Rhyme & Reason

by Nia Forrester

  ‘What’re those?’

  ‘Law school textbooks.’

  ‘Why is it torture?’

  ‘I don’t know that it is. I mean … I want to be a lawyer, I guess.’

  ‘You guess?’ Asif’s voice asks.

  ‘I guess,’ she confirms.

  There is a slight pause, during which, Zora remembered Asif giving her a look of surprise.

  ‘Okay. But I don’t actually want to talk about that,’ he says from behind the camera. ‘I want to talk about you being … an independent, outspoken woman. And being Muslim at the same time.’

  ‘You say that like they’re mutually exclusive.’

  Zora heard the defensiveness in her tone.

  ‘Of course they aren’t. But they can come into conflict sometimes, though, am I right?’

  ‘How so?’

  Zora watched herself onscreen look up with eyes slightly widened. She looks genuinely curious at his response.

  ‘Family obligations?’ Asif suggests.

  ‘Say more.’

  He laughs. ‘You’re not a lawyer yet, Zora. I’m the one asking the questions.’

  She smiles at him and bites her lower lip like she’s been caught doing something naughty.

  There is a momentary break and when the camera comes on again, she introduces herself, saying her full name, age and where she’s from. She explains that her father is Senegalese, her mother American.

  She is settled back into the sofa this time, sitting cross-legged and looking thoughtfully off into the middle distance. Then she begins to speak.

  Zora, holding her breath, listened to herself describing how she early on chose to be ‘an American girl, like the American side of my family’ not shunning exactly, but neglecting the rest of her heritage.

  ‘But as I get older, I don’t know. I regret it. A little,’ she says.

  ‘What do you regret?’

  ‘Disappointing my father.’

  ‘How do you disappoint him?’

  ‘My disinterest in first being a good wife and mother.’ She makes air-quotes with her fingers. ‘At least in the way he thinks I should be as a wife and mother.’

  ‘How does he think you should …?’

  ‘Married to a Muslim man, having him as head of my household. Raising my children in the faith.’

  ‘But you’re in law school, right? You have plenty of time to figure all that out?’

  ‘Yes. And no,’ she says ruefully. ‘The choices I make now … they can’t be careless … So, I had to decide.’

  ‘Oh, so … did you already decide?’ Asif sounds surprised.

  ‘No, I said I have to decide.’

  ‘You said, had to, past tense as though you already did.’

  ‘No. I meant … Can we stop for a moment?”

  Zora watched as onscreen her eyes drop to her lap, and she ran a hand over her hair, at that point still in cornrows.

  The scene breaks again and when it returns, she has regained her composure.

  ‘What do you have to decide?’ Asif asks, picking up where they left off.

  ‘Who I want to be,’ she says with much more confidence. ‘A good Muslim woman as my father would have it, or … I don’t know. Me.’

  ‘You say that like they’re mutually exclusive.’ Asif repeats her words from earlier back to her.

  Zora tilts her head to one side. She smiles.

  The picture fades to black.

  For a moment, the room remained hushed, and then there was applause. While the clapping continued the lights went up and the sound of voices permeated the space as people began talking it over with their neighbors.

  Sneaking a look at Nicolas, Zora saw that he was staring at her.

  “I didn’t even notice your music,” she said, trying for glib.

  He laughed. “That’s because you stole the show.”

  “Did you know he was going to …?”

  Nicolas nodded. “He told me. And then I saw it. A couple days ago.”

  “Well, he didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Seef said you’d get nervous. He didn’t want you to feel self-conscious all night.”

  “Ahm … so much for that.”

  All around, people were looking at her, and pretending not to.

  Finally, there was a shuffle and then Deuce was walking up to the front of the room, his expression solemn. Almost sad.

  “Y’all know me,” he said, forcing some levity into his tone.

  The room laughed a little.

  “I wouldn’t call you, and I wouldn’t be doin’ this if it wasn’t important. Questions of identity and religion and gender and … belonging. Those are big questions. The kinds I’ll admit I don’t ask myself too much. But this cat right here …”

  He pointed at Asif who had taken one of the seats near the door.

  Glancing in that direction, Zora noticed for the first time that Chris Scaife, Sr. was standing at the entrance to the theater. She wondered how long he had been there, and whether he had watched the entire thing.

  “He’s training his lens at the people who are asking those questions and answering them. For themselves for sure, but maybe in a way that’ll help the rest of us ask our own big questions. I’m contributing fifty-grand to the completion of this film …”

  A series of gasps and mumbles filled the room.

  “And I’m asking that each of you consider matching that, so we can get this thing finished, the way it deserves to be.”

  “Damn,” Nicolas said under his breath. “He’s not playin’, is he?”

  Zora felt her eyes fill and blinked hard, tearing her focus away from Deuce, and instead staring fixedly at a spot just above his head on the blank screen. If she looked directly at him right now, she might burst into tears.

  “Anyway. We have lots of drinks and food left, and a couple more hours before my father kicks us all out …”

  Laughter and good-natured jeers rose up.

