"Behind my pride there lives a me, that knows humility
Inside my voice there is a soul, and in my soul there is a voice
But I've been, too afraid to make a choice
Cause I'm scared of the things that I might be missing
Running too fast to stop and listen
It's time to step out on faith, I've gotta show my faith
It's been illusive for so long but freedom is mine today
I've gotta step out on faith it's time to show my faith…"
– "Strength Courage & Wisdom" -
Erik was late arriving for breakfast in the front house. He jogged around the compound trying to offset tension in his body. Lack of sleep made him cranky. He felt like he was losing focus of the big picture.
The other mercs went through plates of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and grits. Erik put together a plate of lighter fare, some fruit, wheat toast, and a glass of orange juice. He glanced at Leona who replaced a platter of bacon with fresh sausage links and was surprised to see Yani's cousin Cee Cee in the kitchen pulling out hot biscuits from the oven.
When breakfast was over and the crew wandered down to the gun range to discuss departure dates and future rendezvous points, Erik straggled behind in the kitchen.
His eyes peeped Cee Cee again as he placed his orange juice glass in the sink. Leona wiped down the kitchen counter with a soft blue cloth.
"She won't work here anymore," Leona said with a soft voice.
Cee Cee leaned against the dining table in the other room watching him and Leona.
There was no need to ask why.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Leona nodded.
"Me too."
"How is Sweet Pea?"
Leona smiled big and wide.
"She good. Spending more time with her father…and sister…"
Erik went to the fridge and grabbed a bottled water.
"That's good," he said.
"She still ask about her Baba—"
"It's okay, Miss Leona—"
"Him don't need no explanation. Don't even talk to him about nothin', Auntie."
Cee Cee brought in empty bowls and brushed past Erik, shoving him a little.
"Cee Cee—"
"Fuck him. I told Yani he was just using her—"
"Quiet your foul mouth, gyal!"
Cee Cee looked startled by Leona's voice.
"Auntie—"
"We can still be cordial. Kind."
Leona's eyes took in Erik's dower expression.
"They are both doing well, Mr. Killmonger."
Erik left the kitchen, his legs moving so swift he could still hear his name on Leona's lips.
It hurt.
Like hell.
A physical pain that lodged in his throat and wouldn't leave his belly any peace.
He hated being at the compound. And now that she was gone for good, all he saw were dreary days ahead until he left that tiny rock.
During the meeting with Klaue and the other mercs, Erik once again found himself compartmentalizing his thoughts to keep sane. He also found himself looking forward to London. He needed to be around family, people who loved him, and to be in a new environment. What was once a warm paradise had now become a cold underworld.
Yani had turned all of her social media private. He had no more access to her or glimpses of Sydette. She cut off all contact. Blocked his number.
It hardened his heart. But it was for the best he kept telling himself. His bags were packed.
He was ready to vanish.
###
Linda was always hovering around Killmonger.
It drove Yani crazy.
Not because she cared about them being together, but because it was intentional on Linda's part.
The bulk of Erik and Linda's time together was spent with Klaue of course, but there were those times that Yani thought Linda was purposely being dramatic in front of her to get a reaction.
Touching Erik and grabbing on his arm after meals. Laughing a little too loud with him when Yani passed by with dirty laundry or cleaning supplies. Even when Yani used different routes to move around the compound, Linda found a way to be there.
"What's wrong with you?" Leona asked.
Yani stacked glasses and dishes in the cupboards then rinsed her hands in the sink.
"Nothing."
"Not with that face."
"Got a lot on my mind."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Just school stuff. Figuring out my schedule for next term."
Her Aunt watched her but didn't question her further.
"They still at the gun range?" Yani asked.
Leona glanced at the small viewscreens near the fridge.
"Yes."
"I'll be back—"
"Yani."
"Yes?"
Leona put her arms around Yani.
"I know it's not easy."
"I'm fine, Auntie. For real."
"I hear you say that, gyal, but mi know the truth."
"See you in a few."
Yani looked around her surroundings before she snuck a towel from the pool area and made herself blend into the foliage as she slipped down the hidden path. She hummed a little bit to herself as she pulled off her t-shirt. Adjusting her bikini top, she was glad that she opted to wear her swimsuit under her clothes. After a quick dip, she could throw her shirt and dark sweats back on with no one even knowing she had been in the water.
Reaching the final curve that opened up to the cove, Yani stopped and clenched her fist inside her bundled shirt.
Linda was sprawled out on a towel in a pink one piece. Erik was right next to her on his own towel, shades covering his eyes. A pounding pressure struck her left temple and a dark heat rose in her chest. The cove felt polluted with their presence. Nothing was sacred anymore and Yani wanted to cry. Why would he bring her down there? He knew that was her water…
"Taking a break?"
Linda stared at her as she smoothed out her beach towel.
Yani kept quiet. Erik didn't even budge. She wanted to kick sand on him.
"The water is actually a decent temperature," Linda said.
She stood up and walked into the water, allowing the water to reach her chest.
