I'm Not Who You Think I Am

by Felicitas Ivey

  “And that is how this fine institution was started,” Rat chimed in. “When an icky thing had the bad sense to go after a Harvard man and not one of the underclass.”

  Chapter Eight

  I TOOK over one of the corner tables, which had a beautiful view of the ocean, not that I cared. The table was off to the side, and I was unnoticeable, which was more important. I had the Oxford History of Ancient Egypt tucked in my bag, because speaking the language hadn’t come with knowing the history. That probably would have given me a headache the size of a hippo. A couple of Old Kingdom dig reports were in front of me, from the original expedition to Peribsen’s tomb, along with some books and articles covering the same topic. The reports were actually bound books, filled with beautiful, glossy pictures of the walls and anything else that had hieroglyphics on it. For early photography, they were really good pictures. Sketches and other things had been included, like group photos of the men who had worked the dig.

  I’d been there about an hour when a man in his late twenties approached the table. He looked a little upset and I wondered why. I was sitting cross-legged on the chair, my skirt full enough to allow me to do that, while hunched over one of the dig reports and making notes. I wasn’t being too unladylike, but I know most people were wondering what I was doing here—whether I was actually reading all this or I had simply piled it around me just for the heck of it.

  “You have a file I want,” he said, trying to keep his tone even.

  “In a library this big, I managed to get the one thing you needed right now?” I asked, trying not to sound too snide. And how did he know that? I looked around. There were a handful of people here. He’d probably done this with everyone, and I hadn’t noticed.

  “I need it for my thesis,” he snapped. “What are you doing with it?”

  I took a deep breath and fought to keep my tone even, because I wanted to snap back at him. “Need as in ‘Oh my gods, I’ll die without it’? Or more like, ‘I need it nearby to occasionally check things while I write’?”

  That stopped him. “Check things,” he muttered after a minute.

  “So why don’t you set up here and when you need it, I’ll give it to you,” I said. “Or I can move to where you’re working, but the view here is nice.”

  “You’re actually reading it?” he demanded, sounding horrified and impressed at the same time.

  I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I, if I had the file?” I smiled and said in a singsong tone, “There’s no harm in reading.”

  He looked at me for a second. “I love that movie.”

  “My school librarian says it a lot,” I said. “It’s from a movie?”

  “I’d figured you would have watched it if you’re interested in Egyptology.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a new interest.” There was an awkward silence. “So should I move or you?” I finally said, since he seemed to be lost in thought.

  “I’ll move my stuff here.” He looked down at the way I was sitting. “You seem to have made yourself very comfortable here.”

  “It’s a gift.” I shrugged. It was more comfortable right now then sitting “ladylike” and “properly” in the chair, even if it was a chair made for sitting in for long periods.

  “My name’s Kyle,” he said.

  “I’m Kay,” I replied, actually remembering the name on my badge. For a second I’d wanted to say a different name, and not Mykayla either. “Nice to meet you.”

  Kyle moved his open laptop and then a stack of books over to where I was sitting. He frowned and looked around.

  “Plug’s on the wall,” I said, gesturing to it.

  He grinned. “Psychic?”

  “Veteran of fights over them.” I grinned back. “So even if I’m going old school right now, I still check where one is.”

  Kyle settled down in front of his laptop and started to type. I looked out the window for a couple of minutes and then turned my attention back to my own work.

  MY PHONE went off, chiming Mother’s ringtone. The tone barely got started, I answered the phone so quickly, even though it was buried in my bag. That wasn’t because I was in a no-cell zone either. I did want to talk to Mother, hear her voice, and convince myself nothing had changed. I moved off into a corner so I wouldn’t disturb Kyle. He had been alternating between furious typing and digging for references in books.

  “I hope you’re not causing Yushua any trouble,” Mother said.

  Great way to start the conversation. There was a reason I hadn’t called them, even though Hoshea had sent me the number to the place they were staying. My parents were at some sort of couples-counseling place, from what I had seen on the internet. The comfort I was expecting from her fled my mind like its behind was on fire.

  “Good afternoon, Mother.”

  “How is the weather?”

  “Nice,” I said. It was on the tip of my tongue to start telling her all that happened last night, but I knew better. She would think I was making stuff up so that I could go back to New York. The police might believe me faster than my parents would.

  My parents’ world was based on logic and science. Dreams had no place in it, no matter what their outcome. Even the strange bits of dreams that seemed to have made their way to the waking world. “It’s supposed to rain in the next couple of days.”

  This was the type of conversation you’d have with an acquaintance when they called. But Mother had never been warm to any of us. I think she and Father had had children because it was expected of them, not because they’d wanted to. And I was pretty sure they’d planned to stop after two.

  Not good things to think about your parents, but I was young, not stupid. I’d spent a lot of time the last couple of days examining my feelings for them, and what I would have to do if they divorced. I hadn’t been in the best place to do that, so I knew I wasn’t being too kind to them. However, just as I thought I was being harsh and unfair, something like this happened.

  “How are you and Father doing?”

  “Is that a hint to see when you’re going home?” she asked.

