I asked Fartybag.
“What’re you doing here?” he snapped, glaring at Aunty Shilpa.
“Where’s Franky?” I asked.
“Appa can’t come. He has important things to do with some very important people,” he replied, puffing his chest. “I’m his deputy, you know.”
He looked different today. His torn Rambo T-shirt and tatty pants were gone, and in their place were a brand-new pair of jeans and a blood red T-shirt with the words “The Boss” written across it. On his right hand dangled a set of car keys.
He had a swagger in his step and was no longer shuffling or huffing. He didn’t let out one pop, at least none I could smell or hear. He looked like someone had cleaned him up and made him into one of those prep boys who hung out at the local college downtown.
“What do you want with us?” Aunty Shilpa hissed.
“Appa warned me about you. I’m not here for you.” Fartybag sneered at her.
“Did you buy your new suit with Asha’s money?” Aunty Shilpa snapped right back. “Shame on you!”
“I have a good father who takes care of me. Not like you two who have nobody,” he said.
That stung. Aunty Shilpa looked away.
“That’s really mean,” I said, shaking my head. He’ll never learn, I thought.
“Here,” Fartybag said, thrusting a white envelope in my hands. “Appa said to give this to you.”
I opened the envelope. Inside were my passport and a long white stub with an Air India logo. I pulled them out.
“Hey, this is not for—”
“Something came up at the last minute, and he said he had to make changes.”
“What changes?” I spluttered. “Why?”
Fartybag shrugged and turned to gawk at a couple of young women walking by.
I looked at the Air India ticket again.
“Let me see this,” Aunty Shilpa said, grabbing the paper from my hand. She peered at it. “What does this say, Asha? What does this say?” She held it up, desperately, to the light, but that didn’t help her read.
“Maybe the lions won’t eat you after all,” Fartybag said, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“But I want to see my parents and Chanda and Mr. Mudenda and….” I trailed off, not sure what to say.
“He’s tricking us,” Aunty Shilpa said, fluttering the ticket in Fartybag’s face. “I don’t trust your father or you. You’re tricking us again!”
“You can believe your illiterate aunty or you can read the papers,” Fartybag said, ignoring her. “Appa said he’s sending you to a place where you can make real money. Real dollars. It’s right there in the new contract.”
“New contract?” I pulled everything from the envelope. A legal-sized paper stated my new destination. It came with an official red seal at the bottom, next to a signature in purple ink that looked exactly like Franky’s. I stared at it.
“He said you can make more money there. Then maybe you can visit your precious Africa after that. You should say thank you to us. Most people don’t get to fly. They go in a dirty boat for days with no food. Don’t know why Appa’s doing all this for you, because you’re just a stupid foreign girl.”
“That’s because you want to steal all her money!” Aunty Shilpa shouted at him. “You’re thieves!”
“Shut up, you cow,” Fartybag muttered.
“Hey!” I glared at him. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that!” He looked away like he still remembered the punch I'd given his delicate nose.
With shaking hands, I opened my passport. There was a brand-new visa glued to a page at the end. I looked at it closely. The paper shimmered, a shiny red sticker and the word “visa.” I turned the booklet to see it in better light. Franky was sending me to a faraway place I’d heard of before but had never dreamed of visiting.
Aunty Shilpa tugged at my sleeve. “Come, Asha. Leave this nonsense behind. This was a terrible mistake. We need to talk to Franky and get your money back.”
Fartybag stepped in between Aunty Shilpa and me.
“Appa said if you don’t get on the plane, Kristadasa will find you and thrash you to a pulp.”
Visions of Kristadasa’s looming feni-soaked face came to mind. I shook my head. No! I’m not going back to that.
“And you’ll lose all your money.” Fartybag pointed at the papers in my hand. “It’s in the contract.”
“So now you’re worried we’ll lose money,” Aunty Shilpa said, her face flushed.
“Are you going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to go?” Fartybag said to me. “Your plane’s leaving soon. If you don’t go, Kristadasa will come and get you and then you’ll see.”
I stared at him. “Where’s your father?”
“Appa said he can’t help you if you don’t go. He told me he wants you to do your job so he can do his job.” He gave me a pointed look. “You can go now or stay behind and lose everything, including helping your aunty.”
“Don’t you dare do this!” Aunty Shilpa said, shaking her finger at him, her voice filled with rage. “Don’t you dare!” She turned to me. “Don’t listen to this boy!”
“You can’t even read the ticket,” Fartybag said to her with a sneer.
I looked up at the airport TV screen in the corridor. It was noon. It was close to the “auspicious” hour—the time the gods had decided was best for the wedding, at least according to the marriage broker. Visions of Kristadasa waiting for me flashed across my mind. I shuddered. I had to think quickly.
I turned to Aunty Shilpa. “I can’t help you if I stay here and get married to that drunkard. I can’t do that, Aunty Shilpa. But if I can make money, I can help you. I can find a way to help all of us. I promise. I can’t go back now.”
She looked like she was about to burst into tears. “You can’t go, my child. You can’t trust these people. You can’t go.”
“You’re late,” Fartybag said, poking my arm. “Look, they’re calling your flight. You better hurry or you’ll miss it.”
I gave Aunty Shilpa a desperate look.
She let out a wail. “This is my mistake! How could I let this happen?”
“Aunty,” I said, showing her the legal paper. “Look. This comes with a red seal. I’ve seen this before. Mama and Papa used this to make their job contracts official. This means we can trust these papers. Even if we can’t trust Franky, we can trust a contract. I know this.”
“Oh, my child...oh, my child.”
“It’s going to be okay, Aunty. I’ll be back sooner than you realize. I’ll write to you and send you money. Everything will be all right. I promise.”
I reached over and gave her a hug, squeezing her as tightly as I could, while she stood stiff like a zombie, tears streaming down her face. “I’m doing this for all of us, Aunty. I want you to get better.”
“They’re calling your plane number now,” I heard Fartybag say. “You’re totally late.”
I tore myself from Aunty Shilpa and picked up my bag.
Without looking back, I ran toward the check-in counter. I knew Aunty Shilpa was just a few feet behind, watching. I knew she was devastated. But I couldn’t sit back and do nothing while she faded to death. And getting married to anyone, let alone that evil man, was unimaginable. My heart ripped a little with every step I took, but I kept moving.
Just before turning the corner, I glanced back.
Seeing Aunty Shilpa’s face made my heart feel like it was rupturing into a thousand pieces. I was always leaving someone behind—my parents in Tanzania, and now Aunty Shilpa and Preeti in India. It’s only for a year, I said to myself. Only one year.
I blew her a kiss. She stood like a heartbroken statue in the middle of the corridor, people bustling around her. She was crying, I could see. I choked back a sob. If I don’t leave now, I’ll never leave. I gave a final wave and turned around.
I stepped up to the flight desk. My worn Indian passport with stamps and visas from all over meant I’d traveled before. My shiny new visa impressed them. They glanced at it quickly before handing it back. I sailed through the security check. I’d just picked up my bag when the PA system crackled to life.
“This is a final boarding announcement for Air India Flight Three-Six-Seven to Toronto. All passengers must now be at gate seventy-two for departure.”
That was my call.