Chapter 28:

The Gift

I went to Nahlahs' box at 9:00 that same night, but she wasn't home. I took a taxi to Soulier, then KK's Klub. At the club, she was on late shift, according to Farid.

"Where is she?" I urged him, impatient for once.

"NA-NA!" he called. He suddenly went up staircases I never noticed. Before he was halfway up them, Nahlah's head popped from the upper level. When she looked questioningly at Farid, who pointed to me, she glimpsed toward me and gave a short wave. I waved back with a tiny smile, then leaned against the bar, waiting. She came spiraling down the staircase in a cute trot.

"Hey. What's up?" she asked when she approached me.

We kissed each other on the cheeks briefly before I drew back and said, "Hey, you didn't tell me you had late shift here."

"Yeah," she said, sighing, awkwardly brushing her hair off her shoulders. "Until 11:00. Co-worker of mine was supposed to do it, but then he got a call. His cousin died."

She frowned at the thought, while I stroke her arm briefly, observing her eyes. "So, I guess midnight, again?"

Nahlah's bright eyes looked at me pausingly, then she said tentatively, "Um . . . I dunno, . . ."

I caught on to the hesitation. I stared with soft, cautious eyes, as if afraid she was too delicate to take my hard stares. "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

She smiled, shaking her head lightly. "No, everything's fine. I just . . . am not feeling well . . ."

I just continued to stare at her weakly attempted smile, which her eyes betrayed as I read this strange light in them. I squinted in confusion and concern, then crossed my arms and leaned against the bar.

Shaking my head in the attempt to understand, I said, "What . . . this isn't like you, Nahlah. You sure?"

Nahlah faked another smile, relaxing her arms on my shoulders as her hands tangled behind my neck. She kissed me briefly. "I'm fine, Cel. I'm . . . just exhausted."

I gave her another look. My heart felt as though it had its own stomach: nauseated, twisted, burning; an uneasiness crawled up my throat.

Nahlah saw my tentative reaction and instantly kissed me long and holding. Both her hands held my face as she gave a tiny grin. "I'm not cheating on you, don't worry. Please."

I looked at her, arms remained folded while she gave me a tilted look. I said, "No, no, of course not. Did I assume anything in the first place?"

I dunno what my tone was, but it sounded snappy and sharp. Nahlah gave me a look of her own, reading my expression, before disengaging her arms from my waist.

Before she could make any judgments, I whispered, "This isn't about the Runner, is it?"

She blurted, "You know how I felt about that. Cel, I dunno why you acted like that!"

Her explosion startled me. I looked at her in uncanny silence. ". . . What are you talking about? I was trying to protect you from getting in trouble."

She sighed, smiling another fake one, which began to irritate me. "Celeste, that had nothing to do with me or you or us. It was about that boy, and the cause he was fighting for."

I sighed, forehead wrinkling as I massaged it. "Don't tell me you're planning on protesting. No, Nahlah. Not in this city—not against those fucking cops."

"I'm not gonna sit back and watch this city and those fucking cops take away our rights," she explained in a saddening tone.

I looked at her distraught expression, as if it was hopelessly hopeful.

"No." I shook my head stringently and matronly. "You have no idea what they could do if you hadn't given up that damn bag, Nahlah. You know the rules. I didn't want you to get involved."

"Our rights, Cel!" repeated Nahlah in emphasis. Her hands held me firmly and protectively by the arms, face leaning close to my face. "Are you forgetting who you are? You're like me, like everyone else in those protests. Do you have any idea how your passiveness encouraged those cops?"

"Nahlah, who knows what they coulda done to you."

"Cel, I was being completely nonviolent. They couldn't have done anything—"

"They pulled out the handcuffs, Nahlah!"

"Hoping to scare me. But I was a bystanding pedestrian. They knew they couldn't do anything, even when I had the bag."

I exhaled with exasperation. "Nahlah—" I began.

"Celeste," she interrupted, "do you have any idea how submissive and weak you are acting against forces that hate people like us?"

"It's not a frikkin genocide, don't be dramatic," I told her.

"Imagine if I'd done nothing—if anyone in this city had done nothing. Callaghan woulda won. He woulda had us. You and I wouldn't exist, we wouldn't be together!"

Tears were brimming her luminous eyes. When they fell, I slowly reached to brush them away, but she withdrew from me. Standing a foot apart from me, she folded her arms in frustration, and wiped her eyes as if in shame, looking away from me.

