42f. History pt.6

Normal mothers woke you up with a greeting. Some with a kiss. Some with food. But not Nakia, not his mother. She woke him up with pots and pans for him to help prepare breakfast and chided him to hurry up.

It was a lot of work just for the two of them.

Toussaint rubbed his eyes. The crust of sleep was still in one of them. He had managed to pull off his pajamas and put on a black and purple daishiki, jeans, and some sandals. It had been early dawn when his sleep was broken. His mother had been insistent they watch the sunrise. Nowhere else could compare to the beauty of an African sunrise.

He yawned. "Maman, what's with all the food? Who else is coming?" He brought the last of the bowls and plates to the table set out on their patio.

"I've invited your aunty and another guest for breakfast."

He shook his head. "Not hungry." He muttered.

"That's fine. You'll stay for the conversation."

His mother took him by the elbow, leading him to one of the four chairs.

"Mother, I've already messed up enough. You're torturing me."

She wiped the sleep out the corner of one of his eyes. "No, Tutu. You were right. We all need to communicate better, whether we choose to continue different relationships or not we need to say our piece. It's been a few days, so the fire has cooled."

Nakia promptly pushed a pitcher of cold water and a kettle of black tea to the center of the table near the food.

In the distance, a woman of average height was approaching their house. Her braids were bundled up into a top knot and the light caught her panther necklace.

His aunt was wearing a purple maxi dress and a sheepish smile.

"Morning, sister," she greeted his mother, hugging her. Then, she turned her gaze to him. Awkwardness in her voice but her face appeared confident.

She folded her hands together into a praying stance. "Toussaint, I want to apologize. I—"

"No Aunty, I know you said it out of anger, but you were right. You don't have to pretend." Toussaint had his arms underneath his chin on the table. He was showing a clear lack of table manners, but he didn't care. "We're more alike than I wanted to admit. You're lonely, so you've stayed close to me, and I just wanted to share my happiness. I'm selfish. I wanted you and Ku'uk—I mean Namor to become family, so mine could grow."

"Toussaint…"

"The real plan was to get some cousins. Guess that failed." He joked.

"Tutu, even so, I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. To say that about T'Challa was a low blow. He was your father, but he was my best friend and big brother. I forgot he means as much to you as me. Sometimes, we're so wrapped up in our own perspective we don't see someone else's."

His voice cracked, a blend of puberty woes and the emotional aftermath. "You don't hate me?"

"I never could." Aunty Shuri smiled. She took a seat at the table.

Nakia hummed, pulling out her chair beside her. "Toussaint had no right to meddle in your past relationship. But you turned my son into a ... a what is the word? How can I describe him? A goth? An emoooo?"

"A moody teenager?" Shuri offered, amused.

His mother gave a snap of her fingers, "Yes! All he wants to do is mope around all day. Wear black and speak of the unfairness of life and love. Apparently, he thinks we haven't lived before him and don't know of life's hardships."

Shuri gave a quiet snicker.

"Bast, it's true. Life positively sucks, sometimes. But there's always enough beauty or the smallest slither of happiness to keep going." She reached for her plate, beginning to pile food. Making sure none of it touched. Her spoon helped to push the portions away from each other.

"Aww, Shuri you're still the same," Nakia remarked. "But don't eat yet. The other guest will arrive soon."

Shuri stopped using the spoon. Her brown eyes widened.

"So, he's coming? You said you were going to try to invite him, but really?"

Nakia rolled her eyes. "As if the pompous fool would say no. Let's just enjoy the sunrise until then."

But the flapping of wings soon captured all their attention.

Toussaint looked overhead. Among the oranges, pinks, and blues of the sunrise and the emerging sun, was their fish man. In all his terror or glory.

He knew Namor could fly, not hover, fly! But he hadn't really seen it in action. Namor looked so … dumb. The thick fortress of his body with the wings of a butterfly on each ankle was laughable. Like, a t-rex; a big body with small arms. Namor was agile though and glided down smoothly to their patio.

He was dressed in a simple tunic and shorts. Besides the nose plug, no fancy jewels or cape. He was coming here as a man. Not a god.

Namor greeted them politely. "This spread of food looks delicious. How I've missed the flavors of a Wakandan fried plantain. And you've brewed tea!"

The man took a glance at the four-chair setup and chose the seat next to Toussaint and across from Shuri. Last week's boiling tension between him and Shuri had seemingly simmered.

Toussaint swallowed. His aunt and Namor managed to say good morning to each other, but they both avoided each other's eyes.

Nakia cleared her throat.

