PLANET NAIROBI (When the sun goes down)
Nur…
They were on the verge of losing this battle… it was only a matter of time, and he knew that. Through the window, he saw them advance, with a fierce swiftness that would have put anyone opposed to them at unease. Trembling uncontrollably, he reached for his weapon and held it firmly, ready to martyr himself for his family’s honour and legacy if need be. For they were not, and never would be known as a family of cowards, they were royalty... and he would rather go down fighting than cowering, that was the bottom line. But he knew that his sword, as well forged as it was, would be no match for Rath and his five hundred man strong battalion. So, biting his lower lip he waited for the pounding footsteps to reach the top of the stairs where he stood, the one solitary guardian to the throne. Martyrdom was his destiny.
“Let he that stands between Rath and the throne fall like the city walls!” Rath’s dominant voice bellowed as it got closer, too close for comfort.
He braced himself.
Suddenly, the doors burst open. And Nur... Prince Nur, finally got to come face to face with the scourge that had terrorised the lands of the sea for so long. A man of whom he had heard about from stories as a child growing up. A man that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. Nur realised that he had always been afraid of Rath, long before this moment, how was he supposed to fight this man when he was clearly at a disadvantage? For it was common knowledge that to go into battle afraid, was to go into battle prepared to lose.
Rath was a gigantic figure, and exuded the air of one who was accustomed to crushing his opponents and hadn’t experienced defeat in a while... if not ever. This man stood at almost eight feet tall, with rock hard muscles that seemed to pile on top of more muscle, threatening to tear through his dark skin. His long locks of unkempt hair fell over a face that could only be described as menacing. He had a permanent scowl that was complimented by his black, soulless eyes. And as they stared each other down, Nur couldn’t ignore the presence of sheer evil he saw in those eyes, a shiver of dread ran down his spine. He raised his blade.
“A child?” Rath barked, “A petulant child? Is that what this Kingdom’s defences have come down to? An infant?” He waved a dismissive hand at Nur.
“A prince!” Nur responded defiantly, raising his blade even higher and more confidently. This man may have been the epitome of terror, but Nur would be ****** if he was going to be talked down to in this manner, this was his palace.
“A prince huh? Prince Nur I presume? Your father was a brave man, I respected him. Even if I met his acquaintance only for a couple of minutes, before I slaughtered him. But I do respect a king that fights alongside his men, as opposed to other cowards I’ve had the pleasure of killing that had barricaded themselves in their chambers and let others fight their battles for them. King Thur was a rare breed... but a dead one all the same.” He laughed remorselessly as he said this. “And soon you will get to join your warrior father foolish one.”
Nur lost all sense of fear. Infuriated, his nostrils flared as he swung the blade with all the ferocity he could muster, slicing deep into Rath’s right forearm. Time slowed to syrup as he saw his adversary’s blood stain the sword, but realising that it wasn’t a fatal strike, he turned around swiftly, switching his stance just in time to see Rath’s massive blade come down on his head. Then there was a deathly silence.
The afterlife was nothing like he had pictured. It smelt of... he couldn’t quite place that peculiar smell. It wasn’t pleasant, but neither was it unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Then he turned around and saw her. He deduced that she was probably the source of the smell. He noticed that smoke came out of her nostrils and mouth every few seconds after lifting a sticklike object to her lips. Nur mused at how wrong the high priest in their kingdom had been when he spoke about the place in the sun... the afterlife. It wasn’t anything like he had described.
But wait a minute! He realised that the sun was still above him, in the sky. He could see it. He could feel it on his skin. So WHERE WAS HE? He felt dizzy, unable to comprehend. Only a minute ago he was in the royal palace, facing certain death. And now he was... he didn’t know where he was, or even what he was. Was he dead? Transcended? Was this just his soul? If so, then how come he still had his senses? All these questions raced through his mind at the same time. He turned toward the lady, who seemed unaware of his presence. She was tall and very light skinned compared to him and her hair was tied in ponytail at the back of her head. He couldn’t make sense of her attire though, she seemed to wear a lot of clothing, garment over garment that covered her arms and legs. She was also extremely beautiful and had a slim womanly body most warriors would **** for, he noted, and felt himself flush. He tried to see what she was squinting so intently at and concluded that she was just staring into space as she drew, he realised now, on the tiny stick and blew out more smoke. That was when he noticed how high up they were, this palace stood almost five times as high as theirs. It was overwhelming to say the least.  He got up and walked over to her, deciding to leave his blade behind so as not to come off as a threat.
“Greetings?” He said politely. She jumped as if she had just seen a ghost, dropping the stick she was holding. He had clearly startled her, so he took a step back lifting his hands in the air to signify that he meant her no harm. She breathed rapidly and began to speak just as rapidly in a foreign tongue. Nur couldn’t understand what she was saying, but the hostility in her tone and her demeanour was hard to miss. He took another step back, ready to defend himself from an attack if need be. He had heard tales of an island with warrior women who could match, and beat, even the strongest male adversary in combat. He decided to tread cautiously.


