Chapter I: The Beginning of 1,001 Nights Under the Moon
The house smelled like onions.
Onions were a staple in Ethiopian cooking. Nazareth's childhood home in Kechene always had that distinct pungent scent whenever her mother cooked, especially in the mornings. When she was just a young girl, Nazareth would rush out of the house to avoid the smell sticking onto her clothes like sap, but to no avail. She always smelled like onions.
Nowadays, in her London home, the scent brought a fond comfort for her. Her sister, Jericho, always complained though and turned on the range hood above the stove when she cooked.
Nazareth was done with the quanta firfir and plated on some injera. Mamoru jumped on the counter and sniffed around the food, Nazareth gently swiped him away with her hand.
"No, no, no, Mamo." She chided the cat. "I already fed you. This is your mom and auntie's food."
The Maine Coon stared at her like he was a little offended. Mamoru had a bi-colored black and white coat that oddly made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo with a little white mask across his eyes. The enormous cat decided he had enough of her and hopped off the counter to play with his brother, Yoruichi. Or at least try to play with that lazy black Persian who didn't even look at her when she woke up.
She ate her breakfast and left Jericho a plate in the microwave with a sticky note. On the counter was a glass of water with two pills for the headache her sister was about to wake up with from a gig last night. Nazareth headed upstairs to get ready for work. She decided to wear a pale pink button-up shirt dress with an ivory belt; she tied her curly hair into a ponytail and slipped on her yellow flowery hairpin.
Nazareth said "Bye, Jellybean" to Jericho, who continued to snore like a ferocious lion, loud enough for the noise to penetrate through her bedroom door and into the hallway. She called out a "See you later, you guys" to the old, wrinkled photo on the fireplace of her parents and little Zorah. Nazareth felt the Summer heat kiss her skin when she went out the door.
The morning August heat was already causing her to sweat a little and the crowded streets of tourists weren't making it better. Nazareth said warm "Hellos" and "Good mornings" to her neighbors passing by as she walked to Sheba's Palace, an Ethiopian coffee shop in her neighborhood of Shepherd's Bush.
When Nazareth entered through the door, she saw a tour guide with black curls and brown skin explaining to a group of tourists the history and significance of the coffee ceremony. The hostess of the ceremony sat on a short stool, surrounded by long blades of grass and flowers, burning incense to keep the evil spirits away. As the smell of myrrh, frankincense, and roasting coffee beans permeated her nose, Nazareth smiled at Zoya. The shop worker was brewing with a French Press behind the counter.
"Morning, Zoya." Nazareth greeted. "How're you today?"
The woman with light brown skin and dyed honey curls just shrugged, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. "Ugh, same old shit. Wake up, come here...and do nothing else. Yourself?"
"Well, my coworkers and I are almost done organizing the Arabian Nights Event we're having at the museum," Nazareth counted with her fingers, raising another one. "One of my books is coming out next month, you remember the one I told you about-"
"Yeah, I remember you going on in great detail about your Transformers book." Zoya drolled.
She shook her head, "It's Mecha. And yeah, Transformers are technically Mecha too, but I'm talking more about like Evangelion, Code Geass, you know?"
"No, I don't know." Zoya admitted. "But I'll pretend that I do, so we go on in this conversation."
Nazareth peered behind her to see if there was anybody behind her. She didn't want to be rude and hold up the line. Thankfully, nobody was waiting to order. The tourists on the other side of the shop were being served coffee with popcorn and peanuts, having a great time with the pretty tour guide.
"I have another book coming out, somewhere in March and I'm pretty sure my cat hates me now."
Zoya nods, rather sympathetically, which was a rarity from her. "Cats only like us when we serve them. Anyway, glad things are going good for you." She reached towards the Square register. "What do you want today? Besides your coworkers' orders." She interrupted Nazareth, who opened then closed her mouth. "I already have them memorized. You order something different on most days."
Nazareth's cheeks burned, "Most of your coffee is good to me. I'll have a cold brewed yirgacheffe."
"Coming right up." Zoya, with fingers fast as lightning, typed on the screen then prepared the orders.
