by T. G. Ayer
Maya’s mom fluffed up her pillows and smiled down at her daughter. “You’ll be happy to know this injury will get you out of going to temple this week.”
“Why is that? Wouldn’t it be better to go and show all your friends you’re bringing up your daughter the traditional, well-disciplined way?” The words were out and there was nothing she could do to take them back.
“Maya,” her mom gasped. But the shock melted from her face as she sat on the edge of Maya’s bed. “Honey, you know we haven’t brought you up in the ‘traditional’ way. You wouldn’t be learning to fight if we did.”
“So why am I? You and dad can both see how terrible I am? Why don’t you let me give it up?” Maya pouted, glad they’d moved on to another topic, a safe distance from her insults to her parents..
Her mom tucked her hair behind her ear; she'd always said Maya shouldn't hide her pretty face behind her hair. “Because you must learn to protect yourself. We need to know that you have at least some ability to defend yourself. Just in case.”
“In case of what? Somerville's probably the safest suburb in the state of California. Maybe even the whole of the western seaboard,” Maya grumbled. Grabbing a cushion from beside her, she began to pull at the beaded tassels. She’d been training under her dad’s tutelage since she was six years old. He’d been running the school ever since her parents arrived in America when Maya was just a baby.
“Well, you just never know-” a note of hesitation in her mom’s voice drew Maya’s gaze. Her mom opened her mouth to say something, but a moment later the urge seemed to subside and she went silent. Then she sighed and said, “You should send up a prayer or two.” Maya stared as her mom pointed a finger to the ceiling. “You probably need all the help you can get especially with a black eye that bad.”
“Mom,.” Maya scolded, shocked she’d suggest such a thing. “You know what I think.”
“Yes, honey. I know you don’t believe now. But someday soon, you may no longer have a choice. Now, get some rest.” Her mom stood, gently patted Maya’s cheek before leaning over to kiss her forehead. Her waist length hair, so like Maya’s, swayed as she walked out of the room. At the doorway she turned and winked at her daughter. “If you don’t want the gods to help you, then you’d better be prepared to help yourself.”
The door closed with a snick just as the cushion Maya had been playing with hit it. Maya shook her head, chuckling. Her mom always had a way with words. Although her parents had accepted she didn’t fully believe in the theology of Hinduism, her mom never failed to try her luck at convincing her every so often. Still, she was thankful they didn’t force her to perform all the rituals and customs. They were less orthodox than the other parents in the community, like her friend Ria’s father. But they still maintained their belief in the gods.
It's merely mythology. Not actually real.
But when her mother looked at her that way, Maya had to wonder what it really took to believe.
Fire & Shadow - Chapter 2
Holy moly, what the heck happened to you?" Ria whispered as she traced the bluish-purple splotch on Maya’s cheek. She hadn't even bothered to say 'hi', just barged in, plonked herself onto the bed and stared in morbid fascination at Maya’s bruise. "It looks so painful. Does it hurt?"
Maya shook her head slightly, to avoiding hitting her throbbing cheek against her friend’s exploring fingers. In the next moment, Ria pressed against the darkest, most painful part of the bruise.
"Ow!" Maya howled, unable to control the volume of her pain, struggling with the throbbing agony.
"What? I thought you said it didn't hurt." Ria tried to look innocent. And failed.
"Right. Why would I admit it hurts like a hot iron against my face?"
"Because it hurts, silly." Ria smiled, long dangling earrings sparkling, hair pulled neatly away from her face.
"Don’t be such a girl. You're not supposed to admit that something is painful." Ria stared at Maya, confused and partly distracted by the striking bruise. "You’re not supposed to admit to being weak. That’s all I’m saying."
Ria shook her head. "But you aren’t strong, so doesn't that make you weak?"
"Nope. I am strong. It’s part of my training. And . . . because I say so."
"And the shiner? What does that say? That you lost a fight with your father’s fist?"
"It says I'm brave, and courageous." Maya knew she was reaching. Knew the bruise made her look like a loser. She’d feel it more at school next week. "And it was my instructor’s fist."
