

by Heather Wardell

  I didn't take Kegan's business card, or my tarot cards, or the pink scarf or pink nail polish, because all of those things had proven useless, but I agonized for a long painful moment over Greg's opal ring in its box.

  "You ready?"

  I looked up at Leon, then stuffed the ring deep into the suitcase. I'd use it to remind me of how badly I'd misjudged Greg and how my judgment was therefore flawed and not to be trusted. "Ready."

  We raced over to Leon's apartment, where he packed while I paced around and tried not to think about poor Khalid, then he drove us to the airport.

  "What about your car?"

  He shrugged, grinning. "It's an cheap old piece of crap. I'll leave it in the parking lot and let them sort it out." He gave my knee a squeeze. "Doesn't matter any more. Nothing matters but us, Larissa. We're free as birds now."

  I hadn't seen many birds in Kuwait, just a few seagulls soaring over the Gulf. They did look free, though. I actually felt more like one of those scruffy cats I'd seen clambering over the rocks near the shoreline, trying to scratch out a life in an inhospitable world. Maybe with Leon I could be a bird.

  At the airport, we joined the check-in line and Leon held me with one arm around my shoulders and nibbled at my neck. "I'm so glad we're doing this," he said against my skin. "You made the right decision. We both hate it here so why bother sticking it out?"

  I shrugged away from him. The Kuwaitis around us were watching his behavior and I could tell they didn't approve. He tried to pull me in again but I pushed him off and muttered, "Not here."

  He chuckled. "Fine, my little shy girl. But in Dubai..." He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "We can do whatever we want."

  I smiled, trying to crank myself up to his level of excitement. Since I'd agreed to go with him he'd been happier than I'd ever seen him. No doubt about it, Leon was ready to leave Kuwait and the school and everything else. I was lucky he wanted to take me with him.

  "I'm thirsty," he said. "You?"

  Now that he mentioned it, I felt like I'd had nothing to drink all day. I nodded, and he said, "Hold our spot while I go get us something. I'll be back way before it's our turn."

  Sadly that was most likely true, as we'd barely moved at all. I nodded and reached for my wallet.

  "Never mind that. I got it." He grinned, and kissed me before I could pull away, then ducked under the chains that marked off the line and sauntered off.

  I watched him go, watched the tall lean body that from the back could easily have been Kegan's, and all the thoughts I'd been trying to hold back hit me at once.

  I was running away. Again. I'd come to Kuwait for a fresh start, and for a while I'd thought I'd found it, but then everything had gone wrong again and now I was again running away to claim that elusive prize.

  But how long would this fresh start last? I hadn't even been in Kuwait three months. Moving to the other side of the world hadn't been enough to fix my life, so why would this move be any different?

  Leon. He would tell me what to do, how to behave, where to go. I wouldn't have to be alone to figure everything out. He would prevent me from doing anything stupid.

  My throat clenched but I tried to relax it. That was what I wanted. I didn't want to be alone, didn't want to figure anything out. I didn't want to think, to feel, to try to understand. I'd only screw it up. Like Dad had made so clear so many times, I was wrong no matter what I did.

  But I couldn't quite believe that this time. Katy had been getting away with what she'd done to Khalid, and now she wouldn't. Or at least Khalid wouldn't have to hide his shame and sadness and confusion. Because I'd told. And though knowing he hated me for it hurt, as I thought about the day's events a tiny spot deep in my chest seemed to glow with a heat I'd never felt before and that heat took the edge off my pain.

  I knew, that tiny spot knew, I'd done the right thing. I had made the decision all by myself and I'd made it a good one. I knew I had. Dad was wrong.

  But that tiny spot wasn't at all sure that my current decision was right, that I should be running away from the aftermath of my decision about Khalid.

  Could that spot, whatever it was, be trusted? Could I be trusted? I'd made so many mistakes, so many bad decisions, after all.

  My stomach twinged as I remembered another decision I'd made, one I didn't think had been bad. I had decided that I would not leave Kuwait before my contract was up. Now, at the first real sign of trouble, I was running.