  “It actually was a serious question to see if you are both all right,” I said, struggling to keep my voice cordial and low, and forgetting my cardinal rule of “do not engage.” I lost any argument we had most of the time, so it was better not to argue. “If I wanted to be difficult, I might have asked you why the twins knew of what you were going to do a month before I did.”

  “That was so they could make plans about housing and not have to scramble at the last minute,” she said patiently, like she was talking to a toddler. “I didn’t want to disturb you during exams. Not that it helped with your grades.”

  “Both of them had apartments already,” I pointed out, my voice strangled because I didn’t want to start screaming. Mother would think I was even more of child then. But not getting all As wasn’t a crime. Well, not getting them in the sciences was in her eyes. I’d only gotten B+s in the math and science classes I’d taken. “They actually had contact information and everything for you.”

  “I am going to hang up if you are going to continue to be difficult.”

  “What if I got in an accident and no one could find you? I’m being logical,” I spat out. That was her favorite word when dealing with me. “Uncle Yushua didn’t even know where you were going to be.”

  “Mykayla, this isn’t about you.” Mother had that ‘I’m trying to be reasonable’ note in her voice. The one that I heard a lot and annoyed me. Usually because she wasn’t being reasonable, in my mind at least.

  “No, it’s about setting up safeguards, like you do in an experiment, in case something unexpected happens,” I shot back, trying not to raise my voice so everyone would hear this. Something I hoped she would understand and not think I was being a brat. I was relieved I was having this argument in English. At least I think it was English. I took a deep breath. “I hope you and Father work things out. I want you both to be happy.”

  I hung up after I said that and turned off the
phone. She could fill up my voicemail if she wanted with messages about what an ungrateful daughter I was. Or Father could do so instead. I didn’t have the energy to deal with either of them.

  I went back to the table, stuffing my phone back into my bag. Kyle looked over, slightly annoyed I had disturbed him with the call.

  “Sorry,” I said insincerely. “I thought I had turned it off before.”

  Well, nothing had changed with how badly I was dealing with my mother. I didn’t know if it was comforting or not as I started to plow through pictures of hieroglyphic texts from tomb walls. It was something I could do and not brood about my parents.

  “It didn’t sound good,” he said.

  “Parents,” I said, my tone indicating I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “I get that,” he sympathized. “Mine are still wondering when I’m going to get a real job.”

  I shook my head, and we settled back into companionable silence.

  I DON’T know how much later it was when Uncle Yushua came to get me. Kyle looked up and almost knocked all his research on the floor when he did so.

  “Dr. Rostami!”

  “How are things going?”

  I looked up and blinked, trying to pull my head into the here and now. Reading the inscriptions on the mastaba’s walls was enthralling. I looked over at the notes I was taking and wondered when they had stopped being in English and morphed into hieratic. I hoped Kyle hadn’t noticed, because explaining that would be very awkward.

  “Amazing, Doctor, I’ve discovered some interesting….” Kyle’s voice trailed off. “Oh. You weren’t talking to me.”

  “I’m good,” I said carefully, making sure I was speaking in English. I frowned. “Is it time to go?”

  Uncle Yushua smiled, although it looked a little strained. “It’s late. Are you hungry? There are a couple of places we could go to. Unless you’re interested in takeout?”

  Kyle was staring at me, with a slight look of horror on his face. “You’re….”

  “Niece here on vacation,” I said cheerfully.

  “Oh… I….” Kyle clearly didn’t know what to say.

  “Thank you for keeping me company,” I told him so he didn’t die of a heart attack or something. “And I’ll try not to be a book hog tomorrow.”

  I looked around. We seemed to be the only ones here. “Wow. How late is it?”

  “About eight,” Uncle Yushua said. “The longer hours of daylight fool everyone.”

  “Can I leave the books here? Or will someone put them away?”

  “They’re quite safe,” Uncle Yushua assured me. “Unless Mr. Hausler hides them on you.”

  “I would never!” Kyle burst out, until he realized he was being teased. He flushed an ugly maroon and looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

  “You don’t put out bowls of beer for the brownies to clean up?” I murmured as I shoved my notebook into my bag.

  Both men looked at me like I was crazy. “I’m sorry,” Kyle said finally. “I don’t know what you said.”

  Uncle Yushua shook his head, and I knew English had left the building for a second. That was getting annoying but should have been expected with the hieratic thing.

  “Um, nothing.” I cleared my throat, trying for casual instead of crazy. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, Kyle?”

  “Um….” He glanced over at Uncle Yushua, like the man was going to do something bad to him for talking to me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

  Uncle Yushua chuckled, realizing what was happening. “Mr. Hausler is just being—”

  “An idiot,” I said. “So tomorrow, books and notes. Just another fun-fun day in Egyptology.”

  Kyle nodded and closed his bag before scurrying away.

  “I never knew you had such a bad rep,” I teased Uncle Yushua.

  He smiled. “I have the keys to the kingdom, in a manner of speaking. He doesn’t want to annoy me by insulting my niece, no matter if it was intentional or not.”

  I laughed. Uncle Yushua shrugged, obviously pleased I was amused and acting normally.

