by Becca Fox
July 8th, 1730
Ten years have passed since we left London and voyaged to the New World. Dymeka and I have found solace in this untamed land, for we are two of hundreds of fugitives. Through much toil, we have built a new cottage in Pennsylvania and are quite content to live humbly, as we did when we were children. Much has changed from those tribal days to now, of course, but even in this age, our quarters are humble. Our cottage is one large room with a bed of pelts and a large hearth for cooking and warmth. But we are happy, almost as content as we were in the first century of our existence, when it was just the six of us.
As we predicted, the two couples parted ways. We heard through gossip in the nearby village that a couple, matching Segil and Izz’s description, have also come to America. Although it should come as no surprise, I was still alarmed when I discovered the couple was much involved with politics. They are fools for trying to take places among rulers. They always were keen on the idea of social change but were never very strong in any one movement. They tended to amalgamate with the current fashion. In this case, they now proclaim to hate the English, which is utterly absurd to Dymeka and I. Just a decade ago they loved and enjoyed all things English.
But I dare say they are faring better than Nij and Fadele. From the little we know, Fadele is making new acquaintances with the wrong sort of people. In truth, Nij supports him in his gray dealings with ill-reputed persons. I find some comfort knowing the only thing that hasn’t changed over the course of our lives is the loyalty and devotion each couple shares.
My ardor for Dymeka has not swayed since the day we were introduced. I often wonder if this is a detail of our curse; to never love another, save our spouses. I count myself incredibly fortunate that Dymeka has always been a sensible, noble man (curses aside, of course). Our only sin was that we were all far from sagacious in our youth. Time may not affect our bodies but it is clear to me now that it has taken a terrible toll on my dear friends. There is no doubt in my heart; I will follow Dymeka to the ends of the earth. In a literal sense I already have, but I cannot thank God enough (if indeed He does exist) that I am coupled with Dymeka. I am ashamed to think that if he were to act as Fadele or Izz, I would not hesitate to follow. Perhaps our true curse is blind loyalty. Either way, it will be their undoing.
It could be mine as well, should Dymeka follow in his brothers’ footsteps. I pray he never does, but I will do everything in my power to keep him walking in the light. This was Segil and Nij’s error: To let their husbands become the twisted men they are today. Dear God, if you are there, save us from ourselves!
* * *
Chapter 5
Esmeralda
I crawled into the recently-cleaned wardrobe and shut the doors. I waited, arms wrapped around my knees. I sneezed and rubbed my nose. And waited some more. When I was convinced this wardrobe was in fact normal and not a magical entrance into Narnia, I climbed out with a sigh.
I was about to close the wardrobe’s doors and head out of yet another successfully cleaned guest room when something shiny caught my eye. Curious, I ran my hand along the bottom of the wardrobe. I found the mystery object and brought it out into the light. It was a silver jewelry box. There was a string of pearls, a bejeweled comb, and a black and white picture of a teenage girl inside. I recognized the stiff posture and intense look in a minute. It was obvious she was related to Aunt Dinah, but this girl had a rounder face and curly shoulder-length hair.
I abandoned my cleaning supplies and jogged to the first floor. “Aunt Dinah?”
“What?” the old woman snapped from somewhere in the kitchen. She was probably making more of that Goddamned tea.
“I found something in one of the guest rooms. Looks like an old picture of one of your relatives.”
The door to the kitchen swung open and the old woman practically stormed out to meet me by the stairs. She snatched the picture out of my hand and squinted at it. The irritation seeped out of her face. Something like surprise and nostalgia softened her features. She licked her lips as if they were suddenly dry and then stuffed the picture into a hidden pocket in her khaki skirt. “Did you find anything else?”
“Yeah.” I held out the pearls and hair comb, both of which were also roughly taken from me.
“Thank you,” the Aunt Dinah said before she began to retreat into the kitchen.
“You ain’t gonna tell me who she is?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” my aunt said with sudden venom. “The only reasons you’re here are to go to school and clean my house. Do you think you can manage that?”
I scoffed and backed away. “Yes, ma’am.”
Aunt Dinah left without another word. I gave the old woman’s back the finger and marched up the stairs.
As the sun began to set, I shoved my bedroom window open and climbed out. Shimmying down the drainpipe was easy breezy. The moment my sneakers hit the grass, I ran toward the street.
Chapter 6
Charles
I placed the finished optical illusion box on Jasmine’s bedside table. She shivered under the comforter as if it were freezing. It was eighty degrees. I gritted my teeth and looked away.
Anthony moved the lettuce around his plate. He had a glassy-eyed look that told me he wasn’t really here. Uncle Victor held his burger in one hand and a letter in the other, his brow meshed as he read.
Childish hope made me approach the kitchen table. “Is it from Mom and Dad?”
My uncle held the slip of paper out to me by way of response. I took it and stepped into my “room” to give myself the illusion of privacy.
