18

Malaya tried to breathe, but the air wouldn’t reach her lungs. The living room started closing in on her. She leaned against the wall for support, but all she could see was Tala’s face. They’d killed her. Just as they’d promised. She and Tala had been warned, but Tala hadn’t listened and now she was dead. There was no way out. Why couldn’t she have seen that? The scarred man on the boat had been the first to threaten them, and now they had come for her.

The voices replayed over and over in her mind. If you try to escape, we will kill you. And do you know what the police do to undocumented workers?

“Are you all right, Malaya?”

Malaya managed a smile for Teo. “Let’s not tell your mother about the police, okay? You know how they’ve told you never to answer the door. She might get angry with you. And neither of us want your mother angry.”

The boy’s eyes widened. She hated scaring him, but what choice did she have?

“Are you hungry? I think it’s time for a snack.”

Teo nodded, his smile back. She’d learned quickly that a few sugary treats went a long way in getting him to do what she wanted.

“I think there are some cookies left. Why don’t you grab a couple and color for a while.”

Malaya wanted to learn English, but no English was spoken to her in this house except for what Teo said to her when they were alone. She’d convinced him that it would be their secret game, her trying to pick up words and phrases. One day they would surprise his parents.

Except she knew their reaction wouldn’t be one of surprise. It would be one of anger. But she didn’t plan to end up like Tala.

Malaya held the card the police had given her. She should throw it away. If Teo’s mother found it, she would want to know where it came from. She could burn it, but if Teo found out, he was bound to ask questions and tell his mother.

She peeked through the window. She couldn’t see the man and woman with their badges anymore, but she couldn’t help but wonder, why this neighborhood? Had they somehow linked Tala back to this neighborhood and Malaya? Could Tala have lived in this neighborhood and Malaya hadn’t known it? But how could she know? She’d been kept isolated and the rules had been clear. Clean and cook during the day, and keep Teo occupied. She wasn’t allowed to go out or use the phone or answer the door. The beatings she’d received had been enough to remind her they were serious.

Not that it mattered. Who would she talk to if she did run away? If the police were after her, and she couldn’t communicate with the outside world, there was nowhere to run.

“Malaya?”

She spun around, sliding the card into her pocket. Mrs. Chu stood in the middle of the kitchen, her face etched with a scowl. Malaya’s heart pounded. How had she missed the sound of the garage door opening?

“Why are you just standing there? I’m going upstairs to rest. I expect dinner on the table by six.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fatigue swept over her. Sixteen-plus hours of work a day, sleeping on a mat in a corner of the garage. Two days ago, Mr. Chu had beaten her for breaking a dish and left a bruise on her rib cage where Teo wouldn’t see it. Most of the time they left her alone, because they knew that threats were just as effective as physical abuse. She knew what they could do.

Malaya began chopping vegetables. Teo sat quietly at the end of the bar, eating his snack and coloring. She scooted the cutting board closer so she could see what he was doing.

“What are you coloring, Teo?”

He held up a picture of a racecar and started describing it in Vietnamese.

“In English, Teo.” She lowered her voice. “Tell me the words in English.”

“This is a car. This car goes very fast. Very far.”

“Car. A fast car.”

A car that could travel very far. Back to another world? Longing swept over her as she cut the rest of the carrots and tossed them into the salad bowl. She wished she were home, watching her mother fix dinner in their small kitchen while their father entertained them with stories of what had happened at work that day. Laughter around the dinner table had been as abundant as the rice growing in the surrounding fields. They had thought they were giving her a chance to better her life. Instead, she’d become a prisoner.

But what if there were a way out?

Malaya started chopping harder and dismissed the thought.

Her gaze shifted briefly to the front door. She slid her hand inside her pocket and felt for the card again. There had been a hint of kindness in the woman’s eyes. Malaya might not have understood anything the woman had said, but the card she’d given her held a phone number. What if she heard her story? That she’d been told she would have all the necessary papers. That her family had paid the required fee to bring her here. What if she told her what they had done to her? How she didn’t want to be here. Wasn’t America supposed to be the land of freedom and opportunity?

What if the woman understood?

Tala’s face surfaced, and for a moment, Malaya thought she was going to be physically ill. She stepped back from the counter, her hands shaking.

“Are you okay, Malaya?”

She nodded, eyes closed until the nausea passed.

Her thoughts were foolish. The police were not an option. Running was not an option. Praying for a miracle hadn’t worked.

But she would find a way out. Somehow.