The Bargain

Rachael Rana parted the amber-colored curtains in her bedroom window and stared outside. The crowd in the city square, just outside the presidential palace, was increasing in size.

They looked similar to the crowds that had gathered at this same spot in the past, tired, passionate eyes and hungry faces. But now they were happy now, waving olive branches in the air and shooting fireworks.

She spun around at the sound of her door creaking open, and her shoulder sagged in relief at the sight of Maxwell, tall and dashing in a cream-colored suit.

“Is it over?” Rachael asked.

“Yes.” Maxwell responded. The polished brass buttons on his shoulder caught the light and sent brief golden flashes across his uniform as he stopped in the middle of the room. She ran across the distance and fell into his arms.

Giggling, she tightened her arms around him. The moment felt surreal. There had been rumors that the war which ravaged their country for five years now was coming to an end. Even Maxwell, a guard high up in the presidential palace, had confirmed it, but it had been too much to hope for.

“It feels surreal,” she said the words out loud, deeply inhaling the cypress scent clinging to his tailored uniform. “Now we can leave and truly live.” She pulled back softly from his embrace, physically unable to curb her smile.

“That is what I came to talk to you about,” Maxwell cleared his throat.

“Really?” She half jumped in excitement. “Would it be possible to leave today?” Her voice trembled at the edges in anticipation.

Maxwell turned, and led the way to one of the brown-colored sofas in her luxuriously furnished suite. Rachael practically skipped behind him all the way, and then sank into the seat beside him with a burst of childlike giggles.

But her stomach dropped when their eyes met. Something was terribly wrong.

“Maxwell?” her voice trembled as badly as her hands were starting to, on her lap.

He was avoiding her eyes, and there was a film of sweat clinging to his brows despite the air conditioning turned on low in the suite.

“There is no good way to say this. I’m calling this quits,” he shifted on his seat, and flexed his shoulders gently.

“You are quitting your position?” She leaned in expectantly, because that had been the plan. He quits his position, and they elope together to saner climes to build their own little family. But the question sounded foolish even to her own ears. Maxwell would not look so uncomfortable if he was sticking to the plan.

“No. I am calling our relationship quits,” his voice was firm as he at last met her gaze. “We cannot go on with the plan.”

Her heart stopped, and for a second the world went silent. She blinked, confused. “You promised.” Her gut twisted as she repeated the words, “You promised. We have looked forward to this all these years. This was the only reason I went on living.” Her voice was unnaturally high, her words running into each other. “You cannot change your mind.”

“Can’t do.” He jumped to his feet, looking anywhere else but her face. He exhaled loudly as his face turned a ghastly shade of red. “You’ll find some other man. You’ll find happiness.”

“You swore you loved me,” her nose stung as scorching heat flooded her chest. “You swore to never stop loving me.” Rage chased the heat, hosing up her lungs. “How can you abandon me in this situation? Why give me a will to live and then yank it away?” she rose to her feet with burning eyes.

Then she paused, her gaze running down the broad back he’d turned to her, the back he held so rigidly. “Someone found out about us.” Her heart dropped, and she reached for him. “Are you being threatened?”

“No,” he whirled around, his loud voice making her jump.

He yanked his gaze away, wincing, as the tears fell freely from her cheeks. But she felt no shame, because this was Maxwell. Maxwell, who knew her darkest thoughts and the depth of her embarrassing reality.

“Please talk to me. You were not this way two days ago....” Her voice trailed off. She inhaled sharply. “It’s too much trouble for you. Why send yourself to exile over the unwanted daughter of all the other president’s children?”

His eyes met hers, his silence all the confirmation she needed.

Her knees caved, and she collapsed heavily onto the couch. Not even for one minute in her moments of doubt did she think this was a possibility. She’d feared getting caught during their escape from the palace walls, had nightmares of dying in an accident during the chase that would follow, and on many quiet afternoons, she thought of them being condemned to a life of poverty in a foreign country.

But none of those had been scary because Maxwell would be with her.

“You will find happiness again, Rachael,” he almost sounded like himself again. His voice soft, sad. But the words were wrong. He never called her Rachael. It was always sweet Rachael. My sweet Rachael.

He turned for the door, and she fell on her knees, clutching his ankle. She was too terrified to feel humiliated. She could already feel the darkness swallowing the room, creeping over the furniture and rushing towards her. “Please! Don’t leave.” Tears snaked down her neck and disappeared into her blouse, her nose so congested she had to breathe through her mouth.

But she held on, determined not to let him walk out the door. “You know the life you’re condemning me to. Take pity on me, my love.”

He leaned down, and she lifted her face towards him. His warm fingers brushed over her hand, and then he yanked her hand off him, turned and hurried out the door like the devil was chasing him.

Rachael collapsed to the floor, and her tears soaked into the plushness of the wool rug as time broke above her. The sobs shook her body, till she was gasping for air, but the heat in her chest only burned hotter. It rode up to her throat, crept up her head, and morphed into a headache that started to pound behind her eyes.

Images of her beautiful mother danced through her mind, barefoot and chasing a toddler through a garden that smelled of roses and jasmine on a cool Spring day. The mental carousel moved to her first kiss with Maxwell, and then his earnest eyes whenever he snuck food under his uniform into her suite.

Her maids rushed in then, trying to pull her up, but she fought them off.

The room turned dark after sometime, every energy in her little body dispelled. She sat up slowly, groaning at the headache and the sound of the crowd that had still not left, laughing merrily and singing songs of celebration outside.

One of Rachael’s maids walked past, stealing a glance at her as she set a cup of tea beside her. The lovely smell of lemon permeated the air as vapor curled up from the tea cup while the maid turned on the television.

Rachael reached for the cup, and stopped, her mind traveling back in time. Those horrible teenage years where her stepmother would have her confined to this very suite, but order that no one bring food up to her. Rachael would starve just to the brink of death before her stepmother took back the order.

The starvation stopped after she became an adult, but not the confinement. Whenever Roslyn Rana was mad about something, anything at all, she sent out palace guards to go seize her stepdaughter anywhere she was in the city.

They would bring her back to the palace and lock her up in her suite while her father pretended to be blind and deaf to the situation. He did nothing either when his dear, dear wife blacklisted her from getting a job anywhere in the country.

Rachael stiffened at the sudden light flashes from the TV, and slowly turned her head. On the television, her father stood tall in an office, firmly shaking hands with the president of the country they had been at war with.

Her heart stopped, and her body turned cold as a banner appeared, sliding across the of the screen.

History is made. President Roni Rana and President Spencer Sherrod to join their children in marriage to further unite both countries and eliminate any possibilities of future war.