Her words, her tears, her expression, her very sad being hurt me. My heart felt as though it had been stopped and been beat lifelessly; it ached. Speechlessly, I reached out and held her face in my hands, thumbs brushing the trails of tears remaining at the same time.

"I didn't want to lose you to them," I whispered, unsure what to say other than the simple, horrifying truth.

I looked at her nearly just as helplessly, torn. Her eyes skipped all over the floor as if to distract herself, then she slowly peered up at me solemnly. She nodded barely, mouth locked, as she budged an "I know".

I didn't know what else to say. We stood there for about a minute or so, the music in the club the only talker. I looked at her as she glared like a child at the floor in despair and disappointment, then I found myself looking around. I didn't know what to do. What did you do when you were in a fight with a girl who was more than a friend?

My emotions were an unsual mixture of irritation, sadness, and fright. I let them boil until the feeling passed as we stood in the most awkward, painful silence ever.

Unsure of myself, I just looked at her again. She was still staring at the floor, arms folded, countour painful like the ancient face of a decrepit statue. At first, I leaned forward and reluctantly kissed her forehead. However, I realized I had just comforted her, so might as well keep at it. I hugged her close and hard to me. Just feeling her surrender gave me this sense of awe at her as I held her. My emotions melted into a soft, pitiful inflation of warmth in my heart. It reminded me that I shouldn't be upset with her for being upset over a bigger matter: I squeezed as hard as I could to let her know how much letting her go would hurt. I had to let her know I cared, even if meant a simple every-day hug.

Nahlah was sniffling into my shoulder. Her arms finally found my back as she tightened her nails into my back, never wanting to let go. Then, she tilted up and stole me into another kiss, one of many to come and that had passed I would never get tired of.

I've been in relationships where there were love-quarrels, but that was back then when I was your typical teenage girl who sought comfort from the guy. I wasn't even sure whether or not to count this as a "love quarrel", but whatever the emotional case, I wasn't sure how to handle it. The best I could do was hug; words were meaningless right now, that's all I knew. With Nahlah being slightly smaller than me, holding her in my arms enraged this sense of dominance and affectionate protectiveness inside me. I held her tighter, never wanting to let go. All I wanted to do was to protect her.

After what could have been five minutes, we parted. I looked into her eyes, chiseling out every sad-tainted detail; bewildered how beautiful she still was when she cried. I stroke her hair, brushed her cheek, held her cheek, looked into her eyes, kissed her—anything to let her know how devoted, loving, and protective I was.

"So . . .?" I whispered after sighing. "I'll see you tomorrow night?"

Nahlah blinked away the last of her tears, wiping them away before giving me a dazed look. "Oh . . . right . . . work?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Want me to bring anything from the grocery store—any CDs, DVDs . . .?"

She smiled adoringly, shaking her head. "Just you. I won't be in the mood. I just want to see you and sit and talk."

"I'm good with that." I smiled.

"Actually." Her face lit up, filling me with relief and reborn joy. "Aren't you sick of my 'box'? Can I come over your place?"

"Sure. Haha, what is this, the next step in our relationship? I dunno if I can take it," I joked, our foreheads locking as we smirked to the stupidity of the idea. "I'm gonna have to clean out the place."

"I don't care," she whispered fondly.

My eyes fluttered over her lovingly. She returned my stare with this uncertain, sad look that it made me look at her querily. Then, I felt her soft palm hold me by the cheek. It was so gentle, almost featherlike and almost as if it weren't there. But I felt it.

Again, I looked at her.

Nahlah whispered, "Celeste . . ."

I gave a raising, waiting look.

Then, Nahlah's eyes lowered as she smiled briefly.

"What?" I demanded softly.

What was she going to say? I hate it when people did that.

The brunette just shook her head, stroke my cheek, then smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I was going to bug her, but held against it. I quietly nodded, but smiled genuinely as we kissed again before I left the club.

--

I remember what track was like back in high school. To make a long story short, I was a bullet; I'd done track since eighth grade, even into college. I could pull off 800 sprints and every now and then shifted between long-distance running and sprinting just to build up endurance. That was how Drake found me. Apparently, during the period of the campaign between Pope and Callaghan, he was related to a teacher at my high school. She invited him to watch how impressive our track team was, seeing that her daughter was on my team; Drake saw me, confronted me privately, and offered to employ me. I did it for the money, not for Pope's cause. So, he had Merc train me.

