Crush

Jeena

Jeena peeled her eyes away from her monitor and saw colored patches in her sight. Looking at the wall on other side moved the patches to the wall. She turned off the computer and got up; her legs wobbled. Taking a moment to stabilize herself, she then tiptoed into a stretch. It had been more than 10 hours straight sitting in that chair. No matter how preemptively she started working before deadline, to work like this before a paper deadline was almost inevitable. Was it a good submission? She pushed the thought out of her brain. Later, she told herself.

She walked out of her lab and then out of the Computer Science department. The noon sun burned in her eyes and she mitigated it by squinting and smiling. She took a long breath - Fall was almost upon them. The slight chill mingled with warm sun tingled her skin. She started walking towards Thomas Street, a boulevard lined with restaurants providing student-fare - each making food just barely edible, but economical and quick.

More decisions to be made. Which business does she dare to show confidence in today? She started walking towards Bread Company, her go-to sandwich place to have the raspberry aioli mushroom sandwich. She might treat herself with a glass of wine along with it. Mid-way though, her mind convulsed at the idea of jam-filled sweet and salty sandwich. She stopped and revaluated her choice to Mirabelle bakery. Their feta and spinach croissant invariably brought joy. She could pick a couple up and walk down the tree-lined street.

Again, the butter felt nauseating to her empty stomach and she thought probably she needed something healthy.

Jeena: Salad?

Brain: No.

Jeena: Soup?

Brain: Eww.

Jeena: What do you want?

Brain: <shrug>

Jeena: Hmmph - you are really stubborn given that you haven’t eaten in ages … most people would be happy to eat raw grass about now.

Brain: Well, you have raised me well I suppose.

Alright, let’s settle this. Let’s walk to a grocery store - it has so many options. Something will appeal.

I feel good, I knew that I would … so good, so good, ‘cause I got you.

She began her walk away from all the ready-made food street and towards the DIY food store. Her stomach growled. She realized how hungry she was and should really just eat about anything. Her head felt light. Eat now, she told herself.

She walked into the grocery store and was greeted by an old lady there, “Welcome to Meijer.” She weakly smiled back at her and rushed towards the fresh produce store, with yellow bananas beckoning her. Right when they were under her nose, she walked away. With her head spinning and weirdly tricking her away from things she normally enjoyed, a full twenty-three minutes later, she walked out of the grocery store with a bag of marshmallows, a gallon of milk, and a cabbage.

As the fresh air hit her nostrils again, she slouched her shoulders. “What was I thinking? What do I eat out of this? Arrgh!” She decided that she was clearly not thinking straight and decided to give up on choosing a meal for now. It was clearly a baffling task that she was not capable of accomplishing at the moment. So, she fetched out her phone from her jeans back pocket and dialed up her friend Raymond. She burst out the holed up energy and frustration into it as soon as she heard the click:

“Hello! Now that my deadline is over, do you think I should call up Rafael and see if he wants to go out with me? Dude! I haven’t eaten anything in so long … I will faint if I don’t eat right at this moment, I am so friggin’ hungry - I could eat a horse right now. I think this whole Rafael thing is weighing on my mind and I am super distracted and not able to decide what I should eat. I am kinda nervous - what do I tell him, how do I ask him? You said you will help me after my deadline and now the time has come. That joke about the panties was hilarious though, not sure if I should tell it to him when I call though. Hello?”

“Err - em, hi, this is Rafael.”

She blanked out, probably because of hunger as well. Then she removed the phone from her ear and pressed the red phone icon. She switched her phone off and slid it back.

Ignoring all the pleas from her brain, she walked right back into the grocery store, towards the lush yellow bananas and grabbed a bunch. She checked it out and ate four bananas one after the other. Her eyes welled up; she really liked Rafael. In her four years of grad life and twenty-eight years of existence, she had looked for a guy who was more aware of what he was doing, his work, play, etc. Rafael had joined her lab 5 months ago and she had come to realize during the group weekly meetings that she never wanted to miss them anymore for there was someone who was as excited and diligent about their work as she. Also, his calf muscles protruded at just the right angles.

