Mikayla
Hearing his parents story makes me want to let Jagger back into my heart. How desperate am I to be in his strong embrace? The thick clutches of his arms that kept me safe and made me feel total euphoria every time he touched me with his strong, scarred hands. Hell, he made me feel that and every other emotion under the sun.
“You scare me, Jagger.”
Now he’s growling and he’s intense and I’m almost suffocating myself not to give in. “How do I scare you?” he all but barks in a hushed whisper.
“You screwed me over, for a car, Jag,” I murmur as low as I can so nobody else has to hear. Yet my cheeks are burning with humiliation. This is what Jagger does to me. Breaks me down and makes me want to run to him when my mind warns that he’s the worst for me.
I want to know that he will fight for us without it having to be a challenge.
That doesn’t make sense at all, I know. It’s something that I cannot explain. It’s better to see him in action. Or a lack thereof. I don’t want Jagger digging trenches, which he clearly did for almost an hour before starting to talk about his parents.
He’s a beast.
Only when mentioning his mom was he refined. That’s the man I want to love. The one who isn’t trying to claim me because I got away.
“I did,” he finally agrees, speaking of the car. “I made a mistake. Can you blame me? I didn’t know you yet.”
I lick my lips and silently pray that the tears don’t fall from my eyes. “I forgive you. But what you did attests to the type of man are. I forgive you, Jagger, please understand that. But as far as pushing through and continuing the craziness of loving you…” a murderer when I’m counted on by many as their Queen… “I cannot. Well, I do love you, Jag. I just have to focus and work on me.”
He huffs like a jaguar who has just ran the entire stretch of the universe. Tired. Angry. It hurts me that it hurts him.
I’m stuck in limbo. We both know the Jagger I’m accustomed to is bad for me. He’s so good at being bad.
“Alright, I will prove it to you. That I might not have royal blood in my veins, but you, Mikayla, are mine.”
***
“You cut your hair,” MamLalumi clucks. My mom is at the tiny stove in her home.
It’s my American family’s last night here. Guess what she’s doing?
Cooking. Obviously. No Tupperware available in MamLalumi’s home. Of all the homes I’ve been invited to for dinner, and just to commune with my people, my old babysitter has the least updated one. So instead clay pots scatter around the table.
My mom checks on the oxtails, saying, “Yes, she cut that hair. Girl, First Corinthians says long hair, it is her glory.”
“Thanks mom,” I glance at MamLalumi unsure how she will take the vastly different belief system. She just smiles.
“So you denied the boy?” MamLalumi asks.
“What’s with the tag-teaming between the two of you?” I nod, rubbing the tears from my face. “Yeah, Jagger didn’t listen though. He says he’ll keep trying. We will see how long that lasts.”
“Your father broke up with your mother. She came to me crying about it.”
Again I glance over at my mom, worried that the talk of another mother would hurt her feelings. She’s busy as a bee, yet I know she still has one ear on us. ”What happened?” She actually asks before I can.
“Your grandfather. Makuachukwa brought Bannan home during college break and the King looked him up and down—he didn’t see a different race, mind you—he just followed the elders predictions about who she should marry.”
“Ohhh…” I groan.
“And your mother trampled on Bannan’s heart until she realized she couldn’t live without him…”
I sigh heavily. I’d like to believe the same was true for Jagger. Did he have a sudden epiphany that no other would love him just like I do? Yet, I gave my heart to him entirely too soon, too easily. “How did she get him back?”
“When they returned to college after break, she did the little things. You rarely see that. Usually the man breaks the woman’s heart and he’s a buffoon.”
My mom agrees. “Exactly, they always give the same tired line.”
MamLalumi nods. “But with your mother. It strengthened their love…”
***
Over the next few weeks, Jagger sends me gifts. A diamond earring and necklace set that’s so expensive, security is sent to drop it off.
I returned it.
That wouldn’t qualify as the little things MamLalumi had mentioned about, when it came to my parents. Had to be more than 20 carats and didn’t speak to my heart.
Next, there are stuffed elephants covering the front yard of the palace. I smile, aware that he’s been watching. Learning about me and my zany Abayomi.
This gesture is special and provides gifts to the young children in the village, but I’m afraid still.
He’s a headstrong man. Does he want me until he has me?