* * *
Muna wasn’t sure what had possessed her to hop on the train and go downtown after her shift at the Lebanese restaurant, but she suddenly found herself in Kungshallen, where she took those familiar escalators down to the basement. The last few customers of the day were finishing up their meals from the food kiosks. Muna padded over to Yagiz’s kebab shop, hoping he was there.
She hadn’t seen him in a long time, and the man who stood in front of her was a tired one, aging quickly. He was still sporting his stylish rooster hairdo, but a black goatee had joined his handlebar moustache, framing his still-handsome face. His normally trim frame was sporting small love-handles, and his cheeks seemed a bit fuller.
When Yagiz saw her, he let out a groan of exasperation and looked up at the ceiling, begging Allah in an exaggerated stance. “Why won’t the witch leave me alone?” he said loudly before letting out air again, his small potbelly popping out with the motion.
Muna stepped up to his counter and planted herself there as if she was his eternal haunting. To Yagiz, she was probably a ghost now following him who may never set him free.
“What have I done to vex Allah, uhnn? Why are you back here?” Yagiz was embittered.
“Where is Yasmiin?” Muna quizzed him. “I just want to know that she is all right.”
Yagiz’s black eyebrows, which had been raised in frustration, lowered into a slight frown.
“Yasmiin is an adult. Leave her alone. Why do you keep looking for her?” he asked. At least she was still alive, Muna deduced. But why the radio silence all this time? Hadn’t her sister cared about her too? Unless Yasmiin had only considered her a roommate, nothing more.
“So she’s okay?” Muna’s pitch rose in excitement. “Where is she?”
Yagiz studied her, his stance relaxing. He turned to a colleague and muttered something rapidly in Turkish. The man waved him off midsentence, uninterested. “Whatever…,” the man’s disposition seemed to say as he flapped his hand at Yagiz, not looking at him. Yagiz wiped his hands on a kitchen cloth, pulled off his apron, and walked out from behind the kiosk. He cocked his head, signaling Muna to follow him to sit in a corner of the hall.
They settled into small wooden chairs and parked their knees beneath impossibly narrow tables.
“What do you want, Muna?” he asked a few seconds later.
“I am worried about Yasmiin.”
“But she is not your family. Why are you latching on to her? Go find new friends!”
Muna clasped her hands tightly on the table, trying to hold back tears. Yagiz didn’t understand she was tired of being alone. She looked down at the fingers she was toying with under his gaze. Yagiz remained quiet, observing her. When she pulled away from her fingers to look at him, his eyes had warmed with pity.
He adjusted himself, sitting taller and reached into the back pocket of his lean jeans. He pulled out his wallet. After sifting through its contents, he produced a card-sized photo and gently flicked it with two fingers toward Muna. Muna grabbed it and peered into the face of a small baby. The little boy couldn’t be more than six months old. He seemed alert, his wide, dark eyes soaking up the world around him. He was perched in his mother’s lap, a wide grin across her pretty face with protruding cheeks…Yasmiin.
“Yasmiin is my wife.” Yagiz let the words float over Muna as she scanned every inch of that photo. “That is Mehmet… The reason I haven’t been sleeping for months.”
“You should have heard my friends,” Yagiz continued. “They laughed at me for months when I told them I was in love with an African woman and wanted to marry her.” He chuckled. Then his laugh died down into a wince of pain, Muna noticed.
The photo seemed frozen in her hands. She was glued to mother and child. She was trying to understand how all this could have unfolded. She and Khadiija had burst into Yasmiin’s room to save her from this man who seemed to have hurt her because of their screaming. She didn’t understand why Yasmiin would choose to go with this man, marry him, and bear his child.
Yasmiin was never her sister, simply a roommate. She realized that now as she peered at little Mehmet and his smiling mother, who seemed to have found where she wanted to be. Yagiz reached for the picture from her paralyzed fingers and secured it safely back in his wallet.
“Now you know,” he said. “So…please stop coming here and looking for Yasmiin.” He prepared to get to his feet.
