Friends

                  Ashok lay on the bed reminiscing. Friendship is a strange thing. He lay there thinking back on his life. At what point did they become friends, he wondered? He couldnt be sure. What had it been. Ten- Twelve years? No, It had been twenty years since the last time he had met Asim in any case. He remembered that day quite clearly. 7th June 1993. He doubted he would ever forget that day when Asim gave him the news. They were playing one on one baseketball. Asim had waited till after they were done with their game. Another draw. They had always been equally matched. As they sat on the emply bleacher, seats sipping on their Gatorade, Asim had broken the news to him gently. His father was being moved, no transferred. They would be leaving in a couple of weeks. It was always that simple with Asim. Quick and to the point. As he had struggled to hide his involuntary tears, Asim had looked far away into the distance and continued sipping his drink. He had never thought that this would come to pass. As he had struggled to voice his thoughts, Asim had looked at him. Straight in the eye. It would be alright he had said. Then, just as suddenly, Asim had pointed to the bright lights of the theatre that stood across the street. Wouldn't it be great to meet there after say fifteen or twenty years? To reconnect after all the years? Play another game of basketball? Grab a real drink? Ashok remembered Asim boxing him playfully on the shoulder at this point? He looked up to see Asim wink. They had tried to get fake id cards. But no matter what the id said, every shopkeeper, bar owner and liquor store owner had been able to guess their real age. Twelve. Heck they looked like they were ten no matter how hard they had tried to look older. Ashok had been lying down on his bed till now. He wondered if he still had that fake id card? He sat up and opened the drawer on table next to his bed. He rifled through his drawer and found the old tin lunch box that he had used as a child. He opened the box and was hit by another wave of nostalgia. Cards, nick nacks and other things that a young boy would hold dear. And then he found it. His id card. Jose Jesus Lopez. He laughed out loud. They had been stupid. The picture was his but the details were someone else's. As he replaced it in the box, his eye caught the small bundle of letters that lay there. There were only three letters. Tied together with a piece of rubber band that had melted and stained the paper. The rubber band had fallen apart but still served its purpose. Well the stickiness of the molten dried rubber bands is what kept them together. It did not matter to Ashok. Nevertheless he carefully removed the rubber band.

                       After Asim had moved to California, they had kept in touch via letters for a few months. Then these too petered out. They tried emails. The new thing. It had worked for a while  Then the interval between the emails like the letters grew longer and then they finally stopped coming. Ashok could not remember if he had sent the last email or if Asim had. Life had taken over. New friends. New activities. Then moving for college. His first real girlfriend. Who would gradute to becoming his fiance. And finally his wife. He looked over. She slumbered softly next to him, oblivious of his thoughts. His career as a staff writer at Boston Globe kept him fairly busy. He knew he could use the resources at his disposal to find Asim quite easily. Find him and everything that had happened to him in the intervening years. But then again that would ruin the surprise. He looked at the Sony alarm clock. The same one he had used all these years. Three days to their meeting. He wondered if Asim was still in California. Or even in the USA for that reason. He didnt know yet. But he would in a few days. He looked at the clock again. A little over 67 hours to go. They had made a pact. One of those life altering pacts that only twelve year olds can dream up. To meet again at the theatre, twenty years to the date and time. To them it had made sense. Now he felt it was a bit silly. What if Asim was halfway around the world? What if he had other committments that would prevent him from coming? A phone call would have been more practical. But Ashok would be there.
                       
                         He had moved back to Boston after graduating from college. The winters had been an improvement on Michigan and so his wife, Miyako had not complained about the move. Their flat was a lot smaller but young couples in love Boston. And for two in love, like them, it had not mattered. Miyako and he had selected a flat in Fenway. Secretly, he had been glad for it as his route to work took him by the theater daily. Sometimes, he stopped and wondered about Asim. His life. Had he gone to college? Had he a girlfriend? A wife? Maybe a child? What did he do for work now? Today he had stopped by the theater again. Only a few hours ago. He would not have long to wait now. Tomorrow he would visit the pastry shop they had loved as kids and place an order for chocolate eclairs. Asim loved that. And perhaps some creme brulee. He had always had a sweet tooth. Ashok closed the box and put it away. Carefully. He had to be more careful now that Miyako was pregnant. After seven years of trying, she had finally conceived. But that wasnt without its side effects. Her sleep was quite light these days and she had all the weird cravings. Why a week ago she had insisted on eating steak at one in the morning. He looked at her as she slept. She looked so peaceful. He sat there for a while and then, on impulse, he planted a kiss on her cheek before turning the bedside lamp off and lying down next to her. As he lay there, in the darkness of the night, he could hear the sounds of the passing cars in the street downstairs.He listened to the street sounds for a while before his attention was captivated by the ticking of the clock that he could not see. He knew it was on the wall. Miyako had picked it out at the flea market. IT was an old brass clock from Europe that someone who had fallen on hard times was forced to sell. A family heirloom, Miyako had said. He had just nodded. She was the art history major. Besides a few years ago, she had picked up a Turner at the flea market and they ahd sold that for a tidy sum. He glanced over at her again. He could barely see the silhouette of her face in the dim moonlight. He loved her so much. He hoped that Asim had found someone like her. That was his last thought as he slowly drifted into sleep.

