MARI
Women warned me yesterday that Kiram would be coming no earlier than late night, that is why I am wandering restlessly round riad during the day. My mood switches from "we all will die" to "I can do everything" numerous times. I'm flipping through the pictures in my tablet and blubbering, then all of a sudden calming down and considering my chances to escape Palera. While I breathe, I hope. And if I lose it, things will never work out. Let's be clear, my chance to get out from this trap on my own is very slim at the moment. I can't manage alone for sure and I need an ally. But where can I get one? I can try and put pressure on Jahiza, as far as she doesn't like my candidacy, not in the tiniest, but... The thing is women are so deprived here, she hardly will be able do anything for me. Well, I shouldn't discount this option anyways, I need an auxiliary plan. Scheme with the boy looks much more perspective still. He's a teenager driven by hormones and should be not that skilled in manipulating people. And I know how to be damn sweet. All I need is to talk him into taking me out of the country. Anywhere. I can't even guess how long it would take, more than one month probably. The main point here is that I should be thinking less about my family and how they feel, because the emotional roller-coaster wouldn't help. I'll get back home, no matter how long and difficult my path will be.
It's sunset already, though the day seemed to be endless. Palera is close to the equator, so it's pitch dark outside at seven p.m. Hopeless despair falls on me in the darkness that is why I'm absolutely annoyed and wicked by ten o'clock. Such a first meeting is certainly not going to end well, I need to recover my temper urgently, and nothing unwinds better than favorite music. It's good they gave my earbuds back together with the tablet. I'm turning on my relax playlist and start to sing along with the meditative song without even realizing it. I'm calming down little by little.
Jahiza ordered me to wait for the boy on the doorstep actually, but I'm not a dog so I settle comfortably on a soft couch by the pool. I dive into cushions and almost fall asleep nearly missing the appearance of "the big white gentleman". My luck I heard the noise of the engine in between the songs. Samir and his son are leaving the car by the time I leap out the house. I stand at the doors watching them approach. I would never go along with telling this guy is blind if I didn't know the truth in fact. He's walking so confidently beside his father, he's making only one step closer to me when his father stops. As a whole the boy moves pretty naturally and stoutly staring straight ahead. Samir tells him something in their language, they hug each other shortly, and the father goes back to the big black vehicle with a polite nod in my direction. I'm trying to get out of the stupor unsuccessfully while following this man with my gaze not able to remember how I wanted to start the conversation. As soon as the roaring of the engine dies down behind the corner, the kid is the first one to start talking. And I can't get a heck of that Jabberwocks. The sound of his speech bewitches, feels like some kind of an intricate spell. It's beautiful. God, I was so sure he speaks Aranian. What am I here for if he doesn't? I precise just in case:
- I don't know the language of Palera but I talk Quirian. Do you understand me?
He's turning my way a bit, small grin is touching his lips when he switches over to Aranian easily:
- I am Kiram. And what is your name again? – Hallelujah, we found the common language. Only literally for now but it's awesome anyways.
- My name is Mari, – I'm breaking off not knowing what to say next. He's not pushing it on either.
I'm examining the boy in a dim light of the street lamp and slowly starting to realize that it's not going to be easy. First, he looks a bit older than I expected. Second, he's perceptibly taller than me and his t-shirt doesn't mask the steel muscles. If he decides to use force, I won't be able to deal with him, it's obvious. His face is quite surly giving away a person who's not used to laughing, and it's very unlikely I can get to him with my favorite manner – the humor. But I have to cope with him. Kiram subtly reminds me of the sculpture of great ancient emperor who said that the best defense is a good offense. That's why I am speeding to seize the initiative:
- Let's get in and talk. I have an offer you won't be able refuse, – I'm wearing a Hollywood smile on even though I know he can't see me. May be he feels it anyways?