Nasim...
Nasim Naikuni was beyond peeved. Who was this ******?  He had scared her half to death and almost made her fall off the roof, not to mention burn her favourite grey, three thousand shilling trouser suite when she dropped the cigarette. And what annoyed her even more was that he didn’t seem to register how ******* she was. He just stood there with a blank expression on his face, like a schoolboy waiting for his mistake to be explained to him. Nasim couldn’t stand slow people, they got under her skin. She was yelling at the top of her lungs, which was taxing to say the least, seeing as she had been smoking just seconds ago.
“Are you slow?” She shouted, tapping at her temple repeatedly. “What makes you think you can sneak up on me like that you fool? You almost killed me. Do you realise that?” Then she stopped and studied him, out of breath. She noticed that he seemed unable to understand English and so she switched to Swahili, “Nini mbaya na wewe?” What’s wrong with you? Still there was no response.
She gave him a once over. He dressed strangely. His large, golden brown pants that fluttered in the wind seemed to have been made from an expensive material, though it was like no material she’d laid eyes on before. It bordered somewhere between silk and suede. His shirt was also made of a similar material, but leather brown in colour, matching his leather boots that were laced and reached just under the knee. He stood an inch or two shorter than she did, but she guessed that was probably because she was in heels. He had long hair that seemed to fall halfway down his back in one long braid. He looked almost exotic as he tried to communicate, but she couldn’t place the language or his ethnicity, for his skin-tone was chocolate brown but his hair looked almost like an Asian’s, dark and straight. He spoke in a tongue she had never heard before. There was also something really classy about this boy, whom she guessed to be around eighteen years of age or so. It was like looking at a darker, more pampered version of Sinbad the sailor.
Nasim relaxed a little and decided to give the fellow a chance to introduce himself, in whatever way he intended to do so. He seemed to pick up on this and started explaining something to her, making a couple of gestures, and at some point she thought she saw him mimic a fight, and then  point to the sky. Nasim still didn’t know what he was talking about, but felt a semblance of communication begin to take form. He directed her attention to another part of the roof, probably where he had approached her from. And she saw the blade! With catlike agility she swung her purse at him, the blow caught him square on the jaw with a thud! The bottle of perfume she religiously carried around in it serving a different purpose on this day. He hadn’t seen it coming and so had no chance of stopping it. He staggered backwards as she made a run for it toward the staircase but felt a hand grab her ankle causing her to tumble onto the hot cement floor. At that moment her heart sank, for she knew that she was done for.


Nur...
Nur was perplexed, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the assault. The lady had seemed to be calming down, but all of a sudden she had lunged at him with a weapon he had first assumed to be a bag. Though, she didn’t strike with the strength that a warrior would have, and also had made an attempt to flee. This told him two things. One, she wasn’t accustomed to combat... and two, she had attacked more out of fear than strife. Which meant that she posed no immediate threat to him. Also, she was the only person he had met so far and his only hope of figuring out where he was. He couldn’t afford to lose her, not just yet, so he decided to try something he was ashamed he hadn’t thought of sooner. Nur spoke into her head.
‘I mean you no harm.’  He said, and waited. No response. He tried again, concentrating harder this time. ‘Can you hear me? I mean you no harm’
‘LET ME GOOO!’  Her thoughts screamed.
He could understand her, they had made a connection. Progress...