                   The next morning, he woke up a bit later than he usually did and so these thoughts were the last thing on his mind as he rushed to get to work. The next two days were quite busy at work. He had almost forgotten about his plans to order desserts. Luckily for him, Mickey's had had enough to cover what he needed. As he went home the evening before their meeting, he was rather happy. The latest ultrasound had shown they were having a little girl. One as beautiful as Miyaho, he had said. Their parents had been thrilled too. They have all given up hope on a biological child. Asim would be so happy to hear the news too. He clutched the packet with the desserts a little tighter. His boss had agreed to let him have the afternoon off that Friday. Not that he cared. Most people took off without permission on Fridays by two in the afternoon. He entered their flat. Miyako was lying on the bed. Strict bed rest, the doctor had cautioned them. Miyako wasnt taking any chances. He smiled at her and then went off to prepare dinner. He would wake her up later. She already knew about the twenty year old appointment. He had told Miyako so much about Asim, that she was looking forward to meeting hm as much as Ashok was. He cooked in silence and hummed alter as he put the food on the table. Miyako was already there. They ate in silence and called it  an early night. Tomorrow was the big day. Ashok could not sleep for a long time that night. The excitement of coming events was too much. He lay there listening to the clock tick away. Counting down the seconds.
                   Ashok did not remember when he passed out the prvious night but that hardly mattered. He literally jumped out of bed the next morning and was out fhe door in less than a half hour. Miyako was surprised. Usually he was not much of a morning person. She smiled as she heard him slam the door shut. She had instructions to be ready by 3 pm so they could go wait there. The pact they had made was to meet at 4 pm. That day Ashok could hardly focus at work. He turned his column in and was told off for the copy editing errors. He did not care. His edictor asked him if he was sick but Ashok shook his head. As he left for the day, the editor shook his head. Perhaps it was to do with the new baby. He know of Ashok and Miyako's bad luck with children. Three miscarriages over seven years. He hoped this one would make it. They were almost there, he had heard Ashok tell Amanda, the graphics designer a few weeks ago. He sat back down at his desk to correct the article Ashok had just handed in and thought no more of it. We all need a little help sometimes.
                   Ashok almost skipped all the way home. Asim and he had been inseparable as kids. The terrible two. The teachers were petrified of them. No matter who casued the trouble these two would find themselves being punished. They must have a stake in such actions, their teachers had reasoned.Ashok chuckled as he rememeberd their exploits. Putting red ink into the teacher's cup of tea to make them think they were bleeding. Or the time they had put super-glue onto the toilet seat in the faculty lounge. Mr. Cornwall had been forced to cancel the exam after spending three hours stuck to the throne. Or the time they had set off the fire alarms in the principal's office. He had rushed out half clothed along with his secretary. Had created quite a scandal that one prank had... He laughed as he walked past the theatre. Some of the others on the street gave him looks. The look that one would give a crazy person. Ashok didnt care nor did he observe their looks. He continued on his way home.
When he got home, he found Miyako waiting for him. She was just as excited as he was. They have a quick lunch and then Ashok went off to the theater to meet Asim. Miyako was to wait at home for them to return. It was the height of summer and they had decided it was better if she waited at home. It did not make sense to tax her especially in her delicate condition. Ashok nearly ran all the way to the theatre. And then he waited. They had decided to meet opposite the ticket counter and thats where he waited now. He stood there and eagerly peered into every face that passed by. Thankfully he was looking for someone Indian. Even then, Boston has a large population of Indians as he discovered that day. Every male face was scanned with a hope which was soon dashed. Finally at five, after two hours of waiting, he sat down on the bench that was there. As time had passed by, he had started to lose hope. Maybe it was only he who remembered. He did not blame Asim. It HAD been twenty years. The pact seemed silly now. And yet he could not make himself leave. Not even when there was screeching of tires half a block away. He watched the ambulance screech to the site after a few minutes. It was just a few minutes before five. Since Asim would have been there a few minutes later, he just had to stay. Someone had been hit by a car or truck, he found out from a passerby. Boston drivers, he had thought but had gone back to scanning faces. As he sat there, he wondered how longer he should wait. The excitement of the accident had died down by now. The crowds had dispersed. It had been distracting for a while. Very sad though and yet it had helped him pass the time as he waited. He glanced at his watch again. It was a little before six. He zipped up his jacketand turned up the collar. He should have taken the fleece jacket that Miyako had suggested. Ah well. He would give him thirty minutes more and then leave. It was rather strange waiting here. A few of of the ushers had approached him when they saw him there. They wanted to see if he was okay. When he had mentioned why he was there to the last one, the man had given him a stragne look and left. After that they did not bother him. Although the weather was not as kind. Boston weather was so unpredictable. He shuddered as a fresh gust blew by. He watched as the invisible hands picked up a stray piece of paper. He observed it dance with her invisible partner. So beautiful. Almost like a waltz. A very passionate waltz. As he stood there observaing the pice of paper, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
                        He turned to see one of the ushers. His hopes which had risen with the tap, were dashed as he observed their maroon livery. Maroon with gold. Frayed over time. He wondered if someone had worn the same uniform all those years ago. He impatiently tried to wave the old usher away, when the usher asked him if his last name was Williams by any chance. Ashok nodded. His father had been American and his mother Indian. They had met when his father had backpacked across India. They had met and his father's one month trip had turned into five years. And then they had come here to Boston and raised him and his sister. The usher smiled. A man had come by a few minutes before he had come and stopped by the counter. He had been on duty at that time. The Indian man had left a note for a Mr Williams. They had naturally assumed Mr Williams was Caucasian or African American man, given the last name. He had not seen Ashok waiting there until a few minutes ago, when one of the other ushers had pointed to him and....He left the sentence hanging. Ashok could guess the rest. The usher reached into his usher reached into his inner pocket and brought out the note. Asim had been there. Ashok nearly cried. He had remembered too. The usher patted him on the shoulder and smiled before he left Ashok to read his note. He had seen so much working there at the theatre. Twenty two years. He thought he recognised Ashok. But he couldnt be sure. He had once thrown two boys out for setting a toilet on fire with firecrackers. No it could not be one of them. They had been inseparable too. Friendships are strange things. He smiled as he traveled down memory lane. He looked up at the lights and displays. This had been home for him for so long. He wondered what he would do after they retired him in a couple of years. Meanwhile as our usher took a leisurely stroll through memory lane, Ashok had sat back down. The cold, surprisingly, did not seem to bother him anymore. He could feel a strange glow. Not from the billboard advertising the latest blockbuster though. He slowly unfolded the hastily written note. Asim still had the same beautiful handwriting. He smiled as he read his friend's note. He had remembered something that he had to do and would be back soon. If he wasnt, could Ashok leave his phone number and address on the other side of the note. Asim would call soon and they could meet later the same evening. Ashok smiled. Trust him to be so spontaneous. After all their pact had been a spontaneous one too. He fished inside his pockets for a pen and wrote down his address, phone number and even drew a crude map of how to get to his apartment from the theatre. He found the old usher inside the counter and handed him back the note. He explained the situation. The old man smiled kindly. He had seen far stranger things in his time there. He promised to do as asked. Ashok thanked him and left. As he walked home, his sense of elation was mixed with a sense of dejection. It is strange how these two contrary feelings could coexist at the same time in one person. Human beings like friendships are strange things.
                As he walked into his apartment, he saw Miyako stand up and search the hallway behind him. He slowly walked to the sofa and sat down. She peeked outside and then finally closed the door. She came and sat down next to him. Of course she assumed the worse. She placed her hands in his and then rested her thin neck on his shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms and told her everything. She smiled. There was still hope, she reminded him. As they sat there, they watched the last lights of the sun go out, and the moon rays shine through their window into their tiny apartment. It was a really pretty sight. The same sight that had convinced Miyako that this would be their home all those years ago. He smiled. How quickly he had forgotten. Back then, this was all they could afford. Two fresh college graduates. Then Miyako had found the Turner and they could have moved but somehow they had stayed. He kissed her on the forehead. Gently. He loved her so much. She purred her satisfaction. They moved closer. As only lovers can even while hugging. They sat in  silence there for a while. Silence interrupted only by the sounds of the occasional passing car in the street below and the ticking of the clock on the wall behind them. Peace, he thought must be something like this. If only he could freeze this moment forever. As they sat there lost in the moment, he thought he heard a knock on the door. Faint at first but it grew louder after a few seconds. It came in sevens. Tut-tuta-tut-tutt-tutt tutt ...tutt. He almost jumped off off the sofa. Their old code.Miyako looked cross. He aopologised and half stammered his explanation. He was here. HE WAS HERE.
                 Miyako smiled at her husband. She could still see the strange lost boy who got excited by the strangest things. They had met in the library. Or so he thought. She had seen him, heck almost stalked him for three months before she had engineered a meeting at the library. She nodded. She did love him so much. She tousled his hair and went off to fix her make up a bit. He was too excited to notice. Men! As she walked into the bathroom, Ashok threw open the door. There he stood. Asim.
                He had changed. Well of course he had. It had been twenty years. TWENTY! Two decades. Five or six presidents, he count note remember. Measuring time is so hard at times. They stood there unsure of what to do with silly grins on their face. One tried to hug as the other tried a hand-shake. Then they switched. And finally they just shook hands that turned into a bear hug. Tears streamed down their face. It was joyous reunion. Ashok ushered him into the flat and onto the sofa. Asim pointed at the pictures on the mantlepiece and Ashok walked him through the last twenty years of his own life. Miyako would be out shortly, he told Asim. Asim nodded. Asim told him about his own life. He was divorced with one child. A seven year old boy, Adam, who lived with his mother. Bad divorce laywer, he joked. He still got a couple of days with Adam every month. Not the best situation but ..Ashok nodded his understanding. Divorce rates were rising. Infact, Wendy, a colleague of his had written an article about it a few weeks ago. Asim told him about his life in California. He had found work as a casting agent. The chatted amiably for a while. Then Asim got up. Ashok seemed a bit surprised. Did he have to leave already? It had only been a few minutes. Miyako wanted to meet him. Asim shook his head apologetically. He had to meet someone that night. Maybe tomorrow? If Ashok was free. Ashok laughed. Of course he was free. Besides Miyako would kill Ashok if he let Asim go back without meeting him. Asim laughed. They made plans to meet the very next day for brunch. And then wander around Boston. Just like the old days. Visit all their old haunts. They embraced before Asim left.
                After Asim left, Ashok sat down on the sofa. It was nice meeting him again, after all these years. He glanced at the clock. 7:30 PM. He had been here only for fifteen minutes. He noticed the unopened box of desserts that Miyako had placed on dining table. In his excitement, Ashok had forgotten to offer him any. No matter. they would last. Miyako emerged from the bathroom. She looked  around the apartment. And then at him quizzically. She had heard voices but was surprised to see Ashok sitting there all by himself. Ashok told her of their plans. She smiled. She could prepare something for their brunch tomorrow now. She wished Asim had stayed for dinner. She had laid out the dinner things while Ashok was out. She pulled him off off the sofa so they could go  have dinner. He pulled her close instead and they hugged there. She knew how much this meant to her husband. Men may be incapable of emotional displays and her husband was no different. Yet she could see the subtle change in her husband. She held him close. He would make a great father. Inspite of his doubts.They danced softly. Swayed to a beat that only they could hear. Miyako loved to dance with him. He had taken her dancing on their third date. Thats when she knew, she would marry him. They danced for a while before a rumbling from his stomach made Miyako burst into laughter. Ashok made a face and reminded her that he had not eaten in a few hours. They laughed and went off to have dinner. Ashok discussed things they could do tomorrow with Asim. Miyako smiled. He was giddy as a schoolboy. Not surprising since the last time they had met they had been school boys..
                After dinner, they watched the news. Ashok loved watching the news. Miyako thought it was funny that he did since he was a news reporter himself. She tousled his hair. No matter how much he combed it it always looked unruly. A black mop she used to say. She never really saw the news. It was too upsetting these days. But she liked to lie next to him as he watched the news. As they sat on their sofa and  he watched the news, she rested her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating. She felt close to him. It was so relaxing to sit there like that. Soon they would have another...
               AHHHH!!!! His cry interrupted her thoughts. He sat up suddenly. She almost fell off the sofa, as she had been sitting next to him and had been pushed off as he jerked up. She was about to tell him off when she saw him pointing to the screen. She looked at the screen. They were flashing the video of an Indian man being taken away by the ambulance. She heard the newsreader tell them about the accident that happened in Fenway around 5 PM the same evening. A pedestrian had been the victim of a hit and run. The driver who had hit him was still absconding. It had happened a block away from the theatre. A middle aged man in a black sedan, number plates unknown had committed the crime. The police were on the look out for him. An ambulance had rushed him to the nearest hospital. The victim was said to be in a serious condition. As they shifted to the on-site reporter, Miyako heard her say that the victim was in the ICU. The doctors were not sure if he would survive the night. He had suffered extensive injuries and had been in surgery since arrival at the hospital. As she spoke, the newsreader paused as news readers do, and listened to her earpiece and then relayed the latest update. More details had been released by the hospital. His name was Asim Cooper. The famous Hollywood director. Mr Cooper, a resident of California, had recently been in the news for his very public divorce from his wife, the famous Hollywood beauty..... He had been hit by a driver in Fenway as he crossed the street. The doctors had operated on him and inspite of their best efforts he had succumbed to his injuries just moments before. He had had five surgeries over the past three and a half hours. The official time of death was 9:29 PM. A tragic loss. He was survived by a son. They did not hear the rest of the newscast about his achievements in his short life, including the Oscar he had won last year....Friendship is a strange thing.
                        

The Black Knight.

"What do you say to a woman who asks you if she looks different?, he asked me. "I know she is getting older. A couple of weeks ..maybe a month at most more and she will cease to capture my interest. Its inevitable. I know it. You know it. Heck! She knows it too. ...Or atleast I think she does..." he had continued in this vein without waiting for me to respond. After nearly a decade of knowing him, I had gotten used to it. I had also become accustomed to his monologues. My eyes quickly flashed to the old grandfather clock with roman numerals on the wall. A lucky find at the antique bazaar. It was atleast fifty years old and made of bronze. Although old and a bit offputting for those who like their bronze to shine, I loved the watch. I had loved it at first sight in college and had purchased it with a month's worth of savings. Since I did not go out much it had not been hard. Caring for it was just as fulfilling. I kept it well oiled and tuned. Yes sometimes it lost a bit of time but then it was a beauty to behold. I could still see the the pendulum rocking back and forth through the glass window near the base. The face was octagonal- a bit of a rarity in such clocks..There was no seconds hand either. But then again did I really need to count the seconds? No. No I just had to wait for a half hour to pass and then he would rush out the door without having me spoken a word. Except for the initial greeting that I offered perfunctorily. I smiled as I realised that nothing really had changed in all the time I had known him.
 Him being Jose "Joey Casanova" Cuervo. I met him in college quite by an accident actually. Not his but rather an accident that his former roommate suffered. I am a little shaky on the details now but I remember something about his roommate having caught some sort of bug. One of those diseases that is contagious but not life endangering. In any case James or Joey as he insisted I address him as had had to move into my room. Mine was a double seater but slightly smaller than all the other rooms in the undergraduate dormitory at Harvard. And so most had chosen the other rooms. I did not mind the smaller size of the room. The second bed was now a spare bed that my elder brother would use when he passed through town infrequently. He usually let me have the money his company gave him for the hotel stay in lieu of using the bed. I did not complain. It was a tidy sum even in those days that I used to indulge my passion for books. So I wasnt pleased to say the least with this new arrangement that caused me to lose a nice, though irregular income. I had had the room all to myself the first year and a half of college and had grown to enjoy the solitude. I had never been into socializing and this room had been perfect. No room-mate had other perks as well. No one night stands by the roommate that needed me to stay out or spend the time in the hallways. The room had been the smallest but the arrangement was perfect. I had watched him move in and continue talking about the latest person he had scored with a few hours ago. I had wondered then how many hours it would be before he told me to clear the room so he could have one of his trysts. As he continued talking about Becky..no that wasnt it..Mandy? Chelsea?...Oh I dont remember. There have been so many names that I stopped keeping count or track for that matter. In any case his moniker was well deserved. Born to a Mexican father and an Italian mother, Jose had inherited his good looks and genes from both. I met them a few months later and I was amazed to see how handsome his father was and how young his mother looked even in their early sixties. His charm came from his father and that was clearly evident. Although I doubt his father had felt the need to go after anything in a skirt since meeting his mother. In any case, I inferred that from his comment that he had been a sort of surprise for his parents born almost eight years after their fifth and last child. Joey was the youngest and throughly spoilt as a result. His confidence he gained from his mother, who clearly knew what effect she had on men. I had found most of the boys in the dormitory loitering around my room one evening and discovered later why. She had come to visit her son and was waiting for him there. After that I always knew when she was in our dormitory by the way they behaved. Joey had gained his first moniker at eleven. With his boyish grin, charm and confidence, he resembled the Joseph Tribbiani of F.R.I.E.N.D.S  quite closely. Save for his smooth straight long jet black hair. I know women would have loved to have a head of hair like his and he let it grow long. I wondered why his parents had not objected. Mine had insisted I shear mine to a buzz cut with frequent regularity. Probably a result of being born into an Army family. My father or the Colonel insisted on that and many other rules that are found in such families. I did not mind although my classmates had always found it a reason to make fun of me. That and my shabby clothes. Army personnel are not paid well and my parents did the best they could with four other kids to clothe and feed. We had moved fairly often and as a result I never did form any close friendships. In fact Joey would be the only friend I made and that too only because he had been forced to move into my room.

