by Ava Bleu
Feeling the air restricted, Zahara raises her head, tries to push him away from her but only manages to inch her head up slightly to see her husband lying still in his own blood. Even though she can’t breathe, she can cry. The pain—losing the man of her heart, her friend, lover, and soul mate—why that pain is even greater than that of the denial of air to her desperate lungs. She reaches out to her love, whom she will never see again, his name soundless on her lips.
Violet’s eyes whipped open. Gasping for air, her face bathed with sweat for the second time, her limbs trembling, Violet called out, hoarse, with only one word on her lips: “Taka.”
The bell of the antique shop tinkled as Violet ran inside like a madwoman. Skeeter’s eyes lit up with pleasure. “Did you change your mind? I’ll write you out a check for a thousand!”
Violet gave him a dirty look. “I thought you said eleven hundred, Skeeter.” Then she shook her head, had to stay focused. “Never mind that. Tell me what you know about the brooch.”
Skeeter put on his poker face again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her tenuous grip on control had expired. She leaped across the counter to grab the old man by his shirt front, pulling him to her and speaking in a hoarse tone. “I have spent beaucoup bucks in this place, old man. Now when I ask you for a favor you dummy up and try to play me? Uhn, uhn. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me what you know about that brooch or I’m going to reach into your spindly chest and pull out that peach pit you call a heart and shove it up your shriveled behind. Got it?”
Skeeter looked at her, eyes big. “Well, when you put it that way . . .” Violet released him and he straightened his shirt, struggling to save face. “Okay, I found a little information on it.”
A few minutes later they were sitting at a little antique table, two chairs pulled up to it and papers, photos, and letters spread on the table. The brooch was sitting there as well since Violet had decided Skeeter was sufficiently terrorized that he wouldn’t try to steal it. He admired it, holding it in his fingers.
“I thought right away it might be Jahanian. There aren’t many artifacts left but the few that have been found have a distinctive style. Had a bowl in here day before yesterday I suspected was Jahanian too, but I didn’t know until some guy came looking at it. None of it can be substantiated, of course. All these articles and papers mostly debunk the idea of a lost civilization of this magnitude. They easier believe in Atlantis than Jaha. Only a few diehards believe otherwise and that’s because of stories we got on our folks’ knee. Thought they were just stories.”
Violet nodded, still shaky from her morning’s meditation. The vision was so real, the details so chilling it stunned her. And then snippets of last night’s adventure with the genie. She had assumed she had been possessed in some way. Now she wasn’t so sure. She had to know the truth.
“I don’t understand. How can a complete civilization be lost?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Just wipe out all the people, all the literature, and any architecture, and it’s gone. Only word of mouth left. Of course, that’s just exactly why no one credits Jaha with anything: no proof. But every once in a while a piece turns up somewhere that is unlike any other piece from anywhere. People start saying it don’t make sense. And then somebody who has heard about Jaha starts to looking at it and wondering again. But really, among the historians, it’s all just legend.
“What exactly is the legend?” Violet asked.
“Well, they say Jaha was to Africa what the Roman Empire was to western civilization. You see, King Taka Olufemi had become this monster of power and he was crazy with it. Surrounding villages, they were planning to put him out of power but he up and killed all his own people. Maniac. At least that’s what some people say.”
That wasn’t what she’d seen in the vision. She remembered the table, the wine, the sudden attack on the king. Skeeter’s story didn’t compute. “And what do the others say?”
He looked hesitant to answer but fear was a wonderful motivator. He swatted the air with disgust. “It’s nonsense. Anybody that got family come down the line will tell you all about King Taka.”
“Humor me with the nonsense, Skeeter.”
“Well, they say other villages were envious, that when he invited them into his home they massacred everyone.”
“How horrible,” she said, shivering.