Yani pulled her shirt back on and turned around to head back to the kitchen with her Aunt.
"You down here too?"
Neal's predatory smile made Yani feel worse. Unger was behind him wearing trunks. She backed up from the two of them.
"The water is great!" Linda called.
Yani walked past the two men and when she glanced back, Erik was still sunbathing. He hadn't moved an inch.
Yani acted unbothered for a long time, but the last straw was watching Linda walk out of Killmonger's room giving her orders to bring him soup. Slinking around in a gauzy house dress and telling her not to disturb him. They probably fucked all night, using up another box of condoms, and expected her to clean their messy sheets.
That man had the damn nerve to make her bring him food to that bed. Just an excuse to rub her nose in his new sex life.
She wasn't hurting for dick though.
Zachary turned out to be a capable replacement.
The sex was…different. Calm. But satisfying.
They started hanging out together. Lunch dates. Occasional dinner dates. She brought him to social events with her friends and then finally brought him around family again. She kept Sydette out of the equation this time around. She didn't want to put her daughter through the attachment of another man who might not be a long-term partner. It was better that way. Sydette still asked about her Baba, but Yani kept her busy with daycare, play dates, and time with Chez.
Chez.
Who knew he could get his shit together to act as a father for once? Maybe Killmonger had knocked some damn sense into the man. Sped up his maturity. Being forced to give him Sydette was heart-wrenching, but in the end, it gave Yani the freedom to do things for herself on the weekends.
When Killmonger tried to tell her that he missed her, Yani became enraged. After screaming at him in Klaue's house, she was done. There was no way to be at the compound with him there. She went back to her apartment and blocked Killmonger from any access to her.
Zachary helped her forget. Especially that night when she saw Killmonger at the Bacchanal. He had the damn nerve to ask her to dance as if they were chummy like that anymore. When he walked up on her she wanted to spit in his face, tried her best to keep her hands to herself when she felt him standing behind her, all that body heat of his fanning out onto her. Thank God her homegirls kept him in check. They prevented her from clawing his face. Him standing there with short hair, almost clean-shaven, like he was pretending to be some new dude for her. Fuck him.
The lap dance she gave in front of the crowd was a declaration to him that alla her thickness was off limits to him for good. Once she was back in her apartment, she called Zachary over and finally gave him her sticky sweetness.
Strange though.
She gave Zachary everything on her couch, but not in her bed.
The bed that Killmonger bought her.
Each time she had sex with Zachary they did it in his bed at his place, or on her couch. Never her bed.
Different hands on her body, different energy around her, different conversations in her house made it easier to loosen Killmonger from her thoughts.
It wasn't full-proof though.
She caught herself having lucid dreams of Killmonger fucking her. She'd wake up with her pussy throbbing like she could feel him inside of her. Her slippery wet dreams felt so real. Swollen wet folds greeted her fingers when she woke up from those erotic imaginings. Bitterness slept in her mouth with his name still trapped there. Zachary would have his sheathed average length sink into her, and sometimes she would catch herself daydreaming of Killmonger in the middle of the act. Zachary could get quite worked up, but it wasn't the ferocity she was accustomed to. She wondered how long it would take to shake the ghost of that nigga's dick from her pussy. She wanted to hate that man to help her forget him. How could she when he still haunted her in her sleep and in another man's arms? It was crazy. But she knew it would pass. It always did eventually and then she was over it.
Erik seemed to be over it. He didn't bother to stay out of her way anymore, and when he passed her by it was like she was a non-entity.
She treated him the same and eventually, she became numb to his presence.
Almost.
Her last day working came once Leona received permission from Klaue to have Cee Cee trade jobs with Yani from now on.
Taking one last walk around the property searching for Jerome, she encountered a sobering sight. All the men and Linda hovered around Erik and Neal as they fought one another in an open circle. Hand to hand tussling. Shirts off. Both wearing loose joggers. Neal was using boxing moves that Yani was familiar with, but Killmonger was making moves that frustrated Neal. It was that capoeira he knew and some other fighting style.
Her heart thudded as she watched the two men give one another bruising punches. Neal lost his cool completely when Erik used his bare feet to strike his face with a series of tight cartwheels and backflips.
"Get him, Killmonger!" Linda shrieked as she tossed water from a bottle at both of them. Neal was able to get in some hard hits and when his fist made contact with Killmonger's cheek, something ignited in that man and his hands became swift weapons against Neal's chest and stomach.
The others urged them on and Yani felt herself getting queasy watching blood spurt from Neal's mouth and cuts from Killmonger's face from bare knuckles. Neal gave Killmonger a powerful uppercut that made him stagger back clutching his jaw. He flexed his neck and lunged for the man, placing him in a tight headlock. Killmonger punched the man and more blood flowed.
Neal twisted his waist and Killmonger shoved him onto the ground.
