In Every Mirror She's Black

  “It’s not about Yasmiin, I promise.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “So, what is it, then?” he asked before turning to a new customer. He carved lamb, piled it high into pita bread, and stuffed it with iceberg lettuce, red onions, and tomatoes before drenching it in a garlicky sauce. Muna watched him roll up the bread, which seemed ready to burst at its seams. Like a magician, he created the perfect shape then sealed it in aluminum foil and handed over to a customer.

  “Yes, Muna. You can see I’m busy. What do you want?”

  She shuffled nervously on her feet. Yagiz hissed and turned his back to her, forcing her to cry out, “I need my job back.”

  Yagiz turned to face her, peering down from behind his kiosk.

  “Please. It is the only thing I’m good at right now.”

  He twisted his lips in thought while examining her.

  “Let me think about it,” he offered. “If I think it’s a good idea, Azeez will text you, okay? Now leave me in peace.”

  Muna smiled at him before dashing off.

  * * *

  Gunhild was asleep when Muna arrived back at their apartment later that afternoon. She had recently undergone a bout of radiation, was currently sjukskriven, on sick leave from work, and was constantly tired. Now wasn’t the time to unload her disappointment on Gunhild about not being eligible to apply for university, so she decided to prepare dinner for them.

  As she was working in the kitchen, she heard the shuffling sound of Gunhild approaching her.

  “What are you making? It smells so good.” She arrived in the kitchen wearing her frayed pale-­pink bathrobe. Muna was sad, but she couldn’t bring her concerns to Gunhild. She would broach the conversation tomorrow, hoping to get advice about her options and, maybe, possibly enrolling in high school all over again.

  Right now, Muna desperately wanted Gunhild to share more with her. She was used to waiting for intimacy. Ahmed had waited years before divulging his life to her. Yasmiin and Khadiija had offered themselves in bits and pieces. She was tired of breadcrumbs. She wanted to be fully invited into the bakery.

  “Oj vad gott!” Oh, how good! Gunhild punctuated every other bite of salmon with approval. Muna smiled and thanked her again and again after every exclamation.

  Once they’d cleaned their plates of fish, rice, and greens, Muna rushed the carnage to the sink. She put on the kettle for her tea and the coffee machine for Gunhild’s coffee.

  “I want to show you something,” Muna said. The older woman sat up in her chair, concern wrinkling her face.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Muna ran to her room and returned bearing a box.

  “What is this? Is it a gift?”

  Muna carefully pried open the box and pulled out its contents: silver chains, several misbaha prayer beads, pewter rings, burnished jewelry, a small flag striped red, white, and green, sheared sheep wool, and a plastic container full of sand.

  Gunhild immediately reached for the flag before Muna was done emptying the box.

  “Peshmerga.” Gunhild’s eyes widened. “Kurdistan.” Then she looked at Muna, probably wondering how a Somali had amassed so many personal effects from that region. “Where did you get all this?”

  Muna didn’t answer. She pulled out photos of Ahmed and his family and then the stack of one hundred and four passport photos. She took her time laying out each photo one by one until the dining table was covered. Then she unfolded the browned piece of paper that read:

  Al Zawr village, 2013,

  Kurdistan. North Syria.

  When she looked up at Gunhild, tears had already drowned those kind blues. Muna pulled out her favorite photo—­of Ahmed with his sheep—­and positioned it in front of the older woman.

  “Gunhild,” Muna began, almost matter-­of-­factly. Frankly, she had no more tears to shed. “I want to tell you about the man I loved. His name was Ahmed Tofiq Rahim.”

  Muna started from the first time she’d met Ahmed. When they’d boarded that bus from the border. When he’d turned around to reach for her sack with his beguiling smile. How they often sat in silence together.

  She paused to grab their tea and coffee, while Gunhild kept blowing her nose into a kitchen napkin that smelled of lemon and dill.

