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“What are you raging about?” he yells as he follows.
“Go away.” I pause and look up for a moment as the skies open and huge raindrops start to fall sporadically. Oh great, it’s going to pour down now. I keep power walking up the road.
The downpour comes loud and heavy and we start to run to find cover. I cross the road to stand under an awning from a bakery, and he follows and stands next to me.
We stand in silence as we watch Mother Nature cause her havoc.
“What the hell are you angry about, Rosh?” he finally asks.
My eyes fill with tears again and I drop them shamefully to look at the cement in front of me. “I know you went to the safety deposit box today.”
He stays silent and the air hangs thick between us.
“Did you take them all?” I ask over the sound of the heavy rain.
After a long silence, he replies. “No.”
I look up the street through blurred vision. This is it. This really is it for us. He did take them. I knew he did.
“I didn’t steal from you.”
My eyes meet his. “Yes, you did.”
“I need you to trust me.”
His silhouette is blurred. “I can’t,” I whisper. “Trust is earned.”
“Haven’t I earned it?”
“No,” I reply flatly. I put my arm up and hail a passing cab and it comes to a slow halt. I bend down to the window. “Bogota, please?” I ask.
“Sure, hop in.”
I climb in and he pushes in after me. I scoot over in the seat to allow him the room. I wrap my arms around me protectively and stare out the window. I just want to get away from him. I can’t take this. I can’t take fucking deceit anymore. His silence is stifling.
“You going to sell them? Is that it? Did you get the contact that you needed?” I glance over at him. “Maybe you are going to set up your wife and kids at home.”
He sits with his hands linked on his lap and shakes his head dismissively with an eye roll. “I have a wife and kids now?”
I shrug. “Why would I believe anything that you have told me so far?”
He glares at me.
“Lie to me once, lie to me all the time, it’s all the same. I will never believe anything that comes out of your lying mouth now.”
He doesn’t fight back and the car trip is made in silence. Part of me wants him to deny it, to fight for us, to tell me it’s not true, to beg me for forgiveness, but then… I need the truth.
The painful truth.
At least I have that little bit of money in my account. I start to go over my options on getting out of here. The cab comes to a slow halt before he pays the driver and we climb out.
He glares at me, still furious, and it’s like he is waiting for me to say something.
“Come and get your things and get out.” I sneer.
“So, that’s it?” he asks.
I feel the tears behind my eyes and I nod. “That’s it,” I whisper, barely able to push out the words.