They traded more blows until Neal charged Killmonger knocking him onto his back. Yani gritted her teeth knowing the hard cement would break skin. Killmonger reached up and grabbed Neal's throat, his powerful hands choking tight. Neal thrust his hands up and broke Killmonger's hold on him. Rolling away from the leaner man's weak punches, Killmonger swayed his body in a dance-like rhythm around Neal causing the other man's frustration to bubble over. Neal reached for a thick broken tree branch lying on the ground and beat Killmonger with it. The abuse didn't last long once the branch was snatched from Neal's hand and tossed aside. Yani's Ex lost it.
Killmonger beat the man so bad that Unger and Shipley had to drag him away.
"Jesus…Killmonger…!" Linda shouted.
"Thought you were gonna back that shit up homie…said you could show me some things. Whatchu show me, huh? Nothin' nigga. You ain't want this—"
Huntsman helped Neal to his feet and away from Killmonger.
"Lemme go! I'm not done yet!"
Neal thrashed against Huntsman.
"Trust me, you're done. Go clean yourself up," Linda blurted, her fingers touching the wounds on Killmonger's face.
"Anyone else want a taste? All that talk…"
Killmonger spit on the ground. What splattered there was dark against the cement. He wiped his chin and his heated eyes darted around, challenging the others.
Linda's eyes were riveted to Killmonger's. She handed him a beer and he took a deep swig. Grabbing it away from him, she drank down the rest spilling it on her shirt.
"Making a mess," he said.
"You wish," she said.
Linda reared back and kicked Killmonger in the chest. Surprised, he dropped down and swept his legs against hers knocking her off balance. Linda recovered and threw up her fists to box him.
What was wrong with them? Was this their entertainment?
Yani couldn't take it anymore and left them to their violent play.
###
A sheet and pillowcase were tangled in the dryer as Yani pulled them out. She couldn't get the images of Killmonger fighting out of her head. Folding the linens, she wondered how he could be so brutal and willing to harm his own body when it wasn't necessary—
Killmonger barged in carrying a knit bag of dirty clothes. His left cheek looked slightly swollen, and he had a small bandage over his right cheekbone. He halted near the doorway for a second when he saw her, then went about his business of checking the washing machine. He tossed his clothes in, reached up for laundry detergent, and ignored her completely. He wore a tight t-shirt and camouflage pants. A Glock was tucked in the back of his waistband.
Yani continued folding sheets over on the wide folding table next to the dryer.
"There any more fabric softener?" he asked looking up at the shelf above the machines.
Yani reached under the folding table and lifted up a new bottle of softener. She slammed it on the washing machine and continued folding.
Killmonger took the bottle and opened it. He glanced at her for a moment and stuck the softener on the shelf above him. Lingering after his clothing load started, Yani felt irritated.
"You need somethin' else?"
"Nah. You?"
She rolled her eyes at him.
He sauntered over to the door.
"Why did you take her down there?"
"What are you grumbling about now?"
"That was my place…my private spot to swim and be alone—"
"You gonna stand there and whine about people swimming? You don't own nothing here—"
"But you know how I feel about that place!"
Yani's shrill scream shocked her own self, her fists clenched and pressed against her thighs.
"I didn't take her down there. She said she followed you and discovered it. You didn't do a good job of protecting your playground. She told the others about it. That's on you."
Yani reached out and struck him in his chest. She was shaking so hard as her nails raked across his keloids.
"What is wrong with you?! Bitch—"
He pushed her back against the folding table and Yani reached up and grabbed onto the silver chain he wore around his neck that had an onyx and silver ring on it.
"What you not about to do is have me come up out myself!" he yelled.
Grabbing her arms, he held them against her, his face hard and close to her face. His gold teeth gleamed in the laundry room light. Her hands shook furiously at her sides and she tried her best to keep tears from pressing out of her lids, but he saw it.
"Fuck, Yani…calm down…it's not that serious," he said placing his hands on her shoulders.
"It is for me."
"You right girl…you right…forget what I said."
She pulled back from him and started folding the sheets again. He didn't move from where he was and when she looked back at him, all she could focus on was the bruises on his face. It was like she was staring at a stranger. How did it come to this so fast?
She couldn't breathe. The room felt like it was closing in on her.
He reached out and cradled her neck, pulling her in close. His other hand stroked her arm and when she shuddered, he lifted her up and made her sit on the laundry table, her ass warmed up by a clean bed sheet.
"Hmmm…"
The groan in his throat was swallowed by her mouth when his lips sought hers out. His tongue pushed her lips apart and he leaned into her so her breasts pressed into his chest. The ring on his chain poked her.
She had forgotten what his mouth and lips felt like. No, that was a lie. She missed how his mouth and lips felt like. His tongue snaked around hers and her legs automatically opened wider for him. She gasped when he yanked up her shirt and unfastened her bra. Reaching behind himself he pulled his gun out of his pants and sat it next to her hand on the table. She watched him raise up his shirt and pull half of it over his neck, showing a chest and abs that were worked out more from when she last saw it naked.
