Of Metal and Wishes (17 page)

We are nearly nose to nose. His breath smells like antibiotics, sweet and bitter. I’m lost in the jade of his eyes. My heart is beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

There’s a moment of stillness between us. We’re standing on this threshold, about to step over, and . . . he’s waiting for me. His look is expectation, hope, and a glint of nervousness. I have a choice to make. Do I believe that he didn’t pay another woman for his pleasure? Do I forgive him? Do I want to share him? Is he worth having?

He senses my hesitation, I think. He takes my face in his hands. “Wen, don’t do this unless you believe me. Don’t betray yourself like that.”

“I know what I saw.”

“Did you see me with a woman?”

I shake my head. My cheeks are flaming beneath his palms.

“Because I wouldn’t touch anyone else. I don’t want to since I met you.” He releases me and I sit back. I am amazed by him; he speaks the wishes of his heart so plainly, without any embarrassment at all. He is saying he wants
me
, but that feels like so much. I’ve never even kissed a boy, and he seems like a man, like someone who understands the world.

He watches me carefully. “It doesn’t matter whether you feel the same way or not, but I think you do.”

“I believe you,” I say, because the alternative, that he is lying, doesn’t seem possible to me. Not as I’m looking into his eyes and seeing myself reflected there. “But I’ve never—I’m just . . .” I raise my arms and let them fall. I don’t know how to do any of this.

He catches one of my hands on the way down and laces his fingers with mine again. “Is this okay?”

I nod. I don’t know how he knows what I need.

A muted explosion outside startles both of us. Melik looks toward the tiny window, which has been closed against the coming night chill. Purple and yellow blossoms bloom on the glass. “The fireworks,” I murmur. “They’re starting.”

I settle in next to him, much closer than is proper, but I don’t care. We’re facing the window, and he’s holding my hand so tightly that no one could tear me from his side. In this cool, dank room I’m warm because he is near. I put my head on his good shoulder. When I glance over, his eyes are on the lights, and there’s a smile on his face, and this is the most perfect moment I have ever experienced.

“Melik?”

I jerk at the sound of my father’s voice and scramble back from Melik like he’s tried to bite me. I smooth my hair and pick up the bottle and the dosing cup. Melik must grasp my situation, because he closes his eyes and slumps down, looking much more sick and weak than he actually is.

My father turns the corner a second later and freezes as he takes in the tableau in front of him, me holding the medicine in my shaking hands, and Melik looking like he needs a lot more than antibiotics if he’s going to live through the night.

“Wen. I thought you’d be out,” my father says. He smells of the road, of two days’ hard walking. He must have heard about the accident and come straight here without even washing up. “How bad is he?”

The tightness in my chest loosens a bit. If my father’s going to give me a hard time about being alone in this room with Melik, he’s decided to do it in private, and I’m eternally grateful for that. “He hit his head pretty hard, but he’s been responsive and talking today.”

My father kneels next to Melik, who greets him groggily. Then Father turns to me. “I’m going to take a look at him. Go ahead, Wen. Have your fun tonight.”

He smiles at me, but this is a dismissal. He probably wants Melik to take his shirt off so he can take a good look at the entire injury. As he peels back Melik’s bandage, I stand up, gathering my bag and straightening my skirt. I don’t look at Melik as I turn to the door. I’m afraid my face will give me away again.

“Wen? One more thing.”

I freeze, my hand on the doorjamb. “Yes?”

“You did an excellent job with the sutures. He’ll barely have a scar.”

“Thank you.” I walk down the hall slowly, straining to hear what my father is saying to Melik, but I give up quickly because the fireworks are so loud. I burst into the open air, sucking in a lungful of smoky First Holiday smells, letting the chill cool my heated skin. Something inside me has shifted, and now part of me is not my own. It’s Melik’s. And part of him belongs to me. Maybe. Sort of. I think. I don’t want to consider all the reasons nothing should happen between us. All I want to do is let it be.

I make my way down the path as the fireworks whistle over my head, high above the town. And I can’t help it, I think of Bo, how much he loves them, how he goes up to the . . . my eyes drift to the roof of the factory, to a spot next to the smokestacks.

My breath catches in my throat. There, at the edge of the roof, I swear I see a silhouette, flashing black and yellow and red as the fireworks boom. He shimmers beneath the lights, glints like metal, and I rub my eyes and look again, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. He’s so distant, but I can just make him out, slightly off kilter, one arm longer than the other.

