Mixed Blood by Roger Smith

always, to convince her.
    It was as if she had been waiting for those men to step into their lives, with their guns and their rapists’ eyes. When they’d appeared, she had recognized them even though she’d never seen them before. She had known"0em" hey were and why they were there. They had been sent to even a score, to settle a karmic debt.
    And it would not end with them. She knew that with absolute certainty.
    So when her husband walked into the ward carrying a bunch of arum lilies—her favorite—she had to resist the temptation to do what she always did: forgive him. Believe in him. Believe in this handsome, smiling man. The man she loved.
    She forced herself to see him crouched over the skinny brown thug, ready to cut his throat. She needed to keep that image close, to fuel her resolve.
    “Hi, baby.”
    When he leaned down to kiss her, she turned her head away, feeling his lips brush her cheek. He stepped back, uncomfortable for a moment as he lay the flowers on the cabinet beside her bed. She could see signs of strain on his face, a jaundiced tint beneath his tan.
    “How’re you feeling?” He took a chair beside the bed.
    “I’m fine.” She looked at him, still seeing the man with the knife. “Where’s Matt?”
    “He’s sitting outside.”
    “How is he?”
    “He’s okay. We went to the beach today, for a while.”
    She was staring at him intently, and she could see it made him uncomfortable. He tried to find a smile. It wasn’t convincing.
    “What?” he asked.
    “You went to the beach?”
    “Well, it’s a great day. And I thought it might, you know, take his mind off things.”
    “So the sun and the ocean will cure everything? It’ll all be okay?” She could feel the color rising in her cheeks.
    “Baby, take it easy.” He reached for her hand, confident that he could placate her. She took her hand away.
    “Jack, it’s not going to be okay. Not this time.”
    “All this will pass.”
    She shook her head. “No, Jack. No. You’re not going to stroke and soothe me into submission, not now.” She saw his eyes grow wary. “Lying here after what happened, it’s forced me to confront things.”
    “Like?”
    “Like when I met you I was twenty-one. A kid. You were nearly forty. I was in awe of you. I let you run my life.”
    “Susan …”
    She held up a hand. “Let me finish, Jack. When you did what you did, back home, I was shocked. Stunned really. I was in freefall. What I should’ve done was taken Matt and got the hell out. With my baby.”
    He was staring at her. He’d seen her angry before, but never this certain. This determined.
    “I regret not doing that. I regret listening to you, buying into your promises about the better life we were ging to have. I want out, Jack.”
    She saw something come into his expression, like the play had become way less predictable. “What do you mean?”
    “I want to go back home. I want my children to grow up having a normal life.”
    “You know what that means?”
    She nodded, her eyes not moving from his. “It may mean that I spend time in prison. I’m prepared for that. One of us has to stop being selfish and think of our children, Jack. And clearly you’re not going to be that one.”
    “You know that going back is not an option for me?”
    “Yes, I know that. The stakes are much higher for you.”
    “Jesus, Susan, I’d be put away for life.”
    “I understand.” She almost reached across and took his hand. But she forced herself not to. “But do you understand that you’ve imprisoned us? What happened last night shows how far you’ve gone. That man with the knife in his hand wasn’t the man I married, Jack.”
    She watched him sag, like all the strength was draining from his body. “So what are you saying exactly?”
    “When I get out of here, I’m going to contact the U.S. Consulate. I’m going to do whatever it takes to get Matt and me and my baby back to the States. If I have to do jail time, my sister will take the