She had just wanted to go out on a date with him and being a complete n00b in this aspect of human social life, seeked advice from Raymond, her childhood friend: it was a professional environment and she didn’t want to build a rapport of a ageing graduate student who seeks out fresh entrants. She started laughing at the stupidity of it all - why on earth was she even welling up? She hadn’t even known him! It had to be lack of sleep.

Her brain was taking command again. It didn’t want to go back to an empty place, needed someone. She walked to Neeta’s apartment four blocks away, unlocked the apartment, and walked to Neeta’s room. The bed was littered with clothes and books. She wanted to scream but realized no one would hear it and instead walked to her roommate’s room. It was tidy and she recalled that she was back in Peru for a week. She shut the door and dropped in bed.

When Jeena regained consciousness, there was darkness all around. She heard distant police sirens wailing but concentrated on matters more personal - she was famished. It must be middle of night and Neeta might not have realized that she was sleeping in her house. No goddamn place would be open at this unearthly hour to deliver any food or serve a morsel. If it was before 3 am, Insomnia Cookies might be open. But sugar? You might want to sleep instead.

She covered her mouth with pillow and bursted her frustration in its face. People, people everywhere, not one to care.

What could she possibly eat? She remembered that she had bought milk from store - did she actually bring it back? She didn’t recall carrying anything back when she walked to Neeta’s place; maybe she left it near the grocery stall where she had placed the bag after the phone call. Phone call. Not again, don’t think about it right now. Oh damn, could he have called her back? She extracted the phone out of her pocket - it was still there. How sleepy she must have been!

She switched it back on. The loading bar took its sweet time. Probably installing OS update when it got the chance to. She flinged it aside, bolstered herself up, and turned on the bedside lamp. She picked up a book near it - how well did the person keep her room! Would she ever know that Jeena slept in her bed while she was away? She turned the book around, “Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency” by Douglas Adams and started reading the snippet on back of the cover. Her phone came to life. It buzzed on and on, one notification tone after another; it seemed to go crazy - what was going on? Another bad software release?

Impatiently, she tapped the green phone icon. Had he called back? Nothing happened. She stabbed the green icon again. The screen came up and crashed. She picked up her phone and waited for a few seconds. Did Rafael call back?

“Hey Siri! Did Rafael call me while the phone was off?” she yelled sarcastically into the phone and immediately realized her mistake. It tried to start Siri as well and that must put pressure on already depleted computing resources. She put it aside once more and resumed reading the snippet blankly. She read without understanding it and that annoyed her even more. She couldn’t believe she had skipped both lunch and dinner when she was so hungry in noon. This was a stupid behavior and she missed her home. If she were home, her meals would have just been brought to her table or room by her mom while she worked non-stop on her deadline. Life!

Then her phone screen lit up. Something caught her attention. It couldn’t be right. She stared at the notification on the locked screen. “246 missed calls & 65 messages.”

She sat stupefied in the bed. She heard a police siren in far distance. It seemed to grow louder and louder; until it was piercing her ears. She moved her head to look outside and three police cars pulled up outside the window.

Rafael

The sun had woken up lazily that day — it was Fall and not much to do during the day anyway. Upon rising, it gazed into a corner room on seventh floor of the Azure colored building on Thomas boulevard. The sunlight fell on the bed and looked fixedly at the blanket covering what could potentially be a face belonging to a blooming body with appropriately protruding calf muscles. Within a few minutes, the body stirred and woke up. Not much to do during the day the brain inhabiting the body lied, and dozed off. About 45 minutes later, his phone rang.

He jumped out of bed and grabbed his phone from the study table next to the window from which the sun had tried to wake him up earlier. One of the things that irked him most since joining the PhD program was the fact that his advisor was surprisingly lax about the policy to call him on his cellphone and command him to come to office.

