Where Truth Lies (Love vs. Loyalty Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

  The little girl leaned back, checking him out from head to toe. Stephen snickered beneath his breath. Sometimes, kids would cry when he came around. He could admit that his translucent skin could evoke thoughts of vampires. He tried not to let the reaction faze him. This little child, however, stared him down and then let her thumb free.

  Stephen waited quietly to see what she would do. Her braids clacked noisily together as she smiled wide, revealing two missing front teeth, and waved enthusiastically back at him. His eyes crinkled at the corners from his amusement and he had to restrain the urge to buy her a candy for her sweetness. Most parents wouldn’t appreciate that, so he refrained.

  When it was his turn to place his baskets on the counter, the young lady behind the cash register stared at him.

  “G-good night, sir.” She said, her voice trembling.

  He ignored the fear in her tone and responded kindly. “Good night.”

  He began placing his items on the conveyor belt and she kept her eyes carefully away from him as she scanned in his items. When he was a teenager, Stephen would have fled home in tears. He would have railed to the heavens, bashing God for making him this way, for creating him so uniquely.

  He was way past those days and had come to expect the strange looks. His albinism was a skin condition, not a life threatening disease. He’d given up on the hope that people would eventually get used to his appearance. Now, Stephen accepted the comments, the stares, and the discomfort in stride.

  The cashier quietly named his total and he paid in cash, accepting his bags from the boy at the helm of the counter and striding out the door. Beyond his medical aversion to sunlight, Stephen simply enjoyed the solitude of his own house. As blasé as he’d become about being the center of attention everywhere that he went, he enjoyed not being regarded like a side-show attraction.

  He trotted to his car. The farther Stephen got from the store, the more buoyed he felt. His cupboards would no longer be bare. He really should hire someone to go grocery shopping for him so he didn’t have to.

  He’d get right on that.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mali Staine sat in the small, cramped office at the University of Belize. The ceiling fan turned around and around in a circle but she felt none of its effects as sweat beaded on her forehead. The wooden chair beneath her was hard and uncomfortable. She shifted her bum to rest more comfortably and pulled at her blue blouse.

  Plaques on the wall boasted that the University was a licensed educational facility. Personal photos of the Dean with the Prime Minister also graced the cream enclosure. The cubicles had open spaces that allowed private conversations to carry. Mali squirmed in embarrassment as she realized that everyone sitting in the waiting room would be able to hear her plight.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Staine.” Mr. Alamina, the finance officer, plopped his body in the chair behind the small Formica covered desk. His girth jiggled a bit before resettling into place around his abdomen. His greasy black hair was combed to the front of his head and the smell of cheap cologne swirled around her, prompting a cough. “I’ve found your file.” He flipped Mali’s folder open. “It says here that you’ve been late on two payments and you haven’t paid anything down for this month.”

  “I know.” The young woman fingered the tiny string of her backpack. “I’m trying to come up with the money. I need more time.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Staine.” Mr. Alamina said but his face betrayed no such sentiments. “The rules are that you have to pay for the semester or else you will be taken off the class list.”

  Mali allowed the hopelessness to seep into her voice as she petitioned the man for mercy. “I can’t make it this month. I have other responsibilities.”

  He leaned forward, thumping her file closed with his fat fingers as if he were ready to move on from her case. “I’m sure there are other avenues you can pursue. Say, a government grant, a loan, a scholarship?”

  “It’s too late in the semester to qualify for any of those. I thought I could make it but,” Mali lowered her voice. “I just got fired from my job and my mom has hospital bills-”

  Mr. Alamina raised a fat palm. His hand looked as though a rabid mosquito had infected him with a life threatening disease for the limb was painfully swollen. The fat beneath his chin jiggled like a ripple of the tide against the shore. “I wish I could help you. I really do. But rules are rules. When you come up with the money, you can return to class.”

  “But what if I can’t make it by next week? I won’t be able to return to school until next semester.”

  “Hear what.” He jotted something on a crumpled piece of paper. “I’m going to write your name down and lengthen the payment period to two months. If you can’t make the payment this semester, I’ll speak to the Dean of Admission so you don’t have to reapply next year. Okay?”

  Withholding tears, Mali nodded her head, her fat braids bouncing against her back with the movement. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Of course,” he said valiantly as though he had saved the day.

  Rising unsteadily on her feet, Mali trekked out of the open office, glancing at the people who had probably overheard her conversation. They bestowed her with pitying glances and sorrowful eyes. She passed them slowly and walked down the long hall to the gravel road winding down to the University campus. Her arms felt like lead and her feet threatened to buckle at any minute.

  She couldn’t drop out of school now. Her mother depended on her. She only had two more semesters left until she’d graduate with her nursing degree. That paycheck was supposed to be the catalyst the Staine women needed to pay off their bills and get back on their feet. Now Mali was stuck with no job, no way to pay for school, and no way to pay for her mother’s mounting medical debts.

