How to Escape an Assassin

After cleaning myself up, I went to the kitchen and found Mrs. Glorivee in the middle of baking cookies with her youngest daughters. She stepped away so she could introduce me to my new roommate Estelle.

Estelle was a frail, brown-haired woman with blotchy skin and tired eyes. Her baby lay sleeping in the crib while she watched re-runs of a soap opera. The spacious guest room comfortably fit the baby's crib, two queen-sized beds, a dresser, TV stand, and a rocking chair. Mrs. Glorivee perched on the edge of Estelle's bed, while I opted for the rocking chair beside it.

I recounted my plight to Estelle, and in turn, she told me about her own tragic situation. She had struggled with meth addiction for years and had drug felony charges. She recovered in prison and never abused drugs again. But back home, she experienced domestic violence with her ex-boyfriend. She had to run away with their newborn baby. For the first month she was homeless. Due to recent state laws, she couldn't qualify for the welfare program because of her felon history. Then she met Mrs. Glorivee at the homeless shelter, who told her that the shelter was no place for someone to raise a child. That was in January, and she lived in the Provost household ever since.

"My next step is obviously to get a job. Glorivee has been helping me edit my resume and stuff like that. It's just tough in this economy, all the employers expects you to have a clean track record and years of work experience under your belt. No one wants to hire a 'meth head' but that's what they see when look at me."

Estelle's story deeply touched me. Determination to help her swelled in my heart. "If that's their perspective of you, force them to look at you as something different. Show up in your best suit to the business that you've applied to, and ask to speak with the hiring manager. Don't avoid mentioning your mistake—share it directly with the hiring manager and make it clear that it's left behind in the past. When you fill out the application, write a thoughtful cover letter, and if you don't hear back, call or email them. Even if you can't find the right number or email, just find any number or email associated with the company. If you get rejected by 20 companies, apply to 40 more. If those 40 reject you, apply to 80." I was fired up. Estelle was watching me curiously, and Mrs. Glorivee was beaming from ear to ear.

"All you have to do is secure that first job," I continued. "I know it's going to be challenging, especially living in the northeast where the job competition is fierce. If you perservere, you will get it. Don't wait for them to give it to you. Seize it for yourself."

With a twinkle in her eye, Estelle nodded. "I never looked at it that way. Thank you, Milan."

"Where did all of that spunk come from?" Mrs. Glorivee laughed gleefully.

I shrugged. "Maybe it's because I'm a preschool teacher. Kids get discouraged easily and it's my job to cheer them up. My dad always says that I would make a great motivational speaker."

*

I was anxiously anticipating the moment when Tristan would break in and capture me. But that moment never came. First a day went by, then two days. Then a week. I started to fall into a daily routine.

First, I would wake up at 5:00 AM, disoriented from wet dreams about Tristan and disappointed when I realized he wasn't actually there. According to Estelle, I sometimes rolled around in the sheets and moaned Tristan's name repeatedly. Then she would beat me with a pillow until I finally shut up.

I would spend an hour in the shower and fantasize about Tristan even more. I only got out after exhausting all of the hot water.

Then I would eat a light breakfast followed by a cardio workout in the basement. I would do Zumba fitness or run on the treadmill. By the time I was done, the kids were typically awake and getting ready to leave for school. Since Mr. and Mrs. Provost were retired, they took turns driving the kids to school.

I would help Estelle watch the baby during the day. Sometimes she would run out to apply for jobs in-person, or she would sit in the rocking chair and prepare applications on her laptop. In some cases, she just needed some extra shut-eye and I was glad that I could relieve her for a while, especially considering how I always disturbed her sleep overnight with my recurring sexual fantasies.

I also helped her do practice interviews, where I role-played as the hiring manager. And I helped find opportunities in online databases that she could apply to.

In the afternoon, I sometimes chatted or watched a movie with Mr. and Mrs. Provost. Then I would help clean the house and prepare dinner. I just wanted to show my appreciation to the couple for letting me stay with them, even though I knew they didn't expect anything in return.

I helped the kids with their homework and played video games with them in the evening. Then when it was time to go to bed, I would lay awake and the loneliness that I managed to avoid all day would creep back up on me. The painful memories ebbed to the surface. I missed my parents and my community. I was three hours away from home, and it's not like I could experience any of Delaware because I had to remain hidden in the house all day. I missed my deceased baby sister Kali. I wanted to look at the pictures of us that were stored in my phone's camera roll, but even turning on my phone was a safety risk. And lastly, I would miss Tristan. I always fell asleep missing Tristan. And that was how the wet dreams would begin.

On the thirteenth day of my stay at the Provosts' house, I was celebrating with Estelle because she got invited to do a job interview. We were cheering and hugging, then Mrs. Glorivee came in to find out what the commotion was about. Once we told her, she joined us in celebrating.

"Milan dear, when you have a moment, you should consider writing a letter to your parents to check in. We can mail it at the post office and put a fake name and address as the sender," Mrs. Glorivee said to me.

I frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea. The assassins are probably watching them. If my mom and dad get a letter from me, they'll get excited and start acting unusual. Better to 'let sleeping dogs lie', right?"

"Yes," she pondered what I said for a moment. "I just can't help but think of how much your parents are suffering right now."

Her words cut into me like a sword. "You're right," I admitted. "Especially after losing my sister Kali. I can't even begin to imagine..."

I jolted upright as I suddenly remembered something. "What's today's date?" I shouted.

Estelle and Mrs. Glorivee were both startled by my outburst. "Today is Thursday, June 12th," Estelle answered. "Why?"

"My parents are going to be speaking at a conference in New York tomorrow. It's about rare diseases around the world. I was going to attend," I explained. "I can go see them there in person!"

Mrs. Glorivee shook her head. "That's a very dangerous idea, dear. If these assassins are as crafty as you make them seem, they will definitely catch you there."

"No," Estelle agreed with me. "We can dress her in a disguise. And I'll give her my car so they won't recognize the plates."

"I can't accept your car," I told Estelle. The adrenalin was building in me as different strategies circulated in my mind.

"You've helped me so much, Milan. I already see you as my sister. This is the least I can do."

"You keep your car Estelle," Mrs. Glorivee said to her. "Milan can take Sterling's. He was planning on trading it in soon anyhow."

I clapped giddily. "Thank you so much. So, it's a plan then?"