silence until Kathy stopped crying. Looking down at the floor she said, “I want Abul here in this house. I want to make love to him in my bed...I mean I want to make love to him in...in the bed we will now share as...as...” She could not say husband and wife. “I want to make love to him in our bed.”
Uzetta said nothing. He continued to stare at her, the smoke from his cigarette partially obscuring his face. Abul crossed to Kathy and jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. “Make us some food. But first pour two glasses of bourbon with ice. You know how I like it.”
“Please, Abul,” Kathy pleaded, “it’s two o’clock in the morning. I haven’t slept. I’m exhausted. Please, can’t we...”
Instead of answering her, Abul struck Kathy’s cheek so hard his hand left a red imprint. She cried out and fell against the chair. “You fuckin’ do what I say!”
Kathy glanced at Uzetta. He was calmly lighting another cigarette. “No sleep,” he said evenly. “We drink. We eat. We drink again. We fuck. I make you do things. We fuck again. Then, maybe sleep.”
Abul scowled, “What do you mean? She ain’t allowed to fuck. You’re saying that you’re going to make her do things? Who the hell are you to...”
Uzetta pulled from his pocket a long silver razor. When he pressed a button a thin blade sprung out. Reflected lamplight danced along its length. Kathy gasped. Abul backed away. The driver touched the button again. The blade snapped back into its sheath. He slipped it into his pocket. “Whiskey,” he said.
Suddenly Kathy realized that she was more vulnerable here in America, here in her own home than she had ever been in the training facility. She went into the kitchen. Someone had stocked it well. Quickly she made the drinks and, with trembling hands, served the two men who were seated in the leather chairs.
She put two potatoes in the microwave to bake and placed two steaks under the broiler. She was opening a box of frozen spinach when they called for more drinks. While they ate, she was made to stand next to Abul ready to bring more bread, additional butter, salt, pepper, and to keep their glasses full of ice cubes and bourbon. Abul shoveled food into his mouth like the gross, ignorant brute he was. He slid his rough hand up under her skirt and over the bare skin of her ass. They wiped their greasy mouths on her finest linen napkins. Abul threw his on the floor. Occasionally the two men spoke to one another in a language she couldn’t understand. Through most of the meal, Uzetta continued to stare at her. She was terrified of him and knew that Abul was too much of a coward to do anything for her.
When they finished, she refilled their glasses. After clearing the table, she loaded the dishwasher. On the counter was the knife rack, which held both a long bread knife and a heavy butcher knife. She felt she might be able to kill or at least wound one of them, but against both she would be helpless. She reminded herself that even the slightest disobedience would bring harm to Mary Margaret. To attack Abul or Uzetta would require Mr. Satomi to have her killed and probably Mary Margaret as well. There was no other course but to submit and take comfort in the fact that after two weeks she would finally be free of Abul. The thought that Mary Margaret would not become his possession also gave her some comfort.
“Woman!” Abul drunkenly shouted.
She went to the archway between the kitchen and living room. Abul lay stretched out on the couch, a half empty glass in his hand. “All day long I haven’t once heard you refer to me with affection,” he waved his hand at her motioning for her to come to him. She’d had nothing to eat but the scraps they’d given her. The long sleepless journey and the emotional exhaustion left her weak. Slowly she crossed to Abul. Uzetta watched through half closed eyes. A lit cigarette dangled from his thick lips. Abul scowled at Kathy and pointed to his shoes. “Take
Uzetta said nothing. He continued to stare at her, the smoke from his cigarette partially obscuring his face. Abul crossed to Kathy and jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. “Make us some food. But first pour two glasses of bourbon with ice. You know how I like it.”
“Please, Abul,” Kathy pleaded, “it’s two o’clock in the morning. I haven’t slept. I’m exhausted. Please, can’t we...”
Instead of answering her, Abul struck Kathy’s cheek so hard his hand left a red imprint. She cried out and fell against the chair. “You fuckin’ do what I say!”
Kathy glanced at Uzetta. He was calmly lighting another cigarette. “No sleep,” he said evenly. “We drink. We eat. We drink again. We fuck. I make you do things. We fuck again. Then, maybe sleep.”
Abul scowled, “What do you mean? She ain’t allowed to fuck. You’re saying that you’re going to make her do things? Who the hell are you to...”
Uzetta pulled from his pocket a long silver razor. When he pressed a button a thin blade sprung out. Reflected lamplight danced along its length. Kathy gasped. Abul backed away. The driver touched the button again. The blade snapped back into its sheath. He slipped it into his pocket. “Whiskey,” he said.
Suddenly Kathy realized that she was more vulnerable here in America, here in her own home than she had ever been in the training facility. She went into the kitchen. Someone had stocked it well. Quickly she made the drinks and, with trembling hands, served the two men who were seated in the leather chairs.
She put two potatoes in the microwave to bake and placed two steaks under the broiler. She was opening a box of frozen spinach when they called for more drinks. While they ate, she was made to stand next to Abul ready to bring more bread, additional butter, salt, pepper, and to keep their glasses full of ice cubes and bourbon. Abul shoveled food into his mouth like the gross, ignorant brute he was. He slid his rough hand up under her skirt and over the bare skin of her ass. They wiped their greasy mouths on her finest linen napkins. Abul threw his on the floor. Occasionally the two men spoke to one another in a language she couldn’t understand. Through most of the meal, Uzetta continued to stare at her. She was terrified of him and knew that Abul was too much of a coward to do anything for her.
When they finished, she refilled their glasses. After clearing the table, she loaded the dishwasher. On the counter was the knife rack, which held both a long bread knife and a heavy butcher knife. She felt she might be able to kill or at least wound one of them, but against both she would be helpless. She reminded herself that even the slightest disobedience would bring harm to Mary Margaret. To attack Abul or Uzetta would require Mr. Satomi to have her killed and probably Mary Margaret as well. There was no other course but to submit and take comfort in the fact that after two weeks she would finally be free of Abul. The thought that Mary Margaret would not become his possession also gave her some comfort.
“Woman!” Abul drunkenly shouted.
She went to the archway between the kitchen and living room. Abul lay stretched out on the couch, a half empty glass in his hand. “All day long I haven’t once heard you refer to me with affection,” he waved his hand at her motioning for her to come to him. She’d had nothing to eat but the scraps they’d given her. The long sleepless journey and the emotional exhaustion left her weak. Slowly she crossed to Abul. Uzetta watched through half closed eyes. A lit cigarette dangled from his thick lips. Abul scowled at Kathy and pointed to his shoes. “Take
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