“How untrue. Truth is he was power hungry and couldn’t stand not being in charge so he killed his own. And when they died the sunsets died with ’em. Yessiree, they say them sunsets were the most beautiful God ever made. And his wife was so horrified she up and killed herself and God imprisoned him forever in that brooch.”
“And the other story?” She sighed. He pursed his lips. “You’re testing my patience, Skeeter.”
“Okay, okay. The other story is that the death of his wife sent him over the edge. That’s where that brooch part comes in. It was a wedding gift to his wife. When she was murdered, he and God had a huge fight. He said he didn’t want to live without her. God said, ‘Okay, buddy, then you’re stuck in this brooch granting wishes for eternity.’ Legend says that he is trapped until he finds the spirit of his queen. And if she accepts him, he lives as a mortal. If she denies him, he is condemned to burn forever. If she’s smart she’ll keep that boy right in that rock.”
Violet froze. He’d allowed her to sit in the place of his wife. Everyone at the celebration had embraced her as if she were one of them. Violet felt her stomach roll and her lips muttered the words, “What do you know about his wife?”
“Hardly nothing. But I sent away for some info based on a lead, and I finally got something in the mail yesterday. I called you.”
“Yeah, yeah. What’d you get?”
“Hmm, it was right here.” He shoved some papers aside and found an envelope. “Oh, here it is. Haven’t even had time to look at it.” He tore it open and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Even from the back they could see it was a drawing. “They didn’t have cameras back then. This guy sent me a copy of a drawing he has.” He unfolded the page and stopped, stunned. But Violet did not even need to see it. She knew.
He turned the page to her, his old hands shaking with fear. “My Lord, this . . . this looks just like . . . like . . . you.”
She looked at the page to see her own likeness adorned in a headdress, the brooch pinned to the top. The photo must have been from an art history book, as the caption read only: “Unknown African Queen, believed to be a seventeenth century work.”
Unknown African Queen.
No!
She wasn’t possessed by the spirit of his dead wife, she was his dead wife. Those weren’t visions, those were memories. Last night wasn’t a senseless adventure with a mad genie; last night was the final chapter in the life of a king, a man who had once been her husband. Taka, beloved king of Jaha, the jewel in the crown of West Africa, her home. All those people hugging her, kissing her, saying good-bye in Taka’s home, those weren’t strangers. They were her friends and family, too. A whole village of people who loved her despite the mess she was. And she’d looked right through them, every one of them. All along she was the betrayer. She had denied herself the gift of love all this time. She had defamed the very thought of it instead of cherishing it. She had known it utterly, completely, and unceasingly and still chose to turn her back on it. She had betrayed herself.
And Taka. He’d known her. He’d tried everything to reach her. Her love, he had given his heart, put himself and his life in her hands. He had come to find her. He had given up his mortality to search for her and she had turned him away and hurt him. Her king. Her heart.
She opened her mouth to speak, and then burst into tears. She stood quickly, grabbed the brooch, and ran out of the shop.
Chapter 27
Violet sat in her apartment, the blinds closed, a used paper bag at her feet. She’d come straight from the antique shop to run home and curl up on the sofa. All the bits and p
ieces had fallen into place and by the time she got home she knew everything.
How could she have forgotten? How could she have ignored the signs? How could she have ignored the little voice inside her telling her that something about Taka was familiar, special? And screw all that past stuff; how could she have allowed the man she loved to simply walk out of her life? Yes, she loved him. She loved the genie. She loved his big, arrogant, crabby self. Just as he was.
She looked around the room and noticed another bag on a table. She opened it up and inside lay a bowl carved like lace. The second her fingers touched the wood she felt a stab of bittersweet emotion so strong tears sprang to her eyes immediately. She recognized this bowl! It was carved by the women who prepared for religious celebration. A collection that was scattered to the wind, and yet, somehow, Taka had found it. Like a homing beacon, he had been able to zoom in on a relic of his kingdom. And yet she, who had been queen, had lost all memory of her past as easily as if it were nothing. How many relics of her people had she passed time and again at Skeeter’s? How many sacred mementos had she allowed to slip away due to ignorance and cowardice? She was not worthy of being queen.
