"Desperation makes the heart reckless, and a broken soul will seek solace in the strangest of places."
UNKNOWN
In a single stride, I closed the gap between us, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.
At first, I felt him tense in surprise, and then softened as his own hands seemed to rest on my side, but then suddenly, he pushed me away.
"What was that, Zeynep?!" he exclaimed in horror.
"What did you do that for?"
I looked at him, shocked by his reaction. "This is what we both wanted, Jacobi. Tell me you haven't wanted this from the very first day we met?"
"Wanted what? Christ!" he exclaimed. "You're a married woman, Zeynep. What is this heck?"
By now, I was beyond mortified. "jacobi…"
"Please leave!" he shouted. "Just go, I beg you."
Tears pooled in my eyes, my heart broken by his rejection. If I'd been asked to imagine a million different ways that would have played out, him rejecting me would never have been one of them.
I was crushed… devastated… shattered. Every single dream I'd had of being with him had been ripped apart to pieces.
I staggered out of the building, blinded by my tears. SubhanAllah. All of a sudden, it was 2004 all over again. How could I have thought Jacobi would want a dirty and broken woman like me? I was no good for anyone, and the same way I had been rejected when I'd tried returning home to india, the same way my would-have-been suitor,had eventually rejected me, was the same way Jacobi had just rejected me. I was good for nothing. Good for nobody.
"who is making you cry?" came one of the voices I'd grown accustomed to from under the tree. "What's the matter?"
I found myself slowing down and, for the first time, turned to look where the voice was coming from.
There were only three men sitting there that evening, a far cry from their usual number of about a dozen. The one who had spoken walked up to me, concern etched all over his face.
"Who did this to you? let me go and finish the person. Is it the doctor inside that hospital?" he asked, his false anger making him gyrate like a bad Hollywood actor. "Tell me, so I can go inside and scatter that place!"
I shook my head. "It's nothing. I just have a bit of a headache."
"So, why are you walking?" he asked. "Let me drop you at home. It's the least I can do for a beautiful lady like yourself."
He pointed in the direction of a small 1998 Honda Accord parked across the road, and I realized he was the famous gangster, popularly known as 'Blaze,' I had heard so much of.
A young man who had made money from spending questionable hours in alleys and bars, he was a legend amongst the younger folks. On several occasions, I'd overheard Catherine and some of the young maids talk about him with much excitement.
He was one of the most popular young men in the town, and yet, here he was, lusting after me.
"Okay," I said, surprising both of us.
"Today has got to be Christmas, New Year, and my birthday all rolled into one," he exclaimed as he drove. "For me to have you, the most beautiful woman in the world, sitting in my car? This has got to be a dream!"
I smiled in spite of myself, flattered beyond measure. Maybe I wasn't that bad after all.
It was a short ride to the ranch, and when we got there, Blaze leaned towards me. "I don't know what you are doing with that old man. Let me show you things only a young man like myself can show you!"
"JazakAllah khayr," I said, ignoring him and making to open the door.
" Why are you rushing? The night is still young," he said, putting his hand over mine. "Let me take you out. Let's go to the club this evening. There we can… you know… get to know each other better."
I looked at him and was suddenly overcome by the need—the inexplicable need—to prove to myself that I was still desirable.
"Okay," I said, surprising us both again. "But I have to change."
He licked his lips. " There's no problem. I'll wait for you."
"Park by the factory," I said, getting out of the car. "At the back." There was no way I would get into a stranger's car in the dead of night, right in front of my husband's gate.
Getting into the house, I went looking for Catherine i. Madam Maria's daughter was now in her late twenties and was her mother's carbon copy.
She had managed to get into university and struggled through it for years.
Clearly not academically inclined, she'd eventually dropped out and was still trying to figure out what to do with her life.
"I'm going to the club," I said the minute she walked into my room. "I need something to wear."
She stared at me, mouth agape. "Club ? Who is taking you to the club?"
"I'll tell you when I get back. Just bring me one of your outfits," I insisted.
