A Fork in the Road - Part Two

Ziya recalled her hour-long ride in the taxi and how uncomfortable she had felt throughout the journey.  Not only was the city unfamiliar and the hour late, but her taxi driver’s ideal chatter had amplified her fear, sending a chill down her spine to the match the chilly temperature outside.  Their conversation had started easily with cordial inquiries.  Ziya had responded to his questions that she was in town on work and her company was an international corporation and she was originally from the other side of the globe.  He had then proceeded to release with his tongue all his resentments towards the world with the lack of job opportunities, poverty, religious clash in his home country, how he had moved his family to such a cold place, and many such bitter pills he had swallowed over the years.  Even the company she worked for refused to give him a job when he first arrived.  Ziya had sunk back in her seat and tried to disengage from further conversation, fearing unleashing of any of the resentment towards her.  The rest of the ride had continued in silence as she dissolved in the shadow of the backseat.

Looking back at the man handing her a card, which appeared to belong to her, she looked up at him again.  A glimmer of recognition crossed her face as she realized it was the very taxi driver she had feared and had ridden with for an hour from the airport.  He was speaking to her and she crooked her head to one side quizzically.  His arm moved forward to thrust the card in her hand as he tried to say in his broken English that she had forgotten to claim the card back after making the payment.

She took the card and murmured a thanks, not realizing the implication until later.  What if he had not come in to return it?  This was her first trip on the company account and losing the corporate card in its first use would not only be embarrassing, but costly too, depending on whose hands it could have landed.

Ziya shoved the card into her coat pocket, pulled the lapels of her long coat together with hands fully covered with red, leather gloves, grabbed her baggage and walked towards the check-in desk.  Smiling, she took her room key, deliberated outside the Irish Pub for a few seconds, but decided to turn in for the night.  There’ll be plenty more nights for beer over the 10 days she was required to stay in this cold place.

To be continued