Mikayla
“Everything will be okay, Mikayla. The charges brought against your uncle will place him in prison for such an extended period of time his great grandchildren's grandchildren will have the honor of caring for him, he’ll be so old, and that’s if he lives long enough to walk freely again.” Zane encourages in a fatherly tone.
I’m seated in a room with a two-way mirror. It’s the first time I’ve left Nivean in over a week and learning about my nation has consumed every moment of my life.
“Cartwright just needs to jot down your story. Shaka kidnapped you, he’s rotting in jail with his father.”
I sigh heavily. My own older cousin was found to be aware of his father’s plans when we were children. What places him in a cell next to Qaaim’s is the recent kidnapping of myself. Only, the nation believes he abducted me from Long Beach on the first night I went missing. I’ve been told that he will be extradited to the States after completion of the trial here.
There’s a knock at the door, Zane pats my hand before getting up. Federal Agent Cartwright steps into the room. He’s Caucasian. His skin has deep ripples and his pale blue eyes seem to have narrowed somewhat over the years probably from seeing too much. A gulp subconsciously slams through me.
I’ve lied to government officials near and far. All for a man who never really loved me anyway.
Jagger saved my life a time or two. But hell, he’s the sole reason I was in peril in the first place.
I begin to wriggle in my seat and only a nanosecond has passed, Cartwright has only stepped one foot inside. My brain is working overtime. I could get badgered into telling the truth and where is Jagger? Another exotic city! Probably in his new supercar, knowing him, there isn’t a woman in the passenger seat but his duffel bag of guns.
The woman will come later. Women. A harem of them because I never satiated him from the start.
I hate Jagger. I rise abruptly, unable to settle myself with my own lies. I am in love him.
Cartwright has made it to the opposite side of the table. His mouth is moving, lips curved into a smile that sets me at ease. And I extend my hand to his waiting one for a hearty shake.
“I recall reading about you when I worked as a D3 in the LAPD.”
“D3?
“Detective 3. Forgive me, there were so many scenarios surrounding your appearance. In law enforcement the identity of children is never provided on news stations. Newspapers for instance, never divulged. And yet, there you were because Long Beach authorities were attempting to look into the death of your mother. It’s an honor being a part of the team who knows the truth.”
We sit down together. How do I respond to his statement about “the truth.”
“You’re rather resilient, Miss Bryant. And I’d like to finish this interview so that you can continue on with your life.”
I nod, slowly a smile starts on my face.
Jagger is gone, but I’m learning about my people, my culture, and it doesn’t feel like ice is cruising through my veins. The working alongside my people in the marketplace, or visiting the various other business, has helped settle my mind.
By the time we are done, Cartwright’s so called investigation has gone off in a welcoming tangent. He has asked me about the abduction, about my childhood, how I feel about my current duties, he even mentions the drought in South Africa.
Cartwright concludes with, “The road will continue to be hard for a while, just remember you knocked down obstacles as a child, graduated from college with honors, and now, even though the task is different, your tenacity will be the same.” He winks, standing up.
“Thank you, Agent Cartwright.”
He cocks his head while holding the door. “I’ve learned more from you today than I’m even capable of putting into my report. Please know that Qaaim Mthembu will have his comeuppance here and then again in the States.”
We exit the room. My feet shuffle one over the other as I enter the hallway. I see bright dimples, a pair that I have loved forever. Cree is here. Brittany, too. What else I see is my mom running full speed at me–never saw that before. My father stands tall, he offers a confident nod. I’ll get a big bear hug once my mom and I have finished crying it out.
“My baby girl,” she engulfs me in an embrace that knocks the air out of my lungs.
Instantly it flashes into my eyes. The moment the judge awarded Mr. and Mrs. Bryant as my adoptive parents. The subsequent times I sleepwalked and was found in the yard or down the street. Though she always tried to get me to confide in her, I never did. I just silently begged the spirits to leave me alone for good.
“Baby girl,” she whispers in my ear while squeezing me still, “You are blessed. When we leave this place, tell me everything.”
“Okay mom.”
“No,” she glances me in the eye, voice hardly above a murmur, yet very serious, “I’ve heard about you learning to lead a country and seen you in the papers, content as ever. Yet, that one call we had a few weeks back. There was something in your voice that’s what set me at ease. You were truly okay, then. Right now, it isn’t there.”
Her wisdom washes over me. “Okay mom,” I reply again, this time I’m serious. I will tell her…everything.
“Will you let my child go so I can hug her, too?” My father says.
“Auntie Joyce, I want to hug my cousin, too!” Brittany adds. She hugs me and I’m crying and laughing. Next my father. When I feel wetness in my coiled hair, I glance up.
“Daddy, why are your eyes leaking?” Shaking my head, I chuckle.
“Hush yourself,” he says and smiles, rubbing the top of my head.
Last, I hug Cree. His hand goes to the back of my neck, fingers rubbing softly as he holds me.
Earl clears his throat.
“It’s not like that, Mr. Bryant. Kayla has a life here, I’ve just missed her as a friend is all.”
***
My family piles into the backseat of the super expensive Maybach Qaaim purchased with some of the money he made from the sale of the land. Much of the money he made, he spent. He also owed people, and therefore the Zihula funding can’t come soon enough, as the South African government doesn’t provide enough of a salary to take care of my country. Many other royals have businesses, own oil companies and the likes.
Nivean just has its land. And I’m standing at the tip of the mountain. My palace, the home I was born in, is behind me. Cree is to my left and Abayomi won’t stop playing with my hair.
“I could get use to everything, but that,” Cree nudges his chin at the elephant.
“This is my big boy.” I pat Abayomi’s ear. He’s affectionate, and though my father and everyone laughed at me as a child, I believe he was perfectly named.
“So, tell me you’re going to continue with your education here, Mikayla.”
I laugh. Abayomi’s cool, soft snout is rubbing around my shoulder.
“No, I’m serious. I missed out on a lot of time with you. Parties. Rides. Due to you studying when we were supposed to be crazy teens together. Now, I can’t have you.”
I glance at him. “Boy, I was actually laughing on account of the elephant? He loves to tickle me. But I will finish obtaining my education. How much of a walking contradiction would I have been to do tricks on your motorcycle after spending hours reading about blood transfusions, for instance?”
He nods.
“And what do you mean you can’t have me?” I suck in a breath. My mother and I took a walk this morning. I showed her the Ndebele land, with their abstract, colorful homes, at the outskirt of Nivean. She didn’t pull out her phone for taking photos and searching Google about the animals that we saw. And I told her everything.
It was in confidence. But, Cree says he can’t have me? It’s true. My heart might as well calcify in the area that’s strictly for falling in love.
I only love my country, my family, my people.
“You’ve changed. And I…” He glances down before looking at me. The dimples are done. “I met a nurse.”
“Oh….” He met a woman. “CNA, RNA, nurse assistant?”
We chuckle together.
“No seriously, you need a woman to bandage you up after doing something daring.” My laughter over his happiness dies instantly.
Jagger is in my lap. His large frame is on fire and he’s unconscious in the middle of Trick’s gun room…
“What’s wrong, Kayla?” Cree huffs. “Shit, I’m sorry. I sound insensitive stating that ‘it just happened’.”
“No. I want you to be happy.” I hug him again. “We better eat dinner early tonight. I can’t believe you all want to wake up at the crack of dawn to help with the crops. You’re only here for a few more days.”