Right under my nose, she went and sold herself to a billionaire banker to pay for her mother’s cancer treatment. What could I say? I was a student. I didn’t have a pot to piss in. She needed the money. He wanted a mistress. It was an arrangement made in hell.
The rest, as they say, is history.
I was furious with myself for being so cocksure, but I hated Blake so much I wanted to kill him. Day and night I couldn’t think of anything else but him touching her, making love to what I had marked as mine. It drove me fucking crazy so I left the country. I joined Doctors Without Borders and asked to be sent to Africa.
Losing Lana broke my heart, but Africa destroyed and scarred me forever. There, I lost my faith in humanity. The poverty, the cruelty, the corruption, the suffering, the massacres, the injustices, the daily indignities I witnessed.
Even now there are nights I can’t sleep for the terrible things I have seen. The corpses rotting in the heat, the women mad with grief, and the staring, starving children. Their dark eyes haunt me still.
At that time my life was meaningless to me so I would specifically request to go to the most dangerous war-torn areas. Unprotected by UN trucks, I went into rebel controlled areas to rescue children from orphanages. The ‘rebels’ were usually merciless psychopaths intoxicated with the power that comes from unadulterated brutality, but I had no fear of death.
I stood in front of men wielding machine guns and dared them to shoot me. I think I shocked them. They called me the Mad White Man, but they were intrigued by me. Sometimes they brought their wounded to me and I healed them. My attitude was simple. Bring a broken body to me and I’ll never turn it away.
That’s what I was put on this earth to do.
I watch Sorab’s little chest as it moves, even and deep. Sometimes he will smile in his sleep. Today he doesn’t. I love this kid. I think I transferred all the love I had for his mother onto him. When I look at Lana now, that burning love is gone. From its ashes has come this pure love for this tiny human she created. He is my godson and he is my hope. In this ugly world this little gentle soul is sprouting quietly. Maybe, just maybe, one day he will make a difference.
With the back of one finger I gently stroke his silky hair.
“Sleep, little Sorab.”
Quietly, I stand and walk to the door. I open it, take one last look at the sleeping child, and shut it quickly so the freezing air doesn’t get in. I key in the alarm code and wait for the green light to come on before I turn away.
I stand on the metal platform for a second looking down at the snow covered garden. It’s beautiful. A sigh escapes me. I go down the steps and instead of walking back to the party I stand in the shadows and look in through the tall windows.
I see Lana laughing at something someone has said, and I see Blake listen quietly to a blond man, but my eyes are searching. Searching for a girl in a white dress and enormous, brown eyes. So huge they could light up a man’s dark soul.
I find her half-hidden amongst the foliage of the Christmas tree.
“Sofia.” I test the name on my lips. My breath mists. Her name is like conjuring up a magic spell.
I watch her smile and nod at the things the people around her are saying, but it is clear that she is miles away. I stare at her. Her hair is in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She is delicate, tentative and nervous. Like a bird, or a newborn fawn. Definitely not my type. I’m a sucker for girls with long legs. The longer the better. Bold girls who take what they want and leave in the morning without too much fuss.
Yet, she fascinates me. Immensely.
I only kissed her because there was no way in hell I was kissing Lana. That way lay old wounds, confusion, and sleepless nights. I will love Lana forever, but like a sister. Those old dreams are all dead now.
Sofia’s reaction to such a simple brush of my lips was astounding. The way she stared up at me. White as a sheet. Shocked. Disbelieving. As if I had reached into her body and ripped out her heart. I thought she was going to fucking faint at my feet.
Her sister must have thought the same. She moved in quickly, held onto her trembling hands tightly, and fiercely said something to her in their native tongue.
I’ve seen that exact same expression that was in Sofia’s eyes once before. When I was in Africa, a thirteen-year old girl was brought in while I was on duty. Her village had been attacked. Everyone in it was dead. She alone had survived, but she had been gang raped and set on fire. When I came to her she was half-lying, half-sitting on the bed. She looked up at me as I approached.
It was a strange look. If you didn’t know better you’d think that person was unaffected by what had happened to them. I remember watching her scratch her leg and swat away a fly that was trying to land on her skin as if a third of her body was not raw and her insides had not been ripped to shreds and hanging out between her legs.
