Calculated

by Nova McBee

  Red believed anyone could change if they wanted to. Right now, in this moment, I believe it too.

  “Maryam has been dead for so long,” she says. “Celia has taken over. Madame controls them both.”

  “No. I don’t believe it,” I say pointedly. “Maryam has a chance. Like Josephine does.” The next words escape my mouth, surprising even myself. “I can testify in court that you’re remorseful, that you want to change. It may help your sentence.”

  “You would do that for me?” she says, a hint of the girl comes out.

  “I will.”

  For a moment, her eyes glisten. That glimmer I used to see is there—a little girl, longing to be cradled, loved, and redeemed. My heart breaks into a hundred pieces. Without much thought I hold out my hand to the window again. The little girl smiles.

  As I watch my own fingers, I can’t believe it. My captor, the root of my suffering, the woman who scarred me forever. How can I extend a hand to her? How can I forgive her? But I am. I can. I choose to.

  Just when I think Maryam will touch my hand, the little girl in her eyes slips away. A woman, mature and hard-hearted, snaps up and groans. She refuses my hand. Her eyes become cold. This woman doesn’t listen to reason.

  “I didn’t ask you to save me,” she snaps. “I have plenty of people for that, Octavia. You can go now.”

  The guard arrives. The moment for truth passes. Her one act of kindness, done.

  “Maryam, wait—”

  “No. I’ve let you live. But you will never be rid of me, Octavia. We will always be connected. We’ll find each other again.”

  “You have the strength in you to change,” I say in vain, but she is already yelling at the guard to get rid of me.

  I walk away, dizzily.

  Before we reach the last hall, I ask the officer for a moment. I sink into a cold metal chair and pull out the report the policeman gave me about Maryam. Inside there’s an article about Celia as a young prodigy winning an award in Istanbul. When I look at it chills ripple over me. The girl in the picture could have been me. A big smile on her face, bright eyes hoping for the future ahead. I stop—it is me. I was taken, too. Because of her.

  “Maryam Mataar,” it reads, “Gifted child who was orphaned, abused, and trafficked from the age of 9. At 17 she killed her captor. Lived in Europe for several years before moving to the United States and nine other countries. Speaks nine languages and has trafficked girls for nearly 29 years.”

  I stare at the white wall. Terrible images of Celia as a small girl, helpless and abused, tear at my mind. That pained expression she had learned to hide. That sorrow embedded deep within her. Her twisted idea to protect me. Her awkward attempt at loving me. I can’t hold back the urge to cry.

  Finally, I stand, and leave silently, full of mixed emotions. I hope she’ll make the choice to change. And somehow, even though the odds are slim, I hope there is a Red down there in that prison, ready to do for her what he did for me.

  44

  Present: Phoenix

  FRENCH CONCESSION, SHANGHAI, CHINA

  Celia’s and King’s money have finally been funneled into the J.J. Bond system. Chan’s purchase of Asia Bank was successful, and the final installment of the blanket amount was set in place last night. Now starts the real test. Will the bond work?

  Theoretically, there will be dips and losses, but nothing too uncontrollable will happen. Life should go on, mostly as usual. Countries will not divide. Wars will not come. At least, the numbers say they won’t.

  Since Yu Tai sold the Pratt, the tunnels have been crawling with scientists, historians, archeologists, and journalists. The Pratt is on every TV in China and abroad. Prisoners share their stories and the police are solving crimes from years past. They are even thinking of making a film about it.

  New doors have opened for Kai throughout this process. Interpol was so impressed with his help and planning that they offered him an internship next year. He’s ecstatic.

  There’s only one thing left to do: meet my family, who arrive tomorrow.

  Tonight, I’ll have dinner with Kai at his father’s house. But first, I need to finish getting ready.

  I stand in front of a mirror. I wear a black cocktail dress, short and straight. My make-up is light, but noticeable. My hair drapes down in front, covering my chest like always.