Plunging his tongue down her throat again he stayed on her mouth until she felt her insides squeeze with anticipation. Hot breath in her ear, and hotter lips on her neck, Yani leaned back giving in more by the minute. He licked around her neck and she bent her head forward so he could lick her tattoos and give tiny kisses there.
His fingers hooked into the band of her loose cotton sweats and her hands jerked back to hold them in place.
His tongue slipped into her ear and the wet warmth made her stomach drop and her hands grabbed onto his shoulders.
"Baby…" he sighed, tugging on her pants again.
She let him drag them down, rocked her hips forward and lifted her ass to help him get them down to her ankles. He pulled down his pants and fisted his erection. His eyes sought hers and she felt all tension leave her body with a rising desire to join their bodies together again. She placed her fingers around his fat wet glans and squeezed. His eyes slammed shut and his mouth parted, the gleam from those gold slugs taunting her. Her skin tingled wanting him to bite her flesh. She placed his tip against her opening and when she enveloped his length, she didn't exhale until he was firmly rooted.
"Daddy gotchu all upset," he said digging in her pussy hard.
She gripped his length tight and his eyes stayed on her face.
"Taking it like a good girl…Daddy's good girl. All this dick…yeah…stretching this fat pussy out right. Don't be mad. Daddy's sorry…ohhh shit…you putting it on me girl. You still mad at me? Huh, that why you gripping me so fucking tight? You squeezin' Daddy's dick…ah fuck…keep squeezin' on this pipe….do that shit girl…punish me, Baby…teach Daddy a lesson…."
Yani's head tilted back, her mouth alternating between staying parted and becoming a tight pout. She felt so full. Zachary could never hit her walls like that. He was unable to hit the bottom of her pussy like Killmonger's extra inches. Her facial expressions must've excited him because Killmonger never looked away as he stroked her deep.
"Been keepin' this pussy tight for me…" he grunted.
He lifted up and pulled her pants all the way off so he could push her legs back on the table. The angle tugged on her clit and he rode that position while he continued watching her face. It was hard to keep her eyes on him as she closed them occasionally because she couldn't stand the intense pressure on her walls. He was moving in a way that prevented her from getting full contact stimulation on her clit. The tugging of her hood had her moaning under her breath. She wanted to scream but there was no telling who was around to hear her cries if she truly let go of what she suppressed.
"Look at me, girl. Keep them eyes on me. I like watching your face handle this dick-"
"Nigga it don't take this long to throw some clothes in the…oh, shit, my bad nigga—"
Shipley's flustered voice took in Yani's pussy being plowed righteously. Killmonger got in four more good strokes before he even stopped. Yani grabbed her shirt and pulled it down. She pushed off of Killmonger's dick and pulled on her pants.
Shipley's eyes stayed on her the entire time and Yani felt so much shame. The man held the door wide open.
"Yani!" Erik called.
She left, half walking, half running past Shipley and down to the cove barefoot.
Out of breath, she stepped into the water just to feel the coolness revive her feet. She would never come back there again. Not to the healing waters that caressed her toes, or the compound that had taken care of her since she was fourteen. She couldn't face any of the people. Especially Shipley. He would confirm that what they all whispered about was true.
The sun did a slow crawl to a blood-red sunset. Her body felt hot and sickened and embarrassed by the day.
She stripped and walked further into the water.
She wasn't shocked to hear a splash behind her as she swam further out. She heard his arms stroke through the placid water.
"Yani. You okay?"
He swam around her naked until he could see her face. They both tread in deep waters staring at one another. Killmonger tried reaching out to her, but Yani swam back to shore and pulled her clothes back on. She felt empty. Cold.
It hurt to walk away from her once special place.
And him.
###
On a lazy Sunday when Chez had Sydette, Klaue summoned her to the compound. Her Aunt texted her and said Klaue wanted to see her right away.
Yani was hesitant, worried that she would run into Killmonger or worse…Linda.
But the compound was quiet.
Klaue sat by his pool drinking a whiskey sour, and when she stood before him, he waved a hand for her to sit in the lounger next to him. She felt nervous, her eyes flitting around expecting Killmonger to show up and throw off her emotions.
"Sad to not have you here anymore, Yani."
Klaue's eyes were runny and pink. He had been drinking for quite some time. Salmon board shorts and a white polo shirt adorned his body. He offered Yani a drink but she declined.
"Here," he said, handing her an envelope.
A check.
Her eyes popped out at the amount.
"Mr. Klaue…"
"That should cover the cost of your schooling, lab fees, etc…"
Yani's heart sped up.
"Your family has taken care of this property for many years. I want to repay that…we want to repay that."
"We?"
"The bulk of that comes from Killmonger. He suggested some sort of severance package for you before he left."
"He's gone?"
Her eyes couldn't hide what she felt.
"It's always all work and barely any play. Family business. He didn't want me to tell you that he gave you part of that. But I wanted you to know. It's obvious that he cares about you and your Aunt. You got very close, didn't you?"
Yani turned her head away from him and focused on the check.
"Killmonger. Complicated. Volatile. Loyal. Easily my best…also one of the meanest men in the trade…and yet…"
Klaue stared at her.
