by Rohini Menon
“Let’s not push it...” After that, an awkward silence came between us. We both became conscious of our limbs. “So, you’re rich?” I said, inspecting the room.
“What made you ask that?”
Was that a rhetorical question, or was she actually asking me? “Your house is bigger than usual,” I replied.
“Yeah! It is huge,” she said with a look of excitement in her eyes. “I wish it was mine, but unfortunately this is just a guest house.”
Whose guest house is this then? And what does Zaniyah have to do with it?
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice “Aaron… Where are you?” Mom? I leapt up and was about to rush to the door when I saw my mom’s face…
Mom stood in the doorway, nostrils flaring, eyes more enraged than I think I’d ever seen them, ever. She exploded “HOW DARE YOU—YOUNG MAN—SNEAK OUT OF THE HOUSE WHEN I’M GONE.” She strode towards me, and when she’d cornered me, she made her move—slap—she thwacked the nearby table, rattling its glass top violently.
“Please don’t worry Mrs. Strider,” Zaniyah tremored. “My mom is on her way here.” Zaniyah gently eased my mom by the shoulders back towards the direction of the living room. I followed, in a daze. When we reached the room, neither of the General’s muscle men were to be seen.
As if on cue, the main door opened and the General–I mean Zaniyah’s mom–stood there in a blue pantsuit with her black hair tied up in a bun. Zaniyah’s eyes resembled her mom’s but underneath Mrs. Valequez’s were dark, drained circles.
“Hello Celine,” my mom greeted her, “expected you here sister.”
• CHAPTER 6 •
I’m Adopted!
Sister. That was the only thought going through my mind even as I watched the three women—well, two, as I’d always considered Zaniyah to be one of the guys—one who was my mother, and the other one whom I had regarded as my best friend’s mom for my entire life…
Well, until now. “You tell him,” Celine Valequez said, making me break away from my thoughts.
“No way, why should I?” my mom said, then in minutes they were rolling on the floor fighting about who should tell me whatever it was that was so awful. I pinched myself, to double-check that my mom was indeed rolling around on the floor with another grown adult.
Thankfully Zaniyah started breaking them apart before they were able to rip out each other’s hair, though by that point they both looked like they’d been run through a car wash.
“Please act mature, ladies,” I said; more like ordered.
“Yes, I forgot my place for a minute—tch,” I was pretty sure that last sound also came from my mom. Weird, though I was getting used to that.
“Now, how about telling me what’s going on,” I said, deciding that there were more important things to address, “and how you kept from me that we are related to Zaniyah and her family?” My mum flinched the moment I said the word related.
“You might want to sit down…” my alleged aunt, Celine Valequez, said.
I sat faced opposite the both of them. They looked at each other for a moment, quietly debating who should the break the ice.
“Aaron yo–” Celine started.
“Yeah I don’t want to stay here for this,” Zaniyah interrupted and walked off towards one of the many bedrooms, shutting it.
Celine sighed and started again “Aaron you are not related to Zaniyah, by blood that is…”
“What?” I said, nonplussed. “How is that possible? If my mom and you are sisters then I have to be related to Zaniyah, unless…”
“Yes,” Celine said. “It’s true.”
“Zaniyah is adopted!”
“No, that’s not what she meant,” my mom sighed. “You should be clearer when you speak sister.” Then mom met my eye “Look Aaron, Zaniyah is not the one who’s adopted.”
I gawked. “Am…I adopted?” All they did was to nod. How could they keep this from me? I had never been one for seeing my own baby photos; but, I had the feeling just then that should I have asked, there wouldn’t have been any. It all made sense in a way: the fact that I’d never seen my dad.
“Does Zaniyah know?” I say. I guess they were expecting me to blow up at them, and so had I, but those were the only words to emerge. When no one replied, I asked again “Does Zaniyah know?”
“Yes, but that’s no—” Celine broke off as I stormed off, headed for a bedroom on the right side of the corridor… I…needed alone time to stop the world from spinning.