Track was grueling, but worth it in the end. Every time the coach sent us on 400 sprints, I learned to relax my legs by lifting them, and focusing my mind solely on the relaxed glides of my shoulders in their sockets. Each sprint felt slow and demanding, but now that I think about it, each went by fast, making the rest of my evening go fast.

That was nothing compared to my chases after Runner's the next day.

Running itself is easy when you're a Black Neck backed up by comrades. But the chases themselves were bullshit annoying. The only difficulty was identifying the Runner, finding the Runner, and cornering the Runner. I could catch up with ease, but taking down a Runner one-on-one is never really smart. That's why teamwork with Black Necks made such labor easier.

By late afternoon, Loraine sent us off to do whatever the hell we wanted.

Tony asked, "Hey. So, how about us three today? I'm sure you two got over it."

"Nah," I replied as we changed into ordinary clothes. "I tried her earlier this morning to ask for my own appointment. She said she was working at Soulier and said we shouldn't bother her."

"God, busy girl. Well, I guess she won't be massaging us. Damn, she was always nice to us—gah, I don't care—I just wanna a massage. Come along?"

"Nah."

No way in hell I was going to take a massage from anyone but Nahlah. And seeing that she wasn't going to be at Spa&Soul, I wouldn't trust myself alone with Tony, even if Seth and Greg were there.

"Missing a massage again?" Tony paused, looking at me.

Dammit, where were Ray, Raine, and Pep when I needed them? Oh yeah, they left right away for lunch together. Some other Black Necks offered to take charge of Runner chases today.

"Grab the others or something," I told him harshly. "Or some guy buddies."

"Nah, I love chicks, c'mon, I'm a guy!" he said, grinning.

"No, Tony. I'm not in the mood for a massage." Instead, I planned to see Nahlah at Soulier. Maybe I could help her.

Tony hadn't said anything since then. He just looked at me as we finished changing. Yeah, I got used to him seeing me in my lingerie. After all, we were "dating", I guess. As long as he stayed away from me, I didn't mind him nearby whether I was in lingerie or not.

"Celeste," he said from behind. I didn't want to turn around, knowing he'd been watching me like a protective, annoying brother. "This isn't like you. You love massages—isn't that the main reason why you joined Project Icarus?"

That was supposed to be a hidden jeer, but I didn't take it to heart. I remained silent as I slipped on a white tanktop.

"You haven't been to Spa&Soul in a while, either," he added, as if urging me.

"This city has been quiet since the recent arrests of Runners, Tony," I said, standing with my back facing him. "There's no reason to get a message. I'm as relaxed as Loraine, seeing how satisfied she is by Project Icarus' progression. Enjoy your massage, Tony."

I left him before he could protest. I grabbed a taxi, too lazy to drive myself or Tony's car since he was treating me like a spoiled brat and since he was using it to go to his massage.

As I drove my car into town, I noticed the little wooden figurine Nahlah gave me a month ago. It dangled there from the ceiling, bobbing lightly somewhat in the windshield.

I thought about Nahlah's discontentment, something we never ran into for our first month together as a couple. It hurt me, yet confused me.

The wooden figurine floated like those badgering shoulder angels. Finally, a thought clicked: I hadn't given Nahlah a gift yet in return.

Way to be delayed, Celeste.

What did Nahlah like? My mind squeezed hard into thought; I couldn't mess up on this. I recalled her blatant adoration over clothes. She always had an amazing new streak of fashion every day, always something different and beautiful. I thought about what clothes what look good on her, as well as considering her favorite colors: blue, purple, orange. She liked skirts, V-shirts, fat jeans, and especially earrings. She read a lot, and I remember the Belladonna Lilies.

Flowers?

I snorted to myself, nearly in self-shame. How cliché. What would be special? The definition of "special" irked me more. I didn't know what special was anymore; the only thing special was Nahlah herself.

What did she like about me, I wondered, that she considered "special"?

Damn. I suck at this. And I thought girls were easier to gratify.

Goddammit, what was fucking special!?

I spent the next hour and a half skimming by stores at New Eden Mall. I shrugged by jewelry stores; everyone had jewelry, what value were they? Nahlah has plenty of clothes, I figured as I passed so many clothes. I considered some chocolates or something, but then again, that was something she could have every day if she wanted.

My frustration got the better of me when another hour passed in the mall. I realized her gift had to be something she couldn't get or didn't have at all. And what the hell was that? Different scenarios of Nahlah's reaction to whatever gift I presented flickered through my head poisonously. My insides cringed in total agony.

