“Xiang!”
Xiang wore an oversized coat that looked like an army field jacket over her skirt. She must have been standing in the rain for some time, because her wet hair was stuck to her head.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
I grabbed her hand involuntarily. “Come home with us,” I said. “You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”
I pulled her under my umbrella with me. Luna kept glancing over at us as we walked. Xiang asked us to wait a moment in front of a small shop while she ran inside. Luna turned to me as if she’d been waiting for an opportunity.
“Who is she?”
“An old friend from back home.”
“She looks homeless. Is this safe?”
“She’s been going through a rough time. I have to help her.”
Xiang had gone in to buy a pack of cigarettes. As soon as she came out, she ripped open the pack, lit one up and puffed away on it feverishly. When we got to our building, Luna went into her own flat without saying a word, and I knocked on the door to mine. The door swung open and Ayesha greeted me.
“I think Hurriyah can tell when her mum is coming home. She kept whining and refusing to go to bed.”
Hurriyah Suni was sitting on the floor surrounded by wooden blocks, but she crawled over to me quickly when I came in, already on the verge of tears. I picked her up and wished Ayesha a good night.
“What pretty eyes,” Xiang murmured.
“Did you eat dinner? I’ll make something for us.”
“I’m fine with ramen.”
“Really? That’s good. Actually, I was a little worried. It was raining too hard to get groceries.”
While I was heating up a bottle for Hurriyah, I turned to see Xiang putting a cigarette in her mouth.
“If you have to smoke, please go outside to do it,” I warned her.
She looked surprised, then put the cigarette back in the pack and sat on the sofa with her knees drawn up. I fed Hurriyah first and changed her diaper, then gently patted her on the back while singing old lullabies. She soon fell asleep. I put her to bed and came back into the living room to find Xiang sniffling and crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hearing those lullabies reminded me of when I was young.” She grabbed a tissue to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t paid you back.”
“It’s fine. Take your time …”
I asked her questions while we ate.
“Are the snakeheads still bothering you?”
“No. After about a year, they handed me over to a new house and cancelled my debt.”
“Why don’t you go to the police? If you get deported as an illegal alien, then at least you’ll get to go back home.”
“I don’t want to go home. I like it here.”
“Then find a new job. You could do foot massages like me. I’ll talk to my boss.”
Xiang chuckled. “It’s too late for that …” She wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Everywhere I go, it’s all the same.”
We slept beside each other for the first time in a long time. Before falling asleep, we lay in the dark and talked about everything she’d been through in London. She told me about the girls brought over from Asia, Russia and Eastern Europe to work in neighbourhoods like this one. About women whose families went through hell to find them and take them back home, only to watch as the women returned within half a year. About accepting money to sleep with just anyone, with people you didn’t love, trusting and relying on the man who pimps you out because you believe he’s your lover. About the kinds of things that take place in every city in every part of the world.
Right before we fell asleep, Xiang murmured something in the dark: “No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to remember Zhou’s face anymore.”
“Zhou?”
“My husband … We left him behind in Dalian, remember?”
In a voice as sleep-addled as hers, I said: “That’s right. He didn’t make it onto the boat.”
We didn’t say anything more. I slipped into a deep sleep.
*
I see a barren land devoid of even a single tree. White-hot sunlight blazes down on sand — just the sight of it makes my throat parched and my chest heavy. Inside a square wire fence shaped like a chicken coop, someone kneels in a fetal position with his head pressed to the ground. His hands are tied behind him. I cannot see his face, but I recognize those familiar shoulders right away: there’s no doubt it’s Ali.
Ali! I shout. What are you doing?
No sound. I can’t move toward him. He keeps shifting a tiny bit to the right and then to the left, as if he’s in pain, before kneeling straight again. I struggle to move, and call his name.
I stand in a dark corridor. On each side, small windows reveal tiny cells in which men are stripped naked and kneeling. I call out for my husband and they each turn to look at me, but their faces are hooded in darkness. Then I hear shouts.
Do not move! Do not speak! Do not get up! What’re you looking at? On your knees! You son of a bitch! You piece of shit!
I hear voices moaning and protesting.
So thirsty. It hurts. So hungry. Don’t hit me. You assholes. Mother! Wife! Save me!
I find Ali lying on his side on a dirt floor with his arms wrapped around his knees. I stand in front of the window and shout: “Honey, it’s me! It’s Bari! Please get up!”
Now I know he can hear me. He flinches and lifts his head.
I shout again, impatient: “Here! I’m right here!”
He staggers to his feet and lunges toward the window. “Bari! Bari!”
I study his face. His head is shaved and his beard has grown long, but his big, skittish eyes are the same. Tears spill down his cheeks. My body is whisked away on a rough breeze and carried back down the corridor into darkness.
*
“Ali!” I scream, and sit up in bed. The window that faces onto the courtyard glows a milky white. A turtle dove sings plaintively outside. Xiang is sleeping on her side. Oh, why did I have to see his face so clearly in my dream? I lay there stunned, unable to go back to sleep.
I lay like that all night, unable to do anything. Only when Hurriyah Suni woke up and started crying because she was hungry did I drag myself out of bed to fix her a bottle and some baby cereal. I couldn’t erase the image of Ali’s face suddenly appearing in the darkness. I set my daughter down on the floor to play by herself while I prepared breakfast for Xiang and me.
“Xiang, come eat.”
I tried to wake her, but she frowned and struggled to raise her head.
“I don’t eat breakfast,” she said, and rolled over and went back to sleep.
I ate breakfast alone and then asked Luna to tell our boss that I couldn’t go to work that day. I told her I wasn’t feeling well.
When the minutes clicked by and I didn’t show up upstairs, Grandfather Abdul came down.
“I decided to stay home today,” I told him. I debated whether to tell him about my dream, but decided to hold off.
“Okay,” he said. “Looks like you have a visitor?”
“Yes, an old friend from back home.”
“Then I guess I’d better use this opportunity to go out for a change.”
He would probably drop by the mosque or to one of the neighbourhood parks to have a leisurely chat with his friends. I played with Hurriyah and then heated up some food for Xiang, who didn’t wake up until noon. Ayesha showed up in the afternoon, but when she saw I was there she headed back home. For the first time that day, I discovered how dirty the house was: all the blankets and rugs were soiled with spilled food and the baby’s spit-up. I pulled the sheets off of the mattress, undid the duvet covers and packed up the bedding with Hurriyah’s dirty clothes and my own. I looked down at her as she scampered from this toy to that, first chasing after a rabbit that hopped at the push of a button, then playing with a doll that could speak.