I shut the door and sat on the centre of the bed. No one followed and even long into the evening I felt no urge to leave the room, nor my position perched on the bed. Thoughts besieged me, Was everything that my mom—well I can’t call her that now, since I’m adopted—God! That one word makes such a difference... I’m so angry that after seventeen whole years they decide to tell me now. Seventeen freaking years; who takes that long?
In frustration, I spring from the edge of the bed and go to the mirror by the window. I don’t see myself. I see the me still growing up: a skinny kid with skeletal cheek bones that earned him the nickname Skeletor for a good few long years. Then I see me at fourteen, different, filling out. I had biceps from doing marathons with Zaniyah, thick eyebrows and dark brown eyes that didn’t resemble mom’s. A ladies man, though Zaniyah would say otherwise.
Bang! A gunshot.
“Aaron get out of the room,” Zaniyah’s tone was hurried.
I ran out, only to see her running across the living room then diving behind metal. Six masked figures in uniform shirts were in the room too, firing at her. Silver emblems, on the right side of their shirts, glimmered like police badges.
“Don’t just stare at them, do something,” called Zaniyah from the opposite direction, shielding herself from the bullets behind the thick metal vase. Bullets cracked and broke off segments of the vase, but it didn’t fracture.
Even though I knew I should do something my legs wouldn’t move. I frantically searched for my mom—just then, one of the masked men pointed his gun towards me and was about to pull the rifle when someone launched from behind like a cat, jumped on his back and started strangling him. How…in the world?
Bang! Bang! CRACK! I raced behind the grand couch and peeked around it, staring from a distance… My mom was attacking this dude with her apparent ninja skills. And Zaniyah…she’d already knocked one guy out using the humongous vase and was charging head on towards the other. Who...are these people? And I wasn’t talking about the masked attackers.
Then the ground shook. At first, I thought it was an earthquake—just another crazy thing to add to the craziness—but on second consideration, the last time an earthquake had hit had been like a decade ago.
Everyone in the room seemed to still for a long moment, then the bullets came even faster than before! Zaniyah tugged on my arm then pushed me...
“Run towards the door,” she screamed on top of her lungs.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’ll be right behind you” she replied.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, visualizing the distance in my head. Then I shot up and ran towards the door with my body as low as I could keep it and my eyes halfway shut.
“GET HIM!” some guy bellowed from behind me. In a heartbeat, many things near me shattered. Bullets wisped past me like supersonic angry bees; zzzziippp, zzzziippp, CRACK! I risked raising my body, thinking I was close to the door, but I was just inches away from it when:
“Ahh!” I screamed. The glass door window blew up. Pain burned my face, hands and arms and I kicked the door open, to outside...
Whom, whom, whom—the spinning turbines of a light-coloured, medium-sized helicopter. I caught lots of things in a very short space of time, in the way that you can when you’re in danger. It looked I was standing on a side veranda, and beyond was a green grass, where the helicopter waited.
Celine was in the front seat and my mom was at the sliding main passenger door, which wa
s open. Mom had a Glock pistol in her hand; she ushered me to come inside with the other. How had she got out of the room so fast?
Zaniyah, I suddenly thought. I turned back to the living room. Zaniyah was running towards me and the door. An angry bullet whizzed very near to me, slamming into the frame. It must have grazed Zaniyah’s leg because she stammered, though she managed to get behind a pillar and out of the firing line.
Without thinking, I ran for her but by the time I reached she was already back up and running. “Idiot,” she murmured as she grabbed my hand. We ran together, to the helicopter, and both of us jumped in.
• CHAPTER 7 •
Seeing a Castle for the First Time
“Who were they?” Zaniyah asked through her headphones. “How come I don’t know about them?”
“It doesn’t involve you, Zaniyah,” Celine replied. She had a growl to her voice as if she wanted to scream at the helicopter controls. For a moment, I imagined us all careening into a random cliff-side. I wanted to tell Zaniyah to lay off the questions…just for now.
