Secret: The Maid And The Sheikh

by Lara Hunter

  "I told you you could bring him here," Adil ground out through clenched teeth. "You could have let him play anywhere. Anywhere but in here!"

  "I—"

  "I had one rule, Tracey!"

  Tracey bit off her reply, stepping back. She pressed her lips together tightly, and she could see Adil struggling to hold back his anger too.

  "I know it's not your fault," he said slowly. "I'm just—"

  "Adil." Tracey’s voice was quiet. She was already regretting what she was about to do as she picked up the photograph from the desk. She forced herself to meet his eyes as she handed it to him. "Have you been hiding something from me?"

  He took the photo from her, looking down at it with a strange mixture of anger and regret in his eyes.

  "Leave," he said, his voice deathly quiet. "Take Charlie and go home."

  Tracey pushed on. "I saw the documents on your computer. Who is Matt? Who was that man in the airport? I just want to understand—"

  "I said go!" Adil barked, loud enough to make Tracey jump. "Now!"

  Tracey held her ground a moment longer, wishing she knew what to do, but finally she turned and hurried out, closing the door behind her, shutting Adil into the dark room alone. She knew this was how it had to be, but she wished it could have ended any other way.

  It didn't feel like her heart was shattering; it felt like it had been pulled out of her chest whole. There was a ragged emptiness there that didn't hurt so much as ache, leeching the feeling and color from everything around it.

  She gathered Charlie and his things in silence, taking them down to the car. Charlie said nothing at first, knowing he was in trouble and thinking their early departure was punishment. But as they drove home and Tracey remained silent, he began to realize something was wrong.

  "Mom?" he said quietly. "Mom, are you okay?"

  Tracey said nothing, not trusting herself to talk.

  Charlie tried again. "Mom? Are you mad at me? I'm sorry I broke the rules. I won't do it again."

  Tracey kept her eyes focused on the road and her jaw clenched tight, afraid if she loosened it to speak she might start crying.

  "Mom, please." Charlie was getting worried now and was tearing up himself. "Mom, please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry!"

  Tracey felt her will starting to give and pulled off the road. She parked on the shoulder, put her head against the steering wheel, and took several long, deep breaths. Charlie was crying in the backseat, confused and frightened by her behavior. Slowly, one breath at a time, Tracey brought herself back under control.

  "Everything is okay, honey," she said, sitting up again. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

  She turned and reached back to pet his hair gently, repeating that everything was okay until he could speak again.

  "You're not mad?" he croaked through his tears.

  "You're still in trouble," she said, "but no, I'm not mad at you. I'm upset about something else, and I just need to be quiet for a little while, okay?"

  "Okay." Charlie nodded, though he still looked worried.

  "Thanks, buddy," Tracey said gratefully. She squeezed his shoulder and turned back to face forward. She drove the rest of the way home in much-needed quiet. Like mist on the morning road, her fears and her worries slowly evaporated, leaving her as blank as a white bathroom tile, cold and unconcerned. It would all come crashing back later. For now, all that mattered was getting Charlie home and safe. She could collapse later.

  TWELVE

  She didn't go to work the next day, Adil's demand that she leave still ringing in her ears. She called in sick and stayed in bed. It solved the problem of figuring out where to send Charlie for the day at least. He watched cartoons disconsolately, occasionally coming in to check on her. Around noon, carrying a messily made peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he climbed into bed with her, convinced her to eat half, and curled up next to her like he intended to will her sorrow away personally. Tracey stroked his hair and thought about how lucky she was to have him, in spite of everything.

  About an hour later she managed to get herself out of bed. She cleaned up the mess Charlie had made preparing the sandwich earlier and made two more for both of them. They sat on the couch together in uncomfortable silence, one numb and the other concerned but helpless, and ate while cartoons wheeled meaninglessly and colorfully by on the television.

  The doorbell rang, breaking their tenuous peace. Tracey shook herself awake and stood, checking briefly to make sure she was decent before going to open the door. She expected it to be Detta, back from Georgia early. She had a wild hope that it might be Adil, ready to forgive her, to open up and explain everything. The last person she expected was Derek.

  He looked better than she would have expected. The last time she'd seen him, he had been a wreck with barely anything to his name. Now he was clean shaven and well dressed, his eyes the same worn-blue-jean color she remembered, his hair sandy blond and swept back from his rugged, square face. She'd thought he was handsome once upon a time, and she could still see why she'd thought so. It wasn't an unpleasant face, just a blunt, inoffensive one. Bland and unthreatening, a face for real estate ads.

  "What are you doing here?" she said.

  "Well hello to you too, honey," Derek said sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe.

  "Dad!"

  Charlie bolted past Tracey's legs and hit Derek at waist height, nearly knocking him over.

  "Dad, Dad, Dad!" Charlie chanted. "You're back! I thought you weren't coming back ever!"