“Why?” Muna paused his ascent. “Why did she not tell us she was fine?”
“Because you’re her past,” Yagiz explained. “Yasmiin wants to move on from her past. I take good care of her. I know what she likes, and I give it to her.” Muna absorbed his words.
“Look,” he said, beating his chest lightly. “Yasmiin is here, okay?” He patted right above his heart. “So don’t worry, Muna Saheed. Move on. Go find new friends.”
A text message notification interrupted him, and he pulled out his phone to read it, cursing under his breath.
“Azeez just texted me,” he said, turning back to her. “You remember Azeez?” Of course she did. “Huda is sick, and he needs someone to cover next week…” His gaze lingered on her once more.
“I can do it! Please, let me do it,” Muna pleaded, surprising even herself by her own desperation.
“Are you sure?” Yagiz regarded her skeptically.
“Yes, I need it,” she begged. He let out air of exasperation and then texted Azeez back.
“Okay, just this once,” he stressed. “You’re still fired, understand?” She nodded and thanked him. She was to bring the keycard immediately back to him once her fill-in shift was done.
Yagiz got to his feet, pulled out a cigarette, and balanced it between his lips. Staring Muna down one last time, he cocked his head quickly to the side, motioning for her to get out.
Instead of the quicker option of Hötorget station, Muna decided to walk a few blocks down to T-Centralen so she could process her thoughts. She strolled along, aware of curt glances from other pedestrians taking in her full-length jilbab.
Yasmiin wanted to move on. She’d cut both Muna and Khadiija out of her life to do so. She pondered Yagiz’s words. “Move on. Go find new friends.” As Muna ambled down the street in no hurry, Gunhild’s words floated up to her. “I want you to become an accountant too. I know you can. You’re so smart.”
By the time she reached T-Centralen, Muna had decided she would dream bigger than dishes.
Twenty
KẸMI
“I’m so sorry,” Kemi apologized, rushing up to the table in the restaurant, around which sat Jonny, Maria, Espen, and Ragnar.
While at the office, their group had been talking about press releases and media announcements when Jonny had suddenly started craving a burger. On a whim, he relocated their meeting to a nearby hamburger joint three blocks away from the office. Kemi was running ten minutes late after being delayed by an important call with a design agency.
“It’s all right,” Jonny said. “We haven’t ordered yet. Ragnar saved you a seat.” He pointed toward his friend. Ragnar pulled his jacket off a metal chair between himself and Maria. They were all cramped tightly around a small table in a packed restaurant. She made her way over to his side, pulling out the chair, and muttering a quick thank-you. When she settled herself in, her left thigh brushed his. Ragnar made no effort to adjust for her. Kemi absorbed his apparently strategic move.
“So,” Jonny announced, “let’s order, shall we?”
At the flick of his hand, a waiter came running up to take their orders. While they waited for their food, the Swedes exchanged quick words before Maria broke into English.
“Kemi,” she started, “how comfortable would you be giving an interview in Swedish?”
“In Swedish?” Kemi asked, uneasy.
Maria nodded in response.
“Uhmm, no,” Kemi sa
id firmly. “I’ve barely been here two years. How do you expect me to free-flow fluently in Swedish? It’s a difficult language.”
“I’ve heard you speak. Your Swedish is really improving,” Espen chimed in.
Kemi turned to him. “Really? Enough to give a full interview in Swedish?” she chided him for patronizing her. He lifted his hands up in defeat.
“What’s this all about anyway?”
Maria looked at Ragnar before turning back to Kemi. “We’ve been invited to talk on the most popular business television show, Dagens Affärer, and were just wondering how comfortable your Swedish is.”
“I’ve been taking classes but…” Kemi adjusted in her seat. Ragnar was manspreading underneath the table, stealing into her space. His leg found hers again. Kemi was astonished to feel herself wanting to lean into him, reach under their table, and run her fingers along his toned thigh.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What did you say?” She pulled her leg away.