                       I wondered as he continued his monologue about his conquest of the prior evening, how I should break it to him that I would prefer if he kept his trophies and the goings on outside of these rooms. A direct approach had seemed tactless. Initially at least. However as he continued with his sordid tale, I realised that it might be best to get it over with quickly.
"...so she was on top and I..." he was saying.
"Joey, I know you have an ...an active social life. But could we keep things PG in the room? I mean if you could..." I remember blurting out but soon found myself at a loss for words.
He had looked at me shocked for a few minutes. And then he had burst out laughing. He had an infectious carefree laugh that drew everyone in. I waited with bated breath. I was qutie sure he would tell me to go jump in the well or something. Where was I getting off telling the great Joey what he could or could not do? I was but a gangly chess playing pimple faced kid with glasses and the barest hint of muscle while he was the football quarterback all star, 6'2" tall muscular jock. It was a bit of a joke if you ask me that he had been placed in my room. Joey for all his popularity was quite down to earth. A rare thing. He admired my chess skills and even the rare marble chess board that my father had given me as a gift for getting into Harvard. Another rare thing. He had offered to buy that from me on a number of occasions. He knew what the board meant to me and so when I looked shocked at his proposal he would laugh. Just like he was laughing now. It took a while before he stopped laughing and then told me that I need not worry. He never brought home any of his, and I quote, "babes". Its best that they not know where he lived, he told me with a rougish wink. I did not honestly know what to make of it. So I had just let it pass. True to his word, he never did. I was surprised though when he did not opt to move back at the end of the quarantine period. By then he and his tales had grown on me. I did not really have much to share and so was quite content in smiling and nodding at him. At appropriate times when he glanced in my direction to make sure that I was still listening. Or was it to make sure that I had not fallen asleep.
                College ended and I did well on the MCATs. I had to cross the pond to join the medical school. medical school while Joey went off to law school. I found it rather weird that he opted to study law. He had never shown much interest in books. Well not unless they were about women or helped him understand them better. Although on the latter I still have my doubts. There are men who like women and Joey was one of them. He was a predator. The one parents warn their little girls to stay away from. I realise I am using cliches but trust me, Joey was just that guy. And yet for some reason we had kept in touch over the years. I did start dating in medical school. Infrequently at first and then I met her. Rebecca. She came from a conservative family and had not been allowed to date through school and college. We started dating only because she and I were on the same group for rotations. We spent so many hours together that it had not even been dating at first. Not until one night after the others had left that she asked me flatly.
"I am assuming you ARE going to ask me out on a date at some point? Or will I HAVE to do that too?" as she stood there with her right hand on her hip and her cute blonde turned to right that I had gone down on my knee and used a line from Top Gun. Thankfully it had worked and she had agreed to go out on me. Two years into my psychiatry residency and six years after we had been going out, I had finally asked her to marry me. But even then it was still a bit indirect. I had ignored all the hints she had been dropping for a year then. Frankly a deaf and blind person would have gotten her hints. I was too shy to ask her directly so had hit upon a plan. I had put the ring on her toothbrush- the one she used when she slept over and had written out the question on the mirror in her favorite pink lipstick. I had waited till she went to the bathroom in the morning to get on my knees for the second time in our relationship and held a single purple orchid. Waiting with bated breath for her to discover. Her shrieks had woken up pretty much everyone in the house. When she opened the door, she was in tears and had screamed her assent for a while. I had had to kiss her to get her to stop. Although that had not really done much good. My housemates forgave me when they found out why she had been shrieking. She hadnt. Not for ruining her favorite lipstick. 50$ it had cost me to replace it. Who knew lipstick could cost so much. I did not care about that. I would have asked my brother to be the best man but he had been killed a couple of years ago and my father had died of natural causes a few months ago. So Joey was my choice for best man. In fact my only option. He had taken his duties quite seriously. Stayed sober till the toast and then of course had ended up "scoring touchdowns" with all the bridesmaids. Even the much older forty year old spinster cousin of my wife. I had feigned complete ignorance of the goings on when my wife had confronted me. I knew of course that this was bound to happen. What does one expect when one leaves a wolf free to roam in a chicken coop. I had taken the precaution of spending my meager inheritance and emptied out my savings for a honeymoon in Hawaii. Rebecca had forgotten all about the goings on at the wedding on the first class flight over. Right after the first glass of champagne. I was quite sure I would hear the sordid details once we returned first hand from Joey.

                 Joey had earned his second much deserved nickname from his numerous affairs. He was like catnip to women. And he could not stay away. One had pretty eyes. Another a beautiful smile. A third had the right...You know what I mean...He had "hooked up" with pretty much every girl who had walked through our campus in those four years, including a few faculty members and the dean's daughter. He had narrowly escaped being expelled. That too only because the coach went to bat on his behalf. He had carried our college in their games against Yale. I sometimes wondered why he had chosen Harvard of all places? We did not really have a sports department to write home about. But Joey was Joey.  In college he would tell me of his adventures regularly. After we moved out, I sort of lost touch of what was going on in his life. I hardly had had time in medical school to keep in touch. But Joey would burst into my life every few weeks and catch me up on his life events. As we progressed in our chosen professions, these visits became more infrequent. I sometimes missed our days in the college dorms. In a way I was living vicariously through him. His adventures were hilarious. Some even dangerous. Like the time a lady's boyfriend  walked in on them. He narrowly escaped being shot and even ended up becoming friends with the guy. I would not have believed him had I not known the boyfriend, a fellow medical school classmate.  Another time, he had had to clamber down three floors using the fire escape wearing nothing more than his boxers, when the husband of the woman he was with had returned home suddenly. Straight out of some sleazy Hollywood movie. But all true. I wondered if Casanova had been as successful. And if Casanova had reveled in recounting his affairs with in such graphic detail. I think he got as much of a kick having those affairs as he did recounting them. And here he was. Recounting his latest one. It had been almost a year since I had seen him last. I was happy to see him inspite of what I knew was coming. A good half hour of him talking about his life before making polite inquiries and then leaving. Just as he had arrived. I always got the feeling that a hurricane had passed through my life whenever he made his irregular infrequent visits.
              This visit had started the same way. We exchanged pleasantaries and then had started talking about his latest "friend". I could tell from the clock that it would be another twenty minutes before he left. He did seem a bit concerned this time though. Something was different. This woman was not like his other women. Something had changed. Or there was something that was bothering him.He had started out by taking a seat on my rocking chair but had soon tired of it and was now pacing my office. Slowly at first and then more rapidly as the clock kept ticking. Was he in love, I wondered? No not him. He did not fall in love. I sometimes wondered if he was capable of love or even if he knew what love was. He did have a bit of a narcissus complex. But that was to be expected. I wondered if he had other issues. I did not ask. I quickly stole my eyes away from the clock and met his gaze. I hoped he had not caught me looking at the clock. It did not seem like he had. I quickly nodded and he seemed reassured. He nodded and resumed his pacing.
 "I dont know what got into me. I should never have ....she is married too...so there is no question of a future together assuming that I would even consider it...Plus she is married to an old friend. I would hate to do this to him. Hell I had never intended for this to happen. I did not even know when it happened. She is great though. A wildcat. Who knew. I am sure her husband does not know. He is a silent sort but you never know what they will do. The loud ones I know how to handle. You remember that fellow Kurt", he said referring to the fellow who had nearly shot him years ago. "Kurt was a breeze to handle. A couple of beers. A little logic and he was okay. The silent ones.  The silent ones are the dangerous ones. They are unpredictable. The loud ones are all bark. The silent ones will slit your throat while looking at you in the eyes. I have seen it so many times. I was defending one such bastard a few weeks ago. I almost failed to keep him off the electric chair even though everyone including me knew he was guilty. Had killed his girlfriend and her lover  in cold blood. After torturing them for hours. Even made the fellow swallow his privates." He shuddered involuntarily. I remembered reading about it in the papers. A thin gold rim wearing bespectacled accountant, a former choir boy and now scout troop leader. In short a complete nerd. Completely harmless. Except for the fact that he had killed his girlfriend and her lover in the most cold blooded fashion. He had spiked their drinks and waited for weeks before they had fallen in the trap. Then he had tied them up and slowly proceeded to dismember the lover while his girlfriend had watched. Those two had suffered. The reported had estimated that they had been alive for atleast 36 hours before he had slowly let them bleed to death. Joey's firm had been forced to take the case on. An innocent bystander would think that Joey only took the case out of guilt. Guilt for the number of times, Joey had been in the lover's shoes and escaped unscathed. A sort of penance by proxy or something. But I knew otherwise. There was no way the man would be let off and Joey had loved the challenge. The same way he loved to woo any woman into his arms. And into his bed. Or her bed.

                        He never brought them home. Infact I dont remember being nvited to his house in these years, although he had been to my house plenty of times. Mostly at birthday parties or other get-to-gethers. My wife seemed to have forgotten about his antics at our wedding. She had even gone so far as to setting him up, in spite of my rather bold protests, with one of her co-workers at one of these parties. Rachel. Come to think of it, I had never seen Rachel with him.. Nor had Rebecca ever spoken of setting him up with anyone after that. Rachel for her part had never uttered an ill word or thought about Joey. One does not send innocent sheep to a lion and expect them to fall in love. I was quite sure what had happened to Rachel. Joey was slightly different in that respect though. The usual womanizer will wine, dine, bed and then move on without so much as a second glance. But Joey was a class act. He had a way of leaving on amicable terms. Some of these women still remained friends with him. Whatever that meant. Michael Jackson would probably call him the smooth operator. I wondered sometimes why no one called him Bond. He was quite suave and charming. Well dressed and always seemed like he had just stepped out of the shower and dressed. I for my part looked like the perfect professor in my tween jackets with patched elbows. A style that I had picked up in college. Tweed jackets in those days were cheap and the leather patches a necessity to cover up the fraying at the elbows. These days the jackets cost a packet but I loved them so my wife let me indulge myself. Even now he was wearing dark blue denims- not the jeans that are frayed but the more expensive semi formal looking jeans. He wore a nice shirt and a dark jacket. Patent leather brown shoes and a nice Rolex watch. His dark hair was tousled and I could see the tie poking out from his top pocket.  Although he seemed agitated, he was dressed quite well. You know there are some people who will put on something horrible and yet look amazing, while the greater majority of us could barely carry off a suit. Joey was in the former category.

"...I dont really know what to do...I want to end it...but I am afraid she will tell her husband....she is quite keen that we continue without him finding out...."He jumped up at this point with a small cry of pain jolting me back from my mental musing back to the scene that was unfolding before me. He had been pacing the room and had plopped down on the sofa in my office only to jump up. He was rummaging through his back pocket. He must have sat on his phone, I thought. Instead I saw him fish out a small black marble knight from his pocket. It was beautiful. These were quite rare. I had an entire set at him.
"...oh this ...I had picked it up the other day at her place but forgotten to put it back...." his voice trailed off. He placed it on the center table and continued with his musings. How they had gone into their affair. The entire sordid details. If I had had any talent in writing I could have written a few Mills & Boons sort of cheap novels out of the details of his life. Alas that was not to be...
"...anyway.." he took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "that's how it stands. How are things with you guys?" he asked me casually now. I muttered the usual things knowing that his departure was imminent. Sure enough, he left a few minutes later but not before making plans to meet up for dinner soon. From prior experience I knew he would cancel a couple of days before the dinner meet with some flimsy excuse. I played along but did not bother to make a note in my diary. After he left, I had a few things to take care of, a couple of evaluations and some paperwork. As I was leaving the office that day, I noticed the pretty little chess piece. He had left that behind. I would have to text him and let him know. I left it there. No sense taking it home and then bringing it back. He woudl probably swing by the office to collect it anyway. I left the office after wishing a good night to my assistant. Ruby. A nice girl. She smiled and wished me. By the time I reached my car, I was looking forward to seeing Rebecca and reading about this case I was due to evaluate the next morning. By the time I reached home I had forgotten all about the chess piece.