She shook her head vehemently. "Not until you tell me who is taking you. I need to know, in case of any emergency."
"Blaze," I answered, throwing all caution to the wind.
Her eyes widened in amazement and awe. She shut the door behind her, pulling me to the bed. "Blaze is taking you to a club? Are you serious?"
She couldn't have looked more excited if I'd said I was going out with her idol . After subjecting me to telling her all about how he had offered me a ride home and then thrown in the invitation to go clubbing, she'd finally gone to get me several clothing options to choose from.
"zeynep, please go and enjoy your life!" she squealed, entering my room with her arms laden with what looked to be her entire wardrobe. " A beautiful woman like you, I don't know why you've just been here suffering all these years. Go and enjoy yourself, biko."
I said nothing as I tried option after option before fi I finally settled on a bodycon dress, one that hugged every curve like a second skin. The deep neckline added just the right amount of allure, while the high slit on one side hinted at danger with every step. I chose a bold red—striking, confident, impossible to ignore.
Slipping into my stilettos, I admired how they elongated my legs, adding a touch of elegance to the undeniable sex appeal of the dress. A quick swipe of red lipstick, a pair of statement earrings that caught the light just right, and a spritz of my favorite perfume—I was ready to turn heads.
As she applied makeup on me in the heavy-handed manner she favored, I whispered, "Astaghfirullah." But the words felt hollow in my chest.
I was present there only physically, my heart still in shards on Jacobi's office floor. But I was determined to move on from that.
I was determined to reaffirm my desirability, if not to anyone, to myself.
When I was dressed, Catherine and I tiptoed barefoot out of the house.
"Not a word to anyone," I whispered hoarsely.
She mimicked pulling a zip across her lips. "My lips are sealed. Zeynep, please go and enjoy yourself. And make sure you come back with plenty of gossip!"
She pressed a phone into my hand. "This is mine. When you come back, dial my mom's number. I'll have it with me and will answer so I can come open the door for you."
I nodded before walking toward the direction of the back gate.
As I walked, I whispered, "Ya Allah, guide me." But even I wasn't sure if I wanted to be guided tonight.
I said, before walking towards the direction of the back gate.
I hadn't been there in the twelve years it had been since jadon's death, and walking down that dark path brought back memories so raw and vivid, they could have been yesterday.
But absolutely nothing had changed. The padlock was still damaged, and the gate still rusty. The only difference was that the large expanse of land at the back was no longer under dispute and had been developed into an industrial estate. After putting on my shoes, keeping my head bowed, I walked to the end of the road where the factory was, and, just as instructed, Blazs car was parked right there.
"Wow!" he exclaimed upon sighting me. "Wow!"
His eyes were almost bulging out of their sockets as he looked at me…like I was a piece of raw meat.
I reveled in his adulation, the look of unadulterated lust in his eyes. I might not have been jacobi's cup of tea, but I was clearly more than a cup to many others.
In fact, I was the whole teapot.
He led me into his car, his arm naughtily grazing my bottom. I smiled at his brazenness, determined to do everything I needed to make me forget my heartbreak and my insecurities.
It was a short drive to the nightclub , an impressive two-storey structure which, rumour had it, was owned by a young politician desperate to launder his loot.
The place was filled to the rafters, with people dancing and merry-making under the flashing lights, and music so loud, I could feel the reverberations through my body.
Maybe it was the heavy makeup, maybe it was because it was the last place anyone would expect to see me, but for some reason nobody looked at me like I was out of place. I was just one of the people who had come to have their fun. And I liked it…the invincibility and anonymity of it.
Blaze pulled me to him as Chris brown pulsated through the speakers, and we danced…a little closer than I had ever danced with anyone.
Looking around, I saw that kind of dancing was the norm and submitted myself to even more flirtatious, suggestive dancing. As I wound my waist, I noticed several of the other men around were staring at me, desire in their eyes, and it empowered me all the more.
"Sometimes, the easiest way to forget who you are is to become someone else—if only for a night."