  "Whoa there, tiger!" Derek laughed, patting his head. "You're so big! You almost knocked me over!"

  He put an arm around Charlie possessively as he looked into Tracey's eyes.

  "Want to let me in for a minute, Trace?" he said, quiet and subtly threatening.

  Tracey moved out of the way to let him in.

  ***

  Tracey sat at one end of the kitchen table, Derek at the other, the room gray in the afternoon light. They watched each other with quiet hostility, like dogs squaring up before a fight. Tracey couldn't shake the feeling, though, that she was less an angry dog and more a doomed mouse facing off against a snake.

  She had begrudgingly brought Derek a glass of tap water when he’d asked for a drink. Scattered between them were Charlie's souvenirs from Hawaii, which he'd been running back and forth to get. Derek smiled at her over the colorful pile of mementos, knowing she wouldn't fight him or throw him out in front of Charlie.

  "And this one I got on the actual beach!" Charlie said excitedly, putting a shell in Derek's hands. "I got one with a crab in it too, but Mom said I had to put that one back ‘cause keeping it would be mean."

  "That's real nice, buddy," Derek said without looking at it. "Would you mind giving me and your mom a minute alone? We need to talk about some grown-up stuff."

  "Are you going to live with us again?" Charlie asked, his excitement clear. "Mom said you couldn't!"

  "Even better," Derek replied with a smile. "Y'all are going to come live with me!"

  "Really?" Charlie's voice broke with excitement, and he jumped up and down, ecstatic.

  "Whoa there, buddy," Derek said, laughing at first, then swiftly losing patience. "Whoa! Calm down already, Christ!"

  Charlie fell abruptly silent, surprised by Derek's temper. Derek quickly fixed a smile back on.

  "Just go watch cartoons for a bit and let me talk to your mom," he said, scooting Charlie toward the door. Charlie went, giving Tracey a last hopeful glance that made her feel like she was collapsing in on herself like a black hole. He was a good kid. She couldn't blame him for wanting his dad back. She just hated that she would have to disappoint him. And she hated Derek for giving him false hope.

  "What do you want, Derek?" she said, quiet and dangerous.

  "Just what I said," Derek replied casually, leaning back with his arm over the back of the kitchen chair. "I want you and Charlie to come and live with me. I want to be a family again."

  "We already saw how well that go
es," Tracey said, searching for that cold, blank place she'd reached the day before. She needed to be frigid, icy as a glacier, untouchable and unaffected. "I'm not interested in a repeat performance."

  "No, no. It's not going to be like that," Derek said, dismissing her concerns with a casual wave of his hand. "I finally hit it big! I've got enough to treat you and Charlie like kings for the rest of our lives!"

  "You mean until you gamble it all away again."

  Tracey flinched as Derek slammed his hand on the table.

  "Damn it, Tracey, at least give me a chance to explain!" he snapped. "God, I forgot how bitchy you get when you think you're right. I've been going to counseling, all right? I can manage it now. And now that I know when to fold, I can make enough to more than support this family."

  "You're just on an upswing," Tracey said, her heart racing. "You'll crash eventually and lose control. You've done it before and you're not taking us with you again!"

  "Lower your voice," Derek snapped. "Or do you want Charlie to hear us fighting?"

  Tracey's mouth snapped shut, her jaw clenched as tight as her fists in her lap. She'd loved him once, or something close to it. Even when she'd left him there'd been more pity and regret there than anger. But at this moment she hated him more than she'd ever hated another human being in her life. Time and distance had worn away the nostalgia of their years together and left only this. This kind of cruel, emotionally manipulative behavior had been the hallmark of their interactions, especially near the end, but if she was honest with herself, it had always been there. Denying that had made it easy to deny the signs of his addiction as well.

  "I want you to leave," she said, slowly and quietly. "Now. This is my house and I do not want you here."

  "This is my family," Derek said, not bothering to match her volume. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "I will call the police."

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Derek said. "Do you know how easy it would be for me to challenge you for custody? I have steady work now and money to spare, a nice house in the suburbs. That versus a single mother in government housing, barely scraping by cleaning houses, whoring herself out to her clients—"

  Tracey felt her control crack. She gripped the edge of the table as white-hot waves of anger and fear washed over her. "I am not—"

  "Then how do you explain all of this?" Derek gestured at the souvenirs on the table. "You sure as hell didn't pay for a trip to Hawaii with your salary. You never did understand how to handle money."

  "You—how dare you—" Tracey felt strangled, searching for words to defend herself that she just couldn't find.

  "Let me make this clear," Derek said, his blue eyes cold as he cut her off. "You and I are going to make this work. You'll come around once you see how much better I'm doing. Either you and Charlie come to me together, or Charlie comes to me by himself. Understand?"

  "I will not let that happen," Tracey choked out past the fear squeezing her throat. "I will never let that happen."