                         That evening, when we were getting ready to go to bed, I casually mentioned his visit to my wife. She was not very interested. I found that a bit weird. Usually she loved gossip. Especially this sort of gossip. Way better than the stuff in the tabloids these days, she used to say.Must have been a long day at the hospital. Rebecca had become a cardio-thoracic surgeon. A very demanding field. I did not think much of it. I wanted to read a bit for a patient was I supposed to evaluate the next morning. Rebecca seemed tired so I went into the library and read at my desk there. It was an interesting case. A kleptomaniac who had inadvertently stolen a gun and then been arrested while trying to pinch an umbrella from a chain store. The gun, as it turned out had been used in a murder, and so he had been arrested. He was referred to me to confirm whether he was a true kleptomaniac as his lawyer had claimed and a victim of circumstance or a killer. It did not help that he did not have an alibi. I chuckled at his bad luck as I finished reading his file. It was quite late and I decided to call it a night. As I turned off the light, the chess board caught my eye. Somehow it seemed to have been moved. No one came in here usually. This was my domain and my wife let me have this room all to myself. I clicked the light back on and walked over the marble topped table that supported the chess pieces. Sure enough, someone had moved the pieces. I would have to ask my wife about it in the morning.  This had been my father's and I had fond memories of the table. As I re-arranged the pieces, I noticed one of the pieces was missing. A black knight. I looked under the table. No not there. I looked under the two deep brown leather high wingbacked chairs that flanked the table and people sat in when they played. No not under the chairs. Nor on them. This was strange.  Where could that piece gone? I looked over at my desk. Had someone placed it on the desk? I walked over and check there. A half hour of carefully searching the room carefully on my hands and knees turned up nothing. I finally gave up and went to bed. Rebecca was already snoring softly. Deep in sleep. I would speak to her in the morning. The next morning, I woke up a bit late and rushed to the office, forgetting completely about my plans to ask Rebecca about the missing knight.
                      The office was fairly full that morning. A colleague had called in sick and so would I see a few of his cases? I could hardly refuse Ruby and nodded as I walked towards my office?.I heard her call out that he was already in my office. As I entered the office I saw him seated on the sofa waiting for me. He was playing with something but I had other things on my mind. I introduced myself and sat down. As we spoke, I quickly realised that he was an epileptic and needed to have his medications decreased. His current dose was cauaing hallucinations. I wrote him a new prescription and had Ruby send it over to the local pharmacy. As he left he complimented me on my chess piece and replaced it on the table. I thanked him absentmindedly and only after he had left did I notice the chess piece. A black knight sitting there.

ENDING 1: BURNT

                The piece was there. Just where he had left it the previous evening. I remembered the black knight that was missing from my set. I walked over to the centre table and picked it up. It was exactly the same shape and size of the one that was missing from my set. That bastard. That Son of a.....I started cursing him when a knock interrupted my thoughts. Ruby poked her immaculately curled red hair crowned head in and told me that a friend had popped by. She had pushed my next appointment back by a few minutes. She smiled at me and stood back to let him enter. 

"ah...I had hoped I had left it here...." Joey had walked in and noticed the chess piece that I was holding in my hands. "Good. Thanks for taking care of it. I would stay and chat but need to rush across town for a deposition. Thanks." he pocketed it with a rogish wink, pumped my hand whilst clapping me on the right shoulder with his left hand and then left.

                I stood there gaping like a fool. He had not only had his way with my wife but also screwed me over in one move. The least he could have done was leave my chess set untouched. But true to form he had collected an even better prize. A piece of the chess set that I treasured so deeply. And there was nothing I could do.

ENDING 2: MEDIUM

                       The piece was there. Just where he had left it the previous evening. I remembered the black knight that was missing from my set. I walked over to the centre table and picked it up. It was exactly the same shape and size of the one that was missing from my set. That bastard. That Son of a.....I started cursing him when a knock interrupted my thoughts. Ruby poked her immaculately curled red hair crowned head in and told me that a friend had popped by earlier. He said he would stop by later. She handed me a note. Joey. That rat would stop by an hour later. He had some business that he need to take care of.. She had pushed my next appointment back by a few minutes. She smiled at me and closed the heavy mahogany doors behind her. I stood there gaping like a fool. He had not only had his way with my wife but also screwed me over in one move. The least he could have done was leave my chess set untouched. But true to form he was going to return to collect that piece. His trophy. A piece of the chess set that I treasured so deeply. And there was nothing I could do.

                       No this would just not do. Not this time. Kurt may have let Joey's deplorable behavior slide but not this time. Not me. No Sir. He would pay. I might have let it go had he just had his way with my wife. Oh dont judge me harshly. I am not a saint. I dont expect my wife to be either. Yes I did not do what Joey did and nor was I interested in sleeping around. My work consumed me. I had hardly been around. Who was I kidding. Eleven years and no children. She must have been driven into another's arms. I was just surprised that it had not happened sooner. I was no great prize either. I have to admit that. The first few years, we both had tried. It wasnt easy. Somehow along the way, our work won and we stopped. The perfect working power couple. Our energy was all gone by the time we both got home. The vacations we had promised to take every year had become every other year. And ....I dont even remember when we went on our last vacation. Oh we did get to travel. Conferences, reunions, Christmases and Thanksgivings. The occasional wedding perhaps. But these too felt like work these days. Our careers had taken over. I had wanted to talk to her about it but....It was too late now. It would have to wait till I dealt with this scum. I had always thought of him as a brother. Let him into my life. He had been my best man even. And he stole from me. Stole that one gift from my father that I had cherished. He knew how much I adored that chess set. No. This man would pay. And he would learn to respect other people. Their property. Their lives. Their loves. He had to be taught a lesson. How could he taunt me like that. He must have known I would find out. He had to have known. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock and the arrival of my next appointment. Mr Jones, the kleptomaniac who had stolen a gun by mistake. And landed up in jail. His guards, two young police officers let him in and also dropped off the entire box with the things he had been found with. The would wait outside in the waiting room facing Ruby's desk. They did not seem to want to wait outside my door. They never did. One look at Ruby was enough to make any man grow soft in the knees. I smiled and nodded my acceptance. They smiled and followed her to the waiting room. I for my part let Mr Jones into my room and closed the door behind me. Ruby's desk was at the end of a short corridor and the waiting room was just beside it.

.                       The case was interesting. Truly interesting. In other circumstances, I would have listened and jotted down detailed notes. I had even wanted to write a peper for our annual conference on this case. Today, after the betrayal I just couldn't focus. How could I get him? There had to be a way. As a forensic psychiatrist, I was intimately aware of the methods for crime detection. The crime in itself was not the tricky part. It was very easy to kill a person. Poison, bullets, electricity...there were a myriad ways by which a homicide could be made to look like a suicide. Made to look and yet be seen through. Modern forensic science had advanced a lot. There were so many methods today to readily distinguish a suicide from a homicide. Even the most smartest criminal left traces, evidence...something behind. I had been on countless such teams. In hindsight, some of them looked so foolish to have overlooked something. A thumb imprint. A glove...sometimes just  a fiber from one of their socks. No I would have to plan this out. To the last degree. There was no room for error. If I made one, a colleague...no by then a former colleague of mine would be breaking through those doors to arrest me. And I did not fancy going to prison. Not for meting out justice. He deserved his fate many times over. How was the question? How? The man on the couch continued on. He was a kleptomaniac. There was no doubt about it.I would let him finish his spiel, certify that he was a kleptomaniac and then let the law take its own course. Could he have stolen the gun? Quite possibly. I could not say for sure and my report would say as much. As he droned on interminably, a plan started taking shape in my head. The more I thought of it, the more sense it made. Could the suspicion be cast on me? No. I would be in the clear. Heck I would even have an alibi. I  was sure of it.

                 I went over the plan in my head a few times. Yes it would have to do. I had some work to do and there was not much time. I interrupted my patient.
"Mr. Jones. There is a new form of therapy. Hypnotherapy. It has been used in other conditions with good success. I wonder if you have tried it? I dont see any mention of this in your records so am not sure..."
Mr. Jones turned to look at me. He shook his head.
'I dont think so. But I am willing to try...Anything..I just want to be rid of this...this affliction..this disease...its so embarrassing...please doctor..." his voice was shaking. I felt sorry for him. For how I was about to use him. There was no other way. And so with his permission I put him into a deep trance. He sat on the couch in a trance. Completely a slave to my every command. And every suggestion. I poked my head out and let Ruby know that she was to let Joey in the moment he arrived. If she was surprised at this departure from my usual practice, she did not say anything. I smiled at my plan, closed the door and sat back in my chair. To wait. It wouldnt be long. Justice for once would be swift. But a little noisy. And that was how he found me a half hour later. Ruby kncoked and silently mimed that he was here. Then she stood back and let him in.
                 
"ah...I had hoped I had left it here...." Joey walked in and his searching eyes found the chess piece on the table. Just where he had left it the evening before. I smiled.
"Good. Thanks for taking care of it. I would stay and chat but need to rush across town for a deposition. Thanks." he pocketed it with a roguish wink, pumped my hand whilst clapping me on the right shoulder with his left hand and then started to leave through the same door he had come in through. I smiled and stepped out for a few minutes making sure that Ruby saw me do that. As he departed, I crossed the hall and entered the office of my colleague.  Dr Frank Mosby. Mosby was the one who was sick and his office was empty. Most psychiatrist offices have two doors. One by which patients enter which was the common entrance to all the offices in our practice and an exit which was private and led directly from the office to the exterior. Ruby didnt see me step into Mosby's office.  She was blushing at the praise that Joey was heaping on her. True to form. Anything in a skirt. I felt sorry for her. But then again he would not be able to do much. In a few minutes he would be dead. I ran out and hid in the corridor. It was a nice long corridor. The other exit from my office opened into this corridor as well. I had already unlocked the door in preparation. The plan was fool proof and everything went as expected. Joey stepped into the corridor and headed for the elevator at the end of the corridor. He passed by me. I had seen him put the chess piece in his back pocket. I took aim with the gun and shot him. Twice. Both times through the heart. I didnt have much time. I quickly found the chess piece and entered back into my office. My patient was jumping about and screaming at the top of his voice. Just as I had instructed him to do when he heard two loud bangs. And thats exactly how Ruby found me when she rushed in to tell me of what had happened.