“It’s okay,” Jonny said. “You can take the interview in English when it’s your turn. As creative director for the Bachmann account, Ragnar will be on the show as well, and as project manager, you can take your own questions in English.”
“Do I really need to be on this show?” Kemi didn’t want to look incompetent. But her heart couldn’t take thousands of people judging her for not mastering their language in less than two years.
“Maybe not.” Ragnar spoke up. Then he trained his eyes on her, studying her face. “We can discuss this later?” She felt his heat again under the table, and it snuffed out her voice. She nodded instead.
When their food arrived, Kemi was quickly distracted by Ragnar chewing next to her. While both Espen and Jonny used forks and knives to eat their burgers, Ragnar cradled his between his large hands and tore into it. Kemi watched his strong jaw work his meal, veins bulging on his thick neck, a frown resting on his face, as if perpetually etched in suspicion.
Ragnar was uncomfortable, she could tell. He seemed to be eating faster than the others. He licked the back of his thumb, and Kemi made a tiny sound. He must have heard that low whimper because he cut her a quick look, his thumb still at his lips. He turned back to his meal.
Then she felt his heat once more through the fabric of her tailored pants. She let it stay there. Her thigh leaned closer, and she watched him stop chewing. Ragnar seemed to be contemplating something for a second or two before turning toward her. His heavy eyes held hers intensely. They made a slow trek down to her full lips, which had stopped chewing. Then they washed over her bust before trekking back up to her face. He drank her in so fully that the weed growing within her instantly sprouted new leaves.
Kemi averted her gaze and turned back to the table only to find Jonny staring at them, his eyebrows dipping inward in confusion. Once they had finished and Jonny paid the bill, the group made their way back toward the office, led by Ragnar and Jonny. Kemi hung back, trying to clear her confusing thoughts. All she could think about was Ragnar running his thumb across her lips. She watched Ragnar’s wide swagger, both hands in his pockets, head slightly bent while listening to Jonny intently.
This was dangerous. He clearly felt what she was beginning to feel. The heat that burned brighter when they orbited around each other. They needed to stay away from temptation.
When the group got to the office lobby, Brittany was there. She was wearing a red jacket over a black catsuit and sunglasses indoors. Jonny dashed over to her and pulled her in for a quick kiss. Espen and Maria took their leave, giving them privacy.
“Fashion Week came early,” Ragnar muttered as they both approached the couple. Brittany pulled off her shades and glared at Ragnar. He stopped in front of her, smirking, while Kemi stood close by.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Brittany said. “Who dragged you in?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Or von Lundin.” Ragnar turned to Jonny, who was now holding Brittany’s hand tightly. “Good seeing you, Fru von Lundin.” Then he left.
“Thank you so much for accepting my invitation,” Kemi said as she moved closer to the couple. “I’m so grateful you could make time to meet with me.” Kemi watched Brittany purse her lips, trying to decipher if she was insulting her or not. Kemi knew she spent most of her days at home, surrounded by a full team of staff to help her take care of their daughter and fulfill her every desire.
“Of course,” Brittany said. “It’s my first time inside the office anyway, so it was a good opportunity too.” Kemi blinked at her words. Brittany had never come here in close to two years?
“Come.” Jonny tugged on Brittany’s hand. “I want you to meet everyone!” He morphed in front of Kemi into a giddy teenager anxiously waiting to show off a shiny new gadget. Once on their floor, Jonny paraded Brittany around the office. Hands in pocket, his gait slow, he walked behind his wife as she introduced herself to colleagues. Kemi quietly strolled behind the couple, her mind racing.
Didn’t Brittany see what Jonny was doing? Didn’t she see it? Jonny was showing her off like a trophy and nothing beyond arm candy.
They strolled past the kitchen area, where Muna was refilling the coffee machine.
“Hej, Muna!” Kemi called out. The younger woman turned toward her voice, her eyes immediately widening as she glanced from Kemi to both Jonny and Brittany, who had stopped alongside Kemi. Muna lingered on Brittany in admiration.