One year later. Nasim...
“Good afternoon people? You’re hangin’ out with me Nasim Naikuni on your favourite show Voices, where you can throw any question you have regarding life... and living it, at me and the voices in my head will answer them for you... yeah, you heard right, the voices in my head. I’ll be takin’ your calls for the next hour. Let’s begin shall we?” Nasim spoke into the microphone just before a voice-over added...
“NASIM NAIKUNI, THE ONLY RADIO PRESENTER THAT’S LITERALLY GONE BONKERS!” And then was followed by some rock music. ‘So what?... I’m still a rock star... ’ Pink’s lyrics belted out as Nasim removed her headphones to take a breather before she talked to her first caller. A breather... and also to have a bit of a chat with the voice in her head. She walked out of the studio into a corridor where she was out of sight, and concentrated, her eyes crinkling from the effort.
‘Hey, are you there?’
‘Uh huh.’ The prince replied.
‘Okay, we’re on in roughly three minutes. Make me look good babes’
‘Don’t I always?’
‘True dat. What are you doing?’
‘Breakfast.’
‘It’s one in the afternoon... ’
‘This is not my planet, therefore I’m not obliged to follow its rules. I can have a one o’clock breakfast if I want to.’
‘Brunch.’
‘What?’
‘Brunch, what your having would be brunch. Breakfast... aaand lunch?’
‘You see? You get all high and mighty on me about this and you even have a name for it? If it is so wrong to have breakfast at this time, then why would your people give the meal a name? I’m just saying.’ Nur said mockingly.
‘I give up’ She replied with a sigh.
‘Nas... Nas?’
Silence.
She walked back into the studio.
“Caller... you’re on air. Shoot.” Nasim said softly, leaning into the microphone.
“Hey Nasim, lovely job you’re doing by the way.”
“Why thank you dear, but I don’t deserve all the credit you know?”
“Yeah I know... you and the voices in your head... ha-ha! Anyway my name is George, and I’m kinda’ in a predicament at the moment. You see, I have a wife and a family... two kids, but I kinda’ got into this relationship outta’... obligation as opposed to real love...”
“Obligation?”
“Yes. I met my wife five years ago in uni’ and we dated. But looking back, I only got into the relationship because I felt I’d led her on and she loved me soo much, I just couldn’t disappoint her. So I got stuck in a phony relationship, at least on my part. Next thing I know, we are pregnant and... It’s been we ever since.”
“So you want to what? Get out of your marriage?”
“I want to be with the person I truly love...”
“Hooo... **! Scoreboard! Now we have lift off. And how long have you known this person that you truly love George?” She said this with a tinge of amusement in her voice.
“Six years... and we’ve been going out for the past two.” He sounded ashamed.
‘He sounds ashamed.’ She heard Nur say observationally.
‘No kidding.’ She retorted.
(In the past year or so, Nasim and Nur had come to an understanding somewhat. After she had struck him with her purse and the little scuffle they’d had on the rooftop, and after convincing herself that she wasn’t going crazy... or that the cigarette she had been smoking wasn’t laced with marijuana or some other hallucinogen, she finally gave in and listened to the voice speaking to her in her thoughts.
‘Please, just give me a chance to explain. I need your help lady!’ He sounded desperate.
She felt sorry for him, but still suspected she could be going nuts.
He continued. ‘I don’t know where I am. My father is dead and I don’t know where I am or how I arrived here, and you’re the only one that can help me right now...’
Nasim, touched now, replied. “How am I supposed to do that? And how are you doing this telepathy thing? Are you really doing this?” She shook her head violently, like a wet dog trying to dry itself, “I’m very confused right now.”
He looked even more confused. ‘Talk to me in my head, I think it is the only way we can communicate with each other.’
She didn’t know how to.
‘It’s simple, concentrate.’ He said reassuringly.
She tried. Still nothing.
‘I could hear you a moment ago, I don’t understand. Let’s try this slowly, repeat after me... Nur.’ He told her.
She heard him, and was thinking what?
He repeated, ‘Nur.’
She tried thinking the word he’d asked her to repeat as hard as she could but he didn’t seem to be getting anything. She decided that the cigarette must have been laced with something. Here she was, on the roof top of her work building trying to master telepathy, with a stranger who just happened to own a sword. This had to be a dream, a nightmare.
‘I must be high.’
‘Yes! Yes! You’re high!’ She heard the excited reply.
‘What?’
‘You did it!’ Nur said happily, ‘you figured it out. And yes, I was also meaning to ask you about how high we are.’
She had done it. Nasim could hear him and answer back, she felt oddly proud of this accomplishment. Then she asked puzzled. ‘High? You get high?’
‘I am high.’ Came the naive reply.
‘Oh...’
‘Why are we so high up? The palaces on our island are half the size of yours, are you that many in your palace that you need to build it so tall?’
Then she understood. And laughed... ‘Who are you? And how did you get here?’
‘My name is Nur... Prince Nur... how I got here? That’s what I’m trying to find out.’ He was being honest.
And thus begun an adventurous relationship between the two. Nasim took him to her apartment that day, passing curious and disapproving looks all the way. The most difficult part being trying to explain to her boss why she was coming from the roof in the company of someone who dressed like a ******, as he put it. She made up something. And he gave her one of those I’ll accept your story just because... looks. Nasim found that hilarious. But she was glad she had asked Nur to leave the sword behind to be recovered later. That would have been a tad difficult to explain. They got to her apartment block and were met by more disapproving looks from a group of nosey old women, the type that love to mind everyone else’s business but their own, as they walked to the lift. And when they got into apartment F6 on the second floor, she introduced Nu