  “Enjoy yourselves, eat, drink, and then come see me. With your open checkbook.”

  It took a moment before people got up from their seats, but when they did, there was a crescendo of excited conversation. Servers began streaming into the room, holding aloft trays of even more food, and people gravitated once again slowly toward the bar.

  “Zora …” Nicolas began.

  “Give me a … I just need a second to …”

  Shoving herself up from her seat, she maneuvered her way past clusters of people beginning to mill nearby and rushed out of the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Are you looking for her?”

  Deuce turned. Regan was holding her wineglass by the stem, her other hand cupping her elbow, as though she needed its reinforcing support to hold the weight of the glass.

  “Haven’t you had enough of those?” he asked.

  “Haven’t you had enough of simpering after your ex-girlfriend?”

  “You’re drinkin’ too much,” he told her, lowering his voice.

  “No, I’m not. Actually, I don’t think I’m drinking enough.”

  “Regan, we’re at my father’s house. Surrounded by some of my oldest friends …”

  “How come I never met any of these ‘oldest friends’ before?” she asked. “Have you been hiding me?”

  “Regan …”

  “Stop saying my name like you’re talking to a mental patient!” Her voice rose just enough so that people standing nearby glanced in their direction.

  Deuce took a deep breath. “This isn’t the time, or …”

  “Oh, fuck you,” she said shaking her head.

  Turning on her heel, she stalked off in the direction of the bar.

  Looking up, his lower lip between his teeth, trying to contain his frustration, he caught Kal’s gaze. Kal shrugged.

  Scanning the room, he searched once again for Zora. He saw when she stood just after he was done speaking, but then someone approached him, and he was distracted just long enough for her to slip
away. The only reason he knew she was still on the premises was that her cousin was still here, surrounded by his prospective donors, working the room, moving from one group to the next.

  Sighing, Deuce went to break in on one of Asif’s conversations, this one with the son of a famous playwright.

  “Hey …” Deuce greeted them both. “Asif, you seen your cousin anywhere?”

  “Nah, man. Haven’t seen her. Must be ‘round here somewhere though.”

  “Okay.” He stood still for a moment and tried to think. Zora was very familiar with his father’s house. She had explored almost every nook of the place with him, once forcing him to play an ill-conceived game of hide-and-seek outside with the kids. It took them both hours to locate them all, and by the time they had, Zora was almost in tears.

  How could I have been so stupid? she said, while they were frantically trying to find his brother Kaden. He could be legit missing right now.

  Kaden hadn’t been “legit missing.” He was asleep in the poolhouse when they found him. Zora had crumpled to her knees in relief when they discovered him curled up behind the sofa, head resting on his hands, oblivious to the panic he had caused.

  The poolhouse.