  Muna continued to tell Gunhild how a group of his countrymen hated him. How he’d starved himself. How despair ultimately had driven him to burn himself alive. How he’d handed his sack to her before committing the act, trusting her with his memories.

  “His hair was like silk in my fingers.” Muna motioned with her hands while Gunhild sobbed.

  “These things could have brought him peace, but Migrationsverket kept denying him because they didn’t know his whole village had been destroyed.” Muna swept a hand over the memorabilia she’d laid out. “Ahmed trusted no one. Only me.”

  Reverence filled their solemn apartment for the next ten minutes as Gunhild wept and Muna held her hands.

  “Gunhild,” Muna called softly to the weeping woman. “Please tell me about that man from Togo you once loved.”

  Gunhild’s eyes shot up at Muna, questioningly. Muna didn’t buy her story about him being just a friend from long ago. Muna waited patiently until Gunhild hatched out of her own shell.

  “I spent a lifetime learning to love someone else,” Gunhild shared. “I wasn’t allowed to love him back then.”

  Muna had shared the most precious gift she was given, and she wanted Gunhild to reciprocate her offering. Gunhild peered at Muna behind glassy, turquoise eyes, and the semblance of a smile crept onto her lips.

  “He was the only man I ever fell in love with,” Gunhild said. “He was my baby’s father.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening reminiscing. Muna had never seen Gunhild so animated before. The older woman seemed ecstatic to be able to share what had been sitting on her chest for decades. To Muna, it felt like Gunhild could breathe again.

  Gunhild had traveled the world. She had spent years in Togo working with an international health organization as a photojournalist. That man had been the love of her life. They had lived together in the capital city of Lomé until her parents had summoned her back to Sweden, threatening to disown her. They’d done so anyway when they discovered she was pregnant.

  Gunhild pulled out more photos, some sepia-­toned, others fading, to show Muna her past, her delicate fingers carefully tracing over them. Muna observed as the older woman’s face lit up with memories flooding behind them. Muna wished she had met Gunhild as a young woman. They would have become fast friends if they had been age-­mates. She was grateful now anyway, because Gunhild had told her she was like a daughter to her.

  By eleven p.m., both women were visibly exhausted, and Muna shuffled to her feet.

  “Aren’t you tired?” Muna asked before yawning.

  “Go to bed, Muna,” She smiled. “I want to look through these photos one more time. Sov gott!” Sleep well!

  Twenty-­Two

  KẸMI

  Kemi glanced down at her phone to check the time. Eleven fifty-­three p.m.

  She hadn’t anticipated staying at the office Christmas party this late, but the killer DJ had pulled out old favorites, and she dragged herself off the dance floor two hours later in a sweaty stupor. She grabbed a few paper napkins and furiously dabbed at old sweat as she walked over to the coat check desk.

  Digging into her purse for a mint, she felt him before she saw him. That potent energy that seemed to choke her of any breath from across the room. He lightly brushed her bare arm to get her attention, instinctively aware of the burn marks his fingers left behind.

  “Hej.” Ragnar inched closer to her, forcing her to straighten up. “Leaving so soon?”

  The girl with pink hair manning the coat check handed over her black winter coat. Kemi smiled a thank-­you and turned back to him
. His eyes were darker beneath the hallway’s low light, and she caught a slight whiff of red wine lingering on his breath.

  “Yes, I have a flight to catch tomorrow.” She busied herself with putting on her coat.

  “Please,” he offered, reaching out to help her into it. Taking in a deep breath as anchor, she let him. His fingers lingered over her shoulders before slowly smoothing themselves down her arms.

  “Thanks, I need to run.” She turned and walked down the hallway toward the shiny elevators.

  “Early morning, right?” He trailed her.

  “Yes.” She didn’t break stride. He followed her casually. Sooner or later, she would have to stop for an elevator. He didn’t need to chase her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Girona for a long weekend with Tobias. Have you been?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You would like it.” She reached the elevators and pushed the call button. She wanted to flee. She couldn’t trust her body anymore.

