The Fall of Saints (8 page)

My other friend, gin and tonic, was beckoning me, but I decided against the foolishness. I had to remain fully alert for whatever would follow Ben’s departure. I decided coffee would calm my nerves. Drink it slowly. Yes, and perhaps watch a DVD. I had bought a few of
The Real Housewives of New Jersey
but had not had the time to watch any, given that I was chasing “criminals.”

I put on the coffee machine and then inserted the DVD. I recalled the episode in the film
Home Alone
when Macaulay Culkin, playing Kevin McCallister, wards off intruders by turning on the TV: “Get the hell out of here,” the TV character threatens, his voice followed by the sound of gunfire. The intruders trip over themselves in flight. I did not expect gunfire in the DVD, but I thought the conversation might deter an intruder. I increased the volume.

I needed to use the bathroom, though. I pressed the pause button. I was coming back to my seat when I heard a car outside. “Oh, no, not the Ben thing again,” I said as I picked up the kitchen knife. The intruder tried the door handle first and then rang the bell. I held my breath. I heard him trying a key. I gripped the knife with grim determination. He pushed the door open . . .

“Zack!” I said, and let go of the knife. I felt tears at the edges of my eyes as I clung to him with a mixture of relief and remorse all the way to the sofa. “Hold me tight, Zack,” I said, as if to convince myself that all was well.

“What were you doing with the knife?” he asked, trying to calm me and probably himself.

“Zack,” I said, slightly distraught, “I wanted you to come home right away. Then I felt silly and said the opposite of what I truly felt!”

“The tone of your voice betrayed you,” Zack said. “The tremor told me you were trying to control your fear. So I left the party and drove home like a madman.”

“Thank you, Zack. They say the man was unstable.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Ben was here,” I said.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry. Please make me a gin and tonic.”

Ever the gentleman, he made two. “Okay, what is it, Mugure?”

I told him about Ben’s visit and the story he had spun about a mentally unstable seventy-five-year-old, successfully hijacking a car from a nursing home and hitting me.

“Oh my, really?” said Zack. “I am glad they caught him.”

“But do you believe the story?”

“Why not?’

“Zack, I don’t trust Ben.”

“Why? He is your friend. You introduced him to me.”

I realized that to tell him why, I would have to talk about the pattern of bad things that followed each encounter with Ben. That would mean disclosing the prior meetings with Ben and the doubts that had led to them. I realized I was not quite ready to tell all.

“I don’t think Ben approved of my marrying you, a white guy. He has strong views on black pride.”

“Look, Mugure. I don’t know Ben very well, but I don’t think he would go that far. Whatever his racist private views are, he is a sworn public servant. You can’t jump to conclusions on the basis of a story.”

“Zack, why are you always protecting people?” I was going to give the example of Mark and then stopped.

“Mugure. Let’s make it simple. I will find out whether the story is true. We are a big firm, and we have our contacts.”

“Zack, thank you.”

I felt relief and afterward tried to see the positive side of Ben’s visit. I had been able to tell Zack of my fears without having to disclose everything. I could build on it without having to start from the beginning.

Zack was true to his word. The following evening he came home with what he or his people had been able to find out.

“It’s true, Mugure. Apparently, the man died on the way to the hospital.”

“Oh,” I said, not knowing how to react.

I was relieved. Zack seized on that and tried to make me laugh by filling me in on the party the night before, dwelling on the famous twins who had dominated our wedding. The whole idea of designer twins—the version that always got people’s attention—was so ridiculous that I had to laugh every time Zack told the story, even now.

The talk drifted to stories of the many women who had surgical alterations in order to look like a Barbie doll. Imagine if real body parts were made to order and customized to meet the different idiosyncrasies; wouldn’t such women flock to the market? It was grotesque humor, but it somehow made me laugh before we retired to bed and, for the first time in a little while, made love. I did not reach the heavens, as before.

Though I did not tell him, my every caress was an unspoken promise to give up digging up the truth about Kobi’s past, to let go whatever it was that Zack, Melinda, Ben, and my good sense had urged me to let go.