I knew as I treated her burns, sewed her up, and bandaged her as best I could that she would never heal from that trauma. She would forever be shattered inside. When her uncle came from another village a week later to carry her away, I stood outside the clinic under the heat of the African sun. I was so angry with the way things were that I wanted to scream at God.
Look at what you have allowed. Look. Look.
The uncontrollable fury is gone. I have dulled it with alcohol and mindless activities.
I gaze through the window at Sofia and I wonder what happened to her. Whatever it is it has scarred her for life. Something moves inside me. Old grief. It makes my gunshot wound hurt. It’s been a long time since I felt that emotion. I rub the scar through my shirt. Somewhere in the distance I hear a fox calling.
Silently, I pray that one day a man will brush his lips against hers and she won’t shake with terror, but curl her hands around his neck and kiss him back. I pray she will find the happiness I never did.
The snow swirls around me. It’s freezing without my coat.
I should go back in and join the party, but I don’t have the heart for it. I can’t stand around sipping mulled wine. Remembering the burnt girl has brought back memories I thought I’d forgotten.
I go through the rose arbor that looks truly glorious in summer and out to the front of the house. Leticia lets me in the front door.
“Get me my coat, will ya?”
She smiles at me flirtatiously. She’s tall with long legs, my kind of girl, but I really don’t need to fuck Blake’s staff. “You’re not leaving surely?” she dimples at me.
“Yeah. Merry Christmas to you.”
I go down to my local. It is thick with happy people. Christmas carols are playing in the background. Someone calls my name. I turn around. Tommy waves. He is holding a pint glass. Not of beer, but whiskey! I wave back.
I already know how the night will end. I’ll get drunk. Maybe someone will be stupid enough to pick a fight with me. Goddamn, I could do with punching someone’s face in tonight. Or better still a girl with long, lean legs will offer her bed for the night.
It’s Christmas Eve, after all.
Seven
Sofia
The rest of the party passes in a blur. People come to speak to us and somehow I smile and nod, and sometimes I even make little sounds of polite agreement, but in truth I hear nothing. My lips are throbbing where his skin touched mine and my mind replays that moment incessantly.
The way my heart had jumped and soared like a bird released after a long imprisonment. It’s just a custom, Lena said. He could have kissed anyone of us. He only kissed me because I was the only single one there. But I saw the odd expression in his eyes, the tenseness in his jaw, and the furious tick in his cheek; I know that there was something more at play.
We say our goodbyes in the foyer. The milk and cookies are still w
aiting for Santa. I pull the edges of my coat tighter around my body and look up the curving stairs. I wonder if Sorab is off flying with dragons in his dreams. I would have liked to have known him better.
Someone opens the door and a gust of cold wind blows in. Guy turns towards me and I smile and walk towards it. Robert, our chauffeur drops us off outside Guy’s offices. We take the elevator to the roof of the building where a helicopter is waiting to take us home.
As we walk towards the helipad, Lena makes a throw away comment about the fact that I have apparently agreed to spend the day after Christmas at a place called Kids Rule. She smiles at me, obviously very pleased about the idea.
“What?” I stare at her alarmed. Someone took those polite noises I made seriously.
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you remember? You told Lana you would.”
The alcohol in my stomach churns making me feel quite sick. “I did? I’m sorry, Lena. I honestly can’t even remember agreeing to go, but you’ll have to tell her that I can’t make it to this thing, whatever it is.”
My sister squeezes my hand. “Hey, stop panicking. It’s just lunch with some underprivileged kids. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be going on your own. I’ll be there too.”
Phew. The instinctive fear I feel recedes. If it is going to be just children, then there’s no harm. I could go along and simply watch. I like children and enjoy their company. Exhaling with relief, I press my hand to my stomach. “So we’ll be having lunch with some kids?”
“Exactly. Most of those kids will not have had a proper Christmas dinner so that will be their great feast with turkey and the whole works thrown in. Lana said they’ll even have a Santa coming with presents for everyone.”
“I see. That’s really nice of Lana.”
“Well, it’s actually one of the charities set up by Lana. The lunch is being held at Kids Rule in Kilburn.”
“Kids Rule?” I ask with a smile.
“It’s a club where children from poor or broken homes can go to be safe while they learn or amuse themselves. They hold all kinds of free classes. Dancing, singing, music, drama, self-defense, computer. The idea is to turn them away from drugs and alcohol by engaging them in fun activities that they enjoy.”