Perfectly Normal

by Jaden Wilkes

  “Whatever,” she replied and turned to leave. “I’m going to find Dimitri,” she said and stormed away from the concierge.

  “You won’t find your knowledge at the end of his cock,” he called out to her as she left, “and you won’t find him at all right now. He’s on a call with Madrid.”

  She slammed the door as best she could, but it was a large door on a pneumatic hinge so the effect was less than satisfactory. She would have given anything to slam something like her old bedroom door. It had been made of cheap, hollow pressboard. Now that gave one hell of a good feeling when storming away from somebody.

  She ran to her and Dimi’s room and flung herself on the bed. She’d been at this training for five weeks now and felt like she was going half mad. She never quite got the results she wanted and she was ready to give up.

  She even missed home. More specifically she missed her freedom and she missed Eden. She hadn’t spoken to Eden in over a week, and only when Dimitri and the concierge had set up a secure line for her to call out. She was sick of being treated like an imbecile, she was sick of being trapped and she was sick to death of being afraid of something that happened long before she came along.

  She decided to call her little sister against their orders. They’d been here long enough for her to deduce that nothing was happening, and how would his enemies know where she was, or even who she was?

  She hesitated. The other concern was that the police would still be looking for her after the murder of her father. Her stepfather. She was starting to allow herself to call him this now that she had killed him. Calling him anything but father had been one of the biggest sins in her former life, one that would often result in a beating and possibly more in the dark cover of night.

  What if they were monitoring Eden’s phone?

  She decided to fuck it, and call anyhow. She was desperate for some connection and a modicum of stability, especially given her pent up anxiety.

  Eden picked up on the first ring, “Hey!” she exclaimed brightly. “You weren’t supposed to call for another day or two. Can we Skype? I want to show you my new hair.”

  “Sure,” Columbia replied, “I’ll call right back.” Eden was notorious for getting different hair each week. At least Columbia knew the millions they’d given her family was going to something beyond her mother’s gambling and drinking.

  Eden answered the video chat immediately and said, “Ta-da,” as she bent her head down and moved it back and forth for Columbia to get the full effect.

  “Wow,” Columbia answered, “that’s very…pink!”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of a girly girl this week,” Eden giggled.

  “Did you ever talk to the admissions people at St. Michaels?” she asked. Now that they could afford it, she wanted Eden to go to the best private school in Vancouver. Eden seemed really reluctant to leave her current school and all her friends though.

  “Yeah, about that,” Eden said and trailed off. “It’s just that I really don’t want to go. I’ll be going there in grade nine and I don’t know how well I’ll do with all the preppy douchebags. I like my school. All my friends are there and Ethan…”

  “Ethan who?” Columbia asked, surprised. Eden had never mentioned a boy before.

  “Just this guy I met, he transferred in from North Vancouver. His parents moved over here.”

  “You’re a little too young to have a boyfriend,” Columbia said sternly but felt helpless. She couldn’t enforce it from here and their mother was essentially useless when it came to dealing with her daughters.”

  “I know, but he’s not my boyfriend. And I don’t want to wait until I’m practically a forty year old virgin like you,” Eden replied and blushed as if instantly regretting her hasty words. “Oh hey, Mom’s home. Say Hi!”

  Before Columbia could protest, she saw the blur of the new kitchen in their new house as Eden handed the phone over. Her mother’s face filled the screen before Columbia had time to click the end button or feign a late appointment. She never had been able to explain to her mother the reason behind killing her father. Columbia knew the other woman had to know something was up all those years, but to speak of it to her was too much.

  “Columbia, where are you?” her mother asked right off the bat.

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” she answered. “How are you mom?”

  “How do you think I am? I’m still mourning. Widowed for the second time? Having to explain to everyone that my own daughter killed my husband. Seriously, how do you think I feel?”

  Her mother had obviously had some cosmetic work done but it couldn’t cover the years of hard drinking and hard living. She still looked pinched and angry, even with new hair, new make-up and new clothes.

  “I’m sorry,” Columbia replied, but not sorry one bit. Killing that man had been the best thing she’d ever done. She’d single handedly saved herself and Eden. And Dimitri, if what he said was true. She believed him though, that she had saved him from himself, from going deranged with paranoia.

  “Sorry ain’t gonna cut it, Col. Is that all the money you’re sending us or will there be more?”

  Columbia had transferred the contents of her own seven-figure account to her mom, and she knew Dimitri had sent a few million more. How could she have possibly spent even a portion of the money by now? “We’ll send more when you need it,” Columbia replied. “Is the house ok?”

  “Yeah, it’s nice,” her mom reluctantly agreed. They had purchased her mom and Eden a five thousand square foot mansion close to the UBC Endowment Lands. It was on a huge private lot overlooking the ocean.

  “How’s the staff? Is Eden getting along with her tutor?” Columbia asked. Eden’s tutor was actually a highly paid bodyguard, sent there to watch over Eden in case anyone made the connection between Dimitri’s new houseguest and her former life.

  “She’s nice, Eden seems to like her,” her mother replied. “She hangs around too much maybe, but Eden needs somebody. I’m just so busy these days.”