She saw a sheet of paper on the floor, apparently having floated there from under the bowl. She reached to pick it up. It was an employment application. Taka had started to fill it out. He’d written his name. That was as far as he’d gotten. How was a man supposed to fill out an application when he had no skills in this time? Why would he even have tried? Her lips shook with the threat of new tears as she realized he’d actually been trying to find a way to stay, trying to plan a career, to be with her. And she’d chased him away. Two days of trying to make her see, competing with the likes of Jerome, two days of begging her to remember how good the good could be and on the third day she ran him off.
A knock on the door jolted her but she decided to ignore it, hoping they would go away. Someone knocked harder and her face scrunched in irritation. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, put the paper and bowl down, and answered the door to Brenda. Without being invited, the woman walked into her apartment and started talking.
“I know you don’t want to talk to me. Just listen.”
“Get out.”
“I was just so hurt by what you did.”
“I don’t need this right now, Brenda.”
“Just hear me out, Violet. For once,” Brenda pleaded.
Violet threw up her arms but sat and listened.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I knew I shouldn’t have done it,” Brenda said.
“For pity’s sake, Brenda, Jerome and I were bound to break up someday.”
“Not just that. I shouldn’t have stolen your technique and I shouldn’t have stolen Gary. Those were not nice things to do.”
“Gary is water under the bridge. You can have him.”
“I shouldn’t have taken him in the first place. I shouldn’t have even looked at him, and then I never would have gotten involved with him. And every day I talked to you about it like it was nothing, and it wasn’t nothing. It was something. I hurt you and it was wrong. Despite that you said it didn’t matter, I knew deep down it did.”
“Why are you bringing this up?”
“I woke up this morning, expecting to be happy because I’d gotten back at you, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and Jerome. But worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on now with you and that other guy and feeling guilty for siccing Jerome on him.”
“What?”
“That other guy. Jerome said he was coming over here to kick his butt. Did he hurt him?”
“Jerome hurt Taka? Jerome?” Violet could not help the laughter from bubbling out of her lips. Ridiculous. But even more ridiculous was how quickly the laughter turned to tears. To her own horror she was sobbing like there was no tomorrow.
Brenda froze, not knowing what to do. “What?”
“I . . . I’ve made such a mess of things. He’s gone.”
“The genie?”
“He had three days to grant my wishes and I chased him away last night and . . . Oh, forget it. You don’t believe me anyway. And why should you? We’ve been lying to each other and stabbing each other in the back for years.”
Brenda sat down beside her. “Have we, really? But we’re friends.”
“Friends don’t behave that way, Brenda. The truth is, I’ve always been jealous of you and I’ve done everything I could to outshine you. I’m jealous of your money and your family, and up until yesterday I still hated you for Gary. There, I’ve said it.”
“I’m jealous of you too. I will forever be known as the woman who took your castoff. I’ll never be a better decorator. And now, this. This genie fantasy you’ve got going.”
“It’s not a fantasy, Brenda. He’s real.”
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t say this. But you’re lucky to be rid of Jerome. He was always looking at my butt.”
“Thank you, Brenda, that makes me feel better.”
“Look, I don’t want to spend all my time competing with you anymore. It’s exhausting. I want you to know, Gary wasn’t just a competition. We really do love each other. And I really do want you in my wedding.”
“Honey, look at me. Do I look like I could be happy for anyone right now? I just broke up with my boyfriend; you don’t want me at a wedding.”
“But that’s not what’s making you look like that, is it? It’s the other one. The one who looked at you like you hung the moon. If you ask me, that’s what broke you and Jerome up. He looked at you like he’d give you the world if he could. Jerome couldn’t compete with that.”