                     I followed her out of my office and into the corrider out of the main doors to our modest offices into the larger corridor that led to the elevators. The two officers who had accompanied Mr Jones were standing over the body. The moved aside to let me examine him. I pretended to look shocked inspite of knowing everything. I checked his pulse. Ruby grew more hysterical when I pronounced him dead. The two policemen almost had a fight there over who would take care of her. Kids. It took me a while to calm her and the patient down. She was hysterical and he was feigning hysteria. I calmed them both down with some injections. In her case it was a mild sedative. In his  a bit of saline. By the time I stepped back out in the corridor, it was packed with police. One of the two policemen had called 911 after "discovering" that Joey was dead. The police came by. and questioned me. Most criminals are unable to produce one witness. I had four. Every movenment of mine and every second of mine was accounted for. Watertight. Thats what I remember one colleague call such an alibi.
                    Detective Lyons was the officer in charge. An old hand. He listened to what I told him. Of course I knew Joey. I held nothing back except for the part I had played in his demise. It did not take them long to confirm my statements. Joey had had a string of trysts not only in Boston but also it seemed up and down the East and West Coast. He had even been arrested once for stirring up trouble in a bar in Los Angeles over a woman some six years ago. Nothing serious, his counterparts assured him. I could have told him everything in much greater details than what Detective Santos of LAPD told him. Ruby was a saint. She completed my alibi. As did my kleptomaniac patient. The police were perplexed by the absence of the murder weapon. The perpetrator must have it on him, Detective Lyons assured me. Their first mistake. I smiled internally. Of course, he did. It lay in the box not two feet away from us. The body was taken away and soon the crowds dissipated.
                     My patient was coming to as was expected. Ruby had decided to take the rest of the day off after she gave her statement to the police. She had had the good sense to cancel my other appointments. Mr Jones graciously agreed to let me complete his evaluation inspite of the shock he had received. It did not take long. I released him into the custody of the two officers who had accompanied him. They also took the files and other evidence box they had brought with them. I led them out and closed the main door behind them. Detective Lyons was still questioning Ruby in the waiting room when I knocked and entered. They were almost done.
"Do you need anything else from me..." I asked him.
He shook his head, handed me his card and gave me the usual- call me if you remember anything else...I nodded. He touched me on the shoulder and squeezed. Joey had been a friend after all. I nodded and shook my head. I said something...I dont recall what it was...something abou tthe tragic nature of his passing...and what a good man he had been inspite of his flaws...or something like that...The detective nodded and said a few words conveying his condolences and then left.

                 With no more patients to see, I left after emptying out the garbage and recycling. The gun was safely on its way back to the police evidence room. There were no fingerprints on it. Powder marks had been washed clean. There were no bullets in the pistol. I had used two of my own. No fingerprints on anything as i had worn gloves. Latex gloves. These I had disposed off in the garbage. They would be lost soon. In a huge heap of garbage in some landfill soon. .

               I drove home and found my wife there. She had not gone to work today. She was feeling a bit sick and so had stayed in bed after I left. I felt her forehead. She was a bit hot and seemed clammy. Dutifully I went off to fetch the day medicine. She accepted it gratefully. It was some bug that heen going around at her hospital. She caressed my cheek for a bit...I finally told her what had happened at the office. She did not seem shocked.
"Was bound to happen someday. The way he carried on...I had warned Rachel. But she was so insistent. She would make him fall in love. Yeah right...a rake like that would never love anyone."
I was a bit shocked at her vehement tone. She had just recently been in his arms, hadn't she? I did not ask.
"It was so long ago...it does not matter now but one day Joey had stopped by. He tried to hit on me. I threw him out. I know I should have told you but you always looked up at him. I did not want to ruin your friendship. You have so few friends as is. I am sorry that he..." she said in a sad voice. I touched her cheek. Softly. I was so wrong to suspect her. But then he had stolen my chess piece. So he had deserved it. I tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead. She purred a bit. Rebecca was so beautiful. I stood there for a while watching her and then finally crept out slowly. I turned out the lights in the bedroom and drew the curtains. I would let her sleep till dinner time. Perhaps I would cook something, the way I did when we had first gotten married. I walked downstairs to my study. I still needed to type out my report for Mr Jones. I worked, undisturbed, for the next couple of hours. Finally I printed out the report, signed it and put it in an enveloped. My back was stiff from sitting there. I got up and walked around the office. The French windows had been Rebecca's idea. I opened them and stood there letting the fresh air in to my office. I loved this house..I thought about checking on Rebecca to see how she was doing. As I was walking out of the study,  I noticed the chess board. It was still missing the chess piece. I felt my pockets. Empty..And then it struck me. I had forgotten to take the piece from his pocket. Oh what a fool I had been. I had had so many chances. I could have easily taken the piece from him. I felt stupid. My water-tight alibi not withstanding, I had unwittingly joined the ranks of the clever criminals who had left something behind. I wondered if Detective Lyons would come by and find the incomplete chess set? would he connect the dots? It was a matter of time. I didnt care. If he did, I would take my punishment like a man. I resigned myself to my fate.
                     I started to leave the study when Bugsy, my twelve year old German Shepherd stopped me. He was holding his leash and looking at me and then at the door. I knew what that meant. He needed to go. Usually Rebecca took him. Bugsy was no fool. Seeing Rebecca in bed, he knew I was the only one who could take him now and so here he was. I smiled. Dogs can be so intelligent. I picked up a few poop bags, tied the leach and took a firm grip at the other end and walked out behind him. We walked for a few blocks. He sniffed and marked his territory here and there. Left coded messages for his other four legged friends. Ancient methods of passing messages. I wondered what he wrote. And just as quickly he would walk on. He covered quite a bit of ground that day before finally settling down on one spot to do his business. I waited for him to finish.  It is strange. sometimes, I think pets own us and not we who own them. I mean every whim of his was attended to. He even had someone to wipe his butt for him. I chuckled at my own joke as he went. He gave me a look as if to say, do you find it funny that I have to take care of business? I dont laugh when you go to the bathroom. i game him and apologetic look which he ignored and continued. When he was done, he moved away to let me pick up his royal droppings. I scooped them into the bag and tied a knot. Quite a bit today. We walked home in silence. Except of course for the infrequent pit stops for him to leave more messages.
                       By the time we got home, my wife was already up and in the kitchen. I walked in and threw the bag of poop into the trash. She was cooking something.
"Where did you go?" she asked me. I told her.
"Did he poop?" she continued. I nodded.
"You didnt throw it away did you?" she searched my face. I pointed at the trash can.
She dived at the grabage and pulle dout the bag. She pulled on a pair of glosed and opened the bag.
I was a bit shocked.
"did you get all of it?" she asked me again. I nodded slowly.
"Did he swallow your wedding ring again?" I asked half amused.
Bugsy had obtained his name through his antics. He loved swallowing precious things. Especially my wife's diamond ring. As a surgeon she had had to take it off frequently. And Bugsy loved swallowing that ring. I found it hilarious. She did not. I noticed her ring on the table. I pointed this out to her but she continued rifling through Bugsy's droppings. Even he was sitting there looking at her surprised. I wonder what he was thinking..
"AHHHH!!!! Yes. I knew it. ..." She was holding up an oblong object. I could not tell what it was...
"I am so sorry, Honey. I was vacuuming the study the other day and had put my ring on top of the chess set. This rascal tried to swallow it but ended up swallowing a knight. I have been keeping a close eye on him since" she said looking at Bugsy accusingly. Bugsy for his part was lying down on all fours with his head between his front paws. He did not move, just made that innocent face of his whenever he had done something naughty. I was too shocked to move...So Joey..Joey had not...He was innocent...I suddenly felt faint. The blood seemed to have drained from my brain. I just sent an innocent man, well relatively innocent man, to meet his maker for a crime he had not committed. My knees felt weak. I dropped into a chair.
"Are you okay? Are you feeling alright?" she had rushed to my side and was taking my temperature with her hand. She measured my pulse. My skin was clammy. Little beads of perspiration had sprung up all over. My heart was racing. She forced me upstairs and into bed, convinced that I had caught the bug from her. Unlike her I had always had a weak constitution and caught the flu every year with amazing regularity. She seemed to have had made a full recovery in a few hours. I might end up taking longer. Rebecca used to joke that she could always predict the beginning of flu season. I was the first victim every year. I did not resist and let her put me to bed. I still could not believe it. It had all been for nothing.
                 I stayed home for a two weeks. I needed time to recover. To grieve. To repent. I would find a way to repent for my actions. By the time I was myself again, it was too late. Initially I was numb but later had had a nervous breakdown at the sight of my friend killed in that horrific manner or that's what everyone thought. It was bound to happen, my colleagues said. The hours, the demands and the horrific things we saw in our line of work made us prime candidates. I read about it in the newspapers a few days later. My wife had faithfully collected them for me. I loved reading the newspaper and so she had not discarded them. I read them slowly. Over and over again. The police had found the chess piece on Joey. They looked into his past movements thanks to pressure from Mr and Mrs Cuervo, Joey's parents. That had led them to the house of Mr and Mrs Bernard Mathews. His cell phone had called Rose Matthews 143 times in the past week alone. Didn't take a genius to figure out why. When no one answered the door, they knocked harder and the door just opened. They realised that it wasnt even locked. That was strange. Especially at 9 PM. They walked in and discovered the body of Mrs Matthews. Shot about twelve hours ago, twice through the heart with a pistol. Apparently Mrs. Matthews and Joey had been secretly seeing each other for a few months. I was shocked to read that. Months. So he had been in love. Mr Matthews .had been arrested as the prime suspect. He was found suspiciously loitering near my office. Whilst everyone was rushing towards the noise, he was trying to run away from it. A patrol car had stopped him and remembered him clearly. Apparently he had been following Joey and was planning to kill him. I had beaten him to the punch. The police put out an all points bulletin for him and he was picked up soon after at the airport. Trying to flee. The case had been cracked in a matter of hours. The DA made a few public speeches about the efficiency of the police. He was running for the post of Mayor soon. This was excellent publicity with the teary eyed Cuervos in the background and the disheveled Mr Matthews in the custody of the police being dragged away to prison after his sentencing. He looked the part of a killer. He was quite an ugly bloke. A cross between Jack the Ripper and Dr Jekyll, the reporter had stated. I wondered where he had seen Mr Ripper before to be able to make such a comparison. After all Mr. Ripper had never been caught. Or identified for that matter. He was a middle aged man, With large eyes. red. From lack of sleep I assumed. He had an unkempt beard or the start of one. He had not been able to shave. Six days of shaving and even I would look like that. In fact I would look a lot like him if I had gone through the same experiences in police custody. He had a scar on his right cheek. Running from his ear to the outer edge of his right eye. Still visible under the facial hair. Quite sinister looking. He wore the same black overcoat that he had been wearing when he tried to flee. Made him look more like a gangster than anything else. They never did find the murder weapon. How could they? He had dumped the one he had used to kill his wife somewhere and he wasn't about to tell them where. The pistol that Joey had been shot with was being used as evidence in another case. How could the police explain how a gun in their custody was used in a murder elsewhere. He was sent to the electric chair quickly. Premeditated murder. An open and shut case, the reporter had written. Cleverly.
                      I folded the newspaper and threw it down. I sat up on the bed. Rebecca had had brought the chess set up to the bedroom. It was sitting there next to my bed. I picked up the black knight and felt the smooth black marble in my hands. Fine quality work. Perfect. Just like my alibi...perfect. I put it back on the square. And then ...without a second thought, move the white pawn two squares...starting a new game.

Isabel...

