• Rashavan

    Yoko Tatika walked into a brightly decorated room. Cushioned seats, draped cloth over the windows, and beads hung from the ceiling. All were in rich, warm colors. It reminded her of a fortune teller’s home… or at least what she felt it would look like. (What is this place?)

    “This is my home,” a tall, dark and mysterious man walked into the room. He looked dapper dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, black loafers and a black button-up shirt which was neatly tucked into his jeans. His pale skin and neatly cut dark brown hair only added to the ‘dangerous’ vibe Yoko was getting from him. “How may I help you?”

    The sound of his deep, sing-song voice sent a shiver down Yoko’s back. (Just ask about a phone and go back to the car. The rain’s not that bad…) “Well, my car broke down a few yards back from you house and …”

    “Yes,” he said as if understanding. “Those use cars are a hazard waiting to happen.”

    (What?) The chill in her spine spread to the rest of her body. “How do you know about my car?” (I’ve parked at least a good mile or so away. I couldn’t even see it from here! Who is this man?)

    “Yes, you’re right.” He smiled apologetic, “Introductions should be made. I am Elyas Rashavan.”

    The chills she had were subsiding. (Perhaps I was over reacting?) Taking a deep, settling breath, she said, “Yoko Tatika. I’m sorry for barging in but it was raining, your door was open and I need a telephone.”

    “A flat tire?” he said thoughtfully, then he gasped, “And a busted engine! Well, that’s going to cost you! You poor dear. ”

    It was then that it dawned on Yoko whose house she was in. Elyas Rashavan was a crazed man who was convicted of murder. He said that another man had thought s of killing his wife. Rashavan had read those thoughts from the man’s mind. So he went off to save the wife, and in defending her, Elyas killed the man. Yoko remembered Rashavan was sent to jail but couldn’t remember his face…

    (Is this the guy’s house?) Yoko eyed him cautiously. (Could that be Rashavan?)

    “The telephone is over here,” he pointed to a bright white phone next to a dark blue lamp.

    (Can’t be,) she told herself flatly. (There’s no such thing as reading people’s minds.) “Thank you.” She picked up the receiver and dialed for a towing service.

    “Hello?” a familiar voice answered.

    “Hi, Alec. It’s me, Yoko.”

    “Stuck again,” he chuckled.

    “Yeah, how soon can you get here?”

    “Where are you?”

    “The only house on the twenty-twenty highway,” Elyas said loudly.

    “What was that?” Alec’s voice went low.

    “The only house on the twenty-twenty highway,” she repeated.

    “The Rashavan place?” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say something?! I’ll be over as soon as possible! Kay?!”

    “Yeah.”

    “And this one is on me.”

    Yoko hung up. (I should have stayed in the car.)

    “Then you wouldn’t get a phone.” Elyas headed out of the room, “Want some tea to warm you?”

    “Um, yeah, sure.” (He can read minds! How else would he know about my car or even that I’m cold! O.K. Look. You’re going to be here for a while so you might as well get comfortable.) She sat down on one of the cushioned seats and tried to clear her mind. With in a few minutes Elyas enter the room with two teaming cups. He said nothing as he handed her the warm cup. Cinnamon apple aroma rose up with the steam. (My favorite.)

    “I’m glad you approve.” He placed himself in another seat across from her, “I don’t get that many visitors.”

    She smiled, “Well, you live so far out. Many people don’t have the gas to waist.” Rashavan seemed surprised at the comment. (Oh, dear. I’ve offended him.)

    “Yes, gas prices have gone up,” he took a sip of his tea. Yoko did the same while making sure she looked everywhere but at him. Rashavan sighed sadly, “ You are afraid of me.”

    Yoko tried to appear relaxed, “Oh, no. I’m just worried about my car. That’s all.” She gave up when he gave her a questioning gaze. “O.K. So, I’m uneasy about this.”

    “I see. Most people are.” He took another sip.

    Yoko eyed him closely. He seemed to be a clean-cut person. Someone who followed the rules. (And he makes a damn good cup of tea. Why should I fear him? He has no reason to hurt me.) She peered into her half full cup. (He’s a nice man. What’s that smell.)

    “Is there something wrong?”

    “Do you smell gas?”

    “No.” Just then the muffled sound of a car door slamming was clearly heard. “But I heard that.”

    “It’s Alec.” She gathered her belongings, “Thanks for the tea, it was delicious. Oh, and for the use of your phone.”

    “Do you always know when he arrives?”

    “Sometimes. Why? I’m right, right?” She headed for the door.

    “Then I’m not the only one here,” he whispered as he followed her. “Can you sense anyone else besides him?”

    “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying, Mr. Rashavan.” She opened the door. Alec was ready to knock. “Thank you, once again,” she said politely to Rashavan.

    “Yes, well, do come back to visit. I have plenty of Cinnamon Apple left.”

    Yoko quickly left, darting her way to the truck with Alec close behind. The rain coming down in a rhythmic pit-pat echoed his words, “come back.” She closed her eyes as they drove away.