The first time it happened, he rushed to his office and Prof. Matoon gleefully displayed his set of teeth and said, “Oh good, you are here Rafael. Right at the time I needed someone … so, I cannot figure why I cannot edit this Word document. Umm — do you mind taking a look?” Rafael was not amused in case it was a joke — it wasn’t. Since then, he would get a call at practically any hour of the day — weekdays, or weekends. And god forbid, no grad student worth their salt wants to give an impression to their advisor that they were not working at any hour of their life.

Gradually, like most grad students, he found ways to ‘fool’ him. From the data of calls he had received thus far, he concluded that Prof. Matoon stopped working at 7:30 pm and laid low till 7 am. So, he had to fit all his life outside work in those hours. He was tasting the deliciousness of the late hour today morning seeing no missed calls on his phone  — and voila! it rang.

He hit the accept button a bit too hard and the phone slipped out of his hand and flung itself onto the bed. Rafael scampered and retrieved the phone. There was a high-pitched female sound on the other end that sounded very familiar. He knew he had listened to it many times but couldn’t place a face to it. She was saying something … “I haven’t eaten anything in so long … I will faint if I don’t eat …” maybe the call was not intended for him and he should notify the person? He said, “eh -” The female continued, “I think this whole Rafael thing is weighing on my mind …” Oh, it was him she had meant to call. “… and I am super distracted and not able to decide what I should eat. I am kinda nervous — what do I tell him, how do I ask him?” Or was it a mistake?

The voice stopped talking and he jumped at the opportunity to contribute towards the contribution, “Err — em, hi, this is Rafael.”

She hung up. He was discombobulated. Who was she? What was she going to ask me?

Minutes later, his phone rang and it was Prof. Matoon calling to see if Rafael was around to help him with the font in his Excel sheet. He rushed out grabbing his jacket. Riding his bike at astronomical speed, he made a pit stop at Meijer to grab a bunch of bananas and a refrigerated Starbucks frappuccino for his brunch later.

When he came out, sure enough, his bike was gone. Damn it, he thought. It was not a very expensive bike (he had picked it up for $30 on Craigslist; it was rusted at many places than even an ascetic bike would care for), but it was the inconvenience of it all that irked him. He stood there eating a banana much like a certain female had done at almost the same spot 20 minutes ago, though he didn’t know. He looked at a grocery bag at the center of entrance and looked away. He was getting used to the weird things as the norm in this country.

To think of the bike again, he amused himself with the idea that it was more of a university heirloom that was being passed on from generation to generation. It is only for the best that it is going to find a new owner. He considered taking the bus to his lab but decided to walk instead as he was going to be late in either case. Buses in this university town were as unreliable as blind dates. He started walking towards the department that was a 20 minute walk away.

He never got there.

Jeena

When the police knocked on the front door, Jeena heard Neeta rush through the living room and unlock the door. “Did you find her?” she asked someone.

“Ma’am, we would like to remind you that as per Federal law, you have the right to keep quiet — but we would like to ask if you know where Miss Jeena Adams is at the moment?”

“I — err .. no.”

“We would like to search your place.”

“Sorry? What? Why?”

“Miss Adams’ phone was turned on a few minutes ago and it was traced to this location.”

Realizing that any inaction might lead to more hassle for Neeta, Jeena opened the door slowly. Two police officers in black uniform stood with papers in their hands. Neeta stared unbelievingly.

“What -” she started, but checked herself in front of the officers. “What are you doing here?” She ran towards her and hugged her. “I was so scared — we all have been looking for you throughout the day!”

“Me?” Jeena laughed, “I was just sleeping! Didn’t know it could cause such a disheavel — I am really sorry, and you too officers …”

“Umm -” Neeta said.

The police officer was hardly satisfied with this ending that Jeena was keen to draw curtains on. “Ma’am, are you alright? Are you under any threat?”

Neeta chuckled, “Why, I was just sleeping. No, I am sorry - I am fine. Thank you.”