  Mali made it to the bus stop around the corner and wilted against the black iron bench. She was tired and though the hospital was only a few blocks away from her school, she didn’t have the heart or the energy to walk there. A few minutes later, a large bus came chugging down the lane. Mali quietly boarded and took a seat at the front. She didn’t feel like listening to the chatter that usually came from the back rows today.

  As the bus rumbled to life, she set her face against the cool glass and watched the passing scenery roll by. Belize was a melting pot of cultures and the University revealed the cultural diversity. White faces, black faces, tan faces, long hair, short hair, curly and straight waltzed before her, streaming through the tan gates at the front of the campus.

  The lush forests nearby seemed to demand attention, battling with the infrastructure built around it with arrogance and pride. As the scenery changed and the houses grew more numbered, she thought of her mother.

  Mali was Helena Staine’s only child. Her mother and father had divorced some time ago and though Mali had many step-sisters and step-brothers, she felt no urgency to find them or get to know them in any way. They were too numerous to think about. She recalled the words of a poem by L. Goodison describing such a father.

  The man she made him with had more

  like him, he was fair-minded

  he treated all his children

  with equal and unbiased indifference.

  If there was one thing Mali could say about the man who donated his sperm to her existence, it was that he was a very fair man in his indifference which he distributed equally to all of the children who were conceived by him.

  Mali scoffed and tried not to think about that part of her life. She had a Father and He’d been around for longer than she’d been on earth. Didn’t lessen her other daddy issues one bit though.

  The bus cruised down the lane of the hospital and she stood, preparing to disembark. After depositing a dollar into the weathered palm of the driver, she cruised down the bus steps and walked the few blocks to the clinic.

  The Kandy H. Martinez Hospital was a public hospital that catered to the poorer dregs of their Belizean society. People who couldn’t afford the fancy medical center downtown, arrived in droves to
seek medical attention.

  Mali flashed her ID at the security guard near the information desk and trotted up the stairs to her mother’s room. The hospital smelled of Clorox and urine. The floors were clean and the orderlies walking around in white smocks seemed confident enough, but Mali ached to whisk her mother to the private hospital where she would have more peace of mind. Alas, this was impossible. She could barely afford to pay the bill collecting at this place.

  Glancing up, Mali read the sign on the second floor and realized that she was in the right place. A burly security guard sat at the front door.

  “Hey, Al.” She flashed her social security card at him out of habit but Al was used to her presence.

  She was no stranger to this ward. Mali jogged into the wide lobby where nurses and doctors darted in and out behind a huge circular desk. She turned to her left and made her way down the short hall as the scent of Clorox grew stronger. Someone, hoping to mask the scent of destitution, threw a boatload of the cleaner onto the floor and walls. The fumes alone were keeping people sick.

  “Mali,” her mother glanced up the minute she entered.

  “Hi, Mom.” She said bravely walking over to the bed upon which her mother rested.

  . There were twelve other beds in the room. Each one was occupied by a man or woman in some form of pain or need. The woman directly beside her mother had been abused by her boyfriend. Her side and face were badly bruised. The man across from them had an infected stub where his left arm should be. Mali was always uncomfortable when she came here.

  “What did the finance officer say?” Helena Staine asked without preamble, trying to rise.

  The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Nausea, dizziness, headaches, and pain in her hands and feet were the symptoms of a myriad of diseases. The Staines were also knee deep in arrears. The hospital’s hands were tied. They had to settle their bill before any major X-rays or scans could be performed on her mother.

  Such was life. Mali Staine could not catch a break.

  “Mom, don’t worry about that, okay?”

  Helena closed her brown eyes and sighed deeply. “They kicked you out, didn’t they? All those schools want is money.” Helena pursed her lips and shook her head, her thin black hair crazily following the movement.

  If someone peeked into the brightly lit room, they would not imagine that Helena and Mali were relatives, and certainly not mother and daughter. Helena always thought her child favored her father more.

  Mali’s skin was lighter than her mother’s dark ebony. Her hair was curlier and longer, thanks to the Mayan blood coursing through the charming man that had pried Helena’s heart and her legs open. Mali’s features were rounder and more pleasant which spurred a constant fear in Helena’s heart.

  The neighborhood in which they lived was not conducive to such a pretty face. Sooner or later someone very like Mali’s father – someone handsome and sneaky – would try to swoop into her daughter’s life.

  Helena only prayed that she’d given Mali the sense to balance her heart with her head.

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’m looking for another job. I can do anything. I just need… a certain amount of money now.”

  Mali pulled at the hem of her T-shirt nervously. Her desire was to return to school, but her mother’s health came first. If they wanted to afford the scans that Helena needed, she’d have to find another job. And fast.

  “I wish you wouldn’t put that kind of pressure on yourself.” Helena pleaded. “Let me apply for my social security benefits.”

  “Mom,” Mali said firmly, “that won’t help.” She lowered her voice so the people on the beds stuffed next to her mother’s wouldn’t hear. “You know that won’t cover a fraction of what we owe. Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. Now that I can work full-time, I can make more money.”

  “Don’t you dare give up on school now.” Helena insisted. “You promise me, Mali.”