I stand in place for a long time, held there by my curiosity, until the fireworks grow dim and all that lights the sky is the harvest moon, fat and orange and eerie. The shadowy man is still there too, and I shiver because I’ve just realized something. All this time I’ve been watching him, his face hasn’t been turned up to the sky. He hasn’t been watching the fireworks.

He’s been watching me.

I SLEEP HARD
and dream of Melik’s hands around my waist and Bo’s silhouette stark against the night sky. The morning shift whistle sends me scrambling because I remember I have to finish cleaning the wreck of Mugo’s office. He’ll be angry if I don’t finish today.

My father had a good trip to Kanong; we’re all stocked up with black-market supplies, and he’s in an excellent mood as he makes our tea, whistling a strain from a song my mother used to sing. He says Melik should recover completely and he couldn’t have done a better job treating him himself. He says maybe I should go to medical school, maybe we should try to save enough to pay for the tuition. I can’t bear to tell him that there is only one more dress hanging in that closet in the cottage, and as fine as it is, it won’t pay for more than a few weeks’ supply of medicine. And also, I’ve seen his balance sheet in Mugo’s office—my tuition would be less costly than what he already owes this company. I will not be going to medical school. Ever.

I wear my memories of last night like armor as I arrive at work. The way Melik looked at me, how I think we were going to kiss but Melik didn’t push. How he held my hand and it was perfect. It’s First Holiday today, and the killing floor closes at noon. It will be the same on Second and Third Holiday, the only times during the feasting season that the floor falls silent. I’m off at noon too, and wondering if it would be too improper for me to go over to the Noor dorms to check on Melik. Maybe he’ll feel well enough to take a walk with me.

Because I am stupidly hopeful, I wear my rose-colored wool dress, warm but pretty, with entwining night-blooming roses and thorns along the hem. I weave a matching ribbon through my braid.

And as soon as Mugo arrives at the office, I regret my choice and wish for my brown work dress. He grins and shows his chipped front tooth. He watches as I crawl across his floor, sweeping up dust and metal shavings, picking up files and papers that crashed to the floor when the shelves collapsed yesterday. I ignore him and think of other things, like the sun and the sea and Melik’s smile.

Just before noon I am at my little desk, behind the enormous, tame typewriter that now does my bidding. Mugo comes out of his office and stands there with that oily grin on his face, like he’s waiting for something.

Then the knock comes and Melik walks in, and if I didn’t know how hurt he was, I’d never be able to guess, because he stands straight as ever. He doesn’t spare me a glance as he greets Mugo. “You asked to see me, Underboss?”

“Ah. Melik. Yes, I wanted to talk to you about your absence from work. Your station was left unattended for two nights in a row.” Mugo is right behind my chair now, and I sit a little straighter to put some space between us. I wonder if I’m imagining it when I see Melik stiffen.

“I was injured, sir, as you know. I unjammed the meat hooks, but the machinery began to run before I got down.” Melik’s voice is so calm, so level. But every inch of him is vibrating with tension.

Mugo’s hand slips over my shoulder and takes hold of my braid. He slips his finger along the ribbon I weaved through it this morning. Not for him. Not for his fingers or his eyes. I want to jerk myself away, but I won’t. I can’t. I think of my father and his debt. Mugo could turn us both out into the Ring, penniless, in the middle of winter. He could strap Melik with fines so big he’ll never be able to pay them back. I’ve seen what Mugo can do, the lives he can ruin. I’ve seen Jima, pregnant and sick and abandoned. She’s right; I could be just like her. I sit very, very still.

“It was reported to me that you were loitering in your dorm, unchaperoned, with
this
young woman.” Mugo gives my braid a little tug.

Melik clears his throat. “I was receiving medical care. Dr. Guiren can confirm this.”

Mugo releases my braid. His mushroomy fingers are on my neck, and then—oh, I want to die—they are on the front of me, stroking down, only a few inches above the neckline of my dress. This is no way to touch a girl. This is private. This is sacred and intimate. I lean back to escape, but I only succeed in trapping myself against his weaselly, damp body. Melik’s fists clench. Mugo flattens his palm over my collarbone. The threat is unmistakable. Tears of shame sting my eyes. If this were only about me, I would slap him in the face and storm away, but it’s not. So I sit here and allow this disgusting man to fondle me, hating him, hating myself.