...

Always out of reach to my preaching fingertips,
Righteously speaking of a dream,
Whose face they have never seen
Emotionally accusing the obscene,
Whatever that means..
What’s held back by the screen
As it’s sifted assiduously,
I-wish-they-were-forgotten memories
They always manage to creep back inside of me,
As a nightmare, “Aaand.. Scene!”  it’s all imaginary
Just rehearsal on repeat, it’s not happening, it’s not happening
Outside of fluttering eyelids, there’s no monsters in your sheets
Just the ones that breathe against your skull,
No ghoul but, a ghost- a howling specter that can’t let go
It makes its presence well known, in the darkness it is home
And I am merely a guest, in its humble abode.
A parasite on my soul, a gracious host;
Serving anguish paired with laughter as it toasts,
“To dying alone, and rotting with scorn straight through your bones!”

Death, carves a smile upon the eternal scowl scarring the earth.
Though he leaves me at sunrise, after eating hell as sleep’s dessert.

-SLuR

The best counter attack to an enemy is silence aaand..wait for the word---ignore.

'i can breathe, i can breathe!'

i scream it into the air because there's space to scream it.
grass and trees and water as far as the eye can see,
even turbines spinning slowly,
i'm telling you now i have never felt like there was so much air before this moment.

i move upstream through the running water just to remind myself that this is real life and there are still difficulties
i laugh to myself though - it's never been this easy to bring myself back down to earth, because there's so ******* much of it

my vision is blurred from wet glasses. i'm delighted. the stress lines are melting from my face with the rain. i'm unashamed. i don't think i've ever been this free of pain. aaand hodor's howling from the top of the hill like a tiny wolf again.

side by side i walk through heather with my mother and i remember lantern-lit martinmas walks when i was four feet tall or thereabouts, and with the peppered scent of brambles and moulting leaves, i'm a child again and the leaves are mine to crunch and kick.

we pick wildflowers for the kitchen and blackberries for jam. we find ourselves going to extraordinary lengths to get the best ones, which of course, are always just out of reach. it becomes a quest for the unobtainables. but we come home with stained hands, faces aglow and two kilos.