"I must thank Okoye and Attuma for arranging this outing." She reached across the table and stroked Toussaint's cheek. "They heard and helped me cook for you all today. I want to open this morning for dialogue. There will be no forced apologies or expectations. Just share your feelings."

She continued, "Whatever you have to say can be said in front of us. There's safety in numbers and comfort too. My dear so nosy boy has involved himself, so he should at least witness the aftermath."

Shuri looked at the food on her plate. Namor looked at her. Nakia looked at both of them. Toussaint looked helpless.

He sighed.

"Um, why did you come today, Namor?" Toussaint asked. He added a bit of milk and sugar to his tea, then picked up his fork.

Namor answered plainly, "Your mother invited me via your aunt's invention. Video chat, to be specific. Despite what you all think, I was never against reconciliation." He stirred his own tea in an absentminded loop."She introduced herself as Shuri's sister and the murderer of my two daughters."

Toussaint dropped his fork.

Nakia nodded. Shuri kept her mouth in a firm line. The dignified purse of her lips reminded Toussaint of his grandmother.

Namor combed back his hair with his free hand. "I told her 'Why shouldn't I smite you where you stand.' If I did, maybe the cries of my daughters' agony, might sound quieter in my ears and my heart."

Even now, Toussaint could recognize some bloodlust coming from him, but it was faint. Subdued. Namor's smile was clenched.

Nakia held up a finger for each point. "And I told him: One, you'll throw us into war again and a country with nothing to lose is a terrible one to fight, lose your only ally, and decimate any inkling of hope with my sissy. Now, you guess, Tutu which was most compelling to him."

"I've no opinion. I'm staying in my lane now." Toussaint held his hands up in surrender.

Finally, meeting his eyes, Shuri said to Namor softly. "It hurts you to know this. Who harmed—who killed Ixchel and Luna. Maybe it was easier to not have a name or face to the killer. To not know that the young pather who you have come to love is her son."

A multitude of emotions showed through Namor's eyes for what had to be only a few seconds. Then, he steeled himself and frowned, confirming it.

Shuri spoke up. "I understand it's hard for you, but you must let my sister live. Don't avenge your children."

His face twisted. "How can you ask this of me?"

Like, a cute cat on the internet, Shuri tilted her head, feigning obliviousness. "I know it's a lot to ask of my mother's murderer."

Namor opened his mouth and then closed it. His eyebrows furrowed in pain. "I ... I think I understand. Queen Ramonda is your Ixchel and Luna. The same relationship between parent and child but in reverse."

True to her promise, Nakia didn't interrupt. Despite the topic being her life, she ate her fruit, unbothered.

Shuri stared at the plate on the table. Her eyes were almost closed. In a quiet voice, she replied, "You just now realized? And here I thought you were smart."

Toussaint drummed his fingers nervously on the table.

The longest span of silence that he had ever experienced occurred. In reality, it was like ten minutes, but the gentle breeze was the only noise. His mother squeezed Shuri's hand, but she was locked in an unwavering staredown with Namor. And it wasn't hostile. Just searching.

Namor's voice was low and sounded hoarse. "Shu—Princess Shuri, what do you need from me?"

Maybe she didn't trust herself to say it while looking directly because she fully closed her eyes.

"I need you to acknowledge it. You can't fix it. The souls are gone to the ancestral realm. My children will never know their grandmother. It hurt me. You hurt me, and I still hurt to this day."

He firmly nodded his head.

"Sorry isn't enough. But I hate that I made you experience more..." He fumbled for a word. "Hurt. More pain from someone who loves you."

Toussaint couldn't read his aunt's reaction nor could Namor. Eyes were the window to the soul, but Shuri had hers behind a barrier wall it seemed. Nakia gave her hand another squeeze, but Shuri was still silent for a while longer.

Namor didn't rush her. Something akin to remorse had been painted across his face. His ears dipped a bit lower.

Almost in a strained whisper, Shuri said, "Ixchel and Luna shouldn't have died. My heart hurts for their families. They were just following orders and had shown Riri and me kindness. Those girls could have been big sisters to someone. Maybe a Talokan child lost their T'Challa in one of them."

Of course, at this emotional breakthrough, the butterfingers gene caused Toussaint's fork to slip from his hand, making a loud thump against his bowl.

Six pairs of brown eyes pierced him to his chair. If his mother's glare could kill, Toussaint had been resurrected 3 times now just to die again.

He squeaked. "Ehehe, my bad. Continue, Aunty."

"I swear, Tutu read the room." Shuri sighed.