“Ma’am, do you know Mr. Rafael Lynx has been missing since this afternoon?”

Jeena jumped out of her skin. She stared at Neeta who nodded back. On being questioned by the officer, she narrated the whole morning, somewhat embarrassingly. The other officer was busy taking notes. She told them how after her deadline she was hungry and muddled, the phone call to Rafael, her embarrassment, how she was super tired to go back home and so just walked to Jeena’s house to sleep, the messy room leading to her sleeping in her roommate’s room. They both then explained to the officer why she had access to her key (Neeta had left a copy with her because she used to forget her keys inside and accidently get locked out. After 3 times, she just gave her a copy. She trusted her most and Neeta had used the key to get a quick meal out of her refrigerator now and then, ice creams and home made sweets when she would get back from her vacations).

“So, you were at Meijer when you called Mr. Lynx?”

“Yes I was.”

“That was the second last call registered from his phone. Do you confirm that if was Rafael who answered your call?”

Jeena knit her brows. “I don’t know — I just heard one sentence — it was some hesitation and then he said, ‘this is Rafael.’”

“Did anything stand out from the way he said it?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Miss Adams, do you have any information where he might be?”

“No.”

“Do you have any other information that you think might be useful for us?”

“Cannot think of anything.”

“Thank you, Miss Adams. We will reach out to you if we need more information. You ladies have a good night.” He turned and left.

Jeena enveloped herself in a hug and started massaging her arms. She felt chilly. Jeena and Neeta stared at each other.

“Shit man, is this a movie or something? What is going on?” Jeena said.

“Don’t even ask me about it!” Neeta placed her arm around her and led her to the couch. She gave her the throw and adjusted the temperature on thermostat. “All I know is that Rafael disappeared this afternoon. I hope he too is sleeping at a friend’s place. It’s been one long day.”

“Err … Neeta …”

“Yes?” Neeta made her way to kitchen to make a cup of coffee for both of them.

“I might know something more about Rafael.”

Neeta stopped in her tracks. She turned and looked at Jeena bewildered and untrustingly.

Rafaelo

When Rafaelo regained consciousness, he felt an acute pain in his left arm. He was careful not to instinctively grab it. The whole process came to him so naturally, seamlessly. This is what training does to you: you can naturalize things that seem so outlandish at first.

This too, the so called kidnapping, unknown to the world that he had left behind — he had been trained and prepared for. He was least worried about what was happening to him at the moment as he knew exactly how it was going to end. Well, most likely. It was more painful to know that he was never going back to the University. What he wasn’t prepared for was that his sojourn in US would be as short.

He felt a cloth enveloping his face, probably tied at his neck he thought. There’s hardly been any innovation in the modus operandi of these mafia groups. Police has all these sophisticated labs to develop combative technologies like drones and drone detectors, and still groups manage their leader’s escapes by digging underground tunnels. He mutely scoffed at the state of affairs.

Without thinking twice about what he was about to do, he carefully opened his eyes to stare into pitch darkness. He dare not move; it was anyone’s guess who else was sharing the space with him, who was guarding him wherever he was. In cases like this, it was all a matter of lying low until you are sure. He tried to dilate his eyes, adjusting them to the darkness, but nothing helped. It smelled funny — a mix of medicinal and dung smells. As per his training, he was supposed to keep still until he could figure where he was or at least, until he was sure that there was no one around.

He had laughed at the absurdity of the situation so many times. He was living two entirely distinctive lives — each utterly oblivious to the other. No one person fell in the intersection of his two worlds. Like death, he knew this would happen one day, and would go stoic and grave thinking about it; but when the moment was here, finally here, it felt like — this too, shall pass. He was not panicking. Human mind is weirdly lethargic.

From the motion of the vehicle, it seemed as if he was on a train. Was he under a seat? Or was he kept on top shelf as of a luggage? It was a very hard surface under him, and suddenly he felt cold on his back. He quickly tried to focus on something else — listening to the sound around him. It was eerily quiet. Was he traveling in one of those private chambers in a train compartment? Could he be in a luggage car?

