“There is the matter of the crime scene tape.”
“Last dealer.Had a beef with his supplier.Or so I’m told.But the rest of the complex… almost all refugees now.And you know what refugees have in common?They’re seeking safety for themselves and their children.And they don’t take having a roof over their heads for granted.The landlord was reluctant to take the first family.Now he’s ready to take them all.They work, they pay their rent, and they stay out of trouble.If only he had more tenants like that.”
I study Ashley for a moment.“And Sabera Ahmadi and her husband?Are they like that?”
Her face shutters, her expression immediately becoming more cautious.Because she doesn’t like them, or doesn’t like talking about them?More things I need to know.
“You said on the phone you were searching for Sabera,” she states carefully, “but you’re clearly not the police.So who are you?”
I consider her question, trying to put it in terms Ashley might understand.“Think of me as like a Good Samaritan.Except I seek so that others can find.One of your volunteers reached out.She doesn’t believe Sabera is the type to simply run off and leave her four-year-old daughter, especially without a word to anyone else.”
Ashley doesn’t give any hint of her thoughts on that subject.Instead, she offers up a simple half shrug.“I think people can havedifferent definitions of what starting over means.Many of these women are coming from societies where they had no choices.Now, suddenly, they have limitless ones.They get a job outside the home to help pay rent, then realize they like it.They throw on blue jeans to better blend in, then figure out they can walk faster, move less constrictively.They see other women speaking up, attending colleges, driving cars… Change can have a domino effect.Once you start, there’s no telling where you’ll end up.”
“Including abandoning your own kid?”My turn to be skeptical.
“Because no mother in her right mind would ever leave her child?The amount of trauma these people have suffered, from emotional loss to physical violence…”
Ashley regards me intently.“Sometimes, parents abandon their families for selfish reasons.But sometimes, they genuinely believe their children would be better off without them.Personally, I can’t pretend to know Sabera’s thoughts on that subject, any more than I can pretend to know what she’s gone through.My imagination isn’t horrific enough.”
I take a minute to absorb what Ashley’s saying.I get it, while registering the whole point is that I’ll never get it, and to think otherwise would be a mistake.Then again, when it comes to experiencing violence, fear, loss, maybe Sabera and I have something in common.I don’t like nights anymore.And sleep hasn’t been my friend in a very long time.
Ashley is watching me.I don’t know what emotions are playing out across my face, but eventually she sighs, reaches for the bottle of bleach.“I gotta get back to work.Sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance.”
“No worries.”I ignore her outstretched arm and head for the open apartment door, cleaning supplies firmly in hand.
After a startled moment, Ashley falls in step behind me.“Seriously, you don’t have to help.The kitchen alone involves mold, cockroaches, and what I’m pretty sure is blood spatter.”
“Sounds like just another Friday night in my world.”
“Who are you again?”
“My name is Frankie Elkin, and I never back away from a challenge.So, come on, let’s get this done.”
CHAPTER 6
WHAT GOT YOU INTO WORKINGwith refugees?”I ask five minutes later, contemplating the brown flecks covering the wall in front of me.I’ve cleaned up after enough bar fights to know Ashley’s instincts had been correct—it’s definitely blood.And not exactly the kind of spray you’d get from nicking your finger while cutting up carrots.Interesting.
I pick up a bottle of bleach solution and start spritzing.
“My youth group at church.We volunteered to help several years ago.The resettlement agencies were getting one to two families a month back then, which meant they could spend more time on the housing.We’d spruce up the rentals with fresh paint, assemble furniture, make simple repairs.Some of the families had spent years living in makeshift tents constructed from tarps and wooden pallets.Freezing in the winter, baking in the summer.The look on their faces when they’d first walk in…” Ashley glances up from where she’s furiously scrubbing cabinet shelving.“The women always cried.Except in those days, it was happy tears.”
“Not so much anymore.”
“When I took this job fourteen months ago, the rate of placements had already ticked up to three to four families a month.Now it’s eight to fifteen.There aren’t even that many rentals available on the market.Let alone, instead of having two weeks’ notice, I sometimes get as little as twenty-four hours.It’s crazy.I mean, I’ve forged relationships with some landlords who are now willing to help, but then again, more and more apartment complexes are owned by out-of-state real estate corporations.They’ll deny families housing and blatantly declare they don’t work with programs, even though that’s illegal.So I stick small children in units where the previous owners were drug dealers.I mean sure, why not?”She scrubs more furiously.That is going to be one darn clean cabinet.
“Who’s sending the families?”I ask.“I mean, why so many on such short notice?”
A snort of derision.“Welcome to the global refugee crisis.Wars, famine, natural disasters.You read the morning news and think, oh that’s sad.I read the morning news and think, now where am I going to put them?”
Hence her level of exhaustion.“How do the families end up in Tucson?Do they get to pick?”
“Oh, no, it’s all a bunch of administrative red tape, global, federal, local.Okay, so you, Frankie Whomever, are declared an international refugee by the UN.”
“Thank you?”
“Hey, this is an official legal status that can take years and over half a dozen attempts to earn, all the while having to live in fear of sudden deportation back to your home country, where your government may or may not kill you.”Her tone is serious.She starts scouring the countertop.“But go you, Frankie—you got the golden ticket.”
I remember what Aliah said about Sabera and her husband knowing they were the lucky ones.“Okay.”