Minutes went by and Nazareth was given little snacks of popcorn and peanuts, and the drinks stuffed inside carrier bags. Zoya slipped in an extra bag of popcorn. Before Nazareth could protest, the other woman waved her hand dismissively.
"You're one of our favorite customers and I like you." Zoya said. "So, you get free stuff. Not all the time though. Just say thank you and leave."
After a long second of silence, Nazareth sighed. "Thank you, Zoya. Hope you have a nice day."
"Yeah, you too." She grumbled.
Nazareth left the coffee shop and scurried to the bus. On both sides of the vehicle were ads that said, GRC: Reuniting with Your Better Half. Sitting down in a window seat, she popped in her headphones and played Batwanes Beek, bobbing her head gently to the beat.
The double decker only stopped to pick up and drop off passengers. The bus stopped near the museum in Bloomsbury and Nazareth hopped off.
She was a Folklorist and Curator at the National Art Gallery, recommended personally by her former boss at the Folklore Museum when the Gallery opened a new department to preserve a larger collection of folkloric artwork and archives, and organize events to showcase traditional beliefs through storytelling, music, and dances from people of different communities.
The banners on the museum were written in golden English, but in an Arabic calligraphy style with a green, three horned and yellow eyed Djinn on the upper left-hand corner and Sinbad the Sailor on the lower right.
Nazareth entered the museum, greeting people who walked by her, and saw J.B. leisurely hunched over the front desk of the security room. He was, as always, on his phone, not paying attention to the patrons walking in and out.
For a brief second, he took his eyes off of his phone, watching a few people rush in, then he took notice of her. J.B. straightened his posture, smoothed out his clothes, and slicked back his brown hair. He leaned on his side with his elbow propped up on the desk.
"Hey, Naz, how's it going?" he asked.
Nazareth gave him a polite smile, setting some of the bags on the desk. "I'm doing good. You?"
"Doing fine. Just looking at some videos." J.B. held up his phone for emphasis. "Wanna take a guess what I'm watching now?"
Nazareth tucked in her bottom lip under her upper lip thoughtfully. It was a little game they played since she started working here a little over a year ago. J.B. was always hooked on some sea animal. A few weeks ago it was baby seals, before that it was little sea turtles, and before that it was sharks. He called them sea puppies and said that they were just misunderstood.
"I'm guessing...I feel like it's manatees."
"Ah, damn, you're right." He showed her the video he was watching, several baby manatees nibbling on some lettuce, floating in the sea.
Nazareth's eyes shone. "Aww, that's so cute. Manatees are actually my favorite animal. It's sad hearing people think that they're ugly."
J.B. perked up, "That's so? You know they have them at the aquarium..."
Her stomach stirred. It wasn't pleasant, not even unpleasant. It was rather anxious.
He continued, "And I was wondering, since we've known each other for a while now, if you want to go out? Like on a date?"
"J.B., I'm-I'm sorry, but I don't see you that way." Nazareth admitted. "I just see you as a friend."
"Oh...okay then. It was worth a shot." He tried to laugh it off, but Nazareth knew better.
"Hey, just because I said no, doesn't mean you won't find someone who'll say yes. You're a good bloke."
J.B. nodded, although solemnly, but he straightened up. "Yeah, yeah. You're right, you're right." He took the coffee cup with his name scribbled on out of a carrier bag with a bag of peanuts. "Thanks for coffee, Naz."
"You're welcome." She responded. "I hope you have a good day."
"You too," J.B. muttered, took his drink and snack, and went to look over the monitors. Nazareth felt bad.
He was a decent man, even though he was a little lazy on the job. Nazareth meant what said, that she only saw J.B. in a platonic light. She continued to hand out the drinks and snacks to her co-workers, receiving "Thanks" and "Cheers" and grins from them.
Nazareth stopped the gift shop, witnessing Donna walk out of the inventory room with a man she had never seen before. Donna was talking while waving a hand at the items on display. The man was taking the words in.
He must be a new hire, Nazareth concluded.
"Morning, Donna. How're you doing?" Nazareth said.
"Rather by doing something else honestly." Donna replied gruffly, accepting the tea and two sweet buns Nazareth held out. She didn't like peanuts or popcorn, Nazareth remembered.