  “I’m sure,” Ragnar started, “but there are other places I’d rather be.”

  She turned to look at him, and they drank each other in fully. She had never physically desired a man as much as she wanted Ragnar. As if she were reeling him in with her thoughts, he slid up to her, inches from her face. What was he doing? They were feet away from drunk colleagues and guaranteed gossip.

  “What other places?” Her voice was low.

  His response was lower. “You.”

  Ragnar’s brazen declaration killed her breath. Stunned, she looked at him with a frown, hating him for making her weak. He returned her look with a puzzled one of his own, unsure whether he had aroused her, gone too far, or completely misread her all these months.

  When the first elevator opened, she fled in and pushed frantically for the ground floor. He rushed in after her, and his wild look told her he hadn’t come in to apologize.

  Ragnar backed her up against the elevator wall with one quick advance. His mouth hungrily parted hers, and she melted into him, savoring him, wrapping her arms under his to pull him closer. Fervent kisses they knew might never happen again so they selfishly took as much as they could in the moment. They consumed each other carelessly as the elevator inched from the nineteenth floor of the downtown hotel rooftop to the first floor in a building crawling with colleagues. He pressed one hand against the wall behind her, bracing himself, his other hand pulling her closer to feel him, before sliding lower for a handful of her derriere.

  “Jag vill ha dig.” I want you. He groaned the words against her lips.

  Pulling apart for air, they looked at each other wordlessly, chests heaving wildly. As the elevator fell past the third floor, pure greed pushed them back together once more. Ragnar crushed her to his chest. His tongue sought hers, reveling in the warmth tinged with champagne.

  They were so engrossed that they missed the elevator door open. They felt a looming presence. Kemi pulled out of Ragnar’s heavy kiss and lowered her head quickly, while he spun around to take in the intruder.

  Ingrid.

  He dropped his arms, which had been wrapped tightly around Kemi. Shame cloaked in silence surrounded the trio, and Kemi knew Ingrid had seen enough.

  “Kemi…Ragnar.” Ingrid’s pitch was higher than usual, clearly tipsy. She leaned against the elevator doors, keeping them open, glancing from Kemi to Ragnar, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I forgot my scarf,” Ingrid said in Swedish.

  Ragnar cleared his throat, which drew Ingrid’s attention back to him. Ingrid’s index finger then made a circular motion over her own face.

  “Du har brunt smink i ansiktet,” she said to Ragnar. You’ve got brown makeup on your face.

  Kemi pushed past both of them and rushed out of the elevator, pulling her coat tighter like armor, clutching her last shreds of dignity.

  BRITTANY-­RAE

  Brittany was resting on the edge of the desk in Jonny’s study when he arrived close to one a.m. from his company’s Christmas party. She watched him pull clumsily at his tie as he approached her, his eyes heavily drinking her in.

  “Hejjj.” Jonny planted himself in front of her, resting his hands on either side of Brittany on his desk. “I’m glad you didn’t come to the party. There was an ambulance and lots of noise.”

  He leaned in for a kiss, but his lips brushed her cheek instead when she turned away sharply. “Hmm…” He reached to cup her face, turning her forcefully back for his kiss. She knew him well enough to know he had been interrupted. He hadn’t finished the task at hand. Loose ends. Brittany thudded his chest and followed it with a slap across his face. He staggered backward, stunned by her assault.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, reaching a hand up to his cheek.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, a long leg dangling over the other in a rhythmic pulsing motion, derailing his concentration.

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Do what?”

  “Be your wife. I can’t.”

  He squinted at her, trying to process her words. He staggered toward her once more, crushing a kiss against her lips. She struggled under his weight as his tongue forced its way into her mouth. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilting her head backward for deeper access. She pushed him off and burst into tears.

  She got off the desk, backing away, her face distorted with tears.

  “What’s going on?” he asked once more. She shook her head, trying to collect her breath in order to power her voice once more.

