She tried to sit up, but it felt so disorienting that she had to lie down again. Still very little pain at the moment; must be whatever drugs they'd given her.
"Asu? May I use your phone, please? Do you have a telephone?"
He turned and stepped toward her, smiling. "You need to rest..."
"No, no, I need to call my boss. I'm here on business. I need to call my boyfriend and let him know I'm ok. What day is it?"
"It's Wednesday night."
She could hardly believe so much time had gone by since her plane landed, and yet she was comforted that it wasn't any later. "Oh, they must be really worried by now. May I please use your telephone?"
Asu's face became pouty, a look she'd seen on her young nephew many times. Then it became authoritative. He spoke with careful diction, as if to a toddler. "You do not need to call anyone because you are staying here to recover from your injuries."
"But I need to let them know..."
"No. I rescued you. You are staying here." He angrily left the room and closed the door, leaving her alone with his father. The old man seemed completely unaware of what had just transpired. A shudder came over Michelle as she realized that she had gone from isolation and exposure to confinement. She didn't know much about Arab men and wondered if this was normal for their culture or if Asu's apparent possessiveness was a quirk of personality, or something more sinister. Either way, outside contact was now critical.