"Hello," Said the man with an awkward wave.
Nazareth took him in and her eyes couldn't leave. He was taller than her, maybe about seven inches, with olive-toned skin, dark eyes with a hint of exhaustion underneath but still filled with brightness. He had a boyish look to him that she liked. His hair was like his eyes, dark with curls. Nazareth liked curly hair. For some reason, she just found it attractive. Maybe it was the thought of running her hand through the tresses and wrapping a curl around her finger, releasing, and watching it bounce back. Her friend, DanDan, would've immediately called him a curly cutie.
Nazareth felt her cheeks turn hot. Not only did she just met the man, but it was more than likely his first day and she could tell he was a bit nervous. He didn't need those flustered thoughts about him already, but sympathy ran a course through her. She remembered her first day working at the Gallery. Nazareth was bubbling with anxiety, her thumb tapped against her forefinger. She wanted her co-workers to at least tolerate her and not think she was a mess. That day went past as soon as the other days that came after. Her nerves dwindled and now she had a friendly relationship with most of her co-workers. Hopefully that'll happen for this man too.
Donna rolled her eyes, Nazareth frowned. The blonde woman said, "Naz, this is our new shoppist, Stevie-"
"Actually, it's Steven..." He said, his accent told her that he was from the Northeastern side of London. "With a V."
Nazareth welcomed him with a smile. "I'm Nazareth...with a Z."
Donna looked at her like she grew a second head, as Steven regarded her a second and a grin broke out.
"Nice to meet you." He said.
Nazareth glanced at the remaining bags she had in her hands, realizing she didn't have anything for her new coworker. She asked him, "Do you like popcorn?"
Perplexed, Steven answered, "Y-yeah, I like popcorn. Not my favorite in the world, but I'll still eat it."
Nazareth dug into a bag and pulled out the free popcorn Zoya gifted her. She handed it to Steven. "I usually buy drinks and snacks for my coworkers. There's this Ethiopian coffee shop I go to and I buy things from there. I don't have anything for you, so I'll give you this."
"Oh, no, you don't have to-"
"I want to." Nazareth said, checking the time on her phone and saw she was almost late for her meeting. She started to walk backwards away from the gift shop. "I have to go, when I see you again, tell me what kind of drink you like and I'll get it for you at the shop." She paused and mumbled. "I should show you a menu first though. See you later, Steven. And it was nice meeting you."
When she turned in a hurry, she heard him say, "Uh, yeah, you too! Later, gators!"
Crossing the Department of Britain, Europe, and Prehistory, Nazareth felt her shoulder slam into another one. She caught herself from falling over. Nazareth saw the back of a woman with dirty blonde hair, walking away in her black heels, click-clacking on the marble floors. She recognized the woman.
Steph Brown, for whatever reason, behaved like a schoolyard bully despite being middle aged. A few months ago, Steph transferred to the nearby department primarily focusing on the history of Britain. She complained that she wanted to explore and share the folklore of the nation only instead of, said in a spiteful tone, "Of those other countries," like the thought of researching other cultures was poisonous to her.
Most of the employees in the Folklore Department weren't white or British by birth and were clearly offended by her.
For a reason completely lost to Nazareth, Steph utterly despised her the most and it began only during her first week of working at the Gallery. She brought homemade spiced crescent cookies drizzled in chocolate to share at work. Her coworkers gave her compliments and some even asked for the recipe. When she handed one to Steph, the other woman looked her dead in the eye, crushed the cookie in her hand, and threw the crumbs in trash. Steph told her, "If you're going to bring something to work, don't bring anything that'll cause me to gain weight."
She was hurt by those words, but what solidified their terrible relationship was when Steph graced her with the nicknames "Scarface," because of the old healed scar close to her left temple and "Lazy Eyed Naz," since her left eye was lazy, often wandering outwards. Steph couldn't think of an insulting nickname based on her puncture wound scars, though, the scars that littered her right forearm. So she'd just stare in disgust.
A younger Nazareth would've weighed down and tried anything to be accepted by her, but an older Nazareth was kinder to herself and decided to do nothing for her.