  The hairband is not around my wrist. It’s in my fingers. Slowly, I pull my hair back, grabbing it all in one hand. I twist it and spin it into a small roll on top of my head, securing it with the band. My neck feels bare, exposed. I’m tempted to release my hair or put on a necklace. But I don’t. Instead I’m captivated by the lines of my jaw and the definition of my ears. I’m seeing myself clearly for the first time in years. My face has become so oval, like mom’s. I look older. I add an additional few bobby pins to my hair and walk out. My back is straight, and my chin is up.

  Chan is laughing, staring at Dr. Ling as I step into their house. They have, not surprisingly, announced their relationship. He looks like a different person. She, too, is beaming. I’m happy for them. They wave me in. They don’t notice my hair, but Kai does.

  He jumps to his feet, immediately rushing over to me, whisking me around the corner.

  “You look amazing. You should wear your hair up more often,” he says, reaching up to touch my hair, then sliding his fingers down my ear and jaw to my chin, then neck. “Turn.” He twirls his finger.

  He acts like he wants to see my dress, but I know better. I obey his request and spin slowly. “You’re beautiful,” he says. And suddenly warm fingers trace my scar, then his lips trace it. Shivers blast down my spine. “And strong.”

  We take our seats and enjoy an exquisite meal. At the end, Chan raises a glass for a toast. “To theories and risks. To kings and pawns!” Our glasses clink together.

  “So what are you going to do now that your gift is gone?” Kai asks, as we turn inward towards each other, ignoring the public display of affection from across the table.

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll try something ridiculously hard, like writing a book or acting. We all know what the odds of success are in the arts.” I give him a wink.

  “Knowing your luck—uh—destiny,” he says, “you’ll do great.”

  Kai sets his chopsticks down, swallows his last bit of sparkling water, and holds out a hand to me. “Walk in the garden? I need to discuss a big decision with you. You are still a great advisor.”

  “Love to.” We leave Dr. Ling and Chan and stroll through the garden to the patio by the pool house. The night is warm. The lights are turned on. It reminds me of the first time I saw Kai fixing the pool. We stand next to each other, admiring the garden.

  I’m still getting used to my new life, my new brain. For example, I’m keenly aware that the flowers hanging over the fence are just pretty petals falling open, bursting with reds and blues and yellows, smelling of jasmine and honeysuckle and rose. They are not numbers anymore.

  I haven’t forgotten what I know. All the facts I’ve learned are still there. I still have the capacity to calculate numbers, but only one possibility at a time. And without intense work, I can’t offhandedly spout off the intricacies of Newton’s laws in whatever is working around me. Numbers don’t invade my days or nights anymore. Star gazing doesn’t give me a headache. Sunsets don’t launch me into the workday in Iran or South Africa. I’m not concerned about the earth’s rotations. I’m just here, in the present, where Kai is beside me. But I still feel my gift. I feel it changing. Into what, I’ll have to wait and see.

  Kai leans into me and kisses me lightly at first, then stronger. Finally, he pulls back, serious.

  “So, what’s this big decision you wanted to discuss before my family comes tomorrow?” I ask.

  “A future investment. A long term one.” He holds out an envelope.

  Business? At this hour? I try to hide my disappointment. I thought he’d want to talk about something more personal. At least it could have waited until after meeting m
y family tomorrow. I bend down, pretending to smell a potted jasmine.

  “Oh yeah?” I say. “What will you invest in that you haven’t already?”

  “You.” He motions to the envelope. “Open it.”

  I slide my finger under the envelope and pull out what is inside. Two airplane tickets to Seattle—one with my name, the other one with his.

  I don’t say anything because if I do, I will cry.

  “I promised I’d get you home. But you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He grabs my hand. “I know the odds are against us, as you pointed out earlier. We are young. Impulsive. Different. But haven’t we learned that some odds can be beaten? If your family whisks you back to America, I will be forced to come after you.” He pulls my chin up so we meet eye to eye. “Tell me we can beat the odds and I will never let you out of my sight.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He almost kind of likes you now.”