The argument was one they’d had time and time again. Even though they’d moved to America before she was born, Ria’s parents had done a great job brainwashing her into thinking women were mere objects, meant to bear children for their husbands and certainly not meant to fight. Only men did that, and men were supposedly there for protection.
Ria snorted. "The bruise says you lost the fight. I say it spells weakness. Besides, girls shouldn’t be fighting. Or learning to fight."
There she went again.
"And which male chauvinist told you that?" Maya pierced her friend with narrowed eyes. She wanted to ask what happened when Ria's father raised his hand against her, as he’d done all her life. Who protected her then? But Maya bit her tongue.
"My mother, you idiot." Her friend's kohl-lined eyes went flat. Maya knew a lie when she saw one.
Ria’s dad was pure, unadulterated male chauvinism in a neat and tidy Indian package. Her poor mom would have been in deep trouble if she hadn't had a son after Ria. Thankfully, Ria’s two little brothers served to remove the attention from her lack of maleness. God knew, they’d probably be arranging a marriage for her soon.
Just the thought made Maya want to grit her teeth again.
"Really, Maya. You and your dad should be more careful with your sparring sessions. Girls are not built to fight like guys. Look at what happened to you; a black eye? Are you seriously going to continue learning martial arts now?"
Maya nodded. "Yup, as soon as the bruise heals."
She hid a smile at the expression on Ria's face. Her friend’s cheeks flamed and her eyes glittered. Boy was she mad, but instead of yelling at Maya as she usually did, she took a deep breath and looked out the window.
"Well, who am I to tell you how to take care of yourself when it's abundantly clear you're doing a perfectly good job on your own."
Maya heard the hurt in her friend's voice. And she understood. Ria just didn't want anything to happen to her. Of the two friends, Maya had always been stronger, and she'd always been the one to take care of Ria. Good thing their families attended the same temple so they saw a little more of each other at cultural functions. A little taste of Indian tradition in suburban America. Ria was the only reason Maya agreed to go to any of them.
"Ria." Maya waited for her friend to turn and face her. Then she smiled. "Thank you. For worrying about me and even for bossing me around."
That drew a small smile from Ria and she walked over to the bed to perch on its edge. "Promise me you’ll take care of yourself? Please."
Maya nodded. "Pinky swear."
Ria giggled and both girls locked pinkies and smiled at each other for a moment.
“It’s getting late. Let’s go.” Maya pulled her hair around her face, hoping the fall of black curls would hide her cheekbones until they got into the darkened movie theater.
“Hey, you two. You've been let out on parole?” Maya and Ria turned to make space for Joss as she snuck under the red plastic barrier.
“Hey.” Both girls smiled and Maya waited. Joss was sure to have an interesting reaction to the bruise.
“Woah! What the hell happened to you?” Joss's eyes narrowed, as if she expected Maya to come up with some fantastic lie, reminding Maya that Joss hadn't turned up for class so she'd missed the knockout session.
Joss, or Jocelyn Cawood, a name she loved to ignore, had joined Dev Rao's martial arts school two years ago and Maya often enjoyed a sparring session with her friend. She also enjoye
d a good dose of envy as Joss seemed to pick stuff up so much faster than Maya.
“Sparring accident. I wasn’t concentrating. Didn’t duck fast enough.” Maya moved backwards, tilting her head so her hair covered most of her face.
“Sheesh.” Joss wrinkled her nose and leaned closer. “Does it hurt as bad as it looks?”
Maya shrugged, not eager to continue the discussion with so many people around. Turning to face the cashier, she caught sight of Nik standing in the next line, and whipped her head away, hoping he hadn’t seen her staring.
Lately, she’d been seeing Nik around far too much. Not that she minded. She saw a confidence in his eyes, like he was stronger than he looked, and sometimes like he knew more than he let on. He managed to fit in and yet stand out all at the same time. His crooked smile and those broad shoulders were certainly easy on the eye.
A quick glance back at him revealed he’d spotted her. And he stared at her, the slightest hint of a grin at his lips. Ugh! Lips she had no right even thinking about.
