Even though we're out of the war zone now, I'm far from being relieved. Arriving in Turkey, our problems haven't become less, they've only changed.
It had been easy to put Audrey beyond a niqab in the eastern states, to hide her. Here, it would only look suspicious, because there's a much a different tradition here. Sabir's men smuggled us all the way to Erzincan, a city in the middle of the country. I got a car from them, to drive down to Antalya, don't open the trunk, don't ask questions. Most likely, the trunk's been full of drugs, I didn't look. We drove by the pickup place. Someone came, opened it, took something out and left. Within 10 seconds he was out of sight.
Audrey also didn't say a single word about it.
It's warm here, the summer season is just about to begin and we'll hide among the tourists. She is wearing a cheap summer dress and a wide scarf around her shoulders. Even though the dress is wide, it shines through how skinny she still is. She doesn't look healthy, that makes it even harder for the both of us to fit in and stay unnoticed. The past months have left their traces in me as well. I'm glad it's not summer yet. We won't attract too much attention running around with long sleeves to cover her boney arms and the scars and bruises on mine.
When we arrive in Antalya, it's already night. I get us two cheap hotel rooms near the beach and hope that the receptionist doesn't wonder why I don't carry a suitcase, like all the others around here. The stuff Audrey and I have fits into a single bag by now. Most of our weapons have been left behind in Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan. Right now I only have a gun that I hope not to use in the near future.
We have the fake passports, that Chloe got for us, Australian again.
Louise Audrey Brendan, Audrey reads aloud, it draws a smile on her face. You really had to make my middle name Audrey? She's reading her passport for the first time now, up the hotel room.
Don't you like it?
She laughs. God, I love it when she laughs. That woman really exists. She kinda looks like you and it's easier to get a duplicate of real passport than a fake one.
I'm already done with unpacking. We don't have many clothes, other than that there's just my gun, my last eight hundred dollars and two sandwiches which are left after the 14 hour drive.
There's a small balcony, Audrey opens up the doors and shows me the late sunset. The rooms next to us must be occupied by students, probably on spring-break. It's awfully loud here but they seem to have fun.
Do you wanna go to the beach?, I ask her.
She shrugs and comes back over to me.
You look tired, I hear her say. Let's stay here.
It's been a long drive. I've sat behind the steering wheel white a while, lately. The last time I really got some hours of good rest was on Mohammed's boat, when we crossed the Caspian Sea. It feels like an eternity ago, but it only were two days.
What do we do now? What does she expect me to do? We haven't shared a hotel room in ages. Right as I already want to tell her that I'll put the two armchairs together and sleep there, she goes to take a shower. Postponing the decision.
I do it as well, postponing it a little longer.
As I come out of the bathroom, the doors to the balcony are still open, the curtain waiving in the wind. It's night now. Where there previously was an orange and purple gradient at the sky, there's now only black, broken by a few starts and lights of boats, far away. On the little part of the beach that we can see from here, young people are partying.
Audrey is standing there, watching them.
Hey, I silently say, as I approach her from behind, so she won't startle.
She's wearing her summer dress again, the only one she has. I've put on a T-shirt, to cover the worst. The night will have to cover the rest, like the scars on my arms and the bruises, where I don't really know where I got them. Either the night Audrey thrashed me or that last mercenary who I fought yesterday. Under the shower I just washed the rest of his blood away, I'm sure there was something still left.
Would you like to be there? I ask her. There's music, a beach bar, carefreeness.
I should have been tired, but my pulse is racing. She's standing just a few inches in front of me, I see her back, I feel here body heat or maybe it's just imagination, who cares. Actually, I hope that she says yes, then we can leave this room, which feels much too tight right now.
No, she answers, after a while of thinking, and walks past me, to sit down on the bed.
Damn it.
I'll sleep over there, I mention, pointing at the armchairs.
Why?
Her question catches me off-guard. Isn't it obvious enough?
Jack?
I'm frozen stiff, while she slides closer. Again, she calls my name… is she getting angry?
Is this about Marc?
Not only. This is about so many things. That she's still married to Marc is only the tip of the ice berg. This can lead nowhere. I need to work for the Serbian mafia again to earn the money that will allow me to survive. God knows what they'll want me to do. I can't picture her in such a life, along with me.