"Young panther, there's a reason 'children should be seen and not heard' has been passed down generations," Namor said in mock anger. But the teen knew him enough to see he was joking. As if to prove it, the smallest smile spread across Namor's face. When he wasn't destroying lives, Toussaint could admit Namor was a handsome guy. That was probably most of the appeal for his aunt. That and the abs and soulful eyes.

Maybe Fabienne would like him if he had abs? He was still pretty gangly and tall. His aunt and grandmother had confirmed his father had an awkward growth spurt before he built on any muscle.

Nakia cleared her throat. "Continuing this discussion, I think it's commendable that Shuri can even sit before you today. In the aftermath of Queen Mother's drowning, Bast rest her soul, Shuri kept going. Yes, with anger fueling her, but I don't know if I could have withstood all she went through. And I've undergone crisis training."

Shuri gritted her teeth. "Mhm, with my mama's body still warm, I was almost overnight thrust into a leadership role I never wanted. Killing Namor was the only thing that kept me sane or focused. I knew backbiting and confusion would follow with the elders once all was said and done. They love me as Black Panther, not queen. Even now, they're some—well, Tutu is in the room. I can't say that."

"You know I'm almost fifteen not four, right?"

"Anyway, Okoye's uncle was one of my biggest detractors then, but now he begs me to take the throne. Why? Because Lord M'Baku is a bigger headache to him than he ever imagined." She laughed. Happiness fitted her features so much better than sadness. "Of all of us in the knockoff Jabariland coats, he looked the saggiest of dogs."

Like no time had passed, Namor and Shuri laughed together. Just as much as bad memories dredged up terrible feelings; good ones brought sparks of joy.

When their reminiscence had finished, Namor ruffled his hair. "I didn't understand back then. You cared so much for Wakanda that you wouldn't even take the throne. I wasn't trying to force you into the position, but I thought you were the obvious choice. We understood each other, so as our nation's leaders we'd work well together more than anyone else. Like, we do now."

Shuri opened her mouth.

He continued quickly. "Even before the incident." He gestured awkwardly. "You told me you never desired politics. You were content for your brother to rule. Why deprive your people of your leadership? They could've just as easily fallen to a dictator."

Shuri held his gaze. "We're the same in that our people come first, but we express it differently. I want to give my people technology and make their every inconvenience easier. I work to ensure no one goes hungry and that we prevent environmental issues. I don't have to be the commanding leader to do that. I protect in my own way."

Toussaint crunched loudly on his fruit to break the silence.

"Namor, you can't understand because you've grown up putting the sole brunt of your country on your shoulders. I've always been a part of a team. Without Attuma and Namora, you probably would've been worst off. Maybe what you felt for me wasn't love back then. But just a need for a companion?"

Namor swallowed. He turned to look at Toussaint and Nakia, but they weren't leaving. The time for privacy was over.

"It could have started that way initially. Most relationships outside of familial have to grow. My loneliness didn't make me stay in love with you. It just made me want to know you. Like a star, I was attracted to the brightness that you are. You are amazing, Itzia."

He reached for her hand, and she relented.

"Your fingertips feel warm on my wrist," Shuri murmured.

"I'll always warm you. All that I have including my body heat I'll share with you."

Nakia cleared her throat, but it took a few minutes for the two to break away.

The sun was starting to shine on their heads now. The heat would be unbearable later that day for sure, but for now, the cool breeze of the morning still accompanied them.

"Well, what's the ending verdict? Put Tutu's nosiness to rest. Will you two pursue a romantic relationship again?" His mother asked. They said he had no tact, but he got it from his mama!

"Young Panther's mother," Namor began. Maybe he wouldn't ever address her by name. "You wish to see us together?"

"I wish to see you dead, rotting like the spoiled fish you are. Thankfully for you, my sister does not. Any more questions?"

"Nakia," Shuri hissed, trying to cover her face with one hand, embarrassed. "If we were to be together, why is that any of your concerns?"

"Well, if you let us know. It will put my boy's meddling to rest, aye?"

"I said I was sorry! I'm done playing cupid now."

"Young panther, what do you think?"

Toussaint chose the words carefully. "I want you both to be happy. I'm still mad and disgusted with you, Namor, and I don't think I can ever call you K'uk'ulkan again ... But neither can I stop loving you as an uncle."

Namor pressed a kiss to his forehead, hugging him into his shoulder.

"My boy."

"Mhm, let him go now before you suffocate him with a bicep." Shuri quipped but tenderness was in her eyes. She reached across and touched the top of Toussaint's head.

"Shuri?"

"To answer you Nakia, who needs to stop hiding her own nosiness behind her son, it's complicated."

Namor released him, his attention rapt on his aunt.