She kept her eyes steady, but her fingers trembled. There was enough money in her hand to take care of herself and Sydette for the next few years. At least until she found a nursing position somewhere. It was beyond school tuition. It was a chance at a real life on her own.
"Thank you—"
"Thank him. He was the most generous. I'm taking care of school. He's taking care of the rest."
"Incoming call. Limbano, Robert."
"Duty calls. Excuse me."
Klaue lumbered up from his seat spilling a bit of whiskey. He shuffled down toward his main house and Yani ran to the front house apartment.
"Auntie!"
Leona sat in front of her tv with Cee Cee watching a nighttime soap.
"What is it?"
Yani shoved the check in her face.
"What is this?"
Leona's eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
Cee Cee grabbed the check.
"Shit!" Cee Cee yelped.
"Who gave you this? Klaue?" Leona asked.
"Klaue…but mostly Killmonger."
"Why him do this?" Cee Cee asked.
Leona's eyes stayed with Yani's. Auntie knew, Yani was sure of that.
"Quick, go put it in the bank!" Leona said shoving Yani out of the apartment.
Yani grabbed her Aunt's arm.
"Why didn't you tell me he left?"
"I didn't know."
"I gotta go!"
Yani ran all the way to her car and drove straight to the bank.
Once the deposit had been made, and she waited to make sure the full amount showed up on her deposit slip, she sat in her car and felt the full weight of regret. Pulling out her cell she typed him a message. Erased it. Typed it again.
She swiped his number and felt her chest and stomach get tight waiting for him to answer.
But he didn't.
###
"My God, Addae! Look at my nephew!"
Erik stared at his Aunt Serah as she held her face with her hands staring at him in her front door. He had surprised his play Aunt by arriving a day early. But the bigger surprise was waiting for him in his Aunt's visiting room.
"Fuck outta here! Watchu doin' here, girl!"
Erik ran up and picked up his play cousin Marisol and twirled her around. He dropped her back on her feet and took a good long look at her. Marisol was breathtaking. Skin so rich with unblemished dark skin. Onyx eyes. Perfectly symmetrical features that could be cute and loveable one moment, but fiery and capable of trouble in the next. It was hard to believe sometimes that his play cousin who had been an ashy-legged crybaby tagging after him through the streets of Sao Paolo, and annoying him to no end, grew up to be the raven-haired beauty before him.
"Auntie sent me a ticket since you were skipping us this holiday."
Marisol's voice was a balm to his ears, her Portuguese accent bringing him back to Brazil and her mother's beef dumplings and rice.
"Looking good, cuz," he said.
"And you're looking big. I see you are eating well."
She bent her body low to the ground, her ginga smooth, her hands rocking toward her chest.
"Ready to play already, cuz?" he said.
Erik countered her moves in a mirror-like fashion.
"Oh no, not in my living room with my expensive artwork in the way! Take that outside!"
"We'll stay tight Auntie," Erik said kicking up his foot and tangling it with Marisol's hands. His cousin did a front walkover and twisted her legs around.
"My God, you two can't be together for five minutes without testing one another!"
"Oi quem mandou levar! Essa carta pra sinhá! Oi quem mandou levar! Oia la Besóuro preto. Oi quem mandou levar…!
Marisol's singing voice stirred Erik's movement, his hands and feet flew faster and Marisol held him off.
Erik joined her in the singing and Serah picked up one of her standing statues of a Cameroonian warrior and moved it from their dangerous leg kicks.
"I see nothing has changed, you are both still hard-headed," Serah sighed, standing back from them. She began clapping her hands, keeping the song rhythm going.
Erik did a slow backflip and he swayed in front of his Aunt and sang to her another capoeira song.
"A capoeira meu amor…a capoeira me chamou…a capoeira meu amor…a capoeira me chamou…"
His voice was choppy but true, and Marisol joined him as he serenaded Serah.
"Such a charmer!" Serah said.
She grabbed Erik's chin and kissed his forehead.
"Go wash up. Dinner is ready and you are lucky I made a lot since we weren't expecting you until tomorrow night."
The moment Erik smelled Serah's cooking in the kitchen he had forgotten all about St. Thomas and Klaue and Linda and—
His cell phone chirped up missed calls that finally caught up to him in London and he scrolled and erased many that were unimportant. But a certain number popped up on his screen and he stared at it. No text, but a voicemail.
Yani.
"Thank you."
Damn.
She had the money and Klaue opened his big mouth.
"Yani? Who is that?"
Marisol stared at his fingers and he swiped the phone off.
"I swear, every time I see you, it's someone new."
"Shut up."
"It's true."
Serah headed to the kitchen as his Uncle carried his bags to a guest room.
Erik unpacked, and once dinner was served and eating commenced, he put away thoughts about Yani and focused on his family.