  Like I'd run from Toronto. And why had I done that? Because my cheating ex-boyfriend had turned out to still be a cheater and I'd forgotten to buy Diet Coke for a woman who would have found something else to bitch about if I had bought the pop and I'd accidentally spelled my godson's name wrong on several entirely unimportant things. At the time it had all seemed so awful that I'd had no choice but to run away and hide from the mess I'd made, but now it seemed petty and insignificant.

  Once I ran from Kuwait, would I feel the same about what now looked like an insurmountable disaster? I did face a lot of awkwardness if I stayed, trying to win back Khalid's trust and Janet's approval and dealing with whatever Amirah and Omar and everyone else thought of me, but if I ran away I'd never know if I could handle it, never know if I was weak like my dad had made me feel or strong like Kegan thought. Strong like I thought I could be.

  Suddenly my own opinion of myself seemed to matter a lot.

  I saw Leon walking back toward me and I knew I did not want him making my decisions for me. I didn't want anyone making them. Anyone but me. Right or wrong, I wanted to make them myself.

  He ducked under the chains again and returned to my side, holding out a water bottle to me. When I didn't take it, he thrust it at me again and said, "Hello?"

  I shook my head. "Leon, I'm not going."

  He set the bottle on my suitcase and opened his own. After a long swig, he said, "Don't be silly. We've got the tickets and everything. It's all set."

  Yes. Set by him. "I don't want to go."

  He finally recognized that I was serious. "Come on, what's the problem? Cold feet? If you'd rather have two hotel rooms we can do that."

  "It's not that. I..." I shook my head. "I'm not done here. I need to stay."

  He frowned. "But you hate it here. We both hate it here."

  I'd always wondered to what the 'it' in that statement referred, and now I knew. It referred to me. To my life. I hated how I'd tried so hard to be someone I wasn't and I hated how awful I felt for failing at that quest, a quest I should never have been on, and I hated my dad for pushing me into that quest and myself for still being on it all these years later because I'd internalized it so deeply I couldn't do anything else.

  Not a single one of my problems would be fixed by running away with Leon. They couldn't be fixed by anyone but me. I needed to learn to trust myself or I'd never stop hating myself. I needed to be on my own, to listen, to wear pink and be girly and do all those things that terrified me though I longed for them, and only then could I be truly happy. Be truly me, and love the true me.

  Without that I'd always be desperate for other people to give me their strength and wisdom instead of relying on my own, and I'd always need a boyfriend to make me feel like I was okay. I wanted to know I was okay no matter who was around me.

  When Omar read my tarot cards they told him I'd have a great relationship coming but I'd have to work at it. What they hadn't told him, but what I now knew more than I'd ever known anything in my life, was that the relationship I needed was with myself. The work I needed to do was on myself.

  I took the water bottle from my suitcase and set it on Leon's. "No. I need to stay here. I'm sorry."

  He stared at me, then shook his head. "Well, I need to go. Don't think I'll stay with you. Don't think you matter that much to me."

  It should have hurt, but it made me smile. "That's okay," I said, gathering up my baggage. "I matter that much to me."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Outside the airport, I turned on my phone. Ignoring
the flashing voicemail indicator, I called Mohammed the taxi driver to arrange for a ride home.

  "Won't be me," he said, the call crackling and rough. "I'm sending someone else. Aziz."

  "That's fine," I said loudly to be sure he could hear me over the poor connection. "A black car like usual?"

  "No. It's being repaired." He said something that sounded like Sarah.

  "Sarah? A woman?"

  "No," he said again, and repeated the word several more times.

  I tried to understand, then saw a white convertible cruise past and remembered one of the Arabic words Omar had taught me on our work breaks. "Zahra? White?"

  Mohammed laughed. "White! Yes, that's it. Very good, Madam."

  I laughed too, feeling like I belonged. "Perfect. Thank you so much."

  Once we'd hung up, I took a deep breath and called Janet.

