by Pike, Leslie
He takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. Words are unnecessary distractions.
Chapter 25
Zan
If I had to guess I’d say she’s going to reject the Royal life. Can’t blame her, not in the least. There’s nothing in her life that has prepared her for what it would bring. We could be very happy living part time here and the other half of the year in New York. She’d be missing her family, I know that. Her friends for sure. She’d be missing everything. So if she decides to pass, I’ll understand.
But. But. The word keeps showing up in my logical mind. It’s relentless in reminding me of the one thing I’m trying to forget. It feels like I am the king. Crap. If only I could escape that truth it would all be golden. The question asked and answered is, will I abandon my destiny for love? That one I have no trouble with.
I’ve thought about each life and how I’d feel. I could live without being the king. I could live without the sense I’m fulfilling a greater fate. But I could never live without Belinda.
So in the end, after all the sleepless nights and distracted days, my mind is made up. I’m content, even if she wants things to remain the same. Same is good. It’s great in fact. Yes, I can do it.
“Baby! There’s a Pictionary game in the closet in the hall. Bring it when you come in,” I say, stacking the dishes on the kitchen bar.
Tonight’s game night, and we’re having a “picnic” as Belinda calls it. Hamburgers, American style, potato chips, pickles, macaroni salad. I think she’s making a big green salad too, because everything is laid out for her assembly.
Did I get enough plates and silverware? Let’s see, Belinda and I, the three kids, and Kwai and his date. Yeah, I got it. Seven. This is probably going to be a shit show. Except for Nubia, the kids are shy around Belinda. And Kwai? He’s most likely bringing a dancer from the latest strip club he’s frequented. God help us.
“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”
She enters the room twirling, which is so fucking cute. I could eat her.
“I just had a brilliant idea,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“We could cancel, and I could tear off that very lovely outfit, and we could do something really entertaining on game night. Like me going down on you. Doesn’t that sound better than a picnic?”
There’s a heavy knock on the door. Shit. Belinda starts laughing.
“The best laid plans…”
I open the door with less enthusiasm than I had five minutes ago.
“Hey! First ones here,” I say at the surprising sight.
There stands my brother, with a very respectable, sweet looking woman. What?
“Can we come in?” Kwai asks, breaking my stare.
“Yeah, yeah come in!”
Walking in, I see Belinda is surprised too. Actually she doesn’t even know how odd this is. Never seen him with a normal girl.
“Belinda and Zan, this is Miranda West.”
“Hi, Miranda. Welcome.”
“Hi, I’m so glad to meet you,” Belinda adds, giving the new girl a friendly hug.
“Come on in. Let’s have a drink.” I head for the bar.
“I’ll have a Manhattan,” Belinda calls.
Recently I’ve learned how to make the New Yorker’s favorite. At least my New Yorker.
“Do you have beer?” Miranda asks following me.
“Absolutely. I’ll have one with you. So where did you and my brother meet, Miranda?”
She hooks her purse over the barstool and takes a seat. “At church.”
In my mind the needle scratches its way across the record. I look at Kwai who’s grinning wide.
“I’ll have a beer too. And no, I wasn’t actually inside the church.”
I chuckle and Belinda joins me.
“I was next door at the music store. When we were passing I saw their advertisement for the Alvin Ailey performance that’s coming in August.”
“Oh, I’ve seen them in New York. You’ll love it,” Belinda says.
“Miranda and I are going to see them.”
“I’m so excited! I’ve never been to a dance performance, other than my six-year-old niece as The Teapot. I’m not sure if you all caught it. It was the Rochester Grammar School’s production of Beauty and the Beast.”
I like this girl. How the hell is she attracted to Kwai? I mean I guess he’s good looking and he’s got the hard-earned muscles. But does she know about the other stuff? He’s looking pretty happy. Maybe she’s good for him.
“I’ve told Miranda about the concerts we have at the amphitheater, and the plays. She hasn’t been to any of them. I’m so excited to take her.”
“You sound like a patron of the arts, Kwai,” Belinda says, passing the glasses of beer to my brother and Miranda.
And as they begin to talk, and I listen to the passion coming from my brother, I get a great idea. There’s a need in Mozia and I know just how to fill it.
The doorbell sounds and with it the laughter of children.
“Our other guests have arrived. Batten down the hatches. We’re about to be invaded.”
Belinda goes to the door and greets the guests. The little ones rush in ahead of my mother.
“Hello to the troops!” Belinda says.
We exchange hellos all around, but my mother’s eyes are on Kwai and his date. Yeah, Mom. You’re seeing right.
“This is Miranda. Miranda, this is our mother, Queen Ayana.”
The poor woman. She didn’t expect to meet the queen. But Kwai seems pleased it’s worked out this way.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Your Majesty.”
Very good. She may be nervous, but she sounds relaxed and sure of herself. Of course, I can tell my mother is actually pleased. I haven’t seen that smile for a while.
“Thank you, dear. I’m so happy you and Kwai were able to join the festivities. Unfortunately, I have to miss it tonight.”