  “Ok mom, I have to go, tell Eden I love her. Bye,” Columbia said and hit the end button finally. She just couldn’t keep up this façade any longer. She knew what her mother meant by busy, she meant gambling and drinking and fucking whatever men she could drag between her legs. At least Eden would be protected, Columbia was glad they had seen to that. The call wore her down, to face her mother, the woman who had put her in such peril in the first place, and the woman who had abandoned her to the wolf in her fairy tale life.

  Columbia rolled off the bed and paced the room. She knew she’d have to deal with the bitter emotions her mother brought up in her at some point, but not today.

  She had a quick shower to ease her frustration but it didn’t work. She dried her hair and carefully applied her make up as the woman who delivered it had taught her. She chose casual but beautiful and luxurious clothing, pants and a blouse. She paused in front of the floor length mirror in her closet and barely recognized herself. She looked elegant and monied. Not the same ratty girl she used to be.

  It was only ten in the morning and she suspected Dimitri would be busy for hours on the phone or on Skype. He dealt with his associates this way, still never leaving the penthouse. Columbia had only been out a couple of times with the concierge, she needed to work on Dimitri’s confidence. She’d been encouraging him to deal with his facial scarring lately. She thought he might be warming up to the idea.

  “Fuck it,” she muttered and grabbed her purse. It was crocodile Birkin Bag, something she’d once only dreamed of after seeing it on a “Sex in the City” episode. Now it was hers, as many as she wanted. She thought about going to get the concierge but decided against it. She wanted to explore the city on her own for a little while without his watchful eye.

  She slipped on some comfortable but stylish shoes and left through the front door. She almost decided against her plan when she was heading down the elevator, but decided she needed to conquer this fear. She didn’t want to end up like Dimitri, hiding away
. She knew she would be nameless and faceless among the residents of the city; she could blend in as long as she didn’t show her arms or torso.

  She decided to not call their driver and hopped on a bus. She rode to Central Station and bought herself a Coke, feeling giddy with this small act of rebellion. She watched the crowds pass for a time, overwhelmed by the sheer number of people coming and going. She was going to head back when a little voice encouraged her to spread her wings farther. It might have been her reaction to losing to the concierge every time they fought, it might have been the bitter bile she’d bottled after speaking to her mother…or it might have simply been her long-suppressed wild side, but she decided to listen.

  She bought a ticket and got on the Star Ferry to Tsim Sha Tsui, intending to hit the open-air markets in Mongkok. She sat near a window and felt the ocean breeze on her face, listened to the Cantonese and various languages around her and basically enjoyed her time alone.

  She walked all the way to Mongkok, pausing along the way to shop at some of the nicer places on Nathan Road, dodging the hawkers and their calls of, “Madam, handbag? Copy watches? Madam?”

  She might have followed them to their stores a year ago, but these days she didn’t need to purchase knock offs. Her trip to the market was more for the experience than to haggle for counterfeit Ed Hardy clothing and Coach purses.

  She found the Lady’s Market and was not disappointed. She cursed her greed along the way and found it difficult to maneuver through the thick clots of people with all the shopping bags hanging from her wrists.

  Columbia felt absolutely uplifted with her freedom though. The scents of the street, even the bad ones coming from food stands and restaurants made her feel connected to the city somehow. She took in the movement of the crowds and the sharp sounds of languages foreign to her ears. She loved every minute of it and felt positively exotic, like an early explorer on a grand adventure. She paused and got caught up staring at a stall of Angry Bird stuffed toys, wondering if pink haired Ethan-loving Eden would even like these things anymore.

  She felt a tug on her hand and in a flash a young man made off with several of her bags. “Hey, stop him!” she cried out but nobody heard or cared. She was one of a million people on the streets today, and nobody wanted to get involved.

  She raced after him and luckily the thick crowds catching on her shopping bags slowed him. She almost caught up right before he darted into a side street. She ran around the corner and saw a flash of colour near the end of the block and he turned yet again into another side street. She was in hot pursuit, too fast and angry to notice that she was being lead into a trap.

  She dodged around the corner and he was standing there, bags on the ground and kicked to the side. It was then that she noticed how dangerous he looked, this was no common street thief, she was sure of it. He was Chinese, much taller than her, lean and strong. His hair was cropped short and his clothing was stylish but loose in the fashion of Hong Kong’s underground cage fighters. His eyes were beautiful, too deep and soulful to belong to a petty criminal. He looked more like a poet than somebody who steals for a living.

  She determined that he must belong to one of the more powerful gangs to be found here, but Columbia could see no tattoos. Dimitri had been schooling her in the monarchy of the underground, the various gangs and organizations found worldwide. He felt it necessary to know who she was going to kill when the time came.

  “Just give me the bags and I’ll let you go,” she told him, hoping he’d not noticed the tremble in her voice.

  “You’ll let me go?” he said in perfect English. He had a slight British accent. “I think I’ll be the one making that decision today.”

  “Just give me my things and I won’t call the police,” she said again, hoping to convince herself this time. She edged towards the larger street as it was more populated. She wanted to keep him distracted before she turned and ran, to give herself a slight lead.