  “So let me tell you what I found today over supper,” I said brightly.

  WE ENDED up getting Indian delivered to Uncle Yushua’s. Neither one of us felt up to cooking. And Rat and Harper weren’t hanging around for once. Over plates of dal, naan, and tikka masala, we looked over my notes.

  “I’m not happy you’re writing in hieratic,” Uncle Yushua said. “Even though you have a neat hand.”

  “I’ve had some calligraphy and drawing courses,” I said. “But I didn’t even know I was doing it. That’s what’s upsetting me.”

  Uncle Yushua looked guilty, and I wanted to kick myself for saying it. “So while I have all these notes, I don’t know what they mean.” I sighed.

  “I must confess, my hieratic isn’t what it used to be,” Uncle Yushua admitted. “So I’m going to need you to translate some of it.”

  “No problem,” I assured him, wiping up my dal with some of the naan. “This is interesting, and if it wasn’t for that jerk Sutekhgen bothering me, I’d have fun. I like putting the pieces together with a project. There’s a lot of information scattered all over the place. It wasn’t hard to find; you just had to know what you’re looking for.”

  I thought about it for a second and then shook my head. “It was like….”

  “Like what?”

  I sighed. “I just think I’m getting paranoid or something. The information was almost too easy to find. Like someone went to the trouble of making it look harder than it was.”

  “Why do you say that?” Uncle Yushua asked, looking alarmed.

  I waved my hands around, trying to find the words to explain the feeling I’d had on and off all day as I dove into the files and books.

  “Take your time,” he encouraged. He sounded concerned and lost, worried about what I was going to say.

  I laughed. “It’s not like a language thing,” I assured him. “It’s like I need to organize how I want to tell you.”

  Uncle Yushua looked relieved, even as he played with his food.

  “So…. Xiu and I do a lot of digging and research,” I started. “Xiu wants to know everything and like yesterday. So we do a lot of scholarly poking. It helps that Xiu abuses the crap out of her mother’s access at Columbia.”

  Something I didn’t dare try, even though Mother had the same kind of access for her research. But after this, I was tempted to.

  Uncle Yushua chuckled at that.

  “I know,” I said, laughing. “Like the worst thing our parents have to worry about with us is we wandered into the wrong journal and read about—gasp!—sex or something. But Xiu’s good at math, so she’s a ‘good influence’ on me.” I air quoted. “I don’t think Mother realizes how much tro…. And I think I should shut up right now.”

  Uncle Yushua roared with laughter. “You’re a handful and Fereshteh doesn’t even know it.”

  I shrugged. “I try not to tell Mother more than I’m doing all right in my classes.”

  “And she doesn’t ask any more than that,” Uncle Yushua said, sobering.

  “But getting back to the issue at hand—” I started, not wanting to deal with that crisis along with this one.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

  “It’s not your fault,” I said quietly. “Or hers either. It just is. And there isn’t anything either one of us can do about it. How much pressure was Mother under to be a wife and mother and scientist, instead of reversing the order? That she was told she needed to have it all, whether she wanted it or not?”

  Uncle Yushua sat back and looked at me.

  I sighed. “You…. You have a set of problems I don’t understand, being an Iranian man in America. And you can’t understand my problems because you’re not a twenty-first century teenager, so can we just ignore them right now and fix the thing that’s blowing up in our faces at this moment?”

  Uncle Yushua nodded, his lips tight in a grimace.
r />   “So, someone seemed to be overly clever in scattering clues in the old files and reports, hinting to anyone who wasn’t in the loop that the casket is important,” I said. “But the strange thing is that it’s been happening over decades, from the clues I’ve seen.”

  There was no way all this work had been done recently. It would have been too difficult to get the paper in files to match, to look like they were the same age, for one thing. And a whole lot of file numbers would have had to been changed too. From some of the ages of the stuff I was looking at, it would have had to start almost as soon as the Shawmut had been founded.

  “And that might be the most interesting thing of all,” Uncle Yushua said. He got up and got a glass of water. “Fresh eyes are the best eyes, one of my mentors used to say.” He sighed. “The Egyptology community is small, and we all know of each other to a certain extent. But what is known most of all? That something went wrong with your life when you end up at the Shawmut. What happened usually is glossed over and people try to pretend that you’re going to teach again and say all the right things, but—”

  “I’m so sorry, Uncle Yushua!” I exclaimed. “A stupid monster steals your future and that sucks.”

  He chuckled. “When I was younger, I was annoyed. But now…. Well, fifteen years ago, no one knew how badly the Middle East was going to go to pieces. I never really had to deal with the pressure of getting tenure.”

  “Before or after I was born?” I asked. For some reason it was important to me.

  Uncle Yushua looked startled at my question. “Just before, really. Fereshteh had told me she was pregnant. She was surprised and happy. I spent some time teasing her about where babies came from. Justin was overjoyed too.” He laughed. “I must confess the twins didn’t seem too excited at the prospect of a sibling. I spent some time at the bazaars looking for good-luck charms for her, even though I knew your mother would think they were silly. We were closer then. The split was my way of trying to keep you all safe.”