  Shaken, Mali nodded her head. “I promise.”

  Helena winced and Mali saw that it was time to go. Her mother’s weak smile was the only hope that Mali received from this visit.

  “We’ll find a way to make it, Malz.” Her mother used her childhood pet name and instantly it brought to mind thoughts of playing in the park and licking ice cream cones on a Saturday evening. “We’ll make it work.”

  Reaching out, Mali clasped her mother’s bony hand and squeezed it lightly.

  “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” Mali promised.

  “I’ll see you.” Her mother shooed her out of the room and closed her eyes, slipping easily into a deep sleep.

  Mali retraced her steps, waving at Al as she passed his booth and stepping quickly down the stairs until she stood in the sunshine once more. She took in great gulps of air. The hospital always felt depressing and sad.

  She hated that her mother was stuck there. She hated that there was nothing she could do to make her well. Mali took a few moments to throw herself a gala of a pity party until she allowed the sunshine to steal back into her countenance. She had access to another place that promised healing to all its citizens.

  She’d hold on to that promise with all of her might.

  Buoyed by the thought, Mali stuck her hands in her pockets and walked to the nearest drug store to purchase a newspaper. Her last job had been as an assistant to one of the Turkish salesmen in the downtown stretch of Belize City.

  The recent dip in the economy had prompted Sirhe, her boss, to let her go. She’d gotten that job based on a recommendation from a friend. Mali really had no idea how to go about securing a job for herself but she was determined to find out.

  How hard could it be for a woman with an Associates Degree in General Studies and half a Bachelors degree in nursing to find a decent job?

  The answer was very.

  Nothing appealed to Mali. She was twenty-two years old and though she knew becoming a cashier or a temp at an agency or working at the call center would be easy enough, her needs extended beyond the pitiful paychecks those jobs offered. She still nursed a secret hope that she could work out a deal with the school to pay a lesser portion of the payment plan a month.

  To do that and afford her mother’s bills, she needed to find a position with a more generous paycheck. Mali tucked a braid behind her ear as she perused the newspaper in the corner of the drug store. She could do this. She had to.

  Giving up was not even close to an option.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Stephen trailed into the drugstore as night descended on Belize City. He was anxious to get back home. Any minute now the stocks could change and he wanted to be near his computer when it happened.

  Becoming successful in buying and selling stocks had a lot to do with good research and intuition. He checked his phone again as Kevin, his local pharmacist, filled his prescription for painkillers. His pale eyes couldn’t deal with the glare of the computer and though his glasses were very strong, he suffered from frequent headaches. The drug store was a part of his monthly routine.

  “Stephen!” Kevin greeted him fondly. “I didn’t expect you until later this week.”

  “I went grocery shopping,” Stephen explained, “so I figured I’d get this order refilled at the same time.”

  The darker man smiled. “You still staring at those tiny screens, boi?”

  Kevin treated him with the same jolly attitude he’d give to a regular guy (which Stephen was). Stephen considered him a friend.

  “I’ve got to keep on top of my game or I could lose a lot of money.” Stephen glanced up at the thick man in the white apron. “It’s consuming so much of my time, I can’t even clean my house properly. I’d give a lot if someone would offer to come take care of the place so I’d have one less thing to worry about.”

  “Ah,” Kevin waved his hand and disappeared into the back, yelling as he continued their conversation. “You just need to take more breaks. Clean your own house.”

  Stomping his feet to shake the itchy n
umbness climbing up his legs from driving; he pushed his glasses up his nose and checked his stocks again, perusing the web for new ventures to invest in. Kevin reappeared not a minute later and handed him a white bag with the tiny pills that made Stephen’s occupation doable.

  “Thanks man.” He handed the pharmacist the money for the medicine.

  “No prob, Stephen. Take care of yourself. You hear me?”

  “I will.” Stephen grinned at the man, thinking that Kevin was the male version of his mother. He then stepped out of the store, the tinkling bells over the glass declaring his exit. Stephen breathed in the night air and gazed for a minute at the stars overhead before moving to his truck.

  Back in the store, Mali was biting her lip. The tall man with the white, white skin was an albino. She knew that. It had something to do with melanin, white hair and pale features. She didn’t particularly care about his appearance.

  Her mind recalled the words, “I’d pay anything”.

  After staring at jobs that would offer minimum wage while sucking the life out of her, she wondered if the guy would be interested in a cook and cleaning woman. She could do both and charge her own fee. That way, she’d have autonomy and be able to demand more money than she’d make staying all day behind a desk in the call center.

  Biting down on her lip, Mali watched the tall man make his order and then receive it, chattering non-stop with the pharmacist behind the counter. Pride held her in her seat. Though she was far from rich, her mother had needled into her mind the downfalls of begging for anything. The Staine women were wildly independent and it was a hard habit to break now.

  Mali watched the white, white man stride outside and still she sat down. Glancing again at the newspaper before her, she tried to reason her way out of getting up. What if he laughed at her? Outright rejected her? What if he insulted her and she walked away with nothing to show for it but a bruised ego.