Slowly, I walk over to the bed and sit down next to her. Don't be mad at me Audrey, please… I start. When I travelled to China, a month ago, to get you out… I never thought we'd make it out alive. When we arrived in Almaty… I was afraid we'd get lost somewhere on the way, that we wouldn't make it to Baku, that we wouldn't survive Armenia… and now we're here, against all odds.
What do you want to tell me with this?, she asks, her voice is just as shaky as mine.
I take a deep breath. I talked to Marc… and Chloe, today. I… this is harder than I ever thought.
About what? My nervousness infected her, too.
You can't stay with me, Audrey. It's out.
She's upset now. What makes you think I wanted to, she hisses and gets up. I'm sure that she hasn't thought about the future. We were so focused on surviving each other day that every thought ahead seemed like a dream or an offense.
I can't go back to the US cause they don't even want me to breathe. So where are you gonna drop me off? She's clearly upset.
We found a way you might be able to go back home. I had hoped that she'd be more happy about this, but she's just upset. Audrey, please. Think about it.
She's standing at the window, looking out, like before. The happy music, coming from far, it is really odd now.
How?, she silently asks, still having turned her back towards me.
We found a different cover story for the money he gave me. I don't go over to her. Give her space. He'll tell them it was ransom money.
Audrey turns around, skeptically. Ransom? She derogatorily laughs. And who the hell… now she realizes. I'm the one who received the money. Marc will tell them I kidnapped her. That story will never go through, she hisses.
It will. I've been off the radar just as long as you have. The Russians have locked me away so well that nobody back home knows where I was. I had the opportunity, I was in London, and I had a motive.
You had?, she asks me, which one?
Audrey you're making this hard, damn hard. I loved you, always. Everybody knows that. Your father did, Marc did… even you did, as you met me in London.
I leave her question unanswered because I don't wanna speak it out loud.
What if I don't want that, she says.
What else do you want? As long as there's no plausible explanation why they buried you and now you come back alive, you'll never be safe, at no place in this world. It's the harsh reality that I confront her with.
She turns back, looking outside again.
I slowly get up and walk the few steps over to her. Audrey please… this is a real chance for you.
Are you done now, deciding which one of you will get me?, she spits.
You need to go back home, Audrey, if you want to survive. At least for a while you'll need to pretend that your loving husband tried everything to save you. I hate to say these words.
She walks past me, over to the two armchairs. Good night, Jack, she tells me and lies down on them, demonstratively.
I'm at a loss.
Finally, I sit down on the floor, leaning against the bed. I'm about to risk everything for you, Audrey, I already did, and this is how you thank me for it. Damn it, and I still love you.
…
…
…
Our room is obviously facing east, because the first rays of the morning light wake me up. I'm still lying on the floor. Also, my aching back tells me that.
While I try to straighten up, I see the pillow I've rested my head on. Audrey is sitting there, right next to it. She obviously put it there for me, some point in the night. Is this her way of saying sorry?
You know… I got us a hotel room… and nobody sleeps at the bed, I tell her.
She understands that this is a joke. A slight smile crosses her face. Probably she's relieved that I'm still talking to her.
Am I angry? No, I guess not. We both had a few hours to think now.
I don't want to go back to Marc, she says. And I don't wanna go back into a country I gave everything for and which dropped me the moment I was inconvenient for them.
I know… I straighten myself up and sit next to her, also leaning against the bed. They've dropped me, too.
You could go back any time. Dad gave you a reprieve.
I lived in Serbia, Audrey, the past four years… working for the mafia. The Russians still want to put me back into prison, the Ukrainians and the Mexicans got tricked to release me, I have no place to go, believe me. I tell her about every station of the past four years, about how I made a living. I've smuggled drugs and weapons, I've fought as a mercenary when I was truly out of money. I did things to keep myself distracted, in the times between, to fill up the emptiness. Nothing to be proud of.
For a while, we just sit there, shoulder by shoulder, watching the sunrise. It's ghostly silent now. All the partying student from yesterday evening are asleep, the beach bar is closed, the garbage collection truck down the street is the only thing that moves at all.
I don't want to drag you into this, Audrey, I silently tell her.
She leans towards me and rests her head on my shoulder. Taking the blame again?
The stack is so big… one more thing doesn't make a change at all. I turn over and place a soft kiss at her head. Her hair against my face feels heavenly. We keep sitting there, even longer, until the morning rush on the streets down there finally starts.
In three days, I'll call Chloe. Then, she and Marc will have hopefully settled everything. Until then, I already know how to get through.
.
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