  "Larissa, we need to--"

  "Janet, I apologize. Completely. I shouldn't have run away like that. I... I promised Khalid I wouldn't tell before I knew what it was and that was a mistake, and then you were so angry that I knew I'd done the wrong thing and I didn't know how to handle everything. I am so sorry. But I'll be back at school on Sunday."

  She didn't speak for a long moment. I was just gathering my nerve to ask her whether I still had a job when she said, "No, Larissa, I'm the one who's sorry. I wasn't angry at you. I was furious with myself."

  That possibility hadn't even crossed my mind. "You were?"

  "I had my doubts about Katy when I hired her. There were some... weirdnesses in her job history. She never seemed to stay at one school for long. But I was desperate so I hired her, and Khalid paid the price."

  Neither of us spoke for a moment, then she gave a small chuckle. "Of course, as you prove, sometimes hiring when you're desperate works out great."

  I smiled, my throat tightening. "That's nice of you to say, but I did it all wrong. I should never have promised him I wouldn't tell."

  "I'll give you that, but you didn't do it all wrong. Everyone who needs to know now knows, and that's because of you. Khalid didn't tell anyone but you, because nobody else tried so hard to get to know him. You made that promise because you cared so much about him. You didn't give up, and it changed everything for him. For the better."

  That little warm spot inside me grew so large that my chest burned with it. Janet's praise felt wonderful, but what felt even better was believing it. Knowing it for myself. I had done well. "Thank you."

  "No, thank you. Now, Nour and Khalid are coming in tomorrow at ten to meet with me. They want to see you too. Khalid is upset, but I think he's starting to understand why you told, and seeing you would make it easier for him. Is that an okay time for you?"

  It was Friday, the first day of my weekend, but I didn't hesitate. "Definitely."

  I could hear a smile in her voice when she said, "Good. I told them you'd be there."

  I smiled too, pleased she'd trusted me enough to return. "You're right. That's where I need to be." But Leon would not be there any more. I considered not telling Janet but then decided that keeping secrets hadn't worked so well for me recently. "One more thing. I think Leon is pulling a runner. Actually, I know he is."

  "Well, that's disappointing," she said, and a pang of guilt hit me for my part in his departure before she added, "I'd made a bet with myself that he'd be gone by the end of February and it's March now."

  I burst into a shocked giggle. "You did?"

  "I never sensed much dedication in him, about anything. And if I may say so, I never thought he was good enough for you."

  "You may," I said, glad she wasn't there to see me blushing. "I think I'll be fine on my own."

  "Larissa, there's no doubt in my mind that you will."

  We ended the call, and I stood waiting for my ride and thinking about how good it felt not to be running away, then my sister popped into my mind.

  Rachel had gone off on her own immediately after my high school graduation. Had she stayed around for me and then run away for herself?

  She had been more the tomboy Dad had wanted, and I'd assumed it had come naturally to her, but for the first time I wondered if she had actually wanted to be that way. Maybe she had been trying to play her part just as I had, and once I was more or less an adult she had gone off to become herself.

  I punched in an email on my phone, telling her where I was and asking how she was doing and giving her a hint of how I'd decided to stay put and figure things out rather than try to flee my problems again. I didn't know if she'd write back right away, but that didn't matter. I wasn't going anywhere.

  As I sent the email, a large white car pulled up before me and Aziz said, "Good evening, Madam," out his open window and popped open the car's trunk.

  "Yes, it is," I said, smiling, and tossed my suitcase into the trunk before climbing into the car.

  "Home?"

  I started to say yes, then said, "Actually, there's one place I want to go first."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  "Shall I wait for you, Madam?"

  "If you don't mind, that'd be great. I won't be long."

  Aziz nodded and pulled an Arabic book from beneath his car's seat. "I'll be here."

  I thanked him and walked into the shopping mall feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness and a deep peace. What I was about to do would be no big deal to someone like Lydia, but for me it meant everything.