bernie learns to fetch the ball and drop it and i almost cry because i love him so much. bernie investigates the deeper water of the river because daisy is swimming and i almost cry because i love him so much. bernie lays his damp head on my legs after a walk and falls straight to sleep and i almost cry because i love him so much.

the mist lies on top of the mountain like a protective blanket and i feel myself become one with the mud. i am the mud. the mud is me. i am a mud lady now. ever had muddy water flow over the top of your wellies and not feel remotely bothered? better than yoga.

never thought i'd ever be wishing for a wetsuit but here we are.

oh and, cold sunshine. gorgeous, crisp cold sunshine.

Choice shells sold sorted sweet and sour.
aaand we nevee lived, but in the desert,
so we guessed
at what the salt's for,
we assumed the sop was
vinegar's for dippin's our first guess.

This is political persuasion, right?

Republic, right
we 'as been called to pre
serve that very same virtue-ish
mankindly thinkable true proven rules.
old philosophia true love
above this drab duty we loyalists
weary our way through, standing
at attention, sayin' not a word,
ai, as if we be the very guardians
of royal lies
about Jehovah's choices
in chosen Nuclear war operators.

"But Socrates wants to show
that there are further considerations
to emphasize the higher pleasures
of the just life:
not merely peace
of mind, but the excitement
of pursuing knowledge, produces
an almost godlike state
in the human being.---"
https://www.pursuit-of-happiness.org/history-of-happiness/socrates/

some minutes
beyond beginning,
thinking this day amazing,
ai, a thread,
from a lost chord, may hap
cross wire at a capacitor impressed
full umpht, sputter,
sparked internal combustion,

oh, hell yes, this is that, doit, init, intuit
pfft/ mater/antimater, umpht pa,
phissss
per haps as happens, happenings as such,
always seem
to cause some wins, and same so,
cause
about as many losses.

Woe, though be,
to me, I guess,
eventually, it is a whole lotta fun,

Ag me on,
we have a dis agreement, just here

Soon enough this pleasure will
become neutral as I adjust
to my new condition. Nearly all
of our pleasures are relative like this,
hence they are not purely pleasurable.

Another example would be the experience
of getting high aiaiai
on drugs:
this can produce a high state
of pleasure
in the short-term, but then will
inevitably lead
to the opposite state
of pain.
--- oy vey and yada yada yada\ I'm quoting

inevit-able, hiccups,
in my motor skills, vino,
in excess-elcius,
trusting qwerty guy
to get us through the trials

and at tempts, at tensions, at this point, highly
skeptical as
to utility, save the enjoyment
akin
to that little joy, young Dodgson
took as granted, his,
to use,
to tell us
all that he could imagine inspiring.
Ah, and then, this,

Ever after upto just now,
Wonderland, and oyster stew.

Ai, art indeed, this happened, just now, indeed.

Instant wisdom, hesitant mediation,
aha and aum, in the manner of TV Ginsburgian
augmentation of McLuhan's sorrow, that as of yet
you know nothing of his work…

the effort to be smarter than anyone else,
bet on the royal flush dealt to the lonesome loser.

My hand, who could imagine, I'd bet my life.

August is One of Countless Chapters of the Past. Everything Else is just,
 
A Reverie

 
   It was as startling to me as it was to Mikayla. We had not seen each other since August when she had dragged me across the coals, twice, after it came to her attention, I was showing pictures of her at our local bar. No, not nudes... nor anything remotely suggesting foul play in my mind. They were just selfies that she herself took. On my phone.

   Nadya seemed to still be learning the many customs of America since moving here from Moscow. That and possibly all too embracing of how to live more like an American which is why she didn't notice how thick the air got when she was introducing me to Mikayla,

   “Mikayla, this is Ahnd-REY. He's whom I've been telling you about this whole time.”

