Dorsai - Taxi

The rest of the ride into town, the two of them kept going, off and on: they'd sit back there quiet as could be for a few minutes, then they'd be at it for a minute or so before they got quiet again.

We were almost to their hotel, and I was thinking that I was going to be damn glad to be rid of them when I heard another noise from the back – except that it sounded a lot worse than when he'd slapped her.

Another look in the mirror let me see that whatever he'd done, it had resulted in a cut on her lip that was visibly bleeding even when I saw it.

That was all I needed to see. A minute later, when we pulled up to their hotel, I dropped the flag and turned around to ask her "Ma'am? Would you like some help?"

She just looked at me for a couple of seconds before he tried to start in on me, all but yelling "You do not speak to her! She is my wife, and it is not proper! You have no right to speak to her!"

Trying to stay calm, I turned to him and answered "I don't care who she is to you – it isn't right for you to hit her like that."

"You do not tell me what I can do! I tell you, she is my wife, and in my country I can do what I want with her!"

"Yeah, well, you aren't IN your country now, pal, so you better knock it off before you find your ass in jail", I answered, before turning to her again and asking "Ma'am? Do you speak English? Would you like to get away from him, so he doesn't hit you any more?"

I have to admit that I was more than a little surprised when I heard her Chicago-accented "Yes, I understand you quite well – I'm an American, actually. My name is Saleh, and yes, I would like to leave so that I don't get beaten again."

Hearing that, he damn near lost it, and rattled off a long spiel at her while she just sat there looking at him and not saying a word. When he finally ran down, even I could hear the bitterness in her voice as she finally gave him a piece of her mind. It didn't take long for her to say what she wanted to, and when she was done, I thought he was going to blow a gasket right there in my hack. When he finally got it together again, he started to reach for the door handle, but I quickly hit the electric locks before telling him "You don't go anywhere, buddy, until you pay the fare" and pointing to the meter. He looked like he wanted to take a swing at me – I was kind of hoping he would, so I could get his ass tossed in jail for a while – but he calmed down enough to fork over the fare. I unlocked the doors again, and as he started to get out, I asked her "Ma'am, do you have anyplace to go? Friends? Family? Can I take you to another hotel? If you want, I can take you to an abused women's shelter, where they can protect you."

She managed a wan smile before answering "No, I don't have any family or friends here. The shelter won't be necessary; I can call my parents, and they'll send me some money for a hotel for tonight. I can go home to them tomorrow, I think."

"It's up to you if you just want me to take your someplace so you can make your call and wait until you get the money from your folks, or there's something else you'd rather do. I'll be glad to take you to a police station if you want to swear out a complaint, and I don't have any problem with being a witness for you. Wherever you want to go, I'll be glad to take you there for free."

She considered it for a few moments before telling me "No, there's no need for the police, now. What you heard him telling me was that he is going to divorce me when he gets back home. I don't have any money or credit cards with me because he insisted on controlling all of our money – so I couldn't afford even so much as a cup of coffee while I wait. My real worry is his family: there are several of them in this city, and it could happen that they would look for me with the idea of beating me for insulting him and them by speaking with you, and acting against him."

"I'll tell you what – you stay here while I get his stuff unloaded, and then I can take you to a coffeeshop or someplace and wait with you until you hear back from your family. I mean, if that isn't an imposition, or something that would cause you or your family offense."

She gave me a pleased smile, and answered "No, I or my family wouldn't be offended, and I would welcome your company."

"Okay, that's what we'll do, then" I told her before moving to get out and get her now-ex-husbands stuff out of the trunk.

He wanted to take all of the luggage, and was pretty adamant about it until I asked him if he planned to start wearing her underwear. I thought his head might explode before he relented and pointed out a couple of bags that I could re-load. I didn't figure she'd traveled all that distance planning to stay in the stuff she had on, and was glad that I was able to get at least some of her clothes back.

After he turned away from me and headed into the hotel, I quickly stowed her luggage in the trunk and got back behind the wheel to get us the hell away from there.

I called in to let Central know I was going off-duty, and once I'd gotten the acknowledgment, headed for one of the chain restaurants where I knew they wouldn't mind having us around for however long it would probably take for her to hear back from her folks. When we got there, I told her that I had a small first-aid kit in my cab, and asked if she needed or wanted to use it. She graced me with a small smile before answering "No, there's nothing I need anything like that for. All I need to do is clean up a little, and I'll be fine."

With that settled, the two of us went inside, where she would only let me spring for a cup of coffee before she headed to the ladies room. When she got back, she had not only cleaned her face off, but shed the headdress she'd been wearing – revealing a lovely head of long, luxuriously black hair. She still had on the rest of the outfit she'd been wearing, and it somehow made her even more attractive even as it did a fine job of hiding whatever shape she had underneath.

When she sat down across from me, the first thing she said to me was "Before anything else, I want to thank you for all you have done to help me. Ever since we were married, he has hurt me more and more, and I was afraid that it would never end. When you not only told him to stop hitting me, but offered to help me and get me away from him, I knew that I was saved."

I had to ask "Why were you even married to him in the first place?"

She gave me a wry smile before explaining that her parents had emigrated to the U.S. before she'd been born, and had made every effort to become a part of American society while maintaining ties to other immigrants from their homeland. She'd grown up comfortable in both cultures, and when she'd graduated college, she'd only hesitantly accepted the idea of an arranged marriage after it was suggested by her parents – who, she'd found out later, had felt pressured to propose it to her by the less assimilated members of their immigrant community. They hadn't been real wild about the idea, it being contrary to the American ways they'd learned to appreciate; they'd hoped that she was American enough to reject the idea, letting them off the hook. What they hadn't anticipated was how much of their native culture and customs she'd absorbed while growing up. It wasn't until after she'd married someone from 'home' and started suffering his abuse that she and they had actually talked about what had happened – and by that time, it was too late, and there were simply too many people expecting her to 'reclaim her heritage', not knowing what was happening between her and her husband. She explained to me that with what had happened in my cab, and his declared intent to divorce her on his return home, she was actually something of a non-person – not yet actually divorced, but because of what he'd said, she wasn't considered to be actually married, either. I could see that she was still a bit overwhelmed and saddened by it all, and did my best to try and comfort her, and even cheer her up a bit. Along the way, she asked my help in finding a reasonably priced place to stay so that she wouldn't have to ask her parents for too much money; rather than pry, I simply gave her the details of several places I knew of across a range of prices.