“Grandma has to have a meeting,” Kojo says with an innocent smile.
“That’s right. The president of South Africa is calling at eight. It can’t be missed. But keep a few drawings for Grandma. I want to hang them in my bedroom.”
This makes the two youngest kids so excited they start doing a happy dance. Gugu grabs Kojo’s hands.
“Okay. I’m going to head back. You kids have fun.”
“I can’t tell you how encouraging it is to be called a kid,” Kwai chuckles.
“It’s something only an old person would do, son. Everything is relative.” The queen laughs.
* * *
“Pass over that last pickle,” Kwai says.
The hamburgers were definitely a hit. Belinda knew the kids would enjoy eating “American style”. But so did the grown-ups.
“I’ll help clear the plates,” says Nubia.
It surprises Belinda and Miranda, but not the rest of us. That’s one of the effects of being raised in this environment. The lot of us have manners.
“Who’s up for Pictionary?” I ask.
You would have thought I offered free bicycles or unlimited candy. They go crazy.
“I’ll get the easel,” I say, headed for the guest room where I stored it.
“Hey, brother. Got a minute?”
Kwai comes up so quietly, it startles me.
“Shit! I didn’t know you were there! What’s up?”
“What do you think of Miranda?” he whispers.
“I think I’ve never seen that look on your face. Is she putting it there?”
“Yes. I can’t believe it because we just met two weeks ago. But she turned my mood. You can see it, right?”
“I see it.”
“I know what you’re thinking, Zan. But I feel like she’s something special. It’s like something I’ve never felt before.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking, because I’m happy for you, Kwai. Really happy. I think I’d be a hypocrite to feel any other way. How do you think it was for Belinda and I?”
The
re’s a moment where he looks at me with, with…I think it’s gratitude. He’s so used to being criticized for bad behavior he almost expects it. In a surprising reaction he gives me a bear hug. And I return the gesture.
“Hey, I’m really glad you aren’t holding this whole thing against me.”
He knows what I’m talking about without any other explanation.
“I’m not. You know me. I’d never be happy with that weight around my neck.”
“I know that.”
“In fact, Zan, ever since I found out it’s been fucking freeing. I mean it. I feel like a different man.”
This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Fuck. Is that a lump in my throat? Don’t fucking cry, you fool.
“I’m really glad to hear that, brother. And I was thinking, Kwai would you be interested in establishing an arts council or I don’t know what you’d call it, but you’ll think of something. Mozia needs to encourage the arts. Not only for the children, but for all the citizens. You’d preside over it, of course.”
The look on his face is priceless. I don’t even need to hear his yes.
Chapter 26
Belinda
The little ones are asleep. Both decided to stay in one room together, cuddled up in each other’s arms. Zan and I tucked them in and kissed them good night. I saw it on their faces. The sad look that comes from missing a father. I’m not sure they realize he’s never coming back, but they know for certain something has changed their mother. Princess Monifa is dealing with her own grief while trying to figure out how to help each of her children.
We’re all trying to help her any way possible, but I see that it only goes so far. She’s not just a princess. No matter what people think, she’s simply a grief-stricken woman.
I’ve thought about it a lot this week. How everything, even grief, would be watched and talked about. How under a microscope we’d be. That’s hard to get past. I think I could navigate most other changes fairly gracefully, because I love Zan so much. But we are going to be together regardless. And so far, nothing has made as strong an argument against the idea.
Not being able to include my best friend in what’s really going on in my life has been hard. Soraya would keep the secret, but Zan asked me not to tell anyone. Not even my parents. The real dealings of the Monarchy must be protected. But I’m dying to call her and get her take on the drama that’s unfolding.
This is the first time in my life I’ve had to rely on myself alone. No other person’s input will guide me. It’s a strange feeling. But I see there’s power there too. If I navigate this solo, I’ll grow as a person and from here on I’ll be a stronger woman.
No matter what I’m doing, I’m halfway inside thoughts of becoming his wife, and in which setting we will be. Nubia and Zan are watching some sports show on TV while I make sure the boy has towels in his room. There’s a soft rap on the door.
“Oh, hi. What’s up?” I say to Nubia as he enters the room. “Did your program end?”
“Yeah. Uncle Zan is shutting off the lights.”
“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just putting some towels in here.”
“What do you think about him becoming the king?”
The question comes out of the blue.
“Well, I’m trying to figure that out. What do you think?”
“I think he’d be a good one.”
I take his words and try to imagine them coming true.
“I heard a man on some program talking about who would be the best choice for king, and he said it was Uncle Zan because he’s already done a lot for Mozia.”
“That’s true,” I say, crossing to the foot of the bed. I sit and he joins me.
“I wish my dad could talk to you. He would have told you what he thought about the brother who wasn’t really related to him.”
“You tell me.”
He gets this little grin as he talks about Tarik.
“He told me once that when he was a kid he heard Grandpa tell Grandma he had a dream. He dreamed Uncle Zan was sitting on the throne.”
Chills run up and down my spine. “Really?”
