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My feet are starting to hurt from all the walking.
“I’m going to take you to dinner,” he says. “I think once they realize that nothing is happening they will end their surveillance.”
“Oh,” I say. “Dinner?”
He smiles. “Yes.”
“Where?”
“A friend of mine, I trained to be a chef with him.”
“Oh, nice.”
We walk further in silence until we approach a bustling building that has a sign swinging over the door. There is a picture on the sign that looks like a crudely drawn beetle on its back. The place looks busy, lots of Urr’ki moving in and out.
Bhoja makes straight for it, cutting across traffic. Inside it is dimly lit, smoky, and full of shadows, but there is an amazing smell of cooking meat that fills the air. My mouth is watering from the first sniff.
We pause in the doorway waiting on two people in front of us to clear the walkway. There are booths along both walls, different sized tables set up through the middle, and a long bar to the right of the door. From behind the bar there is a double door through which come waiters and waitresses carrying trays loaded with food.
Bhoja takes my hand in his and pushes his way past the two who have blocked the door to have some kind of conversation between themselves. One of them barks sharply at Bhoja as he bumps him but Bhoja ignores him. I wait for it to escalate, having seen it happen before, but nothing comes of it.
He leads us down the length of the hall and chooses a table set for two that is in the furthest corner with plenty of shadows. In stark contrast to the street, no one looks at me or us. Everyone seems to, very studiously, pay attention only to their own plates and companions. I begin to take the seat opposite Bhoja but he pulls on my hand and shakes his head no.
“Here,” he says and drags the chair around so it is side by side with the other.
He sits and I sit next to him, both of us deeper in the shadows and both with our backs to the wall and a clear view of the room and the door. A few minutes and a waitress comes up. She is probably pretty, by Urr’ki standards. I’m pretty sure it’s a she anyway, maybe not. Her tusks are shorter than any male I’ve seen and she has three gold hoops drilled through each of them. She also has an ample chest that strains against the shirt she’s wearing.
She speaks in Urr’ki so I sit quietly, dependent on Bhoja to order for me. It’s for the best anyway. Even if I could understand the language, I don’t know the different foods or what they call them. And, most importantly, I realize, I trust Bhoja. It’s not an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but a subtle shift in our relationship. We’ve gone from prisoner and captor to trust. And it has been a wild ride to get there.
I study the room while I wait. When I spot one of our followers sitting at the bar I stiffen and my jaw locks with fear. My heart beats faster and cold sweat covers my back. I didn’t see him come in but there he is, looking for all the world as if he’s always been there. I don’t think I took my eyes off the door for more than a second.
Bhoja covers my clenched fist on the table with his hand. I dart my eyes at him, unwilling to take them completely off of our stalker. He pats my hand, darts his eyes towards the bar too, then back to me.
“We’ll be fine,” he says.
I don’t know if it’s his confidence or something else, but for what I think must be the first time since this entire thing started, I wholeheartedly believe him. If nothing else we’ve come so far now that I can almost believe fate is smiling on us.
Of course all my experience in life says that this is the exact moment that the rug is yanked out from under you. When you forget the speech you worked so hard on and are standing mute in front of the class without a thought on what to say or do. All those failures in my life that served to reinforce how I could never be as good as Greta.
No. She’s gone. I’m not that girl anymore. I am good enough.
I reassure myself and it seems to work. The whispering voice that has been in the back of my head for my entire life goes silent. It’s not like Greta ever said those things to me anyway. She was always supportive and loving. Always telling me how great I was.
A pang of regret slices into my heart. I wish, so much, that she was here so I could tell her I get it. At long last I finally think I understand. The only thing ever holding me back was me. The only reason I was standing in her shadow was because I was afraid.
I’m not going to let fear rule my life any longer.
I unclench my fists and take two deep, cleansing breaths. I turn towards Bhoja and put on a smile. At first I’m faking the smile, but then, when I see his face and his warm, beautiful eyes, the smile becomes genuine. All on its own.
“Yes,” I agree. “Wewill be.”
He doesn’t miss my emphasis. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare then a smile spreads over his own face that sets my heart on fire. He nods but before either of us can say more the waitress arrives with two steaming plates of food.
When I first look at my plate I feel a hint of revulsion. It looks terrible. Some kind of thick green liquid that sits in a blob on the middle of the plate. A thick piece of toasted bread lies partially on top of it. I lean in and sniff.
It smells okay, nothing near as good as what Bhoja has made for me but anyone would be hard pressed to keep up with his skills in the kitchen. I feel his eyes on me so I turn in my seat and confront him.
“What?” I ask.
