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Jerking my chin toward him, I let out a laugh. “Sounds good to me. Better that way, anyway. You’ll call or text if there’s an issue?” I ask.
“You know that I will.”
ISABEL
I fall asleep,though I don’t know how long I’m actually out. Opening my eyes, I look to the side and hope that Ruslan is lying there, but he isn’t. Pushing myself up to sitting, I throw my legs over the side of the bed with a yawn and look down at my feet dangling.
Sliding off, I place my feet flat on the floor, then glance to the clock on the nightstand. It’s only two in the morning. I don’t know what time the brothel closes, but I have a feeling they’re open well past two in the morning.
Walking over to the closet, I grab the soft cotton robe that Zinaida brought me a couple days ago and slip it onto my body, tying it tightly. Making my way out into the living room, I look around and let out a sigh.
Alone.
I’ve been alone for weeks and I’m not sure that’s going to change. Pressing my lips together, I push my bottom lip out before I walk into the kitchen. I grab a glass and the water pitcher, then fill it up, staring at the water rising in the glass. When it’s full, I place the pitcher back into the fridge.
It’s too quiet. Far too quiet. Walking into the living room, I sink down on the couch and reach for the remote control. I don’t know what I’m going to watch, but I now have the freedom to watch whatever I want… or I could read. But since I don’t have any paperback books and my Kindle is either where I left it in my room or burned in a pile with the rest of my things, television it is.
Touching the Netflix button, I start to search for something I’ve never seen before, which is easy, because I wasn’t allowed a television in my bedroom at Azar’s house and someone else was always watching the family television.
The past few weeks, I’ve been healing, sleeping a lot and not really watching much television, unless Zinaida was over and then she just put it on as background noise while she hovered over me.
There is a documentary that catches my eye. It’s about a church that broke off and turned cult. It’s about the women who were sold off as child brides. In its own way, it’s about me. Touching the play button, I stare at the television as it begins to play.
In some ways the women of this group and me could be sisters, in others, we are polar opposites. It’s fascinating, intriguing, and heartbreaking. Before the documentary is over, I’m a sobbing mess. I feel sorry for them and for myself. But there is something beautiful in their strength and I also find myself wondering if I have any of that inside of me, too.
The door to the condo slowly opens and I gasp, turning my head as I jump to the end of the sofa as a head peeks into the room. Familiar eyes find mine. I recognize his eyes before I do his face. Those eyes you wouldn’t ever forget, not in a million years.
“Edmon?” I ask.
His lips curve up into a grin and he gives me a wink. “You remember me,” he says.
“Of course, I do. We were neighbors.”
He hums, nodding his head once. “You okay? I heard the television kick on. It’s late… well, early,” he says.
Shrugging a shoulder, I look at the television and then shift my attention back to meet his. “Couldn’t sleep.”
I watch as the pity slips into his features. I can almost see it move across his whole face and I hate it. Every second of it as it does. Then, either he senses that I hate it, or he just does it because he is used to changing his expressions constantly, he shakes his head once and the pity vanishes.
He doesn’t say anything else to me, but I watch as he shoves his hand into his pocket, then looks down at his phone, his lips curving up into a small smile before he answers the phone.
“I’m looking right at her. She’s sitting on the couch watching television. I don’t know. Couldn’t sleep. Will do.”
Edmon ends the call, pushes his phone back into his pocket and flicks his gaze up to meet mine. His lips curve up into a smile.
“Ruslan will be home soon. Wanted me to let you know. Also said he’d be bringing you breakfast on the way.”
“Seriously?” I ask on an exhale.
He chuckles. “Seriously, said I could come in as long as you okayed it.”
Laughing, I lift my arm, holding my palm out. “Please do and tell me what you’ve been up to the past six years,” I say.
He walks into the room, closing and locking the door behind him when he does, then he makes his way over to me. He doesn’t sit down on the couch, instead he sinks down in the chair across from the couch, his forearms resting on his knees.
“Nothing, Isabel. I’ve been up to nothing… nothing good anyway.”
“Yeah,” I exhale. “Same here.”