Come to think of it, what exactly had I been looking for? An answer to why there had been some contradictory information about Kobi? And what was it that had me all worked up? The closure of Kasla? Its transformation into a curio shop? There was the strange phone call and then the car accident, but the call may have been a prank, and the car accident had been explained. When all was said and done, the fact remained that I had not heard by hint or rumor the slightest negative thing about Kobi’s adoption.

For the next few days, I confined myself to the house and to taking Kobi to school, soccer games, and slumber parties. Whenever the phone rang, I checked the caller ID and answered only Zack’s or Rosie’s calls. I was not bored. TV programs kept me company; I watched enough
Roots
reruns to last me a lifetime. I didn’t like repetitive opinion journalism, but I was hooked on
The Rachel Maddow Show.
She had a tongue that bit; a tone that stung; and a smile that softened the bite and the sting.

It was during this time that I began to enjoy being in the house alone, dressing how I liked, and when Rosie was not around, even walking about nude. Mostly, I wore see-through tops and blue jeans and watched Oprah go on about living one’s best life. A remarkable woman. I often wondered how she had made it in a white world and how she felt having such a large following of white people eating out of her hands.

Suddenly, as I went back to the living room to watch
Oprah,
I felt the weight of the emptiness in the house. I missed Kobi and Zack. I couldn’t wait to pick up Kobi and hear all about his latest adventures. I felt a chill. Then I caught sight of Zack’s coat hanging by the hall closet. I walked over and put it on, then turned the coffee machine on. Coffee would give me one kind of warmth; his coat, another. At that moment I wanted him to hold me tight, tight, and never let me go, squeeze out all my doubts. I held the jacket close to me.

I liked its smell, the smell of Zack, and in it, I felt at one with him. I put my hands in the pockets, like he usually did, and walked like he usually did, hands in the coat pockets. My right hand felt some paper. I pulled it out. It had “Mark” scribbled on it and then crossed out.

“Honey?” I heard Zack calling as he opened the door and entered.

Were I not so upset, I would have appreciated the fun in the situation: me standing there, dressed like him! But I was seething with anger, so I just stood there looking at him, not knowing where to start.

“So . . . Mark, huh?” I grunted, throwing the tiny piece of paper at him.

It floated in the air briefly and then landed at his feet. He stood still. He seemed afraid—well, more confused. Then he bent down and picked it up and read it. I didn’t want to scream and shout, but I came close. I could feel myself shaking. “What’s going on between you and Mark?” I asked coldly.

He didn’t say anything but put his briefcase down and wiped his forehead with his forearm. It may have been caused by his slow reaction, but something inside me broke.

“Zack, you must tell me everything. About the gunman who once threatened you at the club, about your relationship with Melinda, about Alaska Enterprises. Do you understand? Everything! That is, if you want this marriage to survive. And don’t take me as completely ignorant. No, Zack. You are making a mistake, a big mistake, to underestimate me. I know that Edward and Palmer was retained by Kasla.”

He stood there, almost frozen. He walked toward the kitchen. I followed him. He pulled out a kitchen chair and slumped in it. He pointed at another chair and mumbled for me to sit. I did, not because I wanted to but because I was feeling weak in the knees. I had to be strong.

“Let’s talk,” he said. “I was going to bring up much of what you just raised later on, but now is as good a time as any. You have to believe me. That gunman. I honestly don’t know him. I had never seen him before or since. I just took his gun-toting craziness as case of mistaken identity. As for the agency and our law firm, we are a big enterprise with many branches. Not all the lawyers in a firm know each and every case, because most cases don’t go beyond the letter-writing stage. I told you I would get to the bottom of this. I only recently—actually, the day of your accident—learned that the agency had retained my firm. One letter from the firm, with all the weight our name carries, was enough to make the state desist. Which means it was not a case that generated much talk in the office. I am still looking into it. That and the whole Kasla saga.”

Zack came across as sincere and forthright. There wasn’t much more I could ask. Ben had given me so little, and Wainaina had not come up with anything extra from Kenya. Besides, I didn’t want to rant about Ben. Let me keep my sources to myself, I resolved.