His Uncle Addae caught him up on the political happenings in London and other parts of the U.K. Serah gave him a couple of books covering ancient sculptures from Central and East Africa to help him pinpoint pieces he had to look out for. They spent two days going through her archives online and she used 3D imaging to give him a feel for shapes and sizes. He already knew the vibram tattoo on his gums would verify any authentic Wakandan pieces with vibranium in them. They took a family trip to visit a few museums, and Erik took discreet pictures of the layouts of each, prepping himself for future trips if the need arrived.
The rest of his time was used playing chess with Marisol, catching up on friends, family and old girlfriends back in Brazil, going out dancing with her and taking long naps together on the couch like they used to as kids after binging bad horror movies all day.
When his Aunt and Uncle went out to do last-minute Christmas shopping, Marisol made him take off his shirt so she could look at his scars.
Her face took on a pinched intensity.
"JaJa," she whispered using his family nickname as she touched the new lesions that had finally healed after his Angola trip.
"I did it myself. Didn't want to bother you with it."
"How many more must you take?" she said.
"As many as I need to get me what I want…hey…don't make that face. You know what it is—"
"JaJa…"
"I'm done talking about it."
He picked up his laptop and turned on some soft music, setting the computer down on the coffee table in front of them. He pulled his shirt back on.
"I'm not putting any more on your body."
"I do it myself now. No need to bother you with it."
His lips felt tight. Her eyes looked away from his.
"Who is that?"
Erik tried to change the screen images that played with the music on his laptop, but Marisol was too fast. Her thin dark fingers swiped his screen and pulled back the last three images that flashed past.
"JaJa…did you…did you have a child?"
Erik closed his eyes for a moment and sat back on the couch. Sydette's big smiling face filled up the computer screen with his face right next to her. It was one of the last pictures he had with her that Twyla took when he said goodbye to his little girl. They were all dimples in that photo.
"She's mine, but she's not really mine—"
"Don't talk semantics. Is that your baby? Who is the mother? Wait…did Disa and you?"
"No. This baby belongs to someone else—"
"But is she yours?"
Marisol's dark coal eyes looked hopeful.
"No. Her mother is someone I was seeing."
"Show me."
"Not right now, Marisol…please…I'm not-"
"No worries. No pressure then."
She touched his face.
"JaJa…"
Yani still lived in his throat and deep in his chest. Shit. His own cousin could see her on his face.
Marisol patted his chest.
"She's a beautiful child. You both look very happy together."
"I was happy."
"You can't stay that way?"
"Nah…it's too complicated…"
"Hmmm, I've heard that before. This must've been serious. Complicated is in some Disǎ territory. This baby's mother have you wound up like that again?"
Erik's eyes cut away from Marisol's. She was so much like his mother in many ways. Able to read his emotions inside his silence. His fingers reached out and held Marisol's hand. Squeezed it. He leaned forward and scrolled through a photo folder and swiped open a picture of Yani and Sydette inside Klaue's car. The night he left her for Angola.
Marisol stared at the photo and he was met with bright white teeth from her lips.
"They are beautiful. Were you with them before you came here?"
"We didn't part in the best way."
"Do you ever?"
The smirk on her mouth was playful but understanding.
How many times had Marisol witnessed all his messy entanglements? Played referee when he was being sloppy with his dick? Jumped in front of women in her own home town throwing hands over him in public when he was being young and dumb and uncaring? Marisol knew so many of his darkest secrets and shared in two of them. Truth was, if she ever changed from being a teacher, she could be the most brazen killer.
She had a reason to be.
Years ago, they both experienced the trauma of their Aunt Lia's death at the hands of assassins, and that bloody history stained and bound them both. When he was nineteen and she was barely eighteen, they had done the unthinkable together. For revenge. For their Aunt and for his mother.
Erik touched Marisol's black shining hair. It looked like wet ink and smelled like the coconut oil he used to dress his locs in when he was younger. It was a calm smell. Familiar. Soothing. She smelled like coconut oil when she seared a sterile knife into his flesh giving him his first keloid scar on his collar bone. For the cop who captured his mother in Oakland and paved the way for her to be extradited and die a lonely death. Erik was fifteen then.
Marisol gave him three more when they both took out men in Sao Paulo, and he gave her the one and only marking on her body. Under her left breast. She had mixed an ancient concoction she found from an elder in Candomblé who had ties to some ancient maroon scarification rites. It was the start of the map on his body. The story carved into his flesh over the years.
Marisol was there from day one. She was the only one who knew the truth when his family questioned the strange rite. His Uncle Bakari may have suspected some things, but no one else was bold enough to ask for the truth. His past piercings on his face were just youthful experimentation before the Naval Academy. But the scars…
He leaned his head on Marisol's shoulder and she stroked his hair.
"Can you go back to them? Is it a done deal?"
He shrugged.
"You love them?"
He nodded and Marisol sighed.
"Maybe…maybe you shouldn't go through with your plan. This could be a sign for you…"
Erik pulled himself away from her and closed up the picture on his computer. The music still filled the room with hollow sounds.
"Does she love you?"
"She once did…now, I dunno. Like I said…complicated."
