Prologue
mjomba=uncle/Swahili
Anasi=Spider god of stories
*Spring 2009* Three Years After 2006
Your mjomba, Zuberi, would often say, "Oh, that Anansi spins the trickiest webs, so confusing and frustrating! But that's how he weaves excellent stories."
"Life is a puzzle, but that's what makes a captivating tale."
He'd then share, with a hearty chuckle, "Well, that's what my auntie used to tell me."
His wife, Emiyo, would playfully add, "Your auntie had a knack for saying the most enigmatic things."
They would both erupt in laughter. Back then, you couldn't quite fathom why Emiyo found amusement in the perplexing, and you struggled to grasp your mjomba's cryptic wisdom. You had arrived in Japan nine years ago at the age of 11 to live with them, and his saying became a regular part of your life. It left you baffled initially, but as time passed, its meaning gradually became clear.
Life was indeed chaotic, yet strangely beautiful. (Your interpretation).
As you stood near the water's edge, gazing contemplatively at the tranquil Mediterranean Sea, you couldn't help but ponder these thoughts. The gentle evening waves caressed the shoreline, almost teasing the hemline of your wedding dress skirt. The temptation to let the sea foam touch even a small part of your dress was strong, as the receding water carried away grains of sand. You envied those sand particles at this moment; they could be carried far away, free to go with or against the current.
You missed that sense of freedom.
Beneath your serene exterior, frustration simmered, as if someone were stifling your voice, preventing you from expressing your turmoil. Those who could read the calm facade in your eyes might have sensed it.
Those who couldn't see past the façade perceived nothing but a stunning, petite 18-year-old bride. You wore a soft gold A-line dress adorned with intricate off-shoulder embellishments and a cinched waist, accentuating your elegant figure. The dress's color complemented your caramel-brown skin, highlighting its various shades. Your arms remained bare, your hands impeccably manicured, and even your newly acquired pear-cut white gold wedding ring didn't grace your exposed arms. A flowing skirt trailed behind you, and your long, wavy orchid hair was elegantly gathered into a tousled chignon, secured with a jeweled star hairpin at the nape of your neck. Strands of loose hair framed your heart-shaped face, and your makeup exuded a natural radiance.
You were the epitome of grace and beauty, as any bride should be. Many praised you, not only for your appearance but also for your "good fortune."
Yes, good fortune, you scoffed inwardly, careful not to let it show.
You didn't feel fortunate, especially when it came to this aspect of your family. You knew why people uttered those words; the agony gnawed at your core like termites.
Your mjomba's saying echoed in your thoughts once more, drowning out the distant sounds of jubilant music emanating from the white villa a quarter mile away.
The irony of such music and the harmonious atmosphere it created, concealing the underlying intentions. To an outsider, this might appear like any other wedding.
The gentle sound of the lapping waves returned to your senses, prompting you to take a small step back in your heels. The waves receded, and your foot instinctively twitched to move forward and follow them.
"I won't do that," a gritty, husky voice warned, followed by a puff of smoke.
You recognized the unmistakable scent and voice of Shiu Kong, the man who had stoked your anger and partly caused this situation. His presence momentarily drew you back to reality. As much as you wanted to furrow your brow, you maintained your composure, albeit begrudgingly.
You kept your back turned to him, your gaze fixed on the sea, while the soft crunch of his calm, steady footsteps approaching interrupted the tranquil sounds of the waves.
From the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the soft, cherry-red glow of a cigarette burning brightly against the darkening evening.
Another puff of smoke followed. You remained unfazed.
"If you're thinking of leaving before I get paid, think again," he continued, taking a deep drag.
You maintained your silence. You weren't in the mood for conversation, especially with him.
He noticed your lack of response but kept talking anyway. "Most brides are elated on their special day, even in your case. You even got to marry a former friend after years apart."
Your eyebrows almost furrowed.
"Most romantic movies would consider that a happy ending. If you can't see it that way, at least you got a new home out of it. Once the party is over and everyone leaves, it won't be too bad, I suppose. I'm somewhat envious."
Again, you said nothing, merely taking a light step back to avoid the encroaching waves.
A silence settled between you both, one you preferred. To break it, he inhaled and exhaled another plume of smoke. This one was denser, causing you to cough and turn away, disrupting your poised demeanor.
"Are you alright?" he asked, taking another drag.
He observed you for a moment, realizing his cigarette was halfway finished. After a few more coughs from you, you regained your composure and tried to regain your poise. Just as someone else arrived at the top of the path and spotted you.
"I found her! I found her!" shouted a child's voice. You felt goosebumps rise across your arms, knowing who it was and who followed, and, most importantly, what might come next.