    Nadya’s accent made me weak in the beginning. I remember when we started dating every now and then a halfway confused look came across her face during conversations. She expected an American man would never let her get a word in but found it rightfully so as frustrating as could be to get me to talk. I wanted nothing more than to sit and listen to her voice, her stories, and her thoughts. She carried herself so unlike almost every other girl I’ve met.

   There was what I would describe a deftness in her stride. Over time I got the impression it may have been due to where she grew up in Moscow. Not the worst part of the city, but it wasn’t the greatest either. It wasn’t that she was timid by any stretch when she walked by me the first time. She just wasn’t going to put up with anyone’s crass remarks or actions. Her sure-footed steps came to an abrupt stop just passed me realizing I had stopped walking gawking at what was walking by me. She was ready to give me a verbal, possibly physical, lashing as soon as I tried anything to provoke her. But I didn’t.  I just stood there with these ‘poor orphaned puppy dog eyes’ as Nadya put it. Like I was behind a big window, paws pressed against the glass, and no wag in my tail.

   The hardness in her eyes dissipated as mine maintained a child-like awe. This Russian beauty, not sure what to do next, just asked me if I was lost. I couldn’t remember my answer, but whatever I said made her smile. She had what I think of as that calloused mind having dealt with undesirable interactions from her home country growing up.

   Right now, I was weak for another reason. Mikayla. I was hoping I could easily avoid running into her for the rest of my life after she shamed the absolute hell out of me the last time I was here. My eyes focused on Nadya while she kept introducing me, and I could see from my periphery Mikayla’s eyes, the size of silver dollars, staring boldly at me. Her mouth just managed to gape enough for me to notice.
With a less than heartfelt tone Mikayla politely greeted me
after Nadya finished talking.

   “Hello Drew. I haven't seen you here in a while.”

   Nadya was too excited for me to reach for any words of my own. Thank the Moon.

   “Oh! So, you know each other already! That's good to know. Also, you'll have to excuse me if I keep calling him by his Russian name. It fits him so much better!” Nadya continued.

   From what I could gather after that first minute of shock had worn off it seems Nadya just befriended the first girl she found who didn't look like she was an avid fan of fireball. God, I couldn't stand the taste of that cheap ****. I told Nadya fireball was a drink of choice for far too many ****** southern girls to be considered a drink worth any consideration.
  
   Mikayla was dressed as I remember her doing so, very beautifully. This time it was a fun black dress that reached to her knees. Her dark brown hair was hung down and she was wearing shiny black heels. That must mean she hasn't been out drinking for too long then. Somewhere in her car were most likely a pair of wedges she keeps when she has had enough attention and wanted to feel comfortable.

   Nadya was working on a Russian Mule. A drink she was so
elated to find out I knew how to make and not just simply heard of it. Mikayla had what looked like a Long Island iced tea. Her glass was about to spill over in her hand until she noticed me noticing it. A little bit of pink started to flood her cheeks immediately. As Nadya continued her conversation before I arrived Natalie, the bartender, rushed up to me,

    “Drewww! Where have you been, man? It's been ages!”

   I greeted Natalie warmly with a big enough smile I could put on and handed her some silly excuse for my absence,

   “Chasing that paper, if that's still a saying anymore.”

   “I feel you. Want something to drink?”

   Once I returned my attention back to the girls Nadya mouthed the word 'paper’ with clear confusion. I chuckled and wrapped my arm around her to bring her close. Even though I was churning on the inside seeing Mikayla again it wasn't going to overshadow how adorably out of place Nadya could be. I tenderly kissed the front of Nadya’s head after explaining I meant money and tried to ignore the little rain cloud that started to grow above Mikayla's head.
  
 

.....Last August....
 
   I don't want to make it seem as if alcohol was to blame for what happened, but I had drunk more than my usual amount. A friend offered me some shot that smelled too much like one of those ****** cakes you find in gas station bathrooms, but it tasted very much like Hawaiian Punch. The blue kind. It didn't help I hit the ground running enjoying a high gravity beer by some obscure brewery. That was a gift, and a curse, being such good friends with the bartenders. They would always have something for me to try, and refused to charge me the full price of my tab. I was always conscientious of never having more than three, possibly four, beers when drinking though.