In all the years of my life, I’ve learnt it’s best to keep your mouth shut in situations like this no matter how badly you need answers. She must have had the same thought because Celine got to fly the machine in peace.
After an hour or so of awkward silence: “Where are we heading?” my mom asked.
“Where else?” Celine said.
“No,” said mom. “You can’t be serious.”
“Well, where else do we take them?”
“He’s not ready yet Celine and nobody will be expecting him until the next year.”
“All the more reason to take him now.”
Maybe they’d forgotten that the headphones were connected to everyone, with all the stress. My brief peace had been thoroughly invaded. Are they talking about me? Where were we going? Why was I not ready? I thought uncontrollably.
These questions halted only once the helicopter did. I got down from the passenger side, looking at the barren land ahead and surrounding us. Just then, a piece of tumbleweed rolled by us…
“Well! what a beautiful place to be,” I said with deliberate cheer in my voice. Zaniyah simply rolled her eyes.
“Why did we stop here mom?” Zaniyah said. “Isn’t the…er, place like a mile away from here?”
Celine responded with a nod and so we started to walk to God knows where.
As we got down from the helicopter, Celine looked at us before entering the stoned pathway “Stay close” she said why do I feel that was meant for me.
The streets were packed with people moving here and there, you could smell the sweat off of the people, I couldn’t help but get distracted by the smell of baked bread around the corner I followed the smell around the corner passing by stalls overflowing with vegetables which were spilled onto the muddy ground as I reached closer a huge man bumped into me making me come to my senses, I was lost. I felt like 9 year old looking for his mom panicked and on the verge of losing hope.
She pulled me from the crowd and wrapped her coarse hand over my mouth. “Don’t say a word,” she said, dragging me behind a restaurant next to a garbage bin. “First of all, how could you get lost? We told you to say with us; the road’s not even busy yet!”
Zaniyah screamed. If the music hadn’t been so loud, we would have got lots of stares from passer-by’s on the street perpendicular. “I was pulled through by the crowd,” I said, defending myself.
“We turned our backs for a minute, A MINUTE Aaron and you got lost,” she was on the edge of pushing me into the garbage bin.
“I wanna go home,” I whined like a 5-year-old kid.
“And I want to go to the moon. It’s not happening sweetheart, time to accept it.”
I stared at the wall for a few seconds and then at her then again at the wall. It was nearly dusk, so the reds looked greyish brown.
“Yeah go ahead, we got time” she said, looking towards the wall.
“Thanks,” I said and started banging my head against the brick, slowly and repeatedly, distracting myself from the pathetic yet confusing situation.
Her phone started buzzing “Hello… Yes, I found him… Yes, he gave me a stupid excuse… Okay, yeah, we’re on our way,” she cut the call. “You’re going first; I can’t lose you again.” She gestured for me to go.
“I’m not a kid,” I muttered under my breath.
“I heard that,” she said.
I should stop expecting things, I thought to myself as we returned. Every time I do it, it just shatters. The palace was more modern looking on the inside than outside: the entrance had around twenty huge chandeliers hanging from the extravagant ceiling; on either side were statues; and the red carpet was spread all over the place.
Most of the doors were closed and so were the curtain. There was a huge staircase right in the centre of the room and on top of that was a throne fit for a king and a queen. My mouth hung open.
“Dude, you’re drooling,” Zaniyah said, snorting.
I wiped my mouth and glared at her, which in turn made her laugh more. She walked ahead like she owned the place or something.
“Do you even know where you are?” I said, catching up with her.
“Look,” Zaniyah sighed, yawning, “we’ve had a long day and I think we should just go get some sleep okay?” Follow me.” She headed towards the third corridor and turned right then left. We stood in a hallway filled with doors on either side. “Pick any door.”
I looked at the repeating mahogany doors across the path. “So, I open the door or—” by the time I had turned around, Zaniyah was gone. “Nice hospitality,” I said and opened a door at random. “Whoa.”
