‘Who are you trying to convince more? Me or you?’
‘I—I don’t want to jump to conclusions that are as yet unfounded, but if this proves not to be some kind of administration error, then I don’t think we need to wrack our brains to guess who’s responsible.’ He presses his lips together, his mouth a little more than a harsh line across his face.
Fear slithers into my gut, my happiness at returning dissolved by just the suggestion of him.
Faris.
‘You think—’
‘I don’t think anything. Not yet, at least.’
I’m stopped from asking what we’re going to do, when the head of the immigration team, as he himself informs me in—yikes—perfect English, requests I accompany him into a nearby room.
‘Go,’ Kai tells me. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s best that you wait in there.’
The side room’s interior is grey and sterile and not particularly heartening. Its harsh appearance, coupled by my separation from Kai, makes me feel like a fugitive.And very worried. I haven’t long to wait until I’m joined by another villainous person, this one almost man-handled into the room by a female security guard. Tall and solidly built, the guard’s hair is concealed by a navyhijabscarf, colour coordinated with the rest of her long-skirted uniform. Taking up a position by the door, she appears to consider her tiny charge to be a flight risk, judging by the way her eyes are trained on her. But then I see it isn’t aher, but rather athem. As the woman brings the covering of her bright blue sari from over her head, she reveals an infant clad in pink. One teeny hand and roly-poly wrist decorated by a slim gold bangle, shoots from the sari’s covering, shortly followed by the rest of her person, as she tumbles from her mother’s knee to her feet on the floor. Jet black hair, cow-licked and standing at odd angles, compliment the largest brown eyes I have ever seen.
She’s cute, and she knows it as she begins toddling around the room, singing and babbling. Even the security guard thaws, crouching to her level and exchanging a lolly she produces from her pocket for a kiss. Next, those deliciously fat little legs bring her to me, where she holds out her hand, whispering, ‘Slalikum.’
‘Hello, sweetie.’ I take her tiny hand in mine. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Aisha, madim,’ her mother answers for her as the little girl toddles away. ‘Madim, you are needing hosmaid?’
‘I’m sorry? A h-housemaid, did you say?’
‘Aiwa, I am being berry good hosmaid,’ she answers proudly.
‘You are also not having a visa,’ interjects the security guard. ‘Or a passport.’
‘La, I have,’ she replies hotly. ‘You already take!’
‘Yes, because it is your sister’s passport,’ the guard answers with an exasperated air.
‘Sister,’ the tiny sari-lady addresses the guard, rather than repeats, because there’s a lot of that out here; addressing strangers assisterorbrother. Presumably relations in humanity, though I’ve had to bite my tongue a few times from answeringI so don’t remember seeing them at the dinner table growing up. ‘Sister,’ she repeats, throwing her hands wide. ‘My sister is dead!’
The pair begin to hotly debate the validity of travelling on a dead relative’s passport in a mixture of broken English, Arabic and Urdu. The sari lady complaining passports aretoo much experience—expensive, would be my guess—to waste on a dead sister. But the interaction is much to the oblivion of the little girl, who begins flooding the tray of the water cooler in the corner, watching with fascination as the water streams down the plastic and runs onto the floor.
The door opens, and my hopes of being released rise. But no such luck, as half a dozen Asian women are ushered in. A gaudily coloured bunch, and I’dliketo say they resemble birds of paradise, instead of hookers from Bangkokbut... if the slutty clothes fit?
The noise is truly cacophonous; the women complaining, arguing, and bitching, and just generally talking over the top of each other. But as the new arrivals are ushered further into the room, the guard catches my eye, gesturing me to leave.
Thanks be to fuck.
Outside stands a weary looking Kai. I place my hand in his and he pulls me against his chest. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Is it sorted? Was it an admin thing?’
‘I don’t know. You’re free to go, but there are some provisos. For now.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, can it wait for discussion until tomorrow?’
‘Oh, okay. I thought for a minute they’d be issuing me an orange jump-suit, and I’m too girly to go to jail, Kai. I’d end up being somebody’s bitch.’
Walking hand-in-hand, we’re each lost in our own thoughts until I realise we’re almost at the airport exit.
‘Stop! We’ve missed baggage reclai—’