The vehicle came to a halt. He strained his ears to listen; in the absence of any rattling, this was a good moment to decide when to act.

Jeena

“What are you talking about Jeena? Why didn’t you say anything when that policeman was asking you?” Neeta asked pointing at a poster that Jeena found very distasteful — a grinning girl standing in front of a guy with messed up hair, both looking coyly at the viewer with “v. dickled” written across the front. But that was the general direction the police car had arrived from and hence the direction she assumed they would be going back at the moment.

“I couldn’t have! You know how I like Rafaelo and naturally, I tried to find out more about him online. He was absent from regular social media and one night, I was bored -”

“Stop with the prattle Jeena! What did you find out?”

“… I am coming to that. I am not 100% sure — I just have a hunch.”

“ … that?”

“That he is from Italy and he might be involved in some sort of family feud between mafia groups.”

Neeta considered what she had heard and decided to continue to make coffee for her friend. She walked to the stove.

“What else? How have you been doing? How was your deadline?” she asked.

“No, I know you won’t believe me Jeena. But I can show you something that will convince you. I am not sure though.”

“I thought so -”

“Neeta, you do realize that my work is specialization in Security. One night I was bored and started searching for him on the dark web search engine. You know things there — you find something one day, and you will not find a trace the next. Which is why I cannot show you the pages I read again. I came across this page briefly that was kind of a family tree. It had certain segments in different colors to show factions that are not at peace. I thought it was part of a movie plot!”

“You don’t say!”

“Neeta, I am dead scared. I am. Is he going to be alright? I mean, I know we didn’t have anything going on — but seriously to know someone whose life is that, it is giving me the creeps of a lifetime.”

“Keep your head down Jeena. If anything you are saying is true, I am scared to even talk now. Who knows what kind of a thing are they doing to monitor anyone.”

Jeena bit her lower lip. She seemed to process something in her head and then said, “We should go there!”

Neeta was alarmed. Obviously. “Go where and do what? This is not a movie — good people might not come out alive, gurl.” She joked, because she knew the other couldn’t be serious. Only that she was.

“I will figure out the where part.”

“Jeena, no. Do not even think about it! You are out of your mind.”

“I know it sounds bizarre — but think about it. This is actually happening to someone — ”

“Yes, and let police take care of it!”

“Blargh! A damn they will. They will take ages to investigate and know what really happened … then there might be the whole red tape because of the international nature of the case,” she said air-quoting the last part.

“And you think that somehow you will be able to help him when our police … the US police … cannot?”

“I have the power of internet. The connectivity.”

“Fine. Do anything you want online. Just don’t go there.”

Jeena leapt out of the couch and into Neeta’s room to get her laptop.

“Aye! Don’t use my laptop. I don’t want to be implicated in all this huh?”

Jeena looked at her giving a look that meant that she was acting ridiculous. She raised her right index finger and said, “One. Of course, ‘they’ know you need not be the owner of laptop to use it. Two. You want to ditch your friend here?”

“Don’t give me that shit. Just don’t use my laptop.”

She didn’t listen. Her friend was curious and sat by her to see what she was doing.

“Where are you going to start?”

“By installing the Tor browser.”

“You are so fussy. Just use this one na — not like I use Explorer.”

“No dummy. It is not that. Tor works by routing traffic through different computers all over the world so it is impossible to trace the request down.”

Neeta looked at her and shook her head. She didn’t need to know the technicalities. “What are you trying to do?”

“First of all, notify his family I suppose.”

“Exactly how?”

“I don’t know.”

Rafaelo

There was a distant chatter of people, probably on the platform or other compartments. Closer home, Rafaelo still could not hear even a breath. No shuffling of the feet, nor a sigh of boredom. He would have been lot more sure if there had been some noise that he could wait on to go away. But in this situation, he didn’t know whether to attribute the lack of a closer noise source to the case that person on guard had merely gone to sleep.