"We have so much history, and I can't say I feel nothing for him. He was my first serious love. There were other men but–"

"They don't compare to me." He puffed his chest out. The grin on his face should have been the image in the dictionary for obnoxious.

Shuri talked louder, not giving him the satisfaction. "You know, I found love after you, fish man. So conceited! There were others much much better, mind you, but my heart is still UNFORTUNATELY tender toward you."

Namor asked lowly, "Could you still love me, Shuri? My feelings for you have never changed. But I was so blind to your perspective that I could only see my own."

"I never stopped loving you, Namor. But I've been hating you for so long, and that's going to take me some time. A lifetime, even."

"Then, it's very good that I can live so long." He whispered. Pure unbridled hope shined in his eyes.

Those two were lost in their own world. Shuri wiped at her eye and Namor squeezed her hand.

"Your wrist. I'll give you a new bracelet. Never should it look so naked without my jewels."

"No need," Shuri mumbled. "I still have your bracelet. It's in my room."

Namor kissed her knuckles. "I had heard from a little panther, but I couldn't be sure it was true."

"I reasoned to myself it was a remembrance of what brought back the Black Panther, then it was for historical preservation. But really it was because I didn't want to let go. Painful as it was, the memories of our relationship. It's so beautiful, and it's your mother's."

"Yes, my queen," he murmured, now kissing each of her fingers. "But it's yours now. However you saw fit, I wouldn't have been upset with what you did. It's a gift, and with all that has transpired, I don't deserve your kindness."

"Correct. You don't. But it's still mine to give." Shuri smiled.

Nakia sipped her tea giving a shady look. She rolled her eyes at the confession.

Toussaint felt his heart warmed. Bast, he loved soap operas and second chances at love. It gave him hope. Love was never gone if you kept trying to look for it.

Nakia finished. "Well, Toussaint, there you have it. Reconciliation isn't off the table. It won't happen today, but maybe in the future."

"Young Panther's Mother, would you ..." Namor started. It couldn't have been easy for him to ask her for a favor.

"Go ahead." Nakia got up taking the seat next to her son.

Namor leaned in closer to Shuri's head, and her breath hitched. Maybe the memories of their kisses replayed in her head, feeling the muscle memory of past caresses and touches. There was such a softness about her.

Which is why the abrupt stop shocked all three of them.

"What are you doing?" Shuri asked, incredulous. She had pressed a hand to Namor's mouth, blocking him.

He planted a kiss on the palm of her hand, holding it. "The act of pressing one's lips to another."

"Bast, if men have one thing, it's the audacity!" Nakia declared, shaking her head. She finished the last of her fruit.

Shuri smiled. "No, there will be no kissing today."

"Fair. That leaves it open for another day. Hope to see you soon, Shuri."

"Yeah, eventually." She yawned.

Toussaint noted neither had really said goodbye. The two closed their eyes.

"Maman, all this was so beautiful. It's not perfect, but it works for them."

"I suppose. Unless a new eligible bachelor takes Namor's place. Hopefully, one less despicable."

Toussaint's mouth hung open. He was surprised Namor hadn't taken offense.

"Just kidding, Tutu! Don't be so stiff!"

In his pocket, his phone beeped. He should have silenced it, but he checked it.

"Fabienne's sister texted me asking if I could take her to the movies. Why can't her Fabienne take her?"

"Oh, is that so?" Nakia laughed. "I've always said that little girl likes you."

Toussaint texted away while sipping the last of his tea. "Hmm, I'm going to tell her maybe when we return to Ayiti. But for now, I've to reschedule."

"Why?"

"Because I have a family thing we're doing right now. Because we're all family, right?"

No response besides his mother nodding.

Toussaint laid the phone on the table. "Are you guys listening to me?"

Namor and Shuri had fallen asleep against each other.

It had been too early. Toussaint grinned. Who in the world had a heart-to-heart at sunrise, anyway?

From the corner of his eye, he saw his mother's hand itched toward the knife she used to cut fruit.

"Maman!"

Nakia sighed amusedly. "I wasn't really going to kill him. I wouldn't do so in front of my baby boy— I mean my young prince."

Toussaint only rolled his eyes once his mother turned to clear the table. He wasn't crazy enough to do that in front of her.

They were going to be all right. This little family of his, Mama, Aunty Shuri, and Uncle Namor.

It wouldn't be instant because the hurt was there. Toussaint still felt hurt himself by the true knowledge of his grandmom's passing, but it would be a process.

Love wasn't always enough. But just a little went a long way.

[and the sun comes out once again to smile upon us.]

history's story is done. epilogue to come