  He noticed and leapt for her. She twisted and turned away, but he had hold of her arm. He dragged her back and she screamed, “Help me! Cheng gao oh!” She hoped her butchered Cantonese would bring more attention, but it didn’t.

  He laid a blow to the back of her head that stunned her. She felt the ground shift under her feet and the walls spun. She fought passing out, terrified to be taken to a second location. She thought about Dimitri and found a surge of strength. She feinted falling forward and felt him lean to hold her from hitting the ground. She took advantage of this and turned in his arms, bringing her knee up to his cock as she did.

  He fell away with a loud, “Oomph,” and she took her chance to get free. She turned back and darted, leaving all her things behind. She looked back to see her attacker doubled over but recovering quickly. He lunged for her and grabbed her arm again. She struggled to get away, pulling desperately, her head down and her feet digging into the concrete.

  All at once she hit a wall of muscle and felt solid arms around her as the thief let her go. She panicked and started to kick and bite to gain her freedom once again.

  “Settle down Columbia, I’ve got you,” she heard. It took her a moment before she recognized the concierge. She started weeping as she clung to him, hating her weakness but overcome with relief that she wasn’t going to die. That she would see Dimitri again.

  “How did you find me?” she gasped and held onto his arm for support. “I was almost…I don’t know, I don’t know if he was going to rob me, rape me or kidnap me.”

  “And you’d never know if this was real,” she heard from behind her. She whirled and saw her attacker standing, holding her dropped shopping bags.

  “That’s him!” she cried to the concierge and moved behind him. “That’s the fucker who attacked me!”

  “I know,” the concierge replied with disgust in his voice, “I arranged this entire thing.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, stunned by the revelation.

  “I’m sorry, siu zche, I did not mean to scare you so badly,” her attacker said and held her bags out to her in a gesture of goodwill.

  “Why would you do this?” she asked the concierge, getting angrier and angrier as each second passed.

  “We thought it would be appropriate to test your skill level,” he told her and took her shopping bags from the attacker.

  “Who? You mean you and Dimitri? Why would you do this to me?” she asked.

  The concierge didn’t reply, but turned to the attacker, handed him a wad of bills and said, “Thank you. Dimitri will call you when he needs your services again.”

  The attacker took the money, bowed slightly to Columbia, turned and walked away.

  “The car is parked over there,” the concierge said and gestured to the end of the street. “Shall I carry your things for you?”

  “Fine,” Columbia said and stomped to the car to stew on their way home. She didn’t know if she was angrier at being bested by the attacker, or being proven right by the concierge and Dimitri. She did know she would be rage fucking her lover tonight in order to get over this maelstrom of emotions.

  *****

  “I can’t believe you’d fucking set me up like that,” Columbia screamed as Dimitri sat silent, letting her vent. Knowing that he was letting her vent added to her anger. She was so out of her element and it was finally getting to her.

  “We did it to show you how important it is to learn everything that you are being taught,” he said quietly. He was sitting on the chaise in their bedroom and she paced back and forth in front of him.

  She stopped in her tracks, turned to him and said, “You think I don’t know how fucking important this is? You think I want to die, or get raped, or kidnapped? Of course I don’t want that!”

  “You should know that you cannot go off on your own from now on though, you are too vulnerable and too valuable to have this kind of freedom,” he told her.

  She knew he was right, but she wasn’t done. “I don’t want to end up here, trapped like a fucking animal, living like
an animal. Like you!” She saw him wince on her last remark. She had hit a sore point and felt a surge of satisfaction at hurting him. She kept going though, twisting the knife she’d slung at him to see the pain in his eyes, “You’re pathetic, letting your enemies control you like this. I’d do anything it took to prevent myself from becoming like you. You are lifeless, simply existing.”

  He stood and she backed up, waiting for his fist or the back of his hand at least. Instead she saw his eyes full of defeat as he said, “Yes, ending up like me is the worst possible fate to befall a person. I can see why you would consider that paramount to your death.” He walked past her to the door, crossing the room in a couple of long strides.

  “Dimi!” she called as he left, “I didn’t mean it like that!”

  He shut the door behind him and she was left alone. Suddenly being right or self righteous or indignant didn’t seem that important. Suddenly hurting the man she loved seemed childish and horrible, and she didn’t like it.

  She sunk to the chaise where he had just been. She could still feel the heat from his body and smell his scent on the fabric. She grabbed the pillow and held it to her stomach and started to cry. There was so much going on inside of her and she didn’t know how to handle any of it. On top of that, she was turning into a cruel beast to Dimitri.

  She felt the urge to cut herself, to relieve this pent up emotion, but Dimitri’s warning words forced her to reconsider. He had ordered her before they came to Hong Kong that he would no longer tolerate her destroying her skin, that she belonged to him and he wouldn’t have it.

  She loved him for protecting her from herself, but needed an outlet somewhere. More than that though, she needed Dimitri. She had to go apologize, to let him know how miserable her attack had made her.

  She found him in the gym with his boxing gloves already on. The concierge was nowhere in sight, so at least Dimitri hadn’t run to him with the news of Columbia’s terrible treatment. He was standing in front of a sand-filled punching bag, not moving.