"You should fight for this then…wait…listen to me…sit down, JaJa. Hear me out. Perhaps what you really need is there. In that woman. In that little girl."
"I owe them, my parents—"
"Your parents would want you to be happy and free of this. Auntie Lia would want you to have your own life…I want you to have that."
"I'll have it after…"
Marisol leaned forward, pulling her soft shiny curls into a top knot as she moved away from him.
"You'd throw away a guaranteed happy life for an uncertain future? Uncle N'Jobu and Auntie Cali would feel hurt if they saw you now—"
"I feel them in here all the time!"
Erik clutched at his chest. The anger in his voice flew out and Marisol flinched and stepped away from him. He slammed his fist into his chest.
"I carry Baba and Mom in here everywhere I go and that woman…that baby…they pushed themselves in there too and I can't carry them all."
"Hey…hey…JaJa…listen—"
"No you listen! I owe them. My Baba. My Mom. I won't be able to fully rest until I have finished this for them."
They heard the front door open and Serah's excited voice calling to them. Erik jumped up and wiped his face. Marisol reached for his arm and squeezed it.
"We can finish this later—"
"Nah, I'm done talkin' 'bout it."
"I feel sorry for you."
"Don't."
"Fuckin' stubborn—"
"Like you ain't either."
Marisol pursed her lips and went to greet their Aunt and Uncle.
It was time for tree decorating and baking cookies and Erik was happy to see his Aunt feeling like a kid again wrapping gifts for all of them, and making constant face chat calls to Erik's Grandfather and Marisol's mothers. The energy was festive and light even though Marisol's words weighed on Erik's mind. She just didn't understand. He couldn't change his plans midstream.
He was satisfied knowing Yani had funds to build a foundation for herself and Sydette. That was enough for him. He could move on knowing she was good and the baby was good. That was all he could give them. Nothing else.
###
It came from one of the cruise ships that docked at the port a week before Christmas. Tourists came and went with the seasons for it was the ebb and flow of island life. No one thought to quarantine the sick little white boy from Wales when he first showed signs of the sickness, and when his parents trotted him out to a burger stand, the sickness spread among a few island adults and children. It wasn't until the boy died a week later from respiratory failure that health officials were able to trace where it came from.
When it hit St Thomas, it was like a firestorm and spread among the old and young children alike. Most adults were able to pull through, but several babies and toddlers did not. Five had died in two different hospitals already before Yani even knew her own baby was in danger.
"Hey Sweet Pea," she said watching her daughter climb up the stairs with her father. It was Sunday evening the time of handing over Sydette back to Yani so they could spend a few days together with her family before New Year's.
Chez held his other daughter Star in his arms, and Yani noticed right away that something was wrong with Sydette's sister.
"Is she alright?" Yani asked.
Chez held the little girl against his chest as he watched Yani pick up Sydette. Star's coloring was paler than usual and her sweaty brow concerned Yani.
"She hasn't been feeling too well the last two days."
"Take her to the doctor."
Yani stared at her own child. Sydette looked fine.
"Ursula is taking her tomorrow. We've been giving her liquid Tylenol—"
"Chez, I don't think you should wait. Take her now."
Yani reached out and touched the child's forehead. It was clammy and hot. Star had rapid breathing and her lips looked milky blue.
"She's sweating out a fever—"
Star's head lulled back.
"Oh God, Chez!"
"Star!"
Chez ran down to his car with the baby dangling nearly lifeless in his arms.
"I'm calling Ursula!" Yani yelled down to him.
She held Sydette tight as she spoke to Ursula letting her know the condition Star was in. Afterward, Yani jumped online to check for symptoms, and when she read of the children already dead, her stomach lurched. It was contagious.
Sydette looked fine and her temperature was normal. Pacing her living room, Yani called her roommate Nanette who went to Puerto Rico to visit her baby's father with Azriel.
"Don't come back to St. Thomas. At least not until after the New Year—"
"How is Sydette?"
"Alright. I'll keep you updated with news."
"Thanks, Yani. Do you think it was one of those unvaccinated kids?"
"The news doesn't say that here. It spread from China to Europe. Now it's here because of that little boy."
Yani watched over Sydette, feeding her liquids and bathing her carefully.
Later that evening Chez called her back.
Star had what the dead white boy from Wales had.
Yani was on winter break from school and she didn't have to take Sydette into daycare. Staying in their apartment, Yani looked after her daughter and prayed that she was one of the lucky ones. Star's condition worsened, and when she was placed in critical care, Sydette came down with the same exact symptoms.
Yani vacillated between anger at Chez and Ursula and anger at herself for her daughter's poor health. They should've taken Star in the moment she fell ill. Instead, the virus incubated and it was passed onto Sydette.
In the hospital, Yani sat near her daughter's bed as she was pumped with fluids and medicine that hadn't worked for any of the children that died.
Her Aunt Leona and mother stayed by her side as Sydette's condition became more fragile. A new drug was administered and for a few days, it looked like Sydette and Star were improving. Yani was able to get some rest then on an uncomfortable chair.