“About Mark,” he continued. “I have been thinking hard about Mark, but I don’t know, I really don’t know. I think you might have been right.”

“Why? What made you see the light?” I said as I leaned back, feeling a twinge of excitement. I couldn’t help enjoying a little sense of superiority. “Better repent late than never,” I told him.

“I am not sure about repenting,” Zack responded. “But here it is: Mark would like me to join his venture. You know how he talks big. He did it at our wedding, remember? At first the proposal looked clean, you know, from a legal point of view.”He looked at me and, seeing my slightly puzzled face, said, “Maybe I should start from the beginning. Mark would like me to be his business partner. He first approached me last year. He wants me to come in as the legal secretary for this multimillion-dollar landscaping company to be based in the big cities of Africa: Cairo, Lagos, Johannesburg, Nairobi. Yes, in Nairobi. But I don’t know, something doesn’t ring right. Landscaping in Africa?” He paused and looked at me. “Anyway, after what Melinda told you, and after reviewing the contents of a file he gave me, I am not so sure I want to go along.”

“Why? What’s in the file?”

“Nothing really alarming. Transaction papers, receipts, that kind of thing. A few items to sign if I agree. But it doesn’t feel right. I can’t afford to take chances right now, what with the cases I’m working on. And this Kasla business, I’m still trying to dig up facts . . . see if it was operating as a virtual office . . . it takes time, effort, and it’s not as if I’m taking a holiday from my other duties as the firm’s top international business attorney . . . I don’t know, honey, I really don’t know.”

“There’s no buts, no don’t knows, about it,” I said, sounding more stern than I felt. “Give up Mark, or he will mark you and yours for life.” The fact was, I was relieved. That which would have come between us was gone. Now we would work it out together, man and wife.

“You know the funny thing?” he said. “Mark thought I would readily join because you come from Kenya!”

“Let him find another Melinda to torture,” I said. I was glad that patience had paid off. I wanted and willed the doubts to vanish forever. Family first, I pledged in silence. My relief, written all over me, was a contrast to his obvious fatigue, as if the soul baring had been very demanding. “Don’t look so morose,” I said, trying to cheer him.

“There are other things weighing on me,” he said, and let out a sigh. “I didn’t want to burden you with bad news, but my friend David was picked up by undercover police earlier today.”

“What? Why?” I asked, shocked.

“We don’t know. A colleague has been assigned to follow up on it. But up till the time I left the office, the police would not say in what precinct he was being held.”

“David is a good man,” I said, and then I remembered Zack telling me that David had reported seeing me in Manhattan. “Might this affect you?”

“No, no, it probably has to do with some case. David was our top immigration lawyer. Probably detained by Homeland Security, but I’m only guessing, and a lawyer should not speculate. They raided his office and took many files. But we are a big firm with many good connections, and we shall get him out. It’s just that he’s a friend, my childhood friend.”

We talked a lot that evening, and as he poured his heart out, I realized that the stress from his workplace was taking a toll on him, and all for the sake of Kobi and me. I had not been making it easy for him.

He told me more about his impending travel to Estonia and his mission to the other states formerly under Soviet communism as new frontiers for company business. He had also planned trips to Norway, Denmark, Sweden, and Finland. But if I felt I could not handle being alone with Kobi and Rosie, he offered to cancel the whole trip. “No, no,” I said, “I won’t hear of it.” I felt I had sort of neglected him, what with my mind and energies focused on other things. From that evening and in the days before his travel to Estonia, I would make up for all the lost time.

On the eve of his trip, we went to Shamrock, the place that marked the beginning of our love journey. We danced to all of Melinda’s songs. We were enjoying ourselves so much that when Melinda said she was performing her last song for the night, I felt cheated. Where had all the hours gone? As had become a habit, we went to her changing room. “Great show,” I said as I hugged her.

“I am so tired. I kept hoping nobody would notice.”

“No, you were great, as usual. I was stuck to the dance floor even after your last note,” I said, laughing. “It’s a pity you don’t sing on bigger stages, in the biggest clubs.”