You need to charm your opponent before you make your demands. Kiram is hemming insinuatingly as he's extending his hand with the open palm. Well, the first step is done. His hand is strong, hot and dry and it's touching mine very gently, as if he's afraid to frighten me. My heart starts pounding like crazy – I'm scared. He's visibly trained and strong man, the age is unimportant here. And I've got nowhere to run. I'm having a hard time to overpower my mind and not to drag my palm out of his hand to back off but to lead him to the house. When I feel deeply stressed, I'm just starting to babble, so I do now describing the area. Kiram stays highly focused. When our tour is over, he asks me to repeat it once again only a little slower. Okay, I can do that. Finally we finish our promenade in the living room. The guy sits onto the couch, and I take the farthest place possible from him in the opposite armchair. There's a kind of awkward silence while I'm pouring the cold lemonade brought from the kitchen. I'm offering him one of the glasses and sipping mine slowly. I completely forgot everything what I was going to tell. I can take a better look at Kiram now when we're in the bright light. With his dark hair, golden brown eyes, just like his mother's, straight nose and high cheekbones the boy is embarrassingly cute. The old scar on his left cheek doesn't disrupt the harmony of his face surprisingly. All the girls would go nuts for him back in my high school. His eyes are somewhat defocused and directed straight in front of him, and it still doesn't ruin his image, vice versa it's adding a halo of romance to it. He has no strabismus which is common for the blind people. I'm gathering my thoughts and putting my glass to the coffee table maybe a little too harsh. And I'm opening my mouth ready to talk when I notice his glance following my hand. Oh come on?
- You can see? – I demand indignantly against my will.
- No, why do you think so? – He sounds surprised, and seems like he's sincere now.
- You were watching my hand, – yeah, it comes out too crude.
He smiles with the corners of his lips and answers evenly:
- I can't see your hand but I can hear the motion. It's just a reflex to follow it with the gaze, no more. I'm blind not since my birth, – he says it so smooth like he's talking not about his own mutilation but about the weather. He sounds dignified I'd say.
- Sorry, – I utter with confusion. – I didn't mean to offend you.
- That's okay, I got used to it ages ago. What did you want to talk about?
Oh, boy doesn't like to beat around the bush. All the better, I'm taking my shot:
- Do you know that I'm here against my will? – He denies it shaking his head 'no' but doesn't say a word suggesting that I can go on. I nod to myself and my words turn into a continuous stream. – My full name is Anna Maria Becheroff. I was born in Kio but live in Arana lately. I'm a reporter. And I was invited to Palera to write a few articles about the country. We were to the desert when the storm had started and our car crashed. I lost my conscious after the hit and woke up here. Not here actually, in another house. Doesn't matter. Your father refused to send me home. But I can't stay, do you get it? There are my parents, fiancé and friends. They worry about me. Besides, what kind of beigaly I make. Look, first of all, I'm old for you, I'm twenty five, almost twenty six. Second, I don't speak Palerian so I'm going to be a lame helper. Third, I can't cook and all I know about cleaning is how to start the robot vacuum. Fourth, I have a horrible temper. Fifth...
Here he interrupts me at least. Damn, I just tuned in to going through one hundred one reasons why I'm the worst person for a pet.
- Mari, – he says softly. – What color your hair is?
I fall into a stupor with abruptness of his question that is why I answer in my favorite manner:
- And what do you like?
- I like blond, white almost, – Kiram replies in all seriousness.
- I'm sorry to upset you but I'm a brunette, – pleased with myself I'm adding item one hundred two to the list of my defects. I'm telling lies of course but in war as in war.
- And what about your eyes? I like the blue ones. Let me guess, yours are brown? – He got my game entirely offhand. Is it really fair? I counted on an insolent child, but it seems like this boy is much smarter than I need. Okay let's recall the lessons of good old Nate and keep a poker face.
- Brown. How did you know?
My voice sounds absolutely genuine as for me, but the naughty boy only laughs at my statement. I frown, because we never get anywhere that way. As if he catches the change of my mood Kiram stops laughing and says:
- I get it how much you don't want to stay in this country and this very house in particular. I can't say that I like it but I understand you. I understand but I can't help. Not yet.
- Why? Samir mentioned that you travel abroad quite often. Let's go to any resort and separate there...
I freeze in anticipation of the answer. Fifty-fifty, lucky or not.
- You know, I just left my father's house. I'm sort of independent but not enough for some things. Traveling abroad is one of them.
- And... When you gonna be independent enough? – My throat feels sore. No, I won't cry! I'm begging you don't tell at forty!
- No earlier than I get married, – I'm going to ask him to marry as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow when he continues. – And I can get married no earlier than in a year of my separate life.
I confess, I can't hold back a word which is inappropriate both for a young lady and for the professional publicist. But I've got no other word to describe the situation with all the desire. Not at the moment.