"Hell with it," I growled. I went to Flora's Floras and stood there glaring at rows and rows of blinding flowers. I could have sworn I was going to go color-blind sooner or later.

--

I was on my way to Soulier, but then Tony homed in on my earpiece, which I nearly forgot about. Sometimes I kept thinking I was hearing voices.

"Cellie," said Tony. He sounded cheery. "Come over to Spa&Soul."

I pressed against my comms. "What? Why?"

"I . . . uh," he began. I still heard a smile, only it was soft and hesitant. "I have something for you."

He could hear the hesitant, startled tone in the "oh" I tried to restrain. It was quiet. I was cruel to him, but not that cruel—I couldn't just say, "Fuck you, Tony, l don't care about you or whatever gift you have for me. I wanna see Nahlah".

So, before I could reply, unsure what to say, Tony said softly, "Just come over, Cel. I hope you like it."

He hung up, leaving me in a shocked state. I didn't know why.

I thought about those random, ordinary words Tony said on the earpiece regarding the gift, as I drove to Spa&Soul. What drove him into getting something for me? Not to mention his comical remarks have narrowed down to a mininum. Was he really becoming relaxed and lovey-dovey with me? Awe shit.

When I got there, Tony was in the waiting lounge. He welcomed me with this strange softness I've never seen in him, it was almost had this "I'd die for you" look in his eyes. His thick arms swallowed my entire being in a soft embrace—not the bear hug I normally got. He wasn't his goofy self at all.

When we withdrew, he kissed me on the forehead, gazed me in the eyes warmly, then kissed me briefly.

Before I could ask what hell Reagan did to him, he pulled out a rose, an album, and a wooden figurine.

My eyes stretched as a small gasp escaped my lips. I just stared.

"This is album is Foiled, by Blue Octor. They have this song called Congratulations that comes in my head every time I think about you," said Tony as I accepted the three gifts speechlessly. "The rose is red. I take it even though you aren't a Runner anymore, you still loved red. And the figurine. I dunno, it was kinda cute, even to me. But I thought about you. You've been looking kinda down, you had me worried. So, yeah. Hope you like?"

My heart wrenced in pang, like when someone twists a piece of cloth dry, when my eyes fell on the same wooden figurine Nahlah gave me. However, affection flooded into my heart like light into a room as I plunged into reminsnence of Nahlah.

Tony awkwardly brushed his hand over his scalp back and forth like usual. "Well," he said nervously, "do you like them . . .?"

"Tony . . ." I began. I didn't know what to say; obscured emotions were tearing me from the inside. ". . . I thought you said it was one gift?"

I smiled gently at Tony's thoughtfulness. He shrugged, grinning, then leaned down and kissed me shortly again on the lips. "I just wanted to . . . prove that there's a gentler side to me."

I looked up at him, looking at the unshadowed features of his face. It seemed cleaner; he shaved more. I saw this strange new light behind now that there was less hair. The lack of competition his facial hair presented made his russet eyes stand out, like warm chocolate milk.

". . . Thanks, Tony. That was . . . kind of you," I murmured, smiling.

He grinned goofily at me. I could tell he was too embarrassed about it, so he decided to hide it like any teenager would by grinning casually as it was no big deal.

I broke his naturally goofy grin by saying, "Hey, I thought you had a massage, like, two hours ago?"

"Nah, I was too preoccupied for a massage," he said, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "Cuz I went to get you these. But I'm making an appointment now, I'm just waiting for Seth and Gregory to be done."

Goddammit. I'm never acting sullen around him ever again. I hated it when people I hated showed their soft side. Okay, I admit I didn't hate Tony. It was just his presence was nothing like Nahlah's, which I missed endearingly.

A finger twisted into my cheek again. Reflexively, my hands thrashed out, slapping Tony's hands away. He withdrew his hand with a teasing cackle. "God, you sensitive woman!"

"Tony," I growled, though I was grinning.

His grin softed as he perked my chin up with his hands and kissed me, taking the anger right out of me as I let out a soft gasp. Before I could protest, he made it worse by tickling me at the same time. What a weird guy.

"TONY—!" I began between the kisses he gave me. There was no way I was going to let his charm win me over when I had Nahlah to worry about.

I pushed Tony away. He remained grinning, as if he'd won me from the get-go. "C'mon, let's bug Seth and Greg. Let's have a massage together, you need it."