“Let me tell you something about Itanyai girls,” says Mugo, and there is eagerness in his voice right alongside the menace. “They aren’t at all like your Noor sluts, so free with themselves. When you are alone with an Itanyai girl, it has an effect on her reputation. People talk.”

“I will remember that in the future, sir,” says Melik, deadly quiet. His gaze is riveted to Mugo’s hand. His cheeks are flushing a ruddy, angry red. He takes a step back. I don’t know whether he’s trying to help me or maybe just trying to escape.

Mugo isn’t finished, though. “Once you ruin a girl’s reputation, the other boys will assume she is fair game. They will assume she doesn’t mind if they touch her, if they try to get her alone.” I know Mugo can feel the frantic beat of my heart against his hand. He likes how badly he is frightening me. He likes this power, that he can humiliate Melik, the Noor who does not know his place. I can
feel
how much he likes it, because his hips are pressed against my shoulder blade.

I realize the terrible mistake I have made. I should have gone out with my pretend friends for First Holiday. I should have left Melik alone and safe. I should have given Sinan the medicine to take to him, should have asked my father to check in on him. But in making a spectacle of myself, in making enemies of Iyzu and Lati, in announcing that I was giving up the celebration of First Holiday so I could care for a Noor, I have also gotten Melik in trouble. And that is the last thing he needs.

Mugo’s hand slips lower, and his fingers skim the neckline on the front of my dress. I can’t take it anymore. I try to squirm away, but Mugo’s other hand clamps down painfully on my shoulder, holding me in place.

“Stop,” whispers Melik, and I hate the pleading sound of it. This is exactly what Mugo wants.

“But haven’t you already claimed this, Noor?” Mugo asks silkily as his fingers curl over my skin, as—

The explosion is deafening. I feel it inside my head, in my chest and belly. The lights go out and I am on the ground as dust billows and metal creaks and men scream and a wave of heat rolls over me. I am under my desk. My chair is overturned.

“Wen!” Melik sounds like he’s a million miles away, drowned out by the ringing in my ears.

Another explosion shatters the window outside the office, and somewhere in the darkness Mugo shrieks. Ceiling tiles rain down all around me, shattering on the desk over my head. The dust is in my mouth, my eyes. Strong hands wrap around my waist and pull me up, and I have this stupid thought that Melik is going to pull his stitches, and I open my mouth to tell him so, but I inhale a lungful of acrid smoke and start to cough. Melik shoves me out into the hall and stumbles after me, but I can’t see a thing, can’t figure out where I am, because everything is upside down and splintered and burning. My foot slips in something, and when I look down, all I see is lumps of charred meat. I don’t know if it came from cows or slaughterhouse workers.

I stagger toward a foggy ray of light, and behind me I hear someone, Melik, I think, rasping and whooping, trying to draw air amidst the dust and ash and blood and smoke. I am turning back to make sure he’s still walking when a hand wraps around my arm and jerks me into a dark passageway. I can’t stop coughing. My eyes are streaming. I am blind and deaf and dumb, and my lungs aren’t working. Black and white spots crowd my vision; roaring static fills my ears. I am buried under the earth, and the dirt is suffocating me. I am dead.

No, I’m not. Slowly, reason returns to me. I am being carried, maybe by a person, maybe on a gurney—all I know is it is uncomfortable and hard and unyielding. Creaking. Clanking. Warm and cold at the same time.

The air around me is gradually becoming clearer, cooler, and I can breathe, though my lungs burn with every breath. High above me I hear the faintest thread of sound, sirens from the town, from the local fire regiment. Is the factory on fire?

“Just a small one,” says the person carrying me, and I snap to like I’ve been poked with a cattle prod when I recognize his voice.

“Bo!” I gasp.

“I’ve decided to grant your wish.” He clutches me tight, and it hurts. Like I’m caught in one of the brutal metal spinners. I cry out.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and loosens his grip slightly. He carries me through the darkness, past stone walls and black moss, past hanging lanterns and smooth metal panels. He never hesitates, never wavers. He knows where all the traps are.

And as he walks through a patch of lantern light, I turn my head and see his face for the first time.