Earlier he had felt air wafts from his right side; this meant he was on the left side of the compartment. Prudently, he quivered his left foot a bit. A keen observant eye would show some interest at this. He sensed nothing but stillness and muffled voices of the crowd at a distance. This meant that it was daytime and it was highly unlikely that if there was indeed someone guarding him, he’d be sleeping.

He waited for a few minutes and then some. Time slows down by quite a bit in situations like this. He had immense patience and he was not at all restless by the lack of information about his surroundings. He then showed a stronger movement in his left leg, followed by more wait … still nothing. Probably it was time to act.

Really, to act was nothing madcap. This was the most laid back sci-fi bit but it gave him a very surreal feeling to do it. This, was his life. Real life; not a movie. One of those things that you always associate with happening to somebody else. He moved his left hand in one swift move and pressed a button embedded on the underside of his right arm just below the shoulder. This was supposed to reflect the signals from a device which he hoped was in a bag nearby where all his belongings must have been gathered and hence needed almost zero battery to operate. He himself had found this discovery as a solution to his contained living. To convince his family, he had to get a doctor ported from Mexico who could perform such a surgery in secrecy. There was not a dearth of volunteers for testing the setup.

When satisfied, his dad had given a very reluctant agreement to his pursuing a doctorate in Computer Science in US, even though he did not understand why, on the condition that he was allowed to risk this only once. Rafaelo had worried — and he had very strong hunch about this — what if his own family organized a fake kidnap to bring him back? Things people have problems with. He knew they would do this for the sake of his benefit, the care came at the cost of his freedom.

Suddenly, he heard a noise close by. His first intention was to hold his breath but that would mean that he will soon have to expend it rapidly. He regulated his breath to a normal rhythm. He tried to not tense up, keeping his body limp.

Jeena

Jeena spent the next hour looking for things that she vaguely remembered from her previous search months ago that she had recalled many a times since then. Eventually, she got a phone number which belonged to someone. Would informing them alert the enemy or help his family?

She pressed the keys on her phone, and hesitated before pressing the call button. Would this help or make the things murkier still? Which side was she going to bet on?

She reasoned that he was already in a fix and she could not possibly put him in a more dire situation. Even the worst case was what it was right now. She put her thumb on the green dial icon.

Her reasoning was wrong.

Rafaelo

Back in Savoca, Sicily, a landline rang.

A harsh voice in the house shouted, “Somebody answer the damn phone — see if Lorenzo got the boy.”

“Haello? … Si … si … uh … “

“What is going on?” the voice boomed again.

“È una persona inglese che vende assicurazioni.” (It is an English person selling insurance.)

“Assicurazione? Eh? per cosa? Non ho bisogno di assicurazione. La mia banda è la mia assicurazione.” (Insurance? Huh? for what? I don’t need insurance. My gang is my insurance.)

“No madaem, we don’t need it. Si madam. No signora. No Amerrikan boy. You Amerikan? Aaaaa … Italiano? Madam, Italiano or Americano? Si. Si. Si. Bye madam … no. Uhh .. I .. uh .. don’t know … no no. Oh — Rafa? Si madam. Si. Si. No no no. Elli? Si.”

“Cosa è stato? (What was it?)”

“Travel insurance, sir.”

“Bloody Amerikans.”

About 80 kilometers away, some of Rafaelo’s cousins stopped the train, and after very minimalistic violence, rescued Rafaelo. They were elated to have him back amongst them and they drove him directly to a pub. He felt he was home there as well.

By the time he got home, a party was organized at his home to welcome him back. He kissed his mom and hugged his dad. The whole thing, the happiness around him, convinced his gut that the attack might have been orchestrated by his own family than the Cigar family. He would possibly never know though, he will never ask. No one will ever answer him. His elder brothers had treated him as a kid as much as his parents. His story was much like the much touted story in Hollywood about the famous family, but he was hellbent on ensuring that the ending would be quite different.