“Hej,” Muna greeted weakly.
“How are you?” Kemi asked in Swedish. Muna nodded and smiled back. Kemi turned to Brittany.
“Muna’s from Somalia and has been helping me with my Swedish.”
Brittany made a sound, a slight chuckle in the back of her throat, and Kemi frowned at her condescension. Was Brittany actually laughing at Muna because she didn’t think she was Swedish enough to help Kemi’s command of the language? The very same Brittany who had a private Swedish instructor but still refused to learn the language after two years?
In their scant interactions, Kemi felt Brittany was an irritatingly entitled creature, but Brittany’s patronizing smirk at Muna had solidified her opinion of her. She was nothing more than a shallow gold digger, and Jonny would soon tire of her. Kemi was sure of it.
“Nice to meet you, Muna,” Brittany greeted in English.
“Muna speaks Swedish,” Kemi stressed sternly before turning to give Muna a wink.
Jonny, who had been quietly standing there, suddenly decided he was done and marched off, forcing both Brittany and Kemi to trail him. Jonny led them into a private room then took his leave—but not without kissing Brittany passionately in front of her. It seemed out of character for him. Kemi had witnessed the way Jonny had doted over his wife at her birthday party. That had been a special occasion. But this… Brittany broke off their kiss and wiped red lipstick off his mouth.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Jonny whispered before turning to go, Kemi’s presence long forgotten.
“Finally.” Kemi laughed. “We get some time alone.” Brittany gave her a half smile and Kemi cleared her throat.
“Listen, Brittany. I invited you here because I wanted to apologize,” Kemi started to say, but after witnessing Brittany’s flippant display at Muna, Kemi wasn’t sure she even wanted to apologize anymore.
“You could have done that over the phone.”
“No, I wanted us to meet face-to-face,” Kemi said. Brittany shifted in her seat. “I came off harsh and judgmental at your birthday party. That wasn’t my place. I know it’s not easy for us here, and I should have supported you instead.”
Brittany nodded. Kemi was unsure if her apology had been accepted.
“It’s okay,” Brittany said. “I mean, I guess I should be much better at Swedish by now. I do have a private tutor. It’s such a difficult language to learn, you know.”
“Oh, I do,” Kemi said. “How are you li
king it here so far? In Sweden, I mean?”
“Some days are better than others.” Brittany shrugged. “I used to be a flight attendant, and I worked with so many people every day. This…” She swept a hand around the room. “This can be so isolating.”
Kemi nodded. Besides Malcolm, José, Tobias, and his family, she still hadn’t built a solid network of friends. Despite not speaking with Zizi for close to two years, she often missed their chemistry and raw banter. Malcolm had told her about the club for American expats. Kemi still hadn’t been to any of their events. Maybe this was an opportunity to ask Brittany?
“You know, if you’re looking for things to do, a friend of mine is in a band. Maybe we could go watch him play sometime?” Kemi wasn’t even sure why she was offering. “And he also told me about the American club. Maybe we could check it out together?” Kemi saw Brittany shift uncomfortably in her seat.
“Thanks for the offer, Kemi. I have to think about it,” Brittany said. “The last few months have been hectic with Maya, and… I don’t know…”
Kemi peered at her, blinking in disbelief.
“The thing is,” Brittany said in explanation, “I can’t just be friends with anyone. Jonny’s family is too influential for me to expose them like that.”
BRITTANY-RAE
Brittany didn’t want to be in Jonny’s office.
She was already tired of eyes on her whenever she was out and about with him in public. The last thing she needed was his employees assessing her with suspicion and intrigue.
The only other time Brittany had been close to that building was when she’d waited outside his office for him. Jonny had quickly rushed in to sign a document that needed his approval. This had been before they’d gotten married. Before Maya came into their lives. She and Jonny had been on their way to that dreadful lunch meeting with his parents. Since then, she’d had no reason to go into the offices of von Lundin Marketing. Jonny was rarely there anyway.
In Every Mirror She's Black Page 29