                       Spring time is the best time to be in Boston. Or thats how I always feel. After that long cold winter, I was finally able to get out of the house. The sun was shining down in his full glory. It wasnt hot yet jsut pleasant. I loved being in the sun letting the rays warm me. I stood outside my apartment building and stretched a bit. Stretching is good for you, I had read somewhere. So its a good thing that I loved stretching. I was never into all that yoga or running crap. Why do I need to run when I can walk casually down the street taking in the sights. Finally I do get to see all the women. I wont pretend that I am a goody two shoes. My mother had raised me to be one but I preferred to run wild. Afterall I am a hunter. It is hard for me to suppress those instincts. For years I felt stifled. Living with my parents. My father was slowly withering away under those rules too. We hunters needed to roam free. Free and wild. So when I was finally able to find a decent roommate, I moved out. Jack and I lived together since. It helped that he was a ladies man too. We bros need to stick together. I have always wanted to go out with him but he was quite a few years older than I and frankly I didnt want to cramp his style. He seemed to get lucky fairly regularly. I am yet to see him without a date for the night on Friday. He doesnt bother me much. Only when I leave stuff lying around. But over the years I have learned to predict when he will be home and so am much better at it. Better at being absent so as to miss the customary chat that he liked to have with me. Sometimes he could  be a buzzkill.
But why am I wasting your time with my experiences with him. I had quite a different story to tell you. Of Her. Isabel.

                  Isabel is a knockout babe. I think she might be the one. But lets back up a minute. Start at the beginning. I saw her that morning. A Sunday morning. Jack was not home. Probably out somewhere sleeping it off with one of his current flames. There I go again. Well lets forget Jack and focus on Isabel. She was walking along the banks of the Charles river. She looked hot in that leopard print thing she was sporting. It was tight and clingy. I sent a silent prayer to the heavens. She seemed to be walking by herself. Granted she was walking towards me and so I bumped into her. It seemed the most casual bump but it made her look at me. I followed that up with a smile and an apology. And thus it started. Usually  I like to seal the deal the same evening. But this time it was different. Seemed different. Maybe this was what they called love. We chatted for a while as we walked down the banks of Charles river and parted an hour later but not before making plans to meet soon. I could barely walk on the sidewalk on the way home and almost got run over by a taxi. Damn those horrible Boston drivers. But truth be told it was not their fault. I count hardly believe my luck.
               And so it began. Isabel is a shy girl. And very conservative. I did not mind. For once I was in it for the long haul. We met more frequently. And I always watched her walk away at the end of our meetings. She had the most perfect behind. I loved watching her sashay down the street swinging that derriere oh so beautifully. Damn....It was hard to keep my hands away from her. So far I had gotten only so far as second base. It would be tacky to go further even for a Casanova like me. A year passed by quite quickly. My friends were a bit shocked to see me so taken by this same woman. None had lasted more than a week at best. Well except for Kelly. She had set the benchmark. One and half weeks. And that too because I loved her black coat. She rarely wore anything else...or anything under it. You catch my drift right...So it came as a huge shock to them when I introduced them to Isabel. The woman who had caused me to leave my Casanova days behind. I needed a new name they joked. I did not really care. I loved her. And I could tell Isabel loved me. Especially when she spent two weeks nursing me after I had caught the flu. I jokingly asked her to sing "Soft Kitty" for me and she agreed. I love that girl.
                    And yet we never went further than second base. My friends felt it was werid. I id not think so. I rather adored her. She seemed to like my friends though. Something I felt counted against her. They were street bums for the best part. They loved living life on the edge. They had not had the genteel breeding that Isabel had had. Isabel used to sneak out to meet me. Her parents would not approve. They were an old New England family. And for them I was the complete wrong sort for their little Isabel. I didnt blame them. My mother would probably have said the same thing.  But I could not wait to meet them and ask for Isabel's hand. I am sure my mother would approve of her. Just the kind of girl you take home to your parents.
                 It happened one Saturday. We were out with friends hanging out at a local club, when she pulled me close and purred softly into my ear. "Take me home. I think I am ready." She winked at me. I couldnt contain myself. I quickly made excuses and we left. I wanted to take the T but I was a bit strapped for cash just then. I always was...So we walked. Isabel didnt mind. I loved her more. I hoped Jack was out. He didnt approve of me bringing women back to the place. He owned the apartment and so set the rules. A bit of a shame really. That place would have gotten me laid much much more than usual. Not that that mattered anymore. Those days were a thing of the past now. I wondered if we could go to her place. She shook her head. Her parents. Damn. We would have to risk it. If I could sneak her in without Jack noticing it would be fine. We entered my apartment building.
"Lets take the stairs", she suggested. I wasnt about to disagree. Plus we could start making out in the stairwell. Most of the rich tenants did not bother with the stairs. Fat slobs. The make out session started right at the bottom step. We made out for a good half hour right there before she nodded that we should probably head to the house. We ran up the stairs. All the way to the third floor. I opened the door a bit and poked my head in. The place was quiet. Nice!!! Score for me. Jack was probably out with some new bimbo. I pulled her in and we started. We didnt get to the bedroom . Right there. On the dining table. Round 1. I lay panting next to her. I wanted to smoke a bit but she pulled me back on top of her. Round 2. The sofa. Then she let me take a breather. I was a few years older and needed to pace myself.
"I need a drink of water", she announced and jumped off the sofa. I could hear her drinking in the kitchen.
"Do you want to do it in the bedroom?" I asked her.
"It? In the bedroom. No thank you.", she purred in a throaty sexy voice. "But I wouldnt mind doing it on the kitchen counter if you are up for it, big boy."
Was I. I raced to the kitchen. There she was bent over the kitchen counter. Waiting for me.
I was on her immediately. We were at it for almost a good half hour when I heard her scream.
"Dammit. Nove. What have I told you about bringing strange skanks home." Jack shouted at me.
"And on my kitchen counter? what the F*** is wrong with you. Get that hose." He instructed his bimbo- a blonde- a tall busty leggy redhead in a tight black number. A towel would have been bigger than that dress.  I tried to protest but my voice was drowned by the jet of cold water that the bimbo turned on us.
Isabel shrieked as the cold water hit her. She jumped out through the window and made her escape through the fire escape.  Arrgghhhh...what was wrong with humans. we cats never turn the hose on humans when they try to make love...Who was I really hurting, I ask you...Needless to say I never saw or heard from Isabel again.

Voices

He woke up again. Covered in sweat. He threw off the covers, kicking off the part that had entangled his foot as he had slept. It was winter but he could ill afford to heat his little room on his meagre earnings. Inspite of that he was drenched in sweat.. The temperature in his room could not have been more than 50F. The thin panes on his only window barely kept the temperature constant. The rust covered old radiator hissed intermittently beneath the window. The hiss of steam barely enough to keep the room lukewarm. He did not notice this. His anxious face seemed lost. He could still hear them. Baying like hounds. Baying for his blood. Banging on his door. He sat up, swung his legs off the bed. He stared for a while outside the window and then cradled his head in his hands. His hands covered his ears but he still heard them as clear as the night outside. Snow had started falling again. He did not like the cold. But he would have lived in the Arctic circle if only that would stop the voices. They were in his head, he kept reminding himself. And yet they seemed so real. He got up, walked to the door in couple of strides, threw open the door and glanced outside. The narrow hallways were empty. They would be at 3 in the morning. He closed the door and locked it. All three of them. He stood there for nearly an hour before walking to the bed and sitting down. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp. Most of it spilled onto his old worn out t-shirt but he did not notice. Nor did he notice that the holes in the t-shirt had gotten bigger over time. None of these things mattered to him.
He looked at the window once again. He had begged his landlord to allow him to board it up. But Mr. Cohen refused. Would bring the price of the apartment down, Mr Cohen had said giving him a funny look. He looked around his tiny apartment warily. Was there any other place from which they could enter? His eyes overlooked the fact that his apartment, even though tiny appeared huge. A tiny apartment would if it was sparsely furnished. He had done the best he could though. An old discarded stained mattress rescued from the curb. It had a musty smell but still had a few years of use left. A broken alarm clock radio that someone had dropped and discarded as the screen had cracked. A bargain for a dollar at the second hand store. Still worked fine. A battered old side table missing a drawer. Another lucky curb find. He didnt need the drawer anyway. Afterall what did he have now that he could keep in the drawer. Nothing. His eyes drifted to the small canvas rucksack. His only remaining possession from back home. He looked at his meager possessions again. He had mobilised most of these from curbs and the second hand store. Very hesitatingly. People back home in Ghana would never do that.

                  Ah Ghana!!! How he longed to be home. He looked up at the window as it rattled by the passing of the subway train. The door shook quite a bit too. Would they stand up to people trying to break in? He shuddered at the though involuntarily. Then again, no one here knew of him. His past and reasons for a doctor living in such squalor. Nor did they care. They just continued with their lives. He started to relax. He had been here for a year now. Living in the city of dreams. New York. And yet all it took was a little noise and he was back at home. A home he had loved. A home he would never be able to return to given the way he had left. He did not like New York but it was now this was home. He looked at the clock again. 4:30 AM. He better get ready. He would need to be at work by 6 AM. He took off his wet clothes and placed them on the metal wire that he had suspended there. On it hung his work clothes too. He had brought them home to wash last evening. He  checked them. They were still a bit damp but that was okay. He placed them on the radiator. That should dry them a bit more. Probably would take some of the wrinkles out too. He turned on the shower and waited. Past experience had taught him to wait for the water to heat up a bit. So different from things back home. He smiled at the thought as he corrected himself. This was home. There was no going back.No large 4 bedroom apartment. Nor the beautiful cream convertible Lexus. Even the medical practice he had helped established. Twelve years of hard work. All gone in one night.
     
              His thoughts turned to his parents. The only son born after three daughters, his birth had seen a lot of celebration. If only he had known the responsibilities that came with the celebration. He had worked hard. His family could barely afford to feed them, let alone send them to school. Yes his was a story of success, oft  times recounted for the benefit of others in his tiny village school. Recounted until they found out. Scholarships and working nights, he had helped put himself through school. He had also helped educate his sisters. One had become a high school teacher, the second a secretary and the third a nurse. Much better than they had expected. They had not hoped for much once they realised their family situation. An end of innocence. It is sad when a child gives up their make believe carefree world and adopts the truth of life they were born into. However, he had dared to dream. And dream big. It is said, only those who dare to dream big, achieve something. His family certainly had felt that he had achieved a lot. He had topped his batch in medical school at 22 and gone on to win the prestigious awards that let him enter residency as a cardio-thoracic surgeon. Five years later, he had graduated first among the five who had joined the program with him. Again at the top. He had joined the same department at 27, two days after his birthday as a lecturer. Four years later, he had become an associate professor.  The youngest ever in the history of the university. Eyebrows had been raised when he quit the safe job to start in independent practice. His parents had berated him for his foolishness. His friends tried to dissuade him. Three year later the same people basked in the glow of his new found success. His medical practice had expanded from a three person operation to a team of fifty multispeciality team  of physicians and surgeons. There were even talks of starting a full fledged hospital to rival the others in the city. They certainly had the talent. The capital they would get somehow. At 33, there was hardly anyone who wouldnt say that Dr. Adom Emman Baffour had the Midas touch. He had purchased a nice home for his parents and his sisters had married well. Things were looking good. They nagged him about taking a wife but he had put them off. He needed to focus on his career, he would say. His parents wanted a grandson. He knew how much they desired one from him. His sisters had obliged them with a fair degree of regularity. He could hardly keep track of their names. 11 grandchildren so far and yet his parents were not satisfied.