It was difficult to control your trembling as the child's footsteps raced across the sand towards you. Your demeanor underwent a sudden transformation, and your vacant gaze was quickly replaced by a warm, delighted glow.
"Nanako, you found me," you said, turning to face her and gently catching her as she stumbled on the sand while rushing towards you.
You held her steadily, being mindful of your own demeanor. You scanned her quickly for any signs of harm on her white, sleeveless flower girl dress, complete with a satin sash around her waist. She looked utterly charming in it, with her long, caramel hair braided neatly. Her twin sister, Mimiko, appeared equally charming.
Finding no injuries, you relaxed your shoulders slightly. Nanako, however, was still catching her breath. Tenderly, you placed a hand on her back and rubbed it.
"Nanako, are you alright?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern.
Shiu was surprised to hear that tone from you and witness your actions. Nanako took a moment to catch her breath as you helped her stand upright, then blurted out, her tone demanding,
"Why did you leave?"
You weren't surprised by her outburst or her reaction, as she grabbed and tugged at your wrist. However, you were taken aback by the large, teary eyes that stared back at you. For a fleeting moment, you felt stunned, and, to Shiu's surprise, you knelt down to her eye level with a tender expression.
You released your wrist from her grasp and gently wiped away her tears.
"Why did you leave?" she muttered softly, trying to conceal her tears behind her hand covering her eyes.
A pang of guilt tugged at your heart from her words. You took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly; she returned the gesture. She looked at you, her eyes uncertain but devoid of fear. The guilt now gnawed at your heart; you hadn't meant to make her feel this way and offered her a warm smile. Her frown didn't dissipate, as you had expected. You opened your mouth to speak but hesitated when another voice interjected.
"Shiu, are you trying to pollute my beautiful bride with your noxious fumes?"
Your blood ran cold.
Shiu smirked and took one final drag of his cigarette before extinguishing it and blowing the smoke away from you. "You didn't seem to mind it before, Geto."
Geto chuckled, approaching with Mimiko. She left his side and hurried over to you and Nanako. You hadn't noticed her at first, still frozen in your spot until she called your name.
You snapped back to reality, but the words to greet her escaped you. Your focus remained on Geto's approaching steps. You could feel a tremor coming and desperately tried to suppress it before he reached you and—
His hand appeared before you, open and inviting, as he stood over you. "Why is my bride like this? You'll ruin your dress."
You held back your tongue, knowing you needed to say something, and, more importantly, you needed to take his hand. Your eyes stared shakily at it; it was Geto's hand, yet somehow not the Geto you once knew. Ninety-nine percent of you wanted to retract your hand, but that one percent screamed at you to take it.
Effortlessly, your hand slid into his, and he closed his fingers around yours. If you wanted to retract it or tried to, you couldn't due to his firm grip, despite the delicate manner in which he held and assisted you to your feet. The tremor returned; you fought to suppress it and reminded yourself to smile—with your eyes and lips.
The girls busied themselves brushing the sand off your skirt. Nanako did so, fussing that Mimiko wasn't doing it correctly. The sight almost elicited a genuine smile and, dare you say, a soft chuckle from you. Your attention remained on the girls when you should have been looking at Geto.
Damn it!
You realized and panicked internally. You weren't giving him your attention, and the tremors slowly returned. They began in the tips of your fingers and crept up your hand. If they reached your hands, then...
Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice Geto leaning in quietly near your neck until you felt his warm breath on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
Startled, you maintained your composure and instinctively turned your eyes toward him. The girls noticed, and Nanako giggled, averting her gaze. Shiu rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to a seashell on the sand.
"Save that for the wedding night," he quipped, clearing his throat, attempting to hide his discomfort.
You heard a deep chuckle emanate from Geto, which only intensified your shivers. Geto seemed to notice and finally raised his head, flashing a devilish smirk at you.
Your heart raced in response. You didn't like that look.
"Just ensuring my bride still smells lovely," Geto affirmed. "She does."
Shiu grumbled and glanced up at Geto. "Yeah, I'm sure. So," his gaze shifted between you, then back to Geto, and then past both of you toward the villa, "when do I get paid? Nine months from now, right?"
Your breath nearly caught in your throat, understanding his implication. Geto subtly squeezed your hand gently.
"You'll get paid. This isn't the time to discuss it," Geto replied, with a subtle warning. "Besides, there are children present."
Nanako rolled her eyes, offended. "We're not kids."
"No, of course not," he agreed. "I just meant that now isn't the time for you two to deal with this."
Mimiko nestled against your abdomen, tilting her head. "Will our family get bigger?" She placed her hand on your midsection.
You cringed internally; you despised your family. You loathed this situation, and you longed to be nothing more than a grain of sand.