   That night there was a real turn out of fresh faces, and girls. Marty, a beer-bellied bar acquaintance of mine, was standing next to me while we carried on light conversion -while we both were glancing back and forth at the girls playing pool. It became painfully clear one of the girls wasn't wearing a bra under her boyish size tank top as she leaned in for her shot.  

   “Lordy, there's some pretty ones here tonight. Isn't there?” He declared.

   I couldn't hold back the smirk stretching across my face.
   “Oh yeah.” was all I needed to say.
          
   “Gonna talk to any of them?”

   Marty must have been wondering who I fancied. Very
respectable guy. Probably didn't want us to have a conflict of interest in the same girl. Lucky for him.

   “Honestly Marty my interests have been taken by one girl in
particular tonight. Unfortunately, I can't really talk to her.”

   His face, as expected, showed me he was more than interested in what I had next to say. I spent a minute going over these feelings I had over time developed for Mikayla, and how I eventually broke the cardinal rule by telling her how I felt. Eventually pulling out my phone showing him the selfies that told me she was interested in me as much as I was in her.

   The month before at the bar I was having small talk with Mikayla as a band was playing loudly across the room. Given that it was hard to hear each other I thought why not use my phones note app and talk that way? So, for a small window of time that was how we carried our small talk. I had no expectations that Mikayla would take it as the opportune time to snap pictures of herself with my phone with various faces. I was included in some of these pictures. It was such a surprise and I hate to say it, but I coveted such a moment with her.
 
   Marty's reaction was that of amusement and awe it seemed. His only words of comment were,

   “Give it some time. Eventually she will find her way to you.”
   At least that is the gist of what he said. Now one of two possibilities had occurred immediately after we spoke. Marty may have gone directly to Jared, Mikayla’s boyfriend, and unloaded everything he had just heard from me. If that were true, I don't blame him. He was simply looking after his friend. I get it, and I harbor no ill will towards the guy. I do believe, however, that someone else must have walked by and heard or saw what I had hoped to keep between me and Marty. That seems more plausible.

   I felt so ashamed when it came to a head that August night.
Mikayla sat down next to me while I was in the middle of Mario Kart, and I was halfway waiting for something interesting to be said by her. I remember my heart was already climbing a ladder to my throat when she walked my way. 
          
   “What's going on?” Was all she said in a very forward manner without looking at me.
  Hands in her lap with eyes looking down at them.
 
   “...Sorry?”
   It was more than curiosity that devoted my attention to her when she sat down. Didn't even notice the solemnness in her face.
       
   “You need to delete those pictures you have of me on your phone.”

   ...And without protest, or questioning anything, I straightaway pulled my phone out and proceeded to carry out her command. Looking back, it still seems odd over the degree of compliance I carried her command out with. Seemed as though the galaxy was struck by that blue shell covered in spikes from the game and my whole world was thrown upside down.

   “This is not funny. This is not a joke…”
   Her tone stung while I was deleting the photos not just from a photo album but from my trash to make it permanent. Those butterflies you get when your excited about something? Well, they were lit on fire and falling into an ever-bottomless pit which came to be inside of me. I started having trouble hearing by then.

   “Deleted.” was my only word to her.

   The voice dripping out of my mouth didn't sound like me at all. As soon as Mikayla heard my response she promptly disappeared out of my view. I tried to resume playing Mario Kart. Not a few seconds passed by and I was looking at my boots with some unfathomable guilt hanging around my neck. I decided to walk away into a corner of the bar and find a happy place, believe it or not. There was what felt like eyes looking at me from everywhere. I felt much too vulnerable out in the open.

   Strangely enough, and what relief it was, I found solace in the form of a new email from my pen pal. Haven’t heard from them in some time so I was happy to read their message. Mikayla must not have liked the smile genuinely smacked across my face. Because she re-a-*******-ppeared in front of me.