  It was a good place to hide. A good place to go to be alone, without being spotted. Since the grounds were fully secure, it was never locked, but most people didn’t know the property well enough to know that and wouldn’t know how to make their way there through the labyrinth of hallways and out back. But Zora would.

  ~~~

  He found her sitting in the dark, in the small living room that was flanked on one side by changing areas, and about fifteen feet of windows, and on the other by a small apartment-like living space, complete with kitchenette, bedroom and bathroom. When Deuce entered, she barely looked up.

  “Hi,” he said, collapsing on the two-seater sofa next to her.

  “Hey.”

  Her feet were propped up on the coffee table. Deuce lifted them and turned her, so they rested on his lap instead, and she was facing him.

  “Are you really donating fifty-thousand dollars to my cousin?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I really am.”

  “Can you afford that?”

  He looked at her expressionless of a moment and then they were both laughing.

  “You know what I mean. I mean, is it worth …”

  “It absolutely is.”

  “You think he’s that good?”

  “I think he’s good, yeah. I don’t know anything about filmmaking, or documentaries. But I do know he’s your cousin, and I know he gave me something tonight. Something I’m not sure you ever would’ve given me. And it was worth a hell of a lot more than fifty-grand.”

  “What’s that?” Her voice was quiet.

  “A reason,” Deuce said.

  Zora said nothing, but instead looked away from him, and out at the infinity pool.

  “I love that pool,” she said dreamily. “It’s the nicest pool I’ve ever been in. I’ve never been in or seen a nicer pool since.”

  “Am I right, Zee?” he asked, using his forefinger to turn her head so she was facing him again. “Was all that the reason you …”

  “Regan’s very pretty,” she said unexpectedly.

  “She is,” he acknowledged, eyes fixed on her.

  “Beautiful, even.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Probably.” Deuce shrugged.

  “She looks exactly like your type. Actually, she looks like she would be basically every man’s type.”

  “Zee …”

  “I sort of wanted to kick her ass when I met her,” Zora said, her tone matter-of-fact.

  Then they were laughing again, but there was an edge of sadness to hers.

  Deuce tugged at her boots, until he got them off. She let him remove them without protest. Dropping them at his feet, he began massaging her insoles. Zora didn’t object to that either.

  “Since when have you been flouncing around in high heels all the time?”

  “I wasn’t … flouncing,” she said, spluttering into laughter. “I don’t flounce. I wouldn’t even know how.”

  “That dude Nicolas sure was staring like you were,” he said. “Is he the one who you were …?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he’s got an ass-kicking coming to him too.”

  “No need. He’s … It was just two dates, and anyway you …”

  “Don’t say ‘and anyway you’re with someone’.”

  “But you are.”

  “You know what’s up. Just say the word.”

  “And you know me,” she said, shaking her head. “Those aren’t words I’d say.”

  “I know.”

  They didn’t speak for what felt like a long time. They just sat there, looking at the shimmering water of the infinity pool, and the pale moonlight reflecting off it.

  “I love you so much, Zee. So much,” Deuce said finally, his voice low. “If I thought we were about to break up, there’s almost nothing you could’ve asked me to do, that I wouldn’t have done.”

  “I know that,” she said, surprising him. “But I wouldn’t have known what to ask you to do. I didn’t even know what I …” She shrugged.

  “So, it’s your move, baby,” he said. “What happens from here on out? It’s on you.”

  “That’s the first time you’ve called me baby in … forever,” she said in an almost-whisper.

  Her eyes were glistening a little, but Deuce couldn’t tell whether it was just because of the half-light in the living room.

  “If I kissed you right now,” he said. “Would you push me away?”

  Zora looked at him, a bemused smile parting her lips. She had a beautiful smile, even when it was a small and uncertain one like this.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not at this moment, I wouldn’t.”

  “You looked … crazy-beautiful in that footage by the way.”

  “Shut up,” she said. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

  He shook his head. “No. Not yet. Not again. Not till we can both feel good about it. I just wanted to know if you’d let me. And let you know I want to.”

  “Tease.”

  Silence fell between them again, until Zora took a breath.

  “Your dad told me he was glad to see me,” she said, sounding almost proud. “Here I was thinking he might not even remember my name and he actually said he was glad to see me.”

  “‘Course he knows your name, Zee.”

  “He was really gracious when Asif and I got here. Helped us get set up, ordered all the catering staff around so we wouldn’t have to, and got everything organized. He was supposed to be at the beach with Robyn and the kids. Did you know that?”

  Deuce shook his head.

  “Well, he was. But he said he wanted to see what you had cooking. And that’s a quote. ‘Gotta see what my kid’s got cooking’. I think if you talked to him about your label …”

  “Here you go.”

  “No, seriously. He was asking me and even Asif all these questions, and it was like he was … hungry for information about how you’re doing with work and everything.”

  “Doubt it. He can always ask Jamal. And he’s got a lot going on himself. With his new company.”

  “Yeah. But he didn’t stay tonight because he’s hurting for people who might want to provide content for his new business venture, Deuce. He probably beats back more offers than he knows what to do with. He stayed for the screening because it’s you. Your business. And he wants to know all about it.”

  “What I’m doing … this whole deal with Asif. That’s not business anyway, that’s … personal.”

  “Okay Michael Corleone.”

  “Look at you, making references to old mob movies.”

  “You only made me watch Godfather I and II like … twenty-million times, so …”

  He gave her foot a threatening squeeze.

  “Don’t do it just for me,” she said, shaking her head. “This thing with Asif. D
on’t just do it for me. That’s a lot of money, and if you don’t believe in his vision …”

  “I didn’t say I don’t believe in his vision. I do. And I am doing this for you. Both are true.”

  Zora sighed. “You and your romantic gestures.”

  “Without the romance, that’s all I got … the gestures.”

  She smiled a little, a cute curling of the corner of her lips. He stared, his eyes coming to rest on her lips.

  “You’re makin’ me want to go back on my word.”

  “What word?”

  “About not kissing you.”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. “You were right about that. Let’s just … sit here a couple minutes more, and then go face the firing squad.”

  “You mean party.”

  “Yeah. That.”

  They stayed in the poolhouse for a half hour more, Deuce massaging her feet, Zora looking out at the pool; then she insisted he leave and go in ahead of her.

  “I’ll put my boots back on,” she said. “And … gather my wits about me. I’m not used to all that exposure Asif subjected me to tonight.”

  “You won’t make me come back out here and get you?” Deuce asked as she lowered her feet to the floor.

  “Nope. Promise.” She put a hand over her heart, like a Scout.

  “Okay.” He stood.

  “Deuce,” she said, just as he’d turned away.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you, too. So much … too.”

  ~~~

  Regan was sitting in one of the theater seats, and next to her was Patrick McKenna, one of Deuce’s oldest friends. Except Regan and Patrick were leaning a lot closer, and in a much more intimate posture than one would want to find his girlfriend and one of his oldest friends. A few inches closer, and their lips would touch.

  Patrick, who was practically engaged to a girl he referred to as his “future first ex-wife”, was notorious for this kind of move. He partied hard, drank harder and did wildly inappropriate things that he would be genuinely and abjectly apologetic about the next day if he was called out.

  Deuce bore him no ill will, since he was well-acquainted with Patrick’s history of being a walking dick with no brain attached when he drank. Regan though, had no such history to fall back on. What she was doing right now, was messy, plain and simple.