  “He’d never agree to this relationship.” Chan and I have come to terms. I’ll admit that he has changed, but... “I drive him crazy. He found me in the Pratt. I broke his nose the first time I met him. I also almost singlehandedly ruined his empire.”

  “All true. But you compelled him to start a new life—a better one,” Kai laughs. “He knows how I feel. He’s given me permission.”

  “You asked permission?”

  “Of course,” he says, smiling, “I am traditional. Like father, like son.”

  His arms wrap around me. That feeling of warmth, safety, of destiny comes with it. I’m not sure when, or how it all began, but what I feel for Kai has grown into a wreath, all the different pieces woven together, creating a circle with no beginning and no end, like it was always meant to be. I cannot see the future, but one thing is clear: I don’t want one without him.

  I pull him closer, breathing in his familiar scent, holding him tighter than I have ever held anyone before.

  “I love you, Phoenix,” he whispers against my ear.

  “I’m not Phoenix anymore,” I say. “I’m Josephine.”

  45

  Present: Phoenix

  SHANGHAI TOWER, SHANGHAI, CHINA

  There are moments in everyone’s life when they stop and wonder - how did I get here? That moment for me is now. They call me Phoenix, but that is not my real name. I live in China, though I was not born here. I am rich and powerful, but I care nothing for expensive things. The people behind that door were supposed to be dead, but that is not true either. If truth really can set us free, then after two years, my chains will finally fall off.

  Last night I had nightmares that everything in nature tried to stop our reunion. A tornado, an earthquake, a flood. All kinds of disasters that would separate me and my family forever. But I woke up alive. Nothing has happened, except a dip in the stocks. My family has touched down in Pudong and they are on their way here right now.

  My hands and feet tap incessantly. I check the clock every two seconds. I can barely hold a cup of tea in my hands without spilling it.

  What will I say when I see them? How will I tell them who I am? How can I tell them about the last two years? Will they embrace me or treat me like a stranger? Will they be disgusted when they learn what I’ve been through? Did they enjoy not having me around? Did they miss me?

  Dad’s and Lily’s faces bounce in my head. They won’t look like I remember them. People change. If I don’t look the same, how can they?

  I check my hair in the mirror. Long and dark. I take out my brown-colored contacts. My eyes have darkened. They’re not the ocean gray with the hint of faded beach wood they used to be, but the color of a forest after the rain. They’ve softened, too. Instead of seeing fire burning, purifying me, there’s hope in my eyes. Hope for a new beginning.

  A knock on the door sends my thoughts flying.

  Kai comes up behind me. “Jo.” That voice melts my fears and cradles my questions. Peace floods me. My hands stop shaking. “They’re here.”

  I turn to face him. His high cheekbones, smooth and brown. His calming voice. I lean into his arms. He’s my safe place now. He makes me stronger. Now I can go into that room without falling over.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” he whispers, his lips on my ear.

  “No, you’ve done enough,” I say. He found my family. He did it all for me, for my healing. “Thank you, Kai.”

  His lips press down on my forehead and he drops his arms. I walk out of my office over to the conference room.

  The door in front of me is like an invisible, impenetrable brick wall. It’s been closed for more than two years. First by borders, then lies, then prisons, then death. But it’s open now and I’m supposed to walk through it to find what once was lost.

  Impossible odds separated us. Impossible odds bring us back together. I guess the impossible isn’t always what it seems.

  I push open the door.

  Three strangers sit at the table. My father has aged beyond his years. His hair has a lot more gray, his face tired and worn. Beside Mara sits a girl—a young lady actually, and more beautiful than I imagined she would be, Lily. Her face has slimmed down, accenting her high cheekbones—she’s the spitting image of our mother. They’ve changed so much.

  Despite the urgency simmering in my stomach, I enter the room slowly and bow courteously. All three stand to return my bow. When my head tilts up, I stand before them in silence with nothing—no contacts or makeup—to veil my appearance.

