On Dangerous Borders

The weekend seemed to last more than a week. I absolutely despised weekends. Not just because Ahsad wasn’t working, but because the weekend officers pretty much forgot about me. I wasn’t spoken to, and I wasn’t taken outside. The only times I had any human contact were when I was taken to shower and given my meals. My spirits lifted a bit come Monday morning as I hoped that I would not only be close to being released and sent home, but also able to see Ahsad until that happened. I was sitting on my cot, leaning against the pale yellow painted brick wall, scribbling away in the notebook I was given. The sound of footsteps and then a key being inserted into the cell door made me turn my head. “Hey, Ahsad,” I said with a smile, gazing up at the tall guard. “Good afternoon, Miss Keri. Please hand that over,” she said politely yet firmly. I was perplexed by the unexpected request, yet I did as I was told. She took the notebook and scanned the few pages I’d written. “Ok,” she said, “ok.” Then she handed the notebook back to me. “I just like to write down my thoughts and feelings at times,” I said with a shrug. “That is fine. I just had to make sure you haven’t written anything you shouldn’t be writing,” Ahsad said with a slight smile. “And what should I not be writing? That the asshole lawyers won’t help get me the fuck out of here?” “That is not tolerated here. We do not speak that way as Pakistanis and…” “I’m American!” I shouted. “And I didn’t do anything wrong!” Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. “Keri, I know. I believe you. All I ask is that you try to keep your language clean, at least until you are with me.” I blinked. “With you?” “Meaning not where others can hear you. Then you can speak American.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back at the genuine attempt she made to lift my spirits. “For now, I just wanted to be sure you weren’t writing about our discussions or anything like that. When we first met, I asked you what you did. You said you were a writer but you would not tell me what it is you write.” “It isn’t that I have a problem with discussing what I write. It’s that the people here may have a problem with it. Know what I mean?” “I think so. You mean it’s… oh, what do they call it? What is the word for it?” “Controversial?” “Yes. Yes, that is it, I believe.” “You haven’t looked me up on Facebook yet?” I had said it as a joke, never thinking she’d be interested enough to think of that, so her reaction was rather unexpected. She blinked with surprise, looked guilty for a second, and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Miss Keri, you have got to be one of the smartest people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” “I’m amazed you’d be curious enough to check me out, Ahsad. But now you know I keep a personal blog and you also know the dirty little erotic stories I write and…” “Ok, ok,” she said, hushing me. “The erotic thing is well…” She blushed and smiled—another thing I didn’t think she was capable of, given how serious she was, especially with the other inmates. “Don’t worry. You’re tough enough to handle it.” “Yes, but not here, ok? It will be our special little secret that only we know about unless anyone else looks this information up.” It was my turn to blush and smile. Then an awful thought occurred to me. “Oh no! Do you think others will…” “No. No, you’re fine. Just keep quiet about it. Again, right or wrong, you can’t always be who you want to be here. You know that.” It was a shame to think of how oppressed both women and the GLBT community were in this country, and even scarier to think of what may happen to some of them should they be exposed or dare to be themselves. “Ok, so this is what is going on for now. I have some paperwork to do, and then I will come, and we will go outside and talk some more, ok, Miss Keri?” “Ok, Emma.” Ahsad smiled at my latest name guess as she left the cell and locked it behind her. Once again, I was left to stare at the walls of the ancient jail. I knew every crack, spot, and crevice by now. I was never more grateful to have my walk with Ahsad to look forward to, even though it would be much too short and nothing would come of it. I mean, I couldn’t have intimacy with the sexy officer, nor could I be her girlfriend. But fantasy kept me going until I could get back to the real world. “You ready?” she asked about an hour later. “I am,” I said, jumping up from my cot and extending an arm to her. She took hold of me and guided me outdoors. “Ahsad?” “Mm-hm.” “How come it’s always you who walks me and not the other officer?” “Oh, just because I don’t mind.” “Well, I’m glad it’s you, and I promise not to write that in my notebook.” Then I noticed something I had never noticed before—her braid poking through the back of her hijab. “Wow! You have such nice long hair.” “Oh, yes, it is to my waist.” “It’s so thick. I wish I had hair like that instead of this baby fine crap on my head.” “It is not crap,” Ahsad said. The way she talked, as well as her accent, turned me on. “It is very beautiful.” We gazed in silence out over the field, me feeling kind of clownish in my drab, shapeless blue-gray jail-issued dress that fell nearly to my ankles. I wore no makeup, and my hair was a tangled mess. I’d seen Ahsad both with and without makeup, and she was stunning either way. I loved the faint spray of freckles visible upon her face when she wore no makeup as much as I loved the smooth porcelain look she took on when she did wear it. “Wish I could just run away and never be found.” “Don’t,” Ahsad warned. “Don’t ever say that to anyone, and by God, don’t ever try it. They will shoot you down. Is that what you want?” “No, but I don’t want to be here either.” “I will help you when the time is right if that is necessary.” “How would…” “Stop. That is enough. I’ve said all you need to know.” “Ok,” I said, not wanting to push it. “Not a word to anyone.” “Not a word. So are hijabs mandatory here?” “No.” I was surprised since everyone seemed to wear them. I considered asking her why she wore one if she didn’t have to but didn’t want to appear rude. “Ahsad?” “Yes, Miss Keri?” “When I get back home, can we keep in touch?” “We will see,” she said, quickly changing the subject—but not before I could wonder if there had been a hint of amusement on her face and if she was trying to hide something. “Have you learned any Urdu yet?” “No. How can I learn when I’m alone all the time anyway with no one to teach me?” “You can order a book from the jail’s library. I can get you one.” “No, thanks,” I said with a polite smile. “How old are you?” No doubt about the amused smile this time. “That I am not able to tell you at this time.” “Oh, ok. Sorry for sounding nosy. I’m just curious.” “Are you always this curious?” “No, I’m not. Can you say if you’re married or have kids?” “I am not married, and I do not have kids.” “I suppose in this country—although sometimes it happens in mine as well—you get a lot of pressure to marry and all that.” “My mother stopped asking me about that a while ago. I hated to disappoint my mother, but I am a career woman, even if there are not very many of us here.” “If she loves you, she will accept you as you are.” She casually brushed aside a loose dark curl that had fallen free of her hijab. “Love the henna tattoo,” I said, admiring the intricate design on her hand and fingers. She smiled slightly but said nothing as she continued to gaze out into the field. Only this time it was almost as if she were looking for something. “I’ve always wanted one of those. I hope I live to get out of here and get one done for myself.” “You will live,” Ahsad said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Just do as you’re told and keep that side of you that yearns to be wild and free hidden as best you can.” “I will, and while it’s not that I don’t trust you or that you can’t trust me, I’m scared. Really, Ahsad, I’m scared. I get a bad feeling at times that things won’t work out in the end.” She turned her deep, dark eyes toward my light blue ones. She looked very sympathetic. “I know you’re scared, sweet one. And I wish I could hug you or say something to make you feel better, but I cannot. I can only say that you will one day walk beyond these walls and fences. You just may not have much more freedom than you do here and…” “Ahsad! Ahsad!” We both looked toward the building. The other officer on duty in the west wing came running toward us. It never ceased to amaze me just how silly their uniforms looked, though I was getting a bit used to the strange getup. The officer said something to Ahsad in Urdu, glared at me, and then we all hurried back inside. “Something urgent has come up,” explained Ahsad. “I will see you later.” “Ok. Thanks for taking me out for some fresh air.” I was locked back into my world of steel and concrete before I could finish thanking her.