  "Well I guess we'll just see then, won't we?" Derek leaned back, putting his feet on the table. He clearly had no intention of leaving.

  Tracey stood up quickly, the chair scraping noisily on the kitchen floor, and swept past him, making sure to stay out of arm’s reach and moving quickly before he could stand.

  "Mom?" Charlie looked up at her, confused, as she hurried into the living room, scooped him up without stopping, and continued straight out the front door. "Mom? What's going on? What about Dad?"

  She said nothing, just climbed into the front seat of the car with Charlie still in her lap, closing and locking the car door just as Derek reached the front door of the house.

  "I'll be here when you get back, honey!" he called after her. "I'll just wait here for you!"

  Her stomach turning, Tracey drove away as fast as she dared.

  "Mom, where are we going?" Charlie asked, climbing into the passenger seat, worry on his young face.

  "Ice cream," Tracey replied. "Buckle your seat belt."

  Charlie looked at her and then shook his head.

  "I don't want ice cream," he said. "Can we go back and get Dad?"

  "No."

  "I don't want ice cream. I want Dad!"

  "No!"

  Tracey regretted yelling as soon as she did it. The tears she'd been holding back since Wednesday boiled over, obscuring her vision. Her shoulders shaking, she pulled into a random parking lot, sobbing helplessly. She'd never cried in front of Charlie before. She didn't want him to see her this way, this broken. He was staring at her like she was dying, like his world was falling apart. He was only six. He didn't deserve this. He climbed back into her lap, forcing his way into her arms, and wrapped himself around her. He was shaking as hard as she was.

  "I'm sorry," he said, crying now too. "I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

  "It's okay," Tracey sobbed, holding him tightly, crying into his hair, still baby soft. "It's okay. It's not your fault. I'm so sorry, Charlie. I'm trying my best. I'm just not strong enough and I'm so sorry."

  When she could breathe again, she took him to the closest fast-food restaurant and got dollar ice cream cones. When the drive-through cashier saw their miserable, tear-streaked faces, she gave them the ice cream for free. Tracey was both grateful and ashamed in equal measure.

  They sat in the parking lot eating their ice cream in silence while Tracey contemplated where they could go or what they could possibly do now. Lost, she called the only person she could think of.

  ***

  "It's not much, but you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

  Iris showed Tracey inside her tiny college apartment. The futon couch had been folded down into a bed.

  "Thank you so much, Iris," Tracey said, exhausted and grateful. "I have a little money—"

  "You don't have to," Iris said at once.

  "I want to pay you back."

  "It isn't necessary." Iris held up her hands to ward off the payment. "I've had a regrettable boyfriend or two before. Once, one of ’em took my phone, wouldn't let me go out, started telling me what I was allowed to wear, what I could eat—I almost didn't make it out of that one. Having a place to crash makes all the difference. We sisters have to look out of each other."

  "Thank you," Tracey said, fighting the urge to start crying again. "If you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

  "I'll remember," Iris said with a smile. "You and Charlie should get some rest for now."

  Charlie had been quiet since the ice cream, and Tracey didn't know how to begin to make this okay for him. How could she explain what his father was, what he'd threatened? It was all too much, even for her.

  That evening, curled up on the couch, Tracey listened to Iris typing on her laptop in the next room, valiantly cramming her school work in on top of a full day of work. Charlie was huddled against her, silent and contemplative. It was strange to see him so quiet. She was used to him bouncing off the walls, loud and excited about everything. To see him so suddenly drained of that was the worst part of this.

  "Mom?" he asked quietly, his voice small in the darkness. "What's going to happen?"

  Tracey had been asking herself the same question.

  "I don't know, baby," she said, stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. I wish I did. I promise, whatever happens, we'll be okay. We'll stay together and we'll figure something out together. I won't let anything bad happen to us."

  "I wish we could have stayed in Hawaii," Charlie said. "It was good there."

  "Yeah," Tracey said. "It really was."

  "Couldn't we go and stay with Mr. Sheikh? He has lots of money."

  "Money isn't the only thing that matters, honey."

  "Is he mad at you because I went into his room?"

  Tracey was silent for a long moment, her hand pausing on his hair as she considered how to answer.

  "No," she said finally. "It's not because he's mad. It's my fault. I should have been more careful about getting close to him."


  "Why? Didn't you like him?"

  "I did," Tracey said. "He was very nice. But he was hiding things from me. When I asked, he got angry. I can't be with someone who will keep that kind of secret from me, so it's better to just stay away."

  "But doesn't everyone have secrets?" Charlie asked. "Like the time I drew on the wall with crayons behind the couch and didn't tell you."

  "Everybody has secrets," Tracey said, "but when you care about someone, you can't keep big parts of your life secret. You need to trust the people you care about. Especially when the secrets can hurt them."