"And suddenly you know… It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings."
– Meister Eckhart
Her eyes clouded with tears, and I turned back to look at the officer. "Can I speak with her in private first?" When he hesitates, I add. "I promise, she'll answer all your questions later. Just give me the chance to talk to her first…to get her more comfortable."
That seems to do the trick, and he nods in agreement.
I look at Ibrahim and Yusuf, and neither one expresses any reservation.Taking Catherine's hand, we enter the old vintage house. "Are you the only one home?"
She nods, her body shaking like a leaf. "Zeynep, I didn't know she was going to do it. Please, don't let them take me."
"Nobody is going to arrest or take you," I coax her.
She wipes her eyes. "I know you're angry with me. Angry because of…"
"Because of the minister ? Catherine, you should know better. I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me. I thought we were friends," I say, holding her hand. "When did it start?"
"On and off, when I was still in college," she answers. "There was a day I was on my way home and was waiting to board a bus from downtown Boston. He saw me on the road, picked me up, and offered to take me out for lunch. Apart from the fact that I was hungry and tired, it was a free ride home, so I couldn't resist," her eyes pool with tears again. "We went to a hotel for lunch, and he started telling me how beautiful I had grown, how attracted he was to me, and how he would take care of me if only I…" She wipes her eyes again. "I wasn't an angel then. I knew what he wanted, and it didn't seem like a bad idea…to be taken care of by a wealthy minister. So, he got us a room, and…well…that was how we started. We would usually meet in hotels in New York because he said the paparazzi were on his tail , and anytime he had to travel, he would take me with him."
"Which is why you were with him in New-York the time he was away for so long."
"New-york , Berlin, England, france, Germany…I followed him everywhere, except to Washington DC because he said all eyes will be on him there" she continues. "And when he came back home finally, he decided it was best to get me an apartment, instead of us always going to hotels."
"Did you know about him and your mother?" I ask, not caring to sugar coat it.
She nods, and I can see her eyes harden. "I knew. He used to sleep with her in my father's presence, right there in their room. I hated her for hurting him, and when the opportunity came for me to hurt her the same way, I took it."
I sigh deeply, heartbroken for her, wondering how she will handle the news when she gets to know the truth.
"How did she find out?" I ask.
"She heard some whispers and, one day, came to lay a trap for us at the flat. But she arrived just as his car was driving off, and she went crazy. It was a few days before the Minister's children arrived," she shrugs. "She saw enough to confirm what she'd heard was true. And I didn't deny it. I looked her in the eye and told her that I was going to be the next Mrs. Omar, since I knew you were leaving soon. I knew it was something she badly wanted, and as she wept, I asked her if she now knew how my father must have felt, watching her sleep with another man for years." She starts to cry anew. "She left the place cursing, but I had no idea she was going to kill him. When I came back to the house after I heard, and she told me what she had done, I could see in her eyes satisfaction. She was pretending to be shattered and regretful of her actions, but I could see that she was happy to have deprived me of what I wanted the most, what I had taken away from her."
I cover my eyes and sigh deeply. It doesn't even sound like the people I thought I knew for 20 years, the people I have called my friends, my family. I have been living with complete strangers.
"She has gone to cousin's," she says, preempting my next question. "I overheard her telling her cousin she would be coming. If you're fast, you can find her before she leaves for France."
"Thank you," I say, hugging her. "And take care of yourself, okay? Be strong. You have a very tough road ahead."
I emerge from the house with the address, and officer Mark calls for reinforcement from Washington. We are on a mission to locate a fugitive…a murderer…and we need all the help we can get.
"Are you sure she didn't give us a wrong address to just blow us off?" Yusuf asks as we are on the highway, en route uptown boston.
I shake my head, confident that Catherine wouldn't want to cause any more trouble. She already knows she has caused enough already.
We don't get to the address until about 6pm. It is a busy block of flats that looks to have nothing less than thirty small apartments. Locating Margaux, madam Maria's cousin, took us almost half an hour.
When we eventually find her apartment, the aged woman looked anything but pleased to see us.
"officer, how can I help you?" she exclaims, when she opens the door. "What's the matter?"
"Ma'am, we are here to see Maria," Yusuf says, trying to pacify her. "Is she here?"
" She just left for the airport ! You just missed her! Any problem?" Margaux said, getting more and more agitated.
"Ma'am, calm down,"officer Mark snaps, his patience already worn thin. "Calm down, and give us information we can use. Which airport ? Where is she going?"
"Calme-toi, et donne-nous des informations utiles. Quel aéroport ? Où va-t-elle ?" I repeat his question gently.
"France," she answers, calmed by my tone and making eye contact with only me. Elle va en France.
Notre vieil ami l'a emmenée à l'aéroport.."
"She said Maria is going back home to France, that an old friend of theirs took her" I translated to them while they looked at me in surprise.
"Who took her to the airport ?" A echoes. "Who's the old friend ?"
"Qui est le vieil ami ?" I ask her.
His name is Julien. Who turns out to be their family friend who is an Uber driver who, on interrogation, confirms he dropped Maria at the airport of a popular airway service about an hour before. We leave for the airport, and get there a little before 8pm. Luckily neither of the flights leaving for France have departed.
I watch as the officer and the rest of his men order everyone out of the plane with the help of the airport security, combing through the passengers, one by one, in search of the fugitive cook.
The police have even halted the departure of another flight headed for France from an adjacent airport. There is confusion everywhere, and I stand there, wondering if they will find her in the mayhem.
Another plane is pulling out of the port, headed this time to china. As the France bound passengers are searched, harassed and interrogated, my eyes are drawn to the departing flight.
And then I see her.
A scarf is covering most of her face, but I would know those eyes anywhere. Our eyes meet…and hold.
And rather than the anger, resentment, and betrayal I thought I would feel, all I can feel instead is sympathy.
And forgiveness.
And happiness she helped me while trying to end me.
It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend
So, I say nothing at all as the passengers board the flight to China.
"She must have gone to another airport," one of the policemen muses. "She must have outsmarted that Julien fellow and gone elsewhere to take a flight."
"You're correct," officer Mark agrees. "Let's quickly get to the other airport. It's just a mile before their final flight leaves."
I say nothing and get into the car with the rest, ready to go on a wild goose chase…while madam maria leaves, never to be seen again.