  My father pales, like he has just seen a ghost. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a handkerchief, and wipes his brow. Lily and Mara exchange a look. I’m not sure how to read it. Maybe Mara told them Phoenix resembles Jo?

  I smile weakly, my hands trembling, waiting for them to recognize me, to say something. But they don’t.

  An impulse to run to them shoots through my veins, but my feet do not obey. For three days I thought about what I would say in this moment, but now it flies completely out the window. They don’t know who I am.

  Mara speaks first. “The interpreter?”

  “We won’t need one,” I say to her directly in English, hoping my voice rings a bell. I walk closer, into the light. They still don’t recognize my face or voice? Instead of just telling them everything that I planned, I move in as Phoenix. “Your loan has been granted,” I say sharply. “You will have full funding for a year.”

  Mara gives me an uneasy look.

  My father stands, though it’s visibly difficult for him to do. His limbs shake. Once on his feet, his eyes meet mine. “Ms. Phoenix, I’m honored that you would grant us a super bond that takes weeks to get. Thank you for your generosity.” His low rumbling voice causes me to turn away before an explosion of tears climbs up my throat into my eyes.

  Mara cuts in. “There’s been some mistake. A substantial amount was deposited into our account designated for iVision. I’m not sure how it got there or why. iVision disintegrated long ago. We applied with Xi He Construction. We have the money with us, to return it.”

  I don’t answer. I’m not focused on Mara anymore but Lily. The innocence in her eyes breaks apart my façade. “You’ve grown up so much,” I say to her. Is my voice shaking? I don’t care if it is. Lily shifts in her chair uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. “Do you still play piano?”

  “Yes.” A cautious expression crosses her face. She sits up straighter, then adds, “Actually, I was recently accepted into a very prestigious high school for the arts.”

  “I always knew you’d be great. What about you, Mara?” I ask, turning to her. “Still sailing?”

  My staring makes Mara uncomfortable and she stiffens. Our conversation three days ago no doubt set her on edge. As well as the mysterious money deposited in their account and the fact that I didn’t answer her question. She clears her throat. “From time to time.”

  My father interrupts. “Excuse me. How do you know about iVision?”

  “I know a lot of things,” I say. “You started
it because you believed in people. You believed in fixing things. Even the creaking stairs in your beach house. They drove you crazy until you fixed them.” I step closer. “You’d watch Professor Q with your daughters every Sunday. Your wife was named Candace. When she died, you could barely keep it together. You’d stay in your office late at night and weep.” I turn to my sisters. “Tails, your cat, was gray. Is he still alive? He loved to sleep in the bay window facing west. Lily, you loved sleeping with him until your mother died. You said the nightmares scared him. I actually hoped you’d kept sailing, Mara. You said you’d sail around the world to forget your pain…”

  Their faces widen with confusion, surprise, and pain. Fear, too?

  “I know a lot about you,” I continue, “like what happened to your missing sister.” I think back to my time in the Pratt when I buried them, the words I spoke then to my father, to Mara. “She forgives you, Mara. She doesn’t blame any of you. It had to happen.”

  My hands feel heavy as they fall, like bricks, at my sides. The blood in my head and limbs drain into my stomach. My heart beats violently in my chest. Dizziness sets in. I steady myself on the wall.

  Lily covers her mouth. Mara gasps out loud.

  “How?” my dad asks, tears filling his eyes. He’s moving towards me so fast he knocks his chair aside.

  “It’s me,” I say, barely a whisper. “It’s Josephine.”

  After three hours of tears, and a couple more hours filling in the blanks of the missing two years, I still haven’t mentioned the loss of my math gift.

  My blubbering about Madame, King, and the Pratt, and the crash and how much I missed them, how I never thought I’d see them again, how I thought they were dead, how Red changed me, and how Kai saved me, seem to be one long string, only interrupted with bursts of tears, tissues, and more crying.