TEJRAN - U MIGHT BE A PLAYER BUT IM THE GAME

Chapter 13

They walk hand in hand along the coastal path and stop by an old ruin.

“What is this place?” Teju asks.

“It’s an abandoned tin mine.”

Teju and Karan lean against the chimney stack, staring out at a choppy sea that’s crested with white surf as the chill wind whistles between them. “It is so beautiful here,” she says. “It is wild. It reminds me of my home.”

Except I’m happier here. I feel…safe.

That’s because I am with Mister Karan.

“I love this place, too.

It’s where I grew up.”

“In the house where we are staying?”

He looks away. “No. My brother built that quite recently.” Karan’s mouth turns down, and he seems lost.

“You have a brother?”

“I did,” he whispers. “He died.” He digs his hands deep into his coat pockets and stares out at the sea, his face bleak, carved like stone.

“I am sorry,” she says, and from his pained, raw expression she suspects that his brother’s death is a recent event.

Reaching out, she places a hand on his arm. “You miss him,” she says.

“Yes,” Karan whispers, turning his face toward her. “I do. I loved him.”

She is surprised by his candor. “Do you have other family?”

“A sister. Meenu.” His fond smile is brief. “And then there’s my mother.” His tone becomes dismissive.

“Your father?”

“My father died when I was sixteen.”

“Oh. I am sorry. Your sister and mother, do they live here?”

“They used to. They visit sometimes,” he says. “Meenu works and lives in London. She’s a doctor.” He flashes her a proud smile.

“Ua.” Teju is impressed. “And your mother?”

“She’s mostly in New York.” His answer is curt. He doesn’t want to discuss his mother.

And she doesn’t want to discuss her father.

“There are mines near Kukës,” she says to change the subject, and she gazes up at the gray-stoned chimney stack. It’s like the chimney on the road to Kosovo.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What do they mine?”

“Krom. I don’t know the word.”

“Chromium?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know the English.”

“I think I’d better invest in an English-Albanian dictionary,” Karan mutters. “Come on, let’s walk into the village. We can have lunch.”

“Village?” Teju has seen no sign of any dwellings on their walk.

“Hillwood. It’s a small village just over the hill. Popular with tourists.”

Teju falls into step beside him.

“The photographs in your apartment, are they from here?” she asks.

“The landscapes. Yes. Yes, they are.” Karan beams. “You’re observant,” he adds, and from his raised brows Teju can tell he’s impressed. She gives him a shy smile, and he takes her gloved hand.