“I asked my dad if he felt hurt when he heard that. He said he didn’t because Grandpa was just telling what he saw in his dream. He knew Grandpa had the gift.”
“What gift?”
“He could see the future. It wouldn’t happen very often, but he never would ignore them. Sometimes he had to figure out what they meant.”
“Is that something that started when he was a child?”
“It didn’t start until he was twenty years old. His father came to him in a dream about Mansa sitting on the throne.”
Oh my God. I’m not about to tell Nubia about Zan’s dream. He’d be excited, but he doesn’t know I’m trying to figure out the rest of my life. But this one new bit of information begs the question. Does he have “the gift”?
If so the dream means that he is going to be king. So this whole thing may be a foregone conclusion. But I won’t let that influence my decision making.
“Did Zan or anyone else ask you to talk to me?”
“No. I wanted to tell you so you know it’s been seen.” He says it with the confidence of a man.
I say my good night and leave him to his sleep. Sleep being the operative word. I saw him grab his phone and start texting as I walked out.
He’s a great kid. Loves his family, wants his uncle to be the king. That’s obvious. He thinks he helped convince me to support Zan’s rule. But it’s done the opposite. It’s scared me that any decision I make doesn’t have enough consideration behind it. I can’t move this quickly. Not about a decision this huge.
* * *
It’s a cool afternoon in Mozia and jagged mountain peaks frame the blue sky. The buzz in the air owes as much to the elevation as it does to what I’m about to say. It’s possible this is going to be the longest conversation about marriage without mentioning the actual event. Today’s about something entirely different.
There’s an Oak tree near the back edges of Zan’s property. Sitting under its spreading branches is the hanging two person swing chair he bought for us to enjoy the setting sun. It was a romantic thing to do. And loving. Today I’m going to use the spot for another purpose. I hope I’ve made the right choice, for everything.
Walking across the manicured lawn and onto the gravel path leading to the swing, we’re holding hands tightly. One of our palms is sweaty. Probably both. My heart is beating like a big drum. I think he’s afraid to speak. I know I am.
We take our seat, resting on the plush cushion. Without forethought my feet push the ground. We swing gently. Our eyes find each other and there’s this moment where I doubt I’m doing the right thing. Stop it! You’ve made your mind up!
“No need to be nervous, baby. There’s no wrong decision.”
But the slight change of pitch in his voice says different. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but it feels like he knows which way I’m going to go.
“This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” I say starting quietly.
“I know. But whatever you decide is going to be right for us both. It wouldn’t work if we weren’t able to come to a mutual agreement. I don’t want a miserable wife, who feels trapped in a life she never asked for.”
I take his hand in mine and entwine our fingers. His are cold.
“So tell me, am I to be king or commoner? Both sound right if I’m with you.”
My heartbeat quiets as his words touch the deepest part of me. I hope they’re true.
“Zan, I’ve come to a decision. I won’t stretch this out longer than I have to. There hasn’t been enough time to weigh what an enormous change this would be. I do love everything I know about your country, your family. But I feel like I’d be jumping into something I haven’t looked at long enough. The writer in me wants to gather more facts. So, for that reason I’m going to say it’s the commoner I’ll marry.”
All the words spill out. I’ve just re
framed his life, the future. But he’s looking at me with only love in his eyes. He kisses me.
“I understand, Belinda. More than you know. And I’m fine with it. I’ve had a great life being Prince Zan. It’s enough. We will figure out the logistics and it’ll be much simpler. Much. We will be able to spend part of our time here, and part in New York. It’s going to be a beautiful life.”
My expression says I’m not so sure.
“I’m serious. You made the right decision.”
He enfolds me in his embrace.
“Feel my love, baby.”
He’s saying all the right words, but like it’s a divine conspiracy the little voice in my head is saying he should be king.
“Come on. Let’s go tell my mother. She’s waiting.”
* * *
The walk to the palace was three days long. At least it feels that way. I thought the cavalcade of thoughts playing in my head would slow. Not happening. It seems to have increased. Now doubt is pushing every other consideration aside.
The guards silently open the doors for us to enter. I feel the squeeze of Zan’s hand.
“I texted her. She’s waiting for us in the library.”
Walking into the room, I see the queen sitting at her desk, surrounded by her beloved books.
“Afternoon, Mother.” She rises and comes to us.
“Afternoon, Your Majesty,” I say, accepting the cheek kiss offered.
“My dear, I think you can call me mama now. You’re to be my daughter-in-law. That’s what Princess Mofia has called me for years. Congratulations by the way!”
“Thank you…mama,” I say, having trouble containing a chuckle.
“Sit. Let’s hear what you have to tell me.”
Damn. This is it.
We take our seats on the loveseat across from the queen’s favorite chair. Her eyes are locked on Zan.
“Mother, we’ve each given this honor a lot of thought. Belinda has weighed the issues, and so have I. This is a mutual decision. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be the right man. My contribution to Mozia will have to be as prince. It’s not my destiny to be king. That’s the truth of it. But it’s been the honor of my life to have been considered. My gratitude runs deep.”
