As soon as I step into the living room, I see Esmeralda pacing, arms crossed, looking worried as fuck.
“Joder!” she cusses. “Are you seriously going out like that? Let me show you how to properly use makeup.” Her concern after the conversation with her lover boy finally reaches me. I understand what she’s feeling, but her tone bothers me.
A lot.
The Frenchman looks at me and nods slightly at the idea of her doing my makeup. Even though I find it annoying, when Esmeralda takes my hand and walks me to the bathroom, I let her.
“Did you cover your tattoos?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, good. Make sure you keep your posture and walk like a man. When I saw you the first time I knew you were a woman. Close your eyes.”
I close my eyes for a few minutes and only feel the soft touches of brushes and sponges.
“Okay, open your eyes again.”
I can really see the difference, the image in the mirror looks way better than before, thick eyebrows, or should I say ‘unibrow’, the overall color of my face is a few shades darker.
“Thanks, I feel a little bit more…manly?” I let out a chuckle, but she doesn’t laugh.
“Well that’s what we wanted. Please don’t do anything stupid. He owes a favor to another fucking American. That’s why he’s involved in this suicide mission. Behave. Don’t talk to anyone, and especially don’t mention me. Got it, American Girl?” She’s looking at me with hatred. Her nostrils are flaring and she’s breathing heavily. “I asked you if you got—”
I interrupt her, tired of her tone.
“Listen to meEsmeralda,” I whisper as I slowly draw closer. I am pissed off. “I really don’t like that tone. Don’t you fucking talk to me like that ever again. I’m not some helpless woman that you can boss around. I own my shit.Weshould be helping each other, not treating each other like trash. Never give a look like that to any other woman again. Got it?” She looks perplexed, but I continue. “This is the part where you say ‘Got it. Sorry’,” I snarl.
“G-Got it. I’m sorry,” she replies in a whisper.
“Now get out, I need to pee.” Esmeralda leaves immediately.
“Good girl,” Rage purrs, but I don’t respond.
“You got some sharp claws, kitty.”
Shut up, Life.
“It’s impossible to reason with you when you are talking to me like that, you know?”
I grab my bag and exit the bathroom. The Frenchman is already standing right next to the front door.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
He moves at my words to check the alleyway.
“Okay, it’s safe. Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
I don’t need to be told another fucking time.
I exit the house and follow the passage. The air-conditioner units stick out from almost every window, some kids are playing in the street, and two fully covered girls pass me.
The Frenchman joins me, and we both march ahead side by side in silence until we reach an asphalted road. He points at a double cab truck. I throw the bag on the back seat and turn around to glance at the silhouette of Esmeralda looking at us from her doorway. She’s is wearing the black burqa again.
I get she’s worried about his wellbeing, and I’m okay with her trying to make sure he lives another day, but we’re all responsible for the things we did in our past. And the things we do in our present.
I look away.