                       If only they knew. He knew they would not approve. How could they? It was still a crime. Ashley and he had kept it a closely guarded secret. Such things were not permissable. Heck inter-tribe marriages were still not quite common. Not in his small village at least. Blood would be shed for far simpler things. Young Aban had been killed for bumping into a woman from another tribe. The village had bled for a few days and the army had been called in. They would certainly never approve of Ashley. Ashley was another doctor. A year junior to him in medical school. They had bonded over long study sessions in the library. And finally one evening had given in to their baser desires. It had been 15 years now and still they had not found the courage to tell anyone. Clandestine meetings and coded messages that would seem innocuous to any other person. Ashley called him Adom Bond. Afterall Adom had devised the cipher and the methods. His apartment was in the heart of the town as well. If you want to hide something, hide it in plain sight, Adom had once read. And so it was. No one took notice of who visited him in the bustling capital city. Yes he had chosen well. Love is a strange thing though. He had forgotten how it can blind someone. Even one as smart as him. And so it came to pass. But he had not been the one at fault. Although he could hardly bring himself to blame Ashley for trying to surprise him on his birthday. Cake and wine. Adom had always had a sweet tooth. Brought up in poverty, these were hardly on the menu. Well not until, Adom had changed things. His family was not expecting him till tomorrow. They had protested but they had fallen silent once he reminded them that each day he was not at the practice, they lost a significant amount of money. That had quietened them. He had snuck out of the practice, hoping to get a bit of rest before he faced them. Adom loved them but they could be a handful. He knew the conversaton would inevitably be about him not having found a wife. They were persistent. No doubt he had been as well. Genes.  He entered his flat to find the surprise there. Ashley was cooking in the kitchen. He sniffed the aroma emanating from the kitchen. He smiled. So much for an evening of rest. He called out to Ashley who popped out the kitchen and smiled at him. It was early still. Adom knew Ashley was scheduled to perform a surgery later that night. They did not have much time. And yet they enjoyed the excellent meal, the chocolate truffle cake and the bottle of red wine. After dinner they found they still had a few hours before Ashley had to return so they settled down on the couch. Adom put on a bit of music. As they sat on the couch, cuddling, they heard a gasp. Adom turned to see his family standing their. His sisters and his parents. Their arms were full of decorations. They had wanted to surprise him with a party. They usually stayed with him when they were in the city. But he wasnt expecting them. Not like this. He heard his sister Abla drop a glass dish of some sort as she walked in through the front door. His shirt was open. As was Ashley's.  He hastily tried to button it up. Too late. He wondered how much they had seen. They would probably have guessed even if it were not open. Ashley hastily did the same and pushed past them before they could recover from the shock. Adom heard the ding of the elevator as his family recovered his senses. He barely heard them as they berated him. How could he? What was he thinking? Did he know the consequences of his actions? The commotion brought his otherwise non-interfering neighbors out. They saw Ashley climb into the elevator in a disheveled state. One went in and made the call. Adom had a clear view of Afram doing that. It was hard not to see it. Afram owned the flat across the hallway from him. Adom and he had had a bitter bidding war over this apartment. Afram had wanted this one. It was larger and more spacious. Adom had had the deeper pockets that had helped him secure the apartment. Now of course Afram would create all the trouble he could stir up. His family finally let him be and called it a night. They would, no doubt, start over in the morning. Birthday or no birthday. What a nice way to end his birthday. He was about to call it a night when the phone rang. Aban Al-Malick. The grateful father of a little boy he had saved. Again an only boy. Aban had 3 wives and eighteen daughters before his son had been born. Born with a rare congenital anomaly that would ensure that Abdul-Karim would not live past his third birthday. Adom had changed that. Aban had been very grateful and promised to repay Adom someday. Today.
"You dont have much time my friend." Adom heard the familiar voice respond when he answered the phone. Aban had helped him establish the practice.
"No names please. Do you recognise my voice?"
Adom reponded in the affirmative.
"Good. It has been reported. An hour ago. You need to leave the city. Immediately. They will come for you tomorrow. Early. Do you know what to do?"
Adom responded in the negative.
"No matter. I have made some arrangements. I wish you had confided in me earlier. We dont have much time. You better warn your friend too. Both of you must leave. Immediately. There is not a moment to lose. Pack as much as you can carry. No more. Money and a few clothes at most. Leave your car. Take a taxi to the local market. It will still be crowded. Its only 8 PM. Cross the market. A few times. Then leave from the east gate. Make sure you are not followed. Dress in common clothes. Come to my ...." Aban had given him the address of a warehouse that he owned. One of many. His business interests were many. And varied. It didnt come as a surprise to Adom that Aban knew. Very few things happened in Ghana without his knowledge. And yet to all he was a simple merchant.
Aban made him repeat his instructions to make sure that Adom had understood. When he was satisfied he said.
"Good. Hurry. May Allah protect and guide you, my friend. I shall be waiting. Hurry." Adom heard his say before a click.
Adom sat there for a few minutes before springing into action. He found his old school canvas backpack and packed a few clothes. He opened the safe and emptied the money from there into his bag. Not much but still better than nothing. He would stop at the ATM and draw as much as he could. He hesitated for a minute and then packed the gun and the deeds to his share of the practice and car. He left the house deeds there with a note willing them to his family. They would need the money. So many grandchildren to put through school. Besides he doubted even Aban would have enough to pay for that at such short notice. He stealthily took one look at his family as they slept in the other bedrooms and left his apartment locking the door on his way out. He called Ashley and recounted the events. Ashley promised to meet him at the warehouse taking the same precautions Aban had instructed Adom to adopt.
                         As he left the building, he could hear their voices in the distance. The lights from their torches were clearly visible. They were calling his name. Baying for his blood. Him. Aban had been wrong. They would not wait that long. Adom had no option. He would have to pass by them if he wanted to make it to the market. He steeled himself. They would probably not recognise him as he was not wearing a suit.  He must walk slowly. Any sudden movements would give him away. With each step his heart beat faster and louder. He was afraid that his heart would give him away. As he neared the mob, he saw a burkha clad woman walking hurriedly in the opposite direction. No doubt trying to get indoors before the wrath of the mob manifest itself. He saw her disappear into one of the buildings. and wondered if he knew her. She was most certainly a neighbour. The other shops and windows on the street had been closed. The few that were open, closed quickly as the noise of the mob grew louder. He crept past them with his face down. He thought he recognised a few among them. His neighbour led the pack. Of course he would. Adom thought he saw a priest. He kept walking. Steadily.They did not give him a second look. Their victim was not expecting them after all. Besides they were looking for a doctor. Not one wearing the rustic worn out garb of a poor man. Suits were expensive and doctors only wore suits. The man hunt would begin later. He felt his cell phone vibrating. He did not feel it earlier in his panic. There were 10 missed calls from Ashley. He had forgotten to turn the ringer on. He felt the phone ring again but he hid it and hurried away. Away from the mob. Finally four blocks away once he had lost sight of the mob, he called Ashley. Again and again. Each of his efforts were directed to the voicemail. He had hidden in the recess of one of the buildings to make the calls. Finally he could wait no longer. He left a frantic message and then ditched his phone in a drain outside the building. The SIM card he ditched in another drain a few blocks away before rushing to the market. He would better walk all the way. Taxi drivers would remember him. 
It took an hour before Adom was at the market. Another hour before he found himself knocking on the door of the warehouse. A small metal window slid open and he found himself gazing into the worried face of Aban himself.
"Were you followed?" Aban asked glancing in the street.
Adom shook his head. His throat was parched.
"Good." Aban said once he was satisfied. The window slid shut. Adom was worried for a few seconds until he heard the reassuring sound of locks being opened. A small metal door flew open and Aban nearly dragged him inside before shutting the door just as quickly.
Aban had made all the arrangements. A freight ship of his was due to leave in a few hours. They would be part of the cargo. Aban pointed to a wooden crate that lay open.
"Thats your way out." he said in a sad voice. "They decided not to wait. You better hurry. If I had more time...." Adom grasped Aban's hands in his own to convey his gratitude. Aban handed him a small bag of food and water.
"Be careful how you ration the water. Use the empty bottle to .." Adom nodded. He understood. There could not be any trace of a man being in that crate. Adom opened his bag and pulled out that deeds to his car and practice. He tried to give them to Aban. Aban was risking his own life and the lives of his family by aiding him. Aban shook his head. Adom forced them into Aban's hands.
"These are worth a lot more." Aban said. Adom shook his head.
They were worthless to him where he was going.
Aban handed him the stamped passport containing his picture. Lord knows how Aban had managed to procure that at such short notice. He opened the passport. Mustafa Al-Hakim. The American visa was perfect. Probably authentic as well. Adom had heard rumors of Aban working with the US Embassy. Aban took out a small polaroid camera and they took a picture. Aban worked on the passport.while Adom impatiently watched the seconds tick by. There was still no sign of Ashley.
"Here you are, my friend. It is time. We can wait no longer." Aban warned him. Adom tried to say something but Aban nodded.
"Dont worry. I have another passport waiting." Aban showed him the other passport. "The other crate is for your friend. But we must hurry. Get into that crate. I will ensure Ashley is able to get out too. Dont worry. Its the least I can do...Hurry. " Aban helped him into the crate and put the food and water bottles in with hm..
"Good. Secure the straps. The crossing will be rough. But others have made it. Do not say a word. Not even if someone calls your name. The captain is an old friend. Abubaker. He will help you off at the other end. The code word is Allah is my shepherd." Aban smiled at his joke. He had used a saying from the Bible and mixed it with his own god. "My men will be here soon. Take this. If Allah wishes it, we will meet again." Aban handed him a small envelope, shook his hand once more before sealing Adom into the crate..
Adom heard Ahan make a phone call. Sometime later there was a knock on the warehouse door and Adom heard a few men walk in. The crate was lifted and  placed on a truck and he was away. He said a silent prayer for Ashley. He had heard the mob again as they passed through the market. Had Ashley managed to escape? Adom had his doubts. He tried to signal the men but they did not hear him over the noise of the mob. And then he passed out. The truck had bounced on a speedbreaker and Adom hit his head on the wooden reinforcement. When he came to, he could hear the sea and feel the roll of the ship as she made her way in open waters. He would have to wait.
It had taken a few weeks in that crate before he heard an old voice whisper those words again. He tried to respond but failed to do so. His voice was gone. Inspite of careful rationing his water supply had run out a few days ago. He had managed to keep himself hydrated using ...He closed his eyes trying to blot out that memory. No matter how many showers he took, he never felt properly clean. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself.

                    Abubaker had shook his head when Adom had asked after Ashley. The old man had placed his hand on Adom's shoulder and said no more. Abubaker took care of everything. Adom dimly rmembered the events since his release from the crate. It had taken a few days before he could stand upright again. A few more before he could move about unaided. He had lost a significant amount of muscle mass during his captivity. Abubaker had helped him gain entry into the city and also set him up with a local not for profit that worked with refugees. They had helped him get the job at the local hospital.

                                                                  ENDING 1: RARE

                  That was a year ago. Adom glanced at the clock as he picked up his semi dry uniform from the radiator. 6 AM. He better hurry or he would miss his train. Ten minutes later, he barely made his train and was on his way to work again. Dr Adom Emman Baffour worked in a hospital once more. He worked on the same surgical floors that been a second home to him all these years. The familiar scent of Lysol filled his nostrils. The sounds of the machines beeping, and the familiar medical jargon being thrown about filled his days. Here he had found some semblance of peace. Only now he watched them perform the same miracles he had once himself performed. A silent unnoticed spectator. Afterall whoever noticed the janitor mopping the floors. Everyone noticed the stars. The doctors and the nurses.