Lost in your thoughts, you forgot to answer her.
Your mjomba's saying felt fragmented now.
"Eventually," Geto answered, bringing you back to the present and stoking your fear.
Damn it!
Geto took over, "Why don't all of you head back inside so my bride and I can have some time alone?"
"Save it for the wedding night," Shiu smirked, taking out another cigarette as he walked away and lighting it.
The girls remained. Mimiko nodded and began walking away. She paused and turned to ask.
"We're still taking the family photos, right?" Her voice brimmed with hope.
"Absolutely," Geto reassured her with a promising smile. "It'll be the first thing we do once we're back inside."
She nodded, relieved, and waited for Nanako. Nanako, however, was still brushing off nonexistent sand.
"Nanako. Go," Geto commanded.
She huffed and sighed but complied. Just before leaving, she hugged you. This time, you reacted and returned the embrace.
You and Geto stood in silence, waiting until the girls were out of sight, leaving only the soothing sounds of the waves and the gentle breeze as your companions. As you both gazed out across the ocean, memories from the past slowly drifted into your thoughts. This unspoken silence carried a weight that made your heart race, its rhythm beating against your chest. You attempted to control the palpitations, fearing that he might hear the unease that churned within you.
"You seem unhappy," Geto remarked in a measured tone, breaking the silence. "Why?"
Your tongue faltered; you hadn't expected him to pick up on your inner turmoil so easily. You had hoped to conceal your true feelings better, to at least give the illusion of happiness.
He shook his head with a knowing smirk. "Come now, May. I can tell what you're thinking. It's not hard." He scoffed, "We've known each other for years."
His words rang true. He had always possessed an uncanny ability to decipher your thoughts and emotions.
"Let me guess," he continued, "you were thinking about that saying your uncle used to say. About Anansi and weaving webs." He chuckled softly, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes. "He always said the strangest things."
Tears welled up in your eyes as memories of your beloved uncle flooded your mind.
"Then, after that, you were thinking of a way out, to be a grain of sand, right? And just now, you were thinking about everything before this. Everyone," he sighed, his annoyance growing apparent. "Always so sentimental, aren't you? That's why we're here." His tone softened briefly before darkening. "What did I tell you?"
You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing to remember his words.
Your hesitation furthered his annoyance, and you felt the heat of his gaze as you fought to keep your composure.
Geto tilted his head down, bringing his face dangerously close to the juncture of your ear and collarbone. You could feel his every breath on your skin as he whispered with authority, each word pinning fear within you and causing you to shudder.
"Understand?" He concluded, awaiting your response, his intense eyes never leaving you.
You desperately wanted to swallow the lump in your throat but resisted, even as a single droplet of sweat rolled from your neck to your chest. You didn't dare touch it.
"Yes, I understand, Geto," you replied, injecting as much positivity into your voice as you could manage. You even managed a smile and a nod.
He smiled back, fervently kissing your neck. "Good. Don't worry you'll see soon how similar we are, Mrs. Suguru. Now," he perked up lifting his head and releasing your hand, reaching inside the sleeve of his robe, "I have something for you. I think you might like it. It's been a minute."
Confusion flickered in your eyes as you watched and waited.
"Ah, here it is," he said with pride, revealing a box of strawberry Pocky sticks. "I know how much you loved these back in school. Strawberry was your favorite. You used to eat them quite a lot since you weren't allowed to smoke, being two years younger. Your aunt Emiyo always bought these for you. Everything from Japan, and this was it. Huh, I'm kind of jealous." He laughed, opened the box, and took one out. "Remember when he tricked you or better yet, dared you to play the Pocky game?"
Your heart seemed to freeze, anticipating where this was headed.
"You hadn't a clue; it was cute. You were so excited to learn it and without a second thought, you played. So," he set one end of the Pocky in his mouth, his eyes playfully locked onto yours, "let's play again. I know we already did the ceremonial one, but this is different. Come on, let's play."
You nodded, feeling your heart race as you leaned in, taking hold of the other end of the Pocky stick between your lips.
"Ready? Don't break it," he warned, taking the first bite.
You followed suit, taking a small, careful bite.
He took another bite, and you did the same.
With each bite, Geto inched his arm closer to you, wrapping it around your waist and gently pulling you closer.
Time seemed to warp, speeding up and slowing down simultaneously. Before you knew it, there was hardly any Pocky left, and it was his turn.
Geto took a deep bite, followed by a deep, lingering kiss. He pulled you tightly against him, deepening the kiss further. You matched his intensity, your thoughts drifting back to your mjomba's enigmatic words.
"Oh, that Anansi spins the trickiest webs, so confusing and frustrating! But that's how he makes excellent stories."