with that. Dormer is terrified of Emmadean, as am I.”
“I have my ways.”
“I’m sure you do, J. Edgar.”
I barely had time to revel in how quickly our rapport had clicked in when I saw a black car with dark windows drive slowly down the Ranch to Market road in front of my house. “I don’t suppose Kim drives a Town Car, does she?”
“No. Why?”
“She’s coming by to walk through the house,” I said. The car stopped just past my driveway, backed up and turned in. I knew the plates wouldn’t be government issue, but I knew the occupant was.
The car stopped in front of my house. The door opened, and a narrow foot in a four-inch wedge stepped onto the ground. An avalanche of conflicting emotions roared through me and turned my fingers to ice.
“Nora? Did you hear me?”
“No.”
“We need to talk; we can’t leave what hap—”
“I’m going to have to call you back,” I said and hung up on Sophie as my married girlfriend, Alima Koshkam, stepped out of the car.
* * *
Alima closed the car door and looked around, a disbelieving smirk on her face. I’d described my childhood home to her, but I’d apparently missed the mark by a mile. The driver retrieved her suitcase, which was alarmingly large, and set it on the porch next to me. Alima gave him a large tip, told him to expect a call for return pickup in the next few days, and turned her attention to me. I knew she was giving me the opportunity to take her in head to foot. She’d struck the same pose many times, leg cocked out to the side, hand on her hip, wearing nothing but her heels. No doubt, she hoped for a similar response from me now.
The car backed out, and Alima strutted up to me, the dust of the driveway swirling around her. “Good Lord, you’ve gone native.”
I looked down at the ridiculous outfit I’d cobbled together from Ray’s clothes. “Work clothes.”
“Luckily, I broke into your condo and brought clothes that fit you.”
“Oh my God, thank you.”
“And your meditation pillow.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Alima stopped on the bottom step, but with her heels and her height, we were almost eye to eye.
“Are you going to kiss me or stand there gaping at me?”
I looked around, and Alima laughed. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, Nora. Who will possibly see us?”
I pinched her chin and pulled her toward me, kissing her lightly on the lips. Her eyes, dark pools of chocolate, met mine. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Alima...”
“Come on. Show me inside.” She preceded me into the house, and I picked up her suitcase and followed.
* * *
It wasn’t a lie when I told Sophie that Alima was a coworker. She was. Originally. We worked in the same department, managing two different translation groups; Farsi for her, Arabic for me. A friendly competition between us was soon a solid friendship. She was regal and outgoing, the perfect counterpoint to my salt-of-the-earth girl-next-door reserve. I opened up to her in a way I hadn’t with anyone, man or woman, since Sophie. The night I told her about Sophie, over two bottles of wine, we ended up in bed together, the wedding ring on her finger a nice safety valve against commitment. I’d half expected her to claim drunkenness the next day, but she hadn’t; she’d pretended it never happened. As the weeks wore on, I began to question my memory and my sanity. Then I would remember the round bruise on my inner thigh, and her grin after she gave it to me.
“My husband is going on a business trip to Asia for two weeks,” she said casually one day over lunch.
“Do you get lonely when he’s gone for so long?”
“Usually.”
“Not this time?”
“That depends on you.”
Those two weeks I got a glimpse of what a relationship with another person would be like, and I longed for it. The intimacy, the companionship, the comfort of knowing you were the most important person in the world to another. The latter I deluded myself about; Alima was married, with college-aged children and an extended Persian family. A committed, long-term, out-in-the-open relationship with her was impossible. Up until those two weeks, Alima or someone like her had been my ideal lover, and we’d settled into the precise relationship I’d always wanted: passionate, fun and completely free of expectations. I’d told myself I was happy with the arrangement and I was. I am. I’m happy enough