Page 16 of Girl in the Water
He limped to the window anyway, saw the douche bags pour out the front door of the building. One had to be carried. At least Ian’s kneecap was only cracked, if that. A bottle of whiskey, a bag of ice, and he’d be good as new by morning.
He watched them pile into a BMW.
Rich douche bags. Figured.
Ian rubbed his knee.
If Finch had been here… But Finch hadn’t called again after the message he’d left back in December. Summer had arrived since. Finch hadn’t showed like he’d promised, which was unlike him. At the very least, the Finch that Ian knew would have called to say something about the change of plans.
Ian looked around his destroyed apartment and swore at the broken side table in particular.
Where the hell was he going to put his whiskey glass?
And what the hell was the sense in him getting jumped here in DC and Finch getting jumped wherever the hell he was? They used to fight together, back to back.
Ian kicked the broken table leg across the room. The douche bags were lucky they were gone, because he was full-on pissed now. Anyone he knocked out now wouldn’t get up in a hurry.
He limped out into the kitchen and went through the cupboards for a bottle, but all the bottles were empty. The fridge had nothing in it either. Not even ice for his kneecap. He slammed the door so hard, it bounced open again.
The place was shit. The job was shit. The pay was certainly shit.
Fuck it.
He grabbed his phone from the counter, glad to see it in one piece. He bought a one-way ticket to Rio and went to pack his bag.
On the way to the airport, he called his mother in Connecticut, told her he’d be out of town for a while, maybe out of cell phone reach, not to worry about him.
Whatever he found down in Rio, couldn’t be much worse than what he had up here in DC, could it?
* * *
Daniela
The only thing Daniela feared was having to go back to Rosa’s.
She cooked for Senhor Finch, she cleaned, and at night, she went to bed with him. He was very little trouble. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the house. He didn’t tell her where he went during the day, and she wouldn’t dream of asking.
She prayed that whatever was troubling him would go away. He smiled a lot, joked a lot, but he also watched the street. He kept a gun on the top of the fridge, and when he went out, the gun went with him.
Sometimes, he took her to the market and let her pick whatever she wanted, even clothes, even a new pair of rubber flip-flops that fit her feet exactly. But he kept looking over his shoulder.
If it rained very hard, he might stay home. On those days, he taught Daniela English. She already knew several words from the missionary in her village, so the learning progressed quickly.
Senhor Finch seemed happy with her willingness to learn, so she tried hard, eager to please him, although he never beat her and never threatened to send her back to Rosa. But Daniela didn’t want to take the chance.
Senhor Finch liked her looking happy. “Smile,” he would say in English.
So she would smile for him. She tried to remember to put a smile on her face when he was at home. It cost her nothing.
One month passed, then another. During the day, she relaxed. But at night, after he’d gone to sleep, she would hear Rosa’s words echo in her head.You stay here until he sends you back.
Daniela wanted to ask Senhor Finch how long she had, when he would send her back up the river, but she didn’t dare question him. Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe, if she didn’t remind him, Senhor Finch would keep her with him forever.
She never left the house without him. She didn’t like the crowds. Especially when she remembered that one of the girls she’d been with at the red house on the Içana said that she’d been stolen from the street, from a big town, then sold to Rosa. Daniela didn’t want to be stolen.
Senhor Finch probably sensed her reluctance, because he never sent her anywhere on her own.
Nobody came to visit them.