                                                                  ENDING 2:MEDIUM

                           That was a year ago. Adom glanced at the clock as he picked up his semi dry uniform from the radiator. 6 AM. He better hurry or he would miss his train. Ten minutes later, he barely made his train and was on his way to work again. Dr Adom Emman Baffour worked in a hospital once more. He worked on the same surgical floors that been a second home to him all these years. The familiar scent of Lysol filled his nostrils. The sounds of the machines beeping, and the familiar medical jargon being thrown about filled his days. Here he had found some semblance of peace. Only now he watched them perform the same miracles he had once himself performed. A silent unnoticed spectator. Afterall whoever noticed the janitor mopping the floors. Everyone noticed the stars. The doctors and the nurses.
                         Adom didnt mind that one bit. Afterall he had received so much attention back home that he had lost his taste for fame. He continued on his "rounds". Although these meant mopping and cleaning up after everyone else at the hospital, it was rewarding work. At 12 noon, he took his lunch break. Lunch was a small soup and half a sandwich. He brought these with him, quite unable to afford the prices at the subsidized hospital canteen. He ate alone on the grass in the garden. The other janitors had initially tried to include him in their conversations but had soon learned that he preferred to be left alone. They gladly obliged assuming that he did not speak any English. Quite untrue as Adom spoke seven languages fluently including English, French and Spanish. Adom didnt bother to correct them. He watched them as they say at their usual table chatting and eating. Oblivious to the issues outside their tiny safe world. They would never know or realise that indpendence that they took for granted came at a huge price. Soon he was done and went back on his rounds. Four hours later, he caught the train back to his home. On the way back he stopped, as he had for the past year amd lit a candle at the church altar. For Ashley. Ashley's soul. He had not had any news about Ashley in the interim period. Abubaker had died on the trip back to Ghana and so Adom had been cut off from all news back home as well. He hoped his parents and sisters were safe. They would not have hurt them. He had scanned the newspapers but not read anything of that evening. A small piece a few months later did mention of his tragic death in a car crash. He laughed and breathed a sigh of relief when he read of the survivors. His family had escaped the retribution. A few days later he read Ashley's obituary. He did not know if that was true. But he had his doubts. There was no "car crash" this time. 
                      Time flew by. The years passed but his routine never wavered. The years had not been kind to him. His hair first turned gray and finally white. He looked like he was eighty even though he was only half that age. Whoever would have guessed how things would turn out to be. Weekends were worse. He missed Ashley even more. During the week he had work to keep him occupied but on weekends, he always found it hard to kill time. He laughed whenever he thought of that expression. Kill time. The church was his only solace since his arrival in the US. When he first started to frequent the church and the services,. the priest there had tried to include him and convince him to participate in the church services and events. Adom could not bring himself to participate however. The crowds reminded him of the terrors...He shut his eyes in terror as he found himself back there. Back amidst the blood thirsty mob. When he finally opened his eyes he saw the familiar face of Christ staring down at him. He would leave soon after these visions, doing his best to avoid the other church goers.
Thereafter he only went there when the church was deserted. Deep down he knew he was safe but he could not bring himself to forget those voices. A decade had not been enough.
                   As was his habit, he made his way to the church an hour after Sunday service. Most of the stragglers after the service would have left by now. He would not be disturbed in his prayers. He entered the empty church, and approached the altar. The quiet environment within might have bothered others but not Adom. He found the small candle in his pocket and lit it using the flames of one of the other candles already burning there. That one was almost about to go out. Adom said a silent prayer and placed the candle in the molten remains of another. When he was satisfied he bent his head in another prayer. Finally he made the sign of the cross and took his usual seat at the back of the church on the right side. The pillar behind him almost hid him from view. He preferred that. He fished out the rosary- a cheap one he had bought all those years ago. The beads had cracked and some were missing but they still served their purpose. He knelt down and started praying wordlessly.In his mind, he was back in Ghana. With Ashley. He replayed their happy moments together. Just as he had everyday since leaving Ghana, all those years ago. He could still hear her voice. Sweet and soft.
"Adom. Adom...." he smiled. So real and yet ...The hand that was gently placed on his shoulder made him jump. He fell to the floor. He turned to gaze at the face to whom the hand belonged. He had expected it to be the priest. He did this sometime. But the face that looked down at him shocked him. It had aged. Yes. Really aged. But he recognised it all the same. Ashley. Dear sweet Ashley.
                 And yet she did not seem to be looking at him. She seemed to gaze into the distance. He saw her hand searching for him in space.
"I am here. I am here, my love." He struggled to his feet. He hugged her as his eyse wept. He could feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder as well. Tears of joy. He hugged her and kissed her sweet face. They could not stop their tears. There were so many questions...and yet they did not matter. He had her. His Ashley. She was alive. Alive and...He peered into her eyes. Ashley had had the deepest blue eyes. Very rare in Ghana. But now they seemed gray. His eyes were going bad and so he took her hand and half dragged our out into the light. No they were gray. Then he noticed the stick in her hand. The thin white stick with a red end. Ashley. His Ashley. The gifted neurosurgeon was blind. He cradled her face in his hands. It did not matter. He would see for the both of them. They would do everything together. He smiled at what she had suffered.
                Slowly they walked out of the church. Adom wanted to tell her so much. But that would wait. They walked together- arm in arm. Like they never could have in Ghana. Free for the first time. So this is what freedom looked like. He loved the taste of it. He took her back to his apartment. For the first time he was glad, she could not see how he lived now. Such a start contrast to his earlier apartment. The floors had been of white marble. beautiful reproductions had hung on the walls and expensive furniture had been used to decorate that apartment. Ashley would have been shocked. Or would she. He had escaped quite unscathed. How did she lose her sight? He could not contain himself and asked her. Nothing would have prepared him for what she told him.A tale more horrific than anything he had imagined. A swift death would have been merciful.
                  After leaving his apartment, Ashley had walked on the street towards their clinic. After speaking to him she had gone home and picked up a few things. As she packed, she overheard someone in her building talking. They were going to hunt them down and make an example of them. Him first. Make her watch and then her. Even if they were doctors, they had no right to bring shame to their tribes. How could a decent Christian girl fall for a Muslim swine. She fled leaving all behind. Fearful for her life and his. She tried calling him but there was no response. She directed the taxi driver to drop her close to his apartment. She would have to warn him in person. They could leave together. She spied the mob forming in the square. It would be a close call. Then using a  had stolen a burkha from clothesline as it lay drying and doubled back  to his apartment. She kept trying to dial his number but did not receive a response. She hoped she would not be too late. The mob had grown quickly. When she reached his flat, she had banged on the door till Adom's sister had opened the door. She was too shocked to stop Ashely from pushing past her and checking the apartment. Her shouts had woken everyone. His parents and sisters. The pinned her to the floor. Thats when the mob caught up. She was knocked unconscious.
                 Adom had only heard stories of mob lynchings. This was worse. Ashley had been beaten brutally for days. They wanted to know where he was. She had not given him up. Then came the rape. It went on for days. They took turns. She lost count of time. Beatings alternated the rape. Her eyes were too swollen to see who it was. Her body was just as swollen. Doctors were called to patch her up. Thats when they discovered that she was pregnant. They sent the doctor away before using a bamboo pole to rip her baby out of her. Adom wept as he heard of her treatment and that of their unborn child. They had ripped her uterus with their savagery. She almost died from the blood loss. But they were not through and neither was fate. They had the doctors remove her uterus and once she got better, the rape and beatings started again. If she was lucky it was one...most times it was two or three. Adom could not stop his tears. He hugged Ashley. But the damage was done. She stopped for a while and shut her eyes. Like him, she could neither block out the images nor the memories. Finally she was able to tell him. She had contracted HIV from one of her rapists. Without treatment she progressed to AIDS. Her blindness was a consequence of untreated HIV. Once that was discovered, they dumped her in a ditch. The gods they said had punished her for her crimes. Years had passed since her ordeal began. She had no one to turn to. She still remembered Adom's instructions and traced Aban.
                 It took her a few weeks but she was finally able to contact Aban without anyone noticing. He was most sympathetic. He tried to arrange for treatment but no one wanted to be seen in her company. He finally smuggled her to the US. She arrived 3 months ago. And with his help she had been able to track Adom down to this church. They did not know where he lived since he had moved and not left a forwarding address with the not for profit organisation. She smiled as she stroked his cheeks. She did not have much time. The doctors here tried to treat her but she was too far along. She had but a few months. Adom kissed her passionately. It did not matter anymore. They would be together till the end. He cooked dinner for them. A proper meal. Ghanian meal. He also managed to buy a bottle of cheap red wine. Ashley had always enjoyed wine. He knew she had a good palate and would know how bad the wine was but that was the best he could do. She did not let him know. For once they were happy. Their sad past did not exist. They had the rest of their lives to cherish each other.

                And that was how Aban found them. Six months later when he came to the USA to trade. He had finished his work and thought to visit his old friends. Their neighbour told him everything. The sweet blind lady had passed away after a horrible illness. Her husband had cared for her till the very end. Even when his own health had begun to fail, he had not stopped caring for her. After her funeral, no one saw him. They were found by the landlord who had come to collect the rent. He had taken his own life unable to be parted from her. Aban tracked down the police officer, O'Malley, who had been called in by the landlord. Adom had left a letter. for him.
                 "Dear Aban, 
                   My friend by the time you read this letter, I will be gone. Gone to meet my love in the afterlife. Allah forgive me for doing this. I really dont see a point in continuing. All this while when I knew she might be alive, the hope had kept me alive. With her passing, there is nothing more for me to look forward to. I have tried to live as a good Muslim. Allah does not discriminate and yet we, his children, do so and in doing so destroy innocent lives. My Ashley was as innoncent as they come. She never hurt anyone. But her innoncence too they robbed from her. And robbed her from me. A week ago, on a rainy morning I buried her. She loved the rain. God reaching down to clean our sins she called it. She always reminded me that it had rained when Jesus was crucified. I think she made it rain for me. To let me know of her love for me. Her love that had never once faltered. Even in those trying times. And letting me know that she still waits for me. I had tried to find solace in her faith these past years. Who knows, maybe her god was more forgiving than ours? If I could I would take all her suffering on my self. But I cant change time. Nor can I bring her back. She died in her sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning. There was a beautiful smile on her face. Maybe the angels came to take her soul away from her tortured body. As I saw her smile, I felt that last part of me die. A hollow life it seems now to live on in her absence. I tried. I tried hard these past few days. But everything reminds me of her. And her suffering. I know she would not want me to do this. She would have wanted me to live on...but I am finally broken, my friend. May Allah and Jesus forgive my last act. I had hoped to meet you someday and thank you for what you did for us. The grave peril risk you placed yourself and your family for our sake and for the sake of our love. Love is the only thing that binds us all. I had hoped we would meet again someday. I had hoped to return the gift you gave me. As such I will have no further need of it where I am going but I know there are others who would benefit from it. I spent a small part of it for her funeral. The rest I return to you. For the amount I spent, in lieu, I also leave you this ring. Ashley had given it to me. I have no need of this either as I shall be in her arms soon. May Allah forgive me my last act. 
Goodbye my old friend. 
Adom."
Aban looked up at O'Malley. O'Malley handed him a small envelope. He opened the envelope and found the money he had handed Adom all those years ago in the warehouse. Sure enough the greater part of the fifty thousand dollars were in it. Along with a ring. An emerald ring inscribed by the words- Allah and Jesus. Together. Dated ten years ago when he had seen Adom last. His birthday.
O'Malley placed his hand on Aban's shoulder as tears rolled down his cheek. They were finally together. Together forever more. Free at last.

                                                    ENDING 3: WELL DONE/BURNT

KKG