I felt my body sigh contentedly. Thick velvet curtains hid long windows that ran across the room. A white couch was placed against the wall. The bed looked queen-sized. The comforter was thick and soft. My cheek pressed against the velvet pillows and warmth enveloped me. Soon, I succumbed to sleep.
• CHAPTER 8 •
Slow Down! Richard
Denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance: four stages I went through upon getting up that morning.
“Hello, I’ve been expecting you,” Zaniyah turned around in a rotating chair, stroking a fluffy toy cat.
“Ahhh!” I screamed.
“Oh my god, you sound like a girl,” she practically rolled off the chair and onto the floor in derision.
“What are you doing here and how did you get in?” Startled, I threw a pillow at her.
“You left the door open… You really should keep your bathroom clean.”
“I’m sorry, if I knew someone was going to be in my room at 4 a.m., I would’ve cleaned it”
“It’s 10 a.m. Anyway, come down for breakfast in the living room; we have a meal of heart-breaking truth, mixed with sorrow and seasoned with regret, with a side-dish of hope and forgiveness. Also, we got French toast,” she said before jumping up and off. Pleasant girl.
As I made my way towards the living room, sunlight spread over the room and the carpet glowed. The curtains, now opened, showing the vast land of greenery and a village at a distance.
“Over here, Aaron,” my mom…I mean Victoria Strider, said, inviting me towards the patio. A white circular table and four chairs were placed there, in the centre was a jug filled with orange juice.
“Here you go” Ms. Victoria said, handing me buttered toast without the crust, just the way I like it.
“Okay let’s get to business,” Zaniyah started.
“What business?” I asked in between taking bites, guessing that the business had something to do with yesterday.
“Mom’s going to be back anytime soon,” Zaniyah informed.
“Why don’t you show him the stables,” Ms. Victoria said. Something about that answer made me worried.
Zaniyah and I ambled to the stable. “Hello Cinnamon,” Zaniyah said while grooming the horse’s mane. The horse neighed. “Yes, I am using your favou
rite brush.” Apparently, she could talk to horses as well as fight grown men.
“So, what’s all thi—” I said.
“No-no-no, I’m going to talk first,” she pressed her index finger to my lips shushing me. “Pass me the white spray, thanks.”
I’m pretty sure Cinnamon was enjoying the treatment because his tail swished back and forth. “This kingdom’s name is Crocegia,” Zaniyah began, catching me by surprise. “Geographically, it is a northern island which lies between the UK and Ireland, and years ago—due to an incident—the king and his council decided to take some drastic measures to make sure the country didn’t experience another downfall.”
She took a deep breath and continued “So every year we conduct a competition between eligible competitors to compete for the throne, and not many participants make out of this alive.” She looked at me and smiled.
“Okay, but what does this have to do with you and me?” I asked.
She made her way towards me, inverted one of the big wooden buckets and sat on it “My family, for as long as I can remember, have served the royal family, whoever it was.”
“So, you’re like bodyguards for the king?”
“I’m part of the General’s family, and you…” she stood up, now facing me with an intense look in her eyes, “…are the son of the former king: Erik Strider.”
I really had to do something about my mouth hanging open. I guess my mind was doing the calculations, adding up the gravity of her words. For a good while my body lost coordination, forgetting how to breathe, trying to remember how to make a proper sentence.
“Th—th—that makes me a prince,” I said. “Wait, how long have you known about this?” I asked.
Her eyes flashed down. “Just yesterday,” she said, and her gaze shifted towards the grass outside, then slowly lifted. She jumped onto the horse and left the stable. I grabbed a horse and followed.
“Look, I’ll give you’ll half the kingdom along with the chef’s, just please STOP,” I screamed at my horse.
“Don’t bribe the horse nitwit, connect with him,” Zaniyah said, riding past me like that pink butt monkey from the Lion King. At this point, I was going too fast to even look at the road.
