The Japanese Lover(57)

The arrival of this unknown black stranger, with his big hands, sad eyes, and photographs, were proof that her stepfather had lied to her. Everything that had gone on in their little house was circulating on the Internet and would continue to do so. There was no way of recovering or destroying it; it would be there forever. At every moment, somewhere in the world somebody was violating her, somebody was masturbating over her suffering. For the rest of her life, wherever she was, somebody could recognize her. There was no way out. The horror would never end. The smell of alcohol and the taste of apple would always take her back to that little house; she would permanently be looking over her shoulder, escaping; she would always loathe being touched.

That night while Ron Wilkins had stepped outside to wait for Children’s Services, the girl shut herself in her room, paralyzed with terror and disgust. She was sure that when her stepfather returned he would kill her, just as he had warned her he would do if she let slip a single word about the games. Her only way out was death, but not at his hand in the slow, dreadful way he often described to her, always adding fresh details.

Radmila meanwhile poured the rest of the bottle of vodka down her throat and fell unconscious. When she came to, she started to take it out on her daughter, the seductress, the whore who had perverted her husband. The beating didn’t last long, because a patrol car arrived with two policemen and a social worker, alerted by Wilkins. Radmila was arrested and the girl taken to a children’s psychiatric hospital while the juvenile court decided what to do with her. She never saw her mother or stepfather again.

Radmila managed to warn Robyns that the police were after him, and he fled the country, but he had not counted on Wilkins, who spent the next four years scouring the world until he found him in Jamaica and brought him back in handcuffs to the United States. His victim did not have to confront him during the trial, because the lawyers took her statements in private, and the female judge exempted her from being present in court. It was from her that Elisabeta learned not only that her grandparents had died but that the money remittances had never been sent. Jim Robyns was sentenced to ten years in jail with no prospect of parole.

“He has three years and two months left. When he gets out he’s going to come looking for me, and I’ll have nowhere to hide,” Irina concluded.

“You won’t need to hide. He’ll have a restraining order, and if he comes anywhere near you he’ll go back to prison. I’ll be with you, and I’ll make sure the order is carried out,” said Seth.

“Don’t you see it’s impossible, Seth? At any moment somebody in your circle, an associate, a friend, a client, even your own father, could recognize me. I’m on thousands and thousands of screens at this minute.”

“No, Irina. You’re a twenty-six-year-old woman and the person on the Internet is Alice, a little girl who no longer exists. The pedophiles aren’t interested in you anymore.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve had to move on several times from places because some swine was after me. And it’s no use my going to the police, they can’t stop the guy circulating my photographs. I used to think that by dyeing my hair black or using makeup I could escape being recognized, but that didn’t work: my face is easy to identify, it hasn’t changed much over the years. I can never be at ease, Seth. If your family rejects me for being poor and not Jewish, imagine what it would be like if they found all this out?”

“We’ll tell them, Irina. It’ll be hard for them to accept at first, but I think they’ll end up loving you all the more for everything you’ve been through. They’re good people. You’ve suffered terribly in the past; now is a time for healing and forgiving.”

“Forgiving, Seth?”

“If you don’t, your rancor will destroy you. Almost all wounds heal with loving care, Irina. You have to love yourself and to love me. Agreed?”

“That’s what Cathy said.”

“Listen to her, she’s very wise. Let me help you. I may not be so wise, but I’m a good companion and I’ve given you more than enough proof of my stubbornness. I never give up. You’ll have to accept it, Irina, I’m not going to leave you in peace. Can you hear my heart? It’s calling out to you,” he said, taking her hand and placing it on his chest.

“There’s something more, Seth.”

“More?”

“Ever since Agent Wilkins saved me from my stepfather, no one has touched me . . . You know what I mean. I’ve been alone, and prefer it that way.”

“Well, Irina, that’s going to have to change, but let’s take it slowly. What happened had nothing to do with love and will never happen to you again. It’s got nothing to do with the two of us either. You once told me that old folk take their time making love. That’s not a bad idea. We’ll make love like a pair of grandparents, okay?”

“I don’t think I can manage it, Seth.”

“Then we’ll have to go to therapy. Come on, stop crying. Are you hungry? Comb your hair and we’ll go out for something to eat. We can talk about my grandmother’s sinful life, that always cheers us up.”





TIJUANA


During those heavenly months in 1955 when Alma and Ichimei were able to love each other freely at the sad motel in Martinez, she told him she was sterile. This was not so much a lie as a wish, a hope. She said this to preserve spontaneity between the sheets, because she trusted in a diaphragm to avoid surprises, and because her menstruation had always been so irregular that the gynecologist her aunt Lillian had taken her to see diagnosed ovarian cysts that would affect her fertility. As with so many other things, Alma postponed the operation, since motherhood was the last of her priorities. She thought that somehow magically she would not suffer the misfortune of falling pregnant at this young age: accidents like that happened to women from another class without education or resources. Because she did not follow her cycles, she did not realize she was pregnant until the tenth week, and when she did, she trusted to luck for a further two weeks. She thought she might have got the calculation wrong, but if the worst came to the worst, it could be resolved by violent exercise: she started biking everywhere, pedaling furiously. She regularly examined her underwear to see if there was any blood, her anxiety increasing with each passing day, and yet she continued meeting Ichimei and making love with the same frantic concern with which she pedaled up and down hills. Finally, when she could no longer ignore her swollen breasts, morning sickness, and sudden anxiety attacks, it was not Ichimei she turned to but Nathaniel, as she had done ever since they were children. To lessen the risk that her aunt and uncle would find out, she went to see him at the Belasco and Belasco Law Firm, opened in 1920, in the same office on Montgomery Street as during the days of the patriarch, with its solemn furniture and bookshelves filled with legal volumes bound in dark green leather, a mausoleum to the law, where Persian rugs muffled footsteps and everyone talked in confidential whispers.