Dear Victor, Jasmine, and Charles,
Dan and I are pleased to announce that we’ve arrived safely at our little summer home in Scotland. It’s so beautiful up here, kids. I’ll send pictures as soon as I can and give more details about our vacation once it’s through. Dan’s back is still very sensitive and it’s getting harder for him to move around which, of course, is infuriating to him. He hates it when I do everything for him, but he really needs his rest. I hope all is well with you, kids, and you too, Vic. We miss you terribly but you must know how hard it was for me to get away from the hospital even to come spend a few weeks here.
Dan’s gotten a part-time job as a web designer and consultant for a technical support company, which is something he’s been able to do at home. Giving him something to do, even something as tiresome as this, was a huge relief for both of us. He never was the lazy type which, I’m sure, is where both Jazzy and Charlie got it from. I’d love to hear about what’s going on in your lives, what classes you’re taking this semester. Details about your friends are always appreciated. The more the better!
Vic, Dan’s been saying how it’s about time you started dating again and I agree with him. The kids are all grown up now. Make time for yourself, honey. You deserve it. We can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for our family and all you continually do every day. The check enclosed is a little more than we usually send because we know the twins just had a birthday. Buy them something nice for us, please. Someday soon we’ll hitch a plane ride to Seattle, but for now, take care and write back.
Love always,
Joyce (Mom)
I tossed the letter aside. It spun through the air and landed on my bed. Why did I wait so impatiently for those stupid letters? My mom just used different words to say the same thing. Nothing had changed. They were still haunted by the memory of what they’d done to us and too scared to come see us. Of course, they were eternally grateful to Uncle Vic because he willingly did what they couldn’t. It was disgusting, how hard she tried to sound like she was interested in what was going on in our lives. As if a few cheery lines and false promises could make everything better.
I formed a fist and slammed it against the wall, making the men at the table jump. Hand throbbing, stomach simmering, eyes burning, throat aching, I stormed across the room.
“Charles,” my uncle said. “Where are you going?”
I shut the elevator door behind me.
◆◆◆
I took one last swing at the broken down 1990s’ TV set and watched the shards of glass fly in all directions with satisfaction. Breathing heavily, I surveyed the mounds of debris from everything I’d destroyed. Loud techno music pumped through the speakers installed in the ceiling.
It was probably juvenile but I told myself there were worse things I could be doing than supporting the local rage room. Responsible enough for Uncle Vic, no one had to get hurt, and I could work out every toxic thought in my head for forty-five dollars. Win, win, win.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I made my way to the locker rooms to change out of all the protective gear they’d forced me to wear. I was standing in line at my favorite taco truck maybe twenty minutes later. A couple was arguing nearby. Ordinarily, I would’ve ignored the grown-ass adults making a scene on the street, but the female’s voice sounded oddly familiar.
“Just because you gave me a beer doesn’t mean you own me, asshole!”
I turned to see a girl with short red hair, switchblade open and pressed against the throat of a rail-thin guy who looked about ready to piss himself. She wore a gray hoodie sweatshirt which was probably too thin to offer any warmth, ripped black jeans that clung to her slender hips and exposed her pale knees, along with well-worn neon pink sneakers. All she needed were rough tattoos and she’d look like she belonged in a gang.
“S-Sorry,” the guy stammered, stepping back. “My bad.”
I rolled my eyes and paid for my tacos before stepping away from the truck. Of course. Of course it was Esmer.
Her scowl stayed fixed on the guy’s retreating form as he hightailed it down the street with what appeared to be a six pack under his arm. Well, it was a five pack now.
Some of the onlookers whooped and cheered.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Esmer snapped her knife closed with a flick of her wrist and shoved it into her back pocket.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I thought I’d spoken quietly enough to go unheard over the other conversations happening around the busy street, but Esmer’s eyes still found mine.
“Oh, heya, Charlie boy.” She smirked as she sauntered over to me. “Fancy meeting you here. Of all the taco trucks in all the towns in all the world—”
I raised a hand to cut her off. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”
Esmer shrugged, swishing the remaining beer around in her can. “Just hanging. Same as you.”
“You shouldn’t be wandering around the city alone at night. It’s dangerous.”
“I handled myself just fine against ol’ Crack Head over there, didn’t I?” she asked, hooking a thumb behind her.
“Never mind. Whatever. Do what you want.” I stuffed the first taco in my mouth and started heading home.
“A’ight,” Esmer said as if releasing an exhale. “You wanna know why I’m here? I got pissed at my aunt because she was a total bitch to me earlier for no reason. And I mean no reason. I just asked her about some old picture I found in one of her empty bedrooms and she freaked.”
I picked up my pace but she matched it without much effort.
“I mean, I understand not wanting to talk about your family, especially if you’re not on good terms with them, but I was being totally polite about it. Why couldn’t she just say she didn’t wanna talk about it? Why couldn’t she, I don’t know, treat me like a person instead of an inconvenience?”
I shook the excess salsa drippings from my fingers and cast a sideways glance her way. She was watching the ground, face scrunched, the top and longest layer of her red hair rippling in the breeze.
“You’d think after all I’ve been through, I’d be used to being treated like shit but…it still sucks. I mean, I know I’m messed up, but aren’t we all? And don’t everybody deserve a little respect, especially if we’re trying to be respectful?”