- Do I have any other options? You can send me away from the country with some task for example.
- I'm afraid, I can't. You'll have to stay here for one year at the very least. Most likely even more, I don't think it's going to be simple for my father to find a bride for me.
I digest the information for a minute. One year. Minimum. It's... killing me. I escape the reality, and probably me and Kiram look alike with our detached gazes now.
- And then, in a year, will you help me to depart? – I don't whine.
- I will, – he says without thinking. – But I have two conditions. First, you will help me to get through a year to become a full member of society, not disabled person. And it will be tricky.
Kiram shuts up and I have to push him:
- What's the second?
- You will want to leave still.
I wouldn't tell it's expected but it's logical. I nod than get that he can't see me and say out loud:
- Deal.
There's uncomfortable silence between us, then Kirm rises up:
- Lead me to the bedroom.
The insolence of his suggestion leaves me breathless.
- Uhm... Kir. Can I call you that way? – He nods in agreement. – Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to sleep with you. Because of the series of circumstances that have nothing to do with you. No offence.
He darkles a little:
- Yes I remember. You're old, you have fiancé and you like blond guys.
- When did I mention the blonds?! – I can't keep the outbreak back. Yes, even though my Alex is a fair man.
Kiram smiles for real this time.
- Just yet. I can hear so much more in your voice than you would like me to. That's the thing about human bodies when you lose one of the senses you start to rely on the rest more. Actually, I only wanted you to help me to get there. Literally. It will take time before I get used to the house.
He gives me his hand and it looks like the truce is achieved. I show where his bedroom is once again and set off to my own room without a single hint about being laid. After all it's going to be a very long way back home.
KIRAM
I stay alone at least after such an interesting chat with my own beigaly. All I want is to fall to the bed without even taking my clothes off but I head to the shower anyway. The bathroom copies the one which stayed back in my father's house, all the stuff is in its place, so there are no problems there, I do everything out of inertia. I'm thinking about the past day and about my helper while I'm standing under the cool stream of water and afterwards lying in my bed. It seemed like I would pass out on approach to the pillow, I was tired so much, but I don't, my thoughts are running and running in circles. I'm going over the events of the last day of the winter. I smile recalling some funny moments, especially Javad's long-winded speech when he got it that the tire had blown. I feel a bit nostalgic over the fact that I never get back to the parent's house but I put this feeling aside quickly. It's a closed chapter. I'm getting back to Mari over and over again. Do the dreams come true really? I wanted a girl from the outer world to live in my house so badly, and here she is. Her honesty and the fact that she doesn't hide her intention to get back home appeals to me. The way she was proving her unfitness as a beigaly was so heating, it makes me laugh a little. No good for anyone, but not for me. That's exactly what I need. Honesty, audacity and absence of fear. Well, she lied a bit about her hair and eyes color, I heard it in her voice, but it was cute. Besides, I am more than sure that father chose what I like. He knows my tastes. The only weird thing is that she's much older than me. But I guess there's a meaning to it – she's experienced enough, sensible and it would make her a good help. And she's not a virgin for no doubt. It works out just great for me, it's much more interesting being in bed with the emancipated girl than with the shy and chaste one. I lost my prejudices in Arana thankfully. I'm trying to imagine the way she looks. By the touch of her thin fingers I can tell she's slender and her height hardly reaches my shoulder. It bothers me a bit that she's kidnapped and I need to talk about it with father probably. Will they be looking for her? And what's written in the docs he gave me? I thought that beigaly would come to my house on her own will, but she strives to run away as soon as possible. It makes me cringe. The fact that she refused to share the bed with me doesn't bother much, it only makes the game more absorbing. I can afford myself to spread the fun surely. And I'll do everything for her to stay here not wanting to go back to her dear Arana when it's high time. I am confident, she won't resist me. Most likely we'll visit her family later, but her home is in Palera since now and on. And fiancé is not a husband, I bet he'll find a replacement for her by the time we get there, 'cause I know their morals. We have to discuss all the nuances of our mutually beneficial cooperation tomorrow morning. I think nobody should know what games we play here, even my friends. Let Mari be just a beigaly for everyone – nice company for the warm nights, nothing else. My brain shuts down with this thought, and I fall asleep finally.