Nazareth entered what the Folklorist dubbed "The Den," a cozy small conference room with a long, plush couch and low seats as a painting of Red Riding Hood gripping her basket, traveling through the woods while the Wolf stalked her from behind the trees, hung on the wall.
She greeted her coworkers and passed out their drinks and snacks. The Head of the Department, an early forty-ish Syrian man named Bahir El-Moussa walked in and started the meeting. It was just a rundown of what everyone had completed with the coming lecturers and storytellers, dancers and craftsmen selling their art, and what Bahir was most excited for from the tone of his voice, the catering of delicious food. He told everyone to do a final inspection in their sections.
Nazareth took a sip of her drink, tasting the peaches and sweet, citrus flavors brought out immensely by the cold brew. She was checking over the beautiful paintings in the display room when she knocked into something sturdy. She jumped, almost dropping her cup, turned around and saw her very tall coworker, Jonah, staring down at her.
He chortled, "Jumpy today, aren't we?"
Nazareth froze for a second and put on a tight, fake smile, tapping on her cup with her nails. She subtly glanced around the room to see if there were anyone else other than Jonah with her. There was nobody else and Nazareth felt the knot in her gut tighten more.
Jonah Stills was enormous in height, about six-seven, stocky with coiffed brown hair and pale blue eyes. His eyes always sent a cold shiver down her spine like she was doused in icy water. They're just so...in the nicest term, lifeless.
She didn't know what made him so unnerving. He actually reminded her of a boy from her old University who would mix chemicals in his dorm and read Mein Kampf, not in a critical study way, but more in a style of being influenced. Nazareth can admit, as her stomach soured when she met Jonah, she covered her Star of David bracelet with her shirt sleeve.
Jonah, when speaking to him, wasn't unpleasant. It was just those eyes...
Nazareth thought of those warm brown eyes she saw this morning at the gift shop.
"Yeah, I guess..." Nazareth laughed nervously. "Um, aren't you supposed to be checking the lecture room?"
"Already did it." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I was wondering-"
Nazareth whipped out her phone and pretended to dial. She exclaimed, "Oh! I'm so sorry, Jonah, but I have to call someone. I'm finished here, so I'm gonna take this call... somewhere else."
She didn't even give him a chance to respond as she practically ran away. Nazareth felt his eyes on her back.
When she reached her office door that had a golden plate with her name, Nazareth Kassahun, written in black, opened and shut the door, double locking it. Her forehead touched the little window curtain of the door and breathed. Nazareth texted Bahir, telling him that the display room was perfect. She thought about telling him about Jonah and how uncomfortable she was around him but pushed that idea away. Jonah technically didn't do anything to her. All he does is talk to her. There was no proof of anything, just her unease and words.
Nazareth sat at her desk and started some other work that needed to be done.
Jericho texted her that she was ordering curry takeout when Nazareth reached the front of the museum, saying "Bye, see you later" to J.B. He wasn't solemn like he was this morning as he did respond back to her, so that was a good sign. Outside the museum doors, the skies purpled and the heat of the Summer night air lowered slightly. She was glad her day was over.
Nazareth saw a familiar head of curls, the new gift shoppist, Steven, walking down the steps and onto the sidewalk. She strides, catching up to him from behind. She called out, "Hey, Steven," When he turned and saw her, she said, "Remember me?"
"Oh, yeah, you're Nazareth, right?" Steven confirmed. "With a Z."
Nazareth's lips formed a smile, "That's right. I just wanted to ask how your day was since you're new and all."
"Well, you know, it's like any other first day, innit?" Steven shrugged with one shoulder. "Got shown around, learned how to stock properly, and ring things up..." He sounded a bit disappointed as he trailed off.
"You don't sound too happy about that," Nazareth commented, then added. "If you don't mind me saying."
Steven waved his hands frantically to reject, stammering, "No, no, no. I'm glad to be working here. It's just..." He bit the corner of his bottom lip. "It's just not what I wanted."
"What did you want to do then?" Nazareth asked.
"I wanted to be a tour guide. I did the application and had the interview, but there weren't any positions opened." Answered Steven, sighing. "Donna said if there was one available and I didn't annoy her, then she'll think about it."