"Go get some sleep, your mother and I are here," Leona said as she passed her niece a paper cup filled with chamomile tea.
"I don't want her to not see me," Yani said. She was exhausted and scared.
"At least go stretch out in your mother's van."
"No. I want to be here."
All the ill children received round the clock care, and Yani's nurse training allowed her to be calmer than most of the parents on the same floor as her. Staying clinical and remaining alert in the room helped her a little bit.
Watching her baby girl shit on herself and sweat profusely with constant shivers was horrible to witness. Sydette had a fever so high that the doctors worried about her having seizures. Whatever this new virus was, it had the medical staff in a chokehold.
"A baby died on another floor," Yani's mother said walking in with two coffees in her hand.
"Why would you come tell her that?" Leona scolded.
Yani's mother tried to comfort her with a hug, but Yani's pressure was up. Her temples throbbed. She was losing her clinical edge. Sydette wasn't getting better. Star wasn't either. In fact, Star was declining rapidly.
Chez was in and out of their room, comforting one baby mother after the other. He looked distraught and heavily disheveled. His clumsy attempts at trying to keep humor among them to lighten things backfired and Yani found herself stressed even more with his presence. Ursula was constantly texting him to return to Star's room. All the waiting and doctors not knowing what to do wore them all down to gristle. Chez was pulled into two different directions. They would rip him in half.
"Just go be with them," Yani said with deep frustration in her voice. Star was the sicker of the two children and needed Chez the most.
She held Sydette's small hand and couldn't believe the weak little body withering away on the hospital bed was her child.
Twyla and her other cousins came to visit and hold vigil so Yani could eat and relieve herself in the restroom. The more people came parading into the room, the more frightened Yani became. Four days in, Star was put on a breathing machine, and Sydette was trailing behind her.
All she could do was cry.
###
Erik walked into his Aunt's flat full of good cheer and good lager. He went on a pub crawl with his Uncle Addae and they were both lucky that they were clear-headed enough to hail a cab and give comprehensible directions.
He was ready to crawl into a warm bed and sleep off a good buzz, but Marisol greeted him with his cell phone in her hand.
"It's been buzzing non-stop," she said.
"Why I left it to begin with," he said. His words were slurred and he kissed her cheek heading to his room.
"There are a ton of texts, JaJa. Someone talking about your Yani—"
Erik snatched his phone from her hand.
Fifteen messages in an hour. But it wasn't from Yani's number. It was her cousin. Twyla.
Erik swiped her number quickly. It was still early on the island.
"Big Man…"
Twyla's voice sounded all wrong.
"Twyla—"
"Yuh have to come here. Sydette is dying…she nuh 'gon make it. She sister Star passed away this morning. Please come back here. Fast. She's on a respirator and the doctor wants to remove it…"
Erik sobered up instantly.
"Dying?"
"That virus. It spread here. Sweet Pea got it and her sister had it too…and—"
The phone gave muffled sounds and Erik could hear Yani bawling in the background with her mother yelling in heavy patois.
"I have to go. Get here. Anyway you can…please. It's bad."
Erik held his phone for a long time to his ear, even after Twyla hung up.
"JaJa?"
Marisol touched his shoulder.
Erik bolted up from the couch.
"I gotta leave. I gotta get outta here—"
"Where are you going?"
Serah stood in the middle of the room watching him and Marisol.
It was the dawn of a new year, and his baby girl was going to leave the world. That had to be a mistake.
"I gotta go!"
Marisol followed him to the guest room and helped him pack his duffle bag.
"JaJa, what is happening?" Serah asked.
"I'll call you when I get there."
His eyes felt wild in their sockets and he could barely focus on his belongings being tossed into place.
"Marisol? Do you know-?
"He just has to get back—"
"My little girl—"
"Little girl?" Serah's face looked puzzled at his words.
He prayed that he would make it back in time.
Rushing out of the flat, he flagged down a cab that shuttled him over to the airport. He lucked out on a red-eye that could get him to St. Thomas. It was leaving within the hour. His body shook with fear. He was always too late.
When the vibram tattoo in his lip itched as he played basketball with his little homies at the age of 10, he ignored it until the sky above him glowed with streaks of blue clouds above his father's apartment complex. He ran so fast to get to that top floor…but he was too late.
When his grandfather placed him on a plane at eleven with his Aunt Shavonne and Uncle Junie to get to a Sao Paulo prison to see his Mom…it was too late.
Fate always fucked with him, held him back from going forward to get to the ones he loved in time.
All he had on his phone was the address of the hospital and a room number.
His anxiety crippled him on the plane and by the time he dropped down from the sky back onto that tiny rock, Erik was full of fatigue, sorrow, and anger at himself. The last time he saw Sydette in person, she was comforting him, lifting his spirits, and making him grateful to know her tiny soul.
Why did he give her a check instead of himself? What could money do for her now?
The dread in his chest carried him along with the cab ride to the hospital.
God please…don't let me be too late again.
Let me say goodbye properly this time…