“He’s gone. He’s gone and I never got to tell him how I really felt. I was just so scared, Brenda. I was too scared to take the risk to love.” The tears started again. Brenda looked at her, and then, awkwardly, she reached over to give Violet a stiff, sincere hug. The women clung to each other and finally Brenda pulled away and spoke sternly.
“I’m going to teach you something for a change, Violet. As hard as you work to beat me at everything, you need to work just as hard to get him back.”
“But he’s gone!”
“I don’t care if he’s a genie, a medicine man, whatever the heck he is, you get him back!”
“You know, I’ve never been in love like this before. I thought I fell with Gary but it wasn’t like this. I didn’t even realize what I was feeling until he was gone.”
“Well, that’s it then. Now that you’ve felt it, you can’t go back, right?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Brenda.”
“I know all I need to know. Now are you going to sit in this apartment crying or are you going to get your man back?”
An hour later Brenda was gone, and Violet was sitting on a park bench, eyes ragged and wet, hands trembling.
When Brenda had issued her challenge, she’d immediately decided she was going to get Taka back, no matter what. But after racking her brain, rubbing the stone until her palms were red and would surely be callused in the morning, and just plain yelling at it, nothing had happened. That was when she realized she had no clue how to get Taka back.
She’d come to the park where she’d found the brooch, defeated and demoralized. After the way she’d treated him, he probably didn’t want to come back. Or worse, if what Skeeter had said was true, she’d probably condemned him herself. All because she’d been a coward. Too afraid to admit her feelings for him. Too afraid to hope that she should be allowed something as simple and magnificent as to be loved by someone and to love in return. Too sure that she had nothing to offer.
She dropped her face into her hands as a sob tore through her frame. She almost scared herself; it’d been so long since she really cried she didn’t know the sound of a good belly buster anymore. When she pulled her hands away to take a deep breath, she spoke to the gray sky.
“I don’t know how to reach you but I think you should know what I feel. I lied when I said I never knew you were there. Every morning
when I close my eyes and reach for something, I feel you in the peace that comes to me. And when I sleep sometimes I dream of a man in shadows who calls out to me and takes my hand and promises me the love of a thousand lifetimes. I taught myself to ignore those dreams, and any other that came along. I couldn’t bear to imagine something so beautiful and wake to a reality that didn’t have you.” She took another tremulous breath and went on. “I can’t go back now that I know what love really is. And I know I have no right to ask you back. But I want you to know, wherever you are, my heart will always remember that you are my home. You are my only love.”
But it was too late to talk to Taka. He was beyond her now. For the first time in a long time, she looked to the gentle sky for answers. “Dear Lord, I know I have no right to ask for a favor. I haven’t prayed in a long time. But if you’re there, if you’re really there like Taka said, I can’t see why you’d make me love him and then take him. But if he’s gone for real, please tell him I love him. He didn’t ask for much but I at least owe him the truth. I couldn’t give it to him last night but I tell you to my depths I have never known a better man and I love him. I love him. Oh, God, please forgive me.”
Violet finished, dropping her eyes to her lap. She felt her eardrums pop and an electricity surround her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She looked around and jumped when she saw a dark-skinned woman sitting calmly next to her, hands crossed. The woman smiled at her.
“Now, are you sure about that love thing? You kids today toss that word around so much, who can tell?” She smiled a teasing smile then noticed Violet’s expression. “Don’t be frightened, Violet, I’m Aniweta. I’m a messenger sent from our Heavenly Father.” Violet knew she was staring at the woman like she was crazy. But a second ago she hadn’t been there. She materialized just like on TV. Ani sighed. “I miss the days when I could talk to my wards face to face. Nowadays, everybody’s scared of us. I have to whisper to people because if I straight talk to them they go running into caves thinking they’re crazy. I ask you, what is so crazy about talking to an angel? It’s the most logical, rational thing in the world. Taka never had a problem with it. He talks to me, yells at me, cusses me . . .”