Nazareth nodded understandingly. Donna wasn't the most, to put kindly, patient of people. Short-tempered and prickly, she hoped that Donna wouldn't run off her new hire like she did the last one.
"Hopefully she will." She said, "What department do you want to be a tour guide in?"
What she thought was stars, sparkled in Steven's brown eyes. "Ancient Egypt. That's literally the only reason why I applied here. It has the largest collection of Egyptian antiquities with more than 100,000 pieces! Some of the sculptures here date back from the Neolithic period!"
Nazareth smiled at his enthusiasm. "And to think it started with only 160 of those pieces in the 1750s. Well, 1753. Then more objects were taken...by the French after their loss in the Battle of the Nile. A few years later, the British Army took those away from the French and brought them here." She motioned to the museum with a spread of her arm as she thought, And never considered giving anything back to the Egyptians.
Steven's brows raised, impressed. "Someone here knows their collection and museum history." He pointed at her. "You."
"Oh, you know, it's a part of the job." She said bashfully, her cheeks warmed.
He noticed how dark the sky was becoming, he said, "It's getting late, and you probably don't want to hear me ramble on."
Nazareth shook her head, "No, it's fine! I'm a motormouth too. I overly explain what I'm watching or reading, or even writing. I actually went into a tangent about the themes, and symbolism, and character relationships in Revolutionary Girl Utena to my friend at the coffee shop. She just looked so confused, especially when I tried to explain that Nanami wasn't in love with her brother, despite her behavior and actions towards him and all of the other girls he was sleeping with. And just all of the other girls around him in general..." She paused, realizing what she's saying and covered the sides of her face with her hands embarrassed. "I...I, uh..."
"...That does sound a bit incestuous." He mumbled.
"It's not...okay, yeah, there are siblings that are sleeping together, but that's not what the show's about!" Nazareth insisted when she saw the pinched look on Steven's face. "It's about a girl who wants to become a Prince, not a literal Prince, but what a Prince symbolizes..." She went quiet for a second. I need to change the topic. It's getting too weird. "So, Ancient Egypt, huh? That explains the shirt."
Underneath Steven's light jacket was a navy-blue button up with Egyptian hieroglyphs and deities printed in gold. The unique designs shimmered every time he moved.
"Oh, this?" Steven plucked up the side of his shirt. "My mum brought it for me. Thought it would be good to wear on my first day."
Nazareth chuckled, "It's a little on the nose, but that's sweet of her. You look good in it."
Steven looked surprised. "Really? You think so?"
"Yeah," She lowered her head shyly. "You're a handsome man. It fits you. Since you like Egypt, my department, the Folklore Department, is having an event in a couple days." Nazareth pointed to the banners above them. "It's about the Arabian Nights, like Shahryar and Scheherazade and other stories that a lot of people don't know. The Three Apples, The Fisherman and the Jinni. We're also telling stories from Egypt. So, if you have time, it starts at noon, you can come by."
"Noon? Around lunch?"
"Yeah," Nazareth nodded. "Yeah. I'll be there, but I have to be there. But only if you want to-"
"I'll come," Steven interrupted a bit too quickly. He straightened himself, "I mean, I'll come and see. I don't have anything else to do on my lunch break."
"Alright, I'll see you then?"
"You will. I'll be there."
His words excited her. Nazareth's phone buzzed in her hand. It was Jericho wondering where she was. She looked up at the sky and noticed it was even darker than before. The stars came out with the moon. "I think we spent too much time here."
Once again, he saw how dark the night was. "I guess we did." His tone told her that this time he didn't seem to mind. "I have to go home and feed Gus...he's my pet fish."
"I do too. I mean, I don't have a fish. I have two cats and I have to beg for forgiveness with one of them." She explained, starting her stroll. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
He nodded, "Y-yeah, you will...tomorrow. See you tomorrow, Nazareth."
"See you."
It was only this morning she met Steven and butterflies were already fluttering in her stomach.
It was rather quiet on the ride back home on the bus. Nazareth watched the moon shine wistfully from the window. When she reached home, welcomed by Yoruichi pawing at the bottom hem of her dress and the spicy scent of mouthwatering curry, Nazareth realized she forgot to ask Steven what his favorite snack and drink was.