The hurt crease between her eyes had me cursing under my breath. I couldn’t leave her now. Not like this. “I’m sorry your aunt is mean, but her place is still safer than it is here. What’s her address?”
Esmer looked up with a grin. “Are you offering to walk me home?”
“This does not mean I’m a good person, so don’t get any funny ideas about us being friends,” I said, raising a menacing finger.
She pretended to look aghast. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Charlie boy.”
“Good. Stop calling me that.”
She finished her beer and tossed the can in the street. “Are you going to eat that second taco?”
“Yeah,” I said, holding it out of reach.
“Okay.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but then her stomach started gurgling.
I handed over my precious taco a few seconds later with a defeated sigh.
“So we’ve established why I’m out here,” she said in between bites. “Why are you?”
“Every once in a while, the unfairness of my sister’s condition and the stupid non-relationship we have with our parents sends me into a rage. So I pay a visit to the closest rage room.”
“Huh,” Esmer said, suddenly thoughtful. “Well, I’ve got some cigarettes if you want to bum a smoke. They always calm me down.”
She pulled out a half empty box of cigarettes which I promptly snatched out of her hand.
Esmer blinked at me, an objection on her lips.
“People die of natural causes and accidents all the time, but occasionally you get a really stupid person who takes their own life. Don’t be stupid, Esmer.” I tossed the box into a nearby trashcan. “These things will kill you.”
“What gives you the right to lecture me?” she demanded. “What do you know about me anyway?”
“Too much, in my opinion.”
“I don’t need your charity,” she said acidly. “I’ll find my own way back to Aunt Dinah’s.”
I scoffed. “Sure you will. Do you even know where you are or where she lives or how to get there from here?”
Esmer looked around at the street signs, her brow set in determination. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
“All right.” I gave her a two-fingered salute. “Good luck. See you in art class.” I walked down the sidewalk, toward home.
It took longer than I thought it would. I was almost a block away before I heard her shout.
“Charlie!”
I casually swiveled around. Cars passed by on the street next to us. The stoplight turned red, forcing the car at the front of the line to slam on its brakes. A chorus of horns sounded in protest.
I waited.
Esmer sighed loudly. I couldn’t see her face but her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I need help.”
I loped back to her. “Where does Aunt Dinah live?”
January 3rd, 1800
Another century gone. Dymeka and I lay by the fire on New Year’s Day, holding each other but not uttering a word. My thoughts weigh heavily on my mind but it has taken me three days to write something, anything. Dymeka must have been absorbed by his thoughts as well for we have not said much of anything to each other. In our heavy silence, I can only guess what he is thinking. But my thoughts are mostly on this unbearable regret and shame. I wish to end this miserable existence, but alas, I cannot.
I cut my hand some time ago, just to see what would happen. The wound closed up only moments after the knife left my skin. The blood remained, which I washed away, but there was no mark, no trace that I ever did any harm to myself. Later, I was stocking the fireplace and touched the flame accidentally. I felt its keen sting but my skin remained untouched. The only proof of the incident was the scorch mark on my sleeve. During these trials, I purposefully starved myself and though I did feel unbelievable hunger for a few days afterwards, I was able to ignore the pain and move about my chores unperturbed. My tongue felt parched from lack of water but I still spoke fluently. I checked my body daily for signs of abuse but found no trace. I am truly undead. Like those monsters one always heard of in fairytal
es; a creature frozen, unchanging, as time flies past it.
Forever.
I am beside myself with self-loathing. How could I have ever wanted this life? Truly, I wanted to be with Dymeka forever, but I had no idea how long eternity would be. Death seemed so willing to grant us our desire. Mistress of deceit. She said there were no repercussions, save the ones we ourselves created. But how could we have believed her?
This is not a proper way of life; hiding in a cottage in the woods, fearing someone might see how we never change while the other two couples flaunt their youth to gain power. I should have lived and grown old and had children and died. Why wasn’t I content with what we had? Why did we have to go against the natural way of life and become these abominations? I cannot end my own life, but perhaps Dymeka can. I know he will recoil at the thought, but I cannot be more miserable than I already am. He must see that he is the only one who can do me proper justice and save me from my wretched existence.
* * *
Chapter 7
Esmeralda
He offered me his windbreaker. I tried to refuse it, but then the wind picked up and made me reconsider. I snatched it out of his hands and yanked it on. It fit perfectly, not that I should’ve been surprised. I’d been mistaken for a dude in the past. It was the curse of the curve-less.
We didn’t talk at first. I was too pissed about what he’d said and the superior tone he’d used to say it, and Charlie seemed content to walk in silence. But once I was done being indignant, I realized he’d probably done me a favor by throwing the cigarettes away.
I rubbed my hands together, casting the occasional glance his way. This guy was confusing. First, he chose not to rat me out to the security guard while I hid in the guys’ bathroom. But when I struck up conversation in art class, he tried to scare me away. Then he lectured me about the dangers of the city, gave up one of his bomb tacos, offered his jacket when I was cold, and was now walking me home. Still, he insisted he wasn’t a good person and we weren’t friends?