  I went directly to the store where I'd seen the dresses while shopping with Katherine and Omar, found the pink dress in my size, and marched straight into an open fitting room.

  Taking off my clothes was no problem. Putting the dress on, though... the soft fabric felt wonderful in my hands and I felt sure it would feel even better on my entire body, but at first I couldn't quite manage it. I wanted to open myself up to who I really was, but the other voices in my head, my dad's and Greg's and Leon's, made that so difficult. Even Katherine had said the dress was ridiculously pretty. Did that make it wrong?

  No. There was nothing wrong with wearing something ridiculously pretty occasionally. Or all the time. Whatever felt right. I took a deep breath, murmured, "I love pink," and drew the dress over my head.

  It floated down around me, the skirt's hem swaying for a moment before hanging still against my calves, and I didn't need to look at myself in the mirror to know I adored it.

  I did look, though, and the dress and I might have been made for each other. The one in Dubai had been a riot of ruffles, but this one was sleek while still being soft and pretty and I loved every inch of it.

  I stayed in the fitting room for longer than I needed to, swishing myself back and forth and growing more comfortable with the way the dress followed my body in feminine perfection, then remembered with shock that poor Aziz was still waiting.

  Once I'd scrambled out of the dress and back into my own clothes, I hurried out toward the cash registers but smacked my hip against a tall rack of necklaces which tumbled to the ground with an alarming crash.

  A wave of sick self-hatred flooded me at being such a clumsy idiot, but I looked at the pink fabric draped over my arm and pushed it back. I'm not an idiot and I'm not clumsy. I was rushing and I didn't see it. Not the same thing. I bent to retrieve the rack and the necklaces that had fallen off it and added to myself, "I made a mistake and I'm fixing it. No need to feel bad."

  "Madam, are you all right?"

  I looked up at the agitated salesclerk. "I'm fine. I just bumped into this." I added, "I'm sorry," and realized that the self-hatred wasn't rising nearly as much as it usually would have when I apologized for a mistake. I'd messed up, but I recognized that it wasn't a big deal.

  She shook her head. "No, no, it's not your fault. Three people have stumbled over it today, four with you. It is in the wrong place, and I will tell the boss when he arrives that we must move it right away."

  Unless all four of us were clumsy idiots, I'd been right not to blame myself. I smiled at her then helped her pick up the necklaces, fee
ling happier than I ever had after knocking something over. I'd avoided the 'everything I do is wrong' trap once, and that meant I'd be able to do it again. And again and again, until I truly did love myself.

  I bought the dress then picked up the bag to leave, but it didn't feel right. I didn't want to carry it hidden away in its bag. "Do you mind if I go put it on?"

  "Of course not." She smiled. "Something so pretty should be worn all the time."

  I smiled back as she removed the tags. "I think so too." I wouldn't be able to wear it to work, unless I could find a cardigan or jacket that suited it, but I would wear it as often as I could otherwise. And maybe I'd even find it a friend or two that could go to work. I didn't want to hide from my true self any more.

  When I emerged again with my old clothes in the bag, the clerk looked up and her eyes widened. "Madam, you look wonderful."

  I felt my cheeks going pink to match the dress, but I didn't feel awkward or wrong. I felt wonderful. I felt like me. "Thank you."

  I walked back to the exit where my driver waited, feeling the fabric swishing against my legs and loving it. He looked up, and his eyes widened as the clerk's had, but he didn't say anything but, "Home now, Madam?"

  "Yes, please. And thank you for waiting."

  He nodded and waited until I was settled in the car before driving off. I leaned my head against the window frame and thought about how different the dress was from my clothes in the suitcase and at my feet. Nearly everything in my suitcase was like the contents of the bag: a desperate attempt to deny my own girly nature.

  A shock hit me. One thing in the suitcase was even worse than that. It was a symbol of the hatred I'd felt for myself and my doubts in myself, doubts I was finally learning not to feel. I should never have brought it to Kuwait, and all at once the idea of taking it home to my apartment felt horribly wrong.