  “DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screamed. “I can’t do this.” Jonny stood in front of her, hands balled into fists by his side.

  “Please tell me why you’re crying,” he said desperately. “What’s going on? I want to understand.”

  “This is not real. This was never real. You’ve lied to me all along.”

  “What are you talking about? I have never lied to you.” Jonny’s fingers escaped those clenched fists. They began dancing, powered by agitation. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Of course I do. I’ve given you the world!” he said in a terse tone. “I’ve given you everything!” Anger brewed within him.

  “It’s ME who has given YOU everything!” Brittany countered. “I have given you my whole life. It has always been all about what you want, hasn’t it?”

  “Everything you ever wanted, all you had to do was ask me, and I gave it to you,” he said.

  “No… Archangels do your work for you!” she cried. “Eva… Louise…”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

  “You’re not God, Jonny!” Brittany screamed.

  She shuddered as he kept glaring at her. He had a crazed look, and it scared her. He stormed up to her, and she pushed him away once more. He tried grabbing her, but she fought him off. Jonny’s forceful kiss had been salt scrubbed into an old wound that was never going to heal. Alcohol had recalibrated his pressure on her.

  “What the FUCK do you want from me, Brittany?” He stunned her. “I’ve given you the world. I’ve given you everything!”

  Brittany.

  Her name sounded foreign on his lips. Brittany realized she hadn’t heard him say her name in weeks, maybe months. It couldn’t be years, could it? She couldn’t remember the last time Jonny had uttered her name out loud, and she sobbed in despair.

  “The world was never yours to give me,” she wailed. “The world let you believe it was all yours and no one else’s!” She threaded fingers through her hair in despair.

  “Your whole life is a lie, Jonny,” Brittany cried. “Astrid, Wilhelm, Antonia, Svea… They’ve been lying to you since the day you were born. You’ve built this delusional universe around us. It was never real.”

  She watched him tense, gritting his jaw as her words settled like iron weights on him. He peered
at her, apparently realizing that she was flinging the keys to his kingdom back at him.

  You’re not God, Jonny!

  “Maya Daniels.” Brittany dropped the name. She saw Jonny freeze at the mention of that name, and his fingers stopped fidgeting. “Who is Maya Daniels?” she asked painfully between sobs.

  “Maya Daniels?” Jonny repeated.

  “Who is she?” Brittany asked again.

  He glared at her, pinning her with the same raw look he’d given his mother when she had met Astrid for the first time. His unblinking, piercing focus that had wanted Astrid dead, and it had terrified Brittany.

  “I have never heard that name before in my life,” Jonny answered her calmly. “Never.”

  Brittany’s hands flew to her chest. She let out a piercing wail as she pulled her eyes shut at Jonny’s lie.

  MUNA

  Azeez’s text woke Muna up at close to eight a.m.

  Yagiz had agreed to let her come back to work, the message said. But, unfortunately, she would have to work evening shifts starting that very day. Muna texted him back right away. She would take it, she told Azeez, who then proceeded to tell her to go pick up her keycard from Yagiz before coming into von Lundin Marketing later on.

  “Tusen tack!!!!” she texted back before bolting out of bed.

  She hadn’t anticipated this level of excitement about going back to her janitorial duties, but this time, things felt different. Gunhild had completely opened up to her. This meant she had fully earned Gunhild’s trust. Muna also remembered Kemi and how she had stuck up for her when that tall Black model had sneered at her, as though Muna was beneath her. Muna decided she would try to get to know Kemi better. And dare she think it—­maybe they could become good friends. But Muna wondered how it would be possible with her now working evening shifts. Maybe she would go in earlier before Kemi left for the day. Then maybe they could have fika together in the kitchen area.

  “Gunhild,” Muna called out as she left her room and padded toward the living room. Gunhild had fallen asleep in her armchair, old photos spread all over the place, and a smile crept onto Muna’s face. “Gunhild?”