He took a tiny step toward her, his mouth opening as if he meant to say something, but the line moved ahead and Maya followed, ignoring Nik and whatever he’d been about to say. She didn’t have a chance in hell with a guy like him. Besides, she was here for movies, not boys.
The movie ended up being lame. A slasher flick which made Maya want to laugh hysterically instead of scream. Whatever happened to her normal human reaction to scary stuff? None of it seemed scary to her, although her friends both screamed on cue.
Exiting the theatre, the three girls slowed to a stop as Joss’s cellphone vibrated. While Joss dug into her pocket, Maya scanned the crowds surging from the doors of the cinema for one tall, dark-headed form, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Hey, you guys wanna go to Amber’s party Saturday night?” Joss said after checking her texts.
“I didn’t know we were invited.” Maya kept her voice bland and uninterested. Ria stiffened beside her.
Ria never went to parties. She wasn't ever allowed.
Maya hardly went either. She hated the cool parties.
She rarely received an invitation to any of them and even if she did go she wasn't part of the popular crowd. Besides, it was too much of an effort to fit in. Too much of an effort to pretend to be something she wasn't.
And, under no circumstances did Maya qualify as cool.
So, when Joss tossed Maya her cellphone to read Amber Alden’s text invitation, there were two reasons she didn't want to go.
Her ghastly bruise would still be around. Who'd want to pitch up looking like someone had used her as a punching bag?
And because she wouldn't fit in with Amber's crowd. She didn't feel up to making such a huge effort. Didn't feel up to inventing some elaborate cover story just to get out of the house. Didn't feel up to pretending she understood what went on in Amber’s pretty dark head to even bother to extend the invitation to Ria and Maya.
Too hard.
Maya handed back the phone and shook her head.
“Aw, come on Maya. You cannot seriously be telling me you plan to snub the only invitation you have ever - and I will repeat - ever received from Amber.” Joss’s voice almost broke.
This was one of the times Maya wondered why her blonde, blue-eyed friend even bothered to spend any time with them. Sure, they’d been together since kindergarten but Joss had always been popular, while Maya and Ria were, and always would be, outcast.
But Joss was right. Being ostracized almost always began with a ‘No’. And since Maya and Ria had absolutely zero chance of obtaining permission to join the cheer-leading squad - with all those tiny little skirts revealing the girls thighs for everyone to see - they couldn't risk declining.
“I’ll help you pick something to wear if you like?” Joss offered, smiling, already knowing she'd beaten Maya into submission.
“Fine, I’ll make a plan. And thanks for the offer, but I think I can figure out what to wear all by myself.” Maya relented, but she had a feeling this was a bad idea.
Maybe the years of being told how bad modern society was had ingrained itself in Maya's consciousness. All those years being told by her family how easily a girl could ruin her reputation, and lose her precious chance of finding a decent husband. Or maybe Maya’s conscience was stronger than her need to rebel.
In the end, she knew it was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
# End of FIRE & SHADOW Excerpt #
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About the Author
I have been a writer from the time I was old enough to recognize that reading was a doorway into my imagination. Poetry was my first foray into the art of the written word. Books were my best friends, my escape, my haven. I am essentially a recluse but this part of my personality is impossible to practice given I have two teenage daughters, who are actually my friends, my tea-makers, my confidantes… I am blessed with a husband who has left me for golf. It’s a fair trade as I have left him for writing. We are both passionate supporters of each other's loves – it works wonderfully…
My heart is currently broken in two. One half resides in South Africa where my old roots still remain, and my heart still longs fo
r the endless beaches and the smell of moist soil after a summer downpour. My love for Ma Afrika will never fade. The other half of me has been transplanted to the Land of the Long White Cloud. The land of the Taniwha, beautiful Maraes, and volcanoes. The land of green, pure beauty that truly inspires. And because I am so torn between these two lands – I shall forever remain cross-eyed.
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VISSARION
A DARK SIGHT NOVEL BOOK 2.5
Copyright © 2018 by T.G. Ayer
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Eduardo Priego
Cover art © T.G. Ayer. All rights reserved.
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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