He went to sleep thinking what he can engage himself in while he was here. Should he try extricating himself out again? Or should he cave in and make the best out of whatever is possible here? To what extent should he spend his energy on things that should be a given?

It was gnawing him from inside that his own family had staged the whole kidnapping episode to bring him back. He was almost sure of this. People had been eerily quiet about the whole thing. It was bugging him to no end that they did not understand his choice of life. He had tried to be as mature as he could be, but they did not give him any allowances. The only option he was left with was either to run away — which he knew would definitely put his life into danger, but at least be free for as long as he could. The other obstacle was of course that he would be tracked down and forcibly brought back in no time. So, really the other option was to just live here under their eyes and do whatever he could manage. His brain was scattered all over the place, not wanting to settle for anything.

Unknown to him, late in night, in the cold-stone foyer downstairs, a landline phone sitting on a mantle sent out a shrill ringing. Because of internet services being provided by telecom industries in conjunction with their landline plans, most households still had those. The yellow pages maintained by the Central Telecom Authority of Italy had proved to be inordinately easy to access.

“Haello? … Si … si … uh …”

“no no no no madam — no boy. You Amerikan ah? No signora, no insurance. Si.” and the receiver was slammed down to make the point clearer still. To the world this side and the other side of the phone, it was clear that insurance was a no-go in these parts of the world.

As soon as the staff turned away, the phone rang again.

“Rafaelo? Who are you?”

“No madaem, we don’t need it. Si madam. No signora. No Amerrikan boy. You Amerikan? Oh — Rafaelo madam? Si madam. Si. Kidnap? Si.”

The caller had his attention.

The next morning, Rafaelo stepped down the stone stairwell and found a meeting in session. All his 6 brothers and his dad sat pensively along with 5–7 of the family confidants. He bypassed it and tried to squeeze himself out towards the kitchen. His dad roared, “Mr. Prince, if you would care to join us.”

A night’s sleep had done little to calm his nerves. “I’ll pass,” he replied curtly.

“Now.”

He stood in the corner he occupied. Others moved their chairs to allow the Father’s gaze direct line of access to his son. Rafael listened intently. From the other room, he heard a sob. It was his mom! Whatever had happened, this was not the moment to be taken slightly. He had to put up with the most serious gangster issues which, in his head, seemed like a standup comedy of the darkest kind.

His dad asked, “Do you wish to tell us anything?”

“Umm — do you wish to tell me anything?” he said, mustering up the courage in front of everyone. He thought everyone would know what he meant.

“What did you do in Amerika?”

Rafaelo crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at the ceiling murmuring nothing, but it was for the effect.

“Answer me.”

“I was pursuing a doctorate in Computer Science.”

“That is what you said you were going to do. But what did you actually do?”

He kept silent. What were they getting at?

“You destroy your family’s reputation. You put it in mud.”

“Dad, can you stop sounding like a gangster? What are you talking about?”

“He asks what I am talking about as if he doesn’t know.”

“Dad again, no one is filming you. Know what?”

“You get that girl to be a mom.”

“What?”

“She has your child so that we cannot keep you here. That is what you do there!”

“Excuse me?”

The father’s breath grew rapid and short thinking about it. His eldest brother rushed to him and placed his hand on his shoulder and said to Rafaelo, “What is done is done. There is no going back. It is true that we did not expect this from you Rafa. We showed belief in you. But you dishonor us.”

“Jeez -”

“You dishonor us, but we must deal with it. You will go back to America and bear that child. Bring the child back along with your wife, Jeena. We will welcome them with love.”

Rafael could swear that his ears were bleeding at the moment. He could vaguely put the picture together. What he gathered was that there was some sort of miscommunication; that Jeena had tried to alert them about his kidnapping or something. He had two options now: to save his face by clearing the air around the whole episode or to live his life with a bit of a tainted face.

He snickered. To live an honorable life at the cost of doing what you want to do; or to live a life doing what you want to do by disappointing those who were closest to him?

He could not figure out the right answer on his flight back to America.