   “Why are you trying to ruin my life?” She asked coldly.

   Aaand that happy place of mine just vanished into thin air.
 
   ... ****... I was suddenly so confused and internally screaming to be invisible.

   “-I'm not trying anything Mikayla!”

   My throat felt like it was drying up as the verbal wasp nest was being pushed into my face. I tore my eyes from her gaze momentarily as I desperately forced a swallow against my dry throat. Mikayla was at least open to talking for what little moment there was. It's hard to remember all the details when that fight or flight **** kicks in. I do remember her eyes were too intense for me to keep looking at as she told me,

   “Word travels fast in a small town like this, and now because of you running your mouth, I'm made out to be the town *****.”

   Devastated was an understatement as to what kind of emotion tsumani’d the **** out of me when I heard her. I thought I was speaking in confidence to Marty earlier, but my drinking for the night must have betrayed me. It wasn't long before Mikayla snapped me out of my near stupor,

   “Don't you dare start crying.”

   I could feel it coming, and I must have floundered at keeping the tears from pushing through.

   “If you start crying then I'll start crying.”

   I honestly wasn't expecting that and couldn't have been anymore perplexed for the night. Mikayla continued,

   “You are a nice guy Drew, and if things weren't the way they are I would date you… But I share a house and a dog with Jared, and I can't have **** like this happening. We can be cordial and say hello whenever we see each other, but that's it. From here on out I need you to stop talking about me. No more 'if the stars were aligned differently' *******. I don't ever want to catch my name coming out of your mouth again. Understand?”

   How much of my conversation made it her way?



..... Back to the Present....
  
   I came back to the present when Nadya declared,
   “Oh, we must get together sometime, Mikayla! I have no one to talk to when I go to the nail salon. And as much as I enjoy Andrei shopping with me, he has a difficult time not imagining every outfit I try on laying at the foot of his bed.”

   Mikayla smiled too politely but cleared her throat and said of course she would. But something was amiss and Nadya noticed. She wasn't sure if she was insulting with her halfway worried glance back at me. Her feeling was firmly planted seeing my eyes were directed to the ground briefly before meeting hers.

   Natalie broke the air in the conversation by serving me a
cold beer and chatted briefly with the girls. I took a sharp swig and welcomed the citrus hops biting at my tongue. Think it will be the only drink for the night. Before Natalie could hurry off, I discreetly asked her for Nadya's tab and mine. Nadya, refusing to let the conversation fizzle changed gears hoping to salvage the conversation… but it was for the worst,

   “Andrei, I'm so happy you finally decided to show me your friends bar. It's full of friendly faces.” Smiling right at Mikayla she continued, “He says he hasn't been back here since October-”

   “-August.” ****, did I really just correct Nadya? In front of them both? Am I autistic? Mikayla's eyes were quickly returning to the state they were in that same **** August night.
   “August?” Inquired Mikayla.

   “Oh, that's right.” Nadya continued, “Andrei hasn't said much about it. All he would tell me was some horrible ***** ‘dragged him across the coals.’ Isn’t that what you said darling?”

   The last word was closely followed by her hand tenderly caressing my face as if there were a smarting wound that hadn’t healed this whole time. Raw heat erupted deep down within me for two very different reasons.

   “He says it's his fault and he deserved it, but I know that’s not true. He won't tell me anything else.” Nadya resumed.

   I need to get some air. The room was starting to feel like a vacuum. My voice entered the conversation,

   “I never said she was anything, Nadya.” One pair of eyes looked curiously at me, and another was piercing into my skull. If I so much as crossed my sight in Mikayla’s direction, I felt certain I’d turn to stone, or be slapped very hard across the face.
  
   “She was nothing but sweet to me, and unfortunately I made a poor choice in expressing my interests to her from the start. Her hands were tied and to this day I feel so terrible for jeopardizing someone else’s relationship.”
           
   Not sure if Nadya was entirely satisfied with my explanation, however, the snakes writhing around Mikayla’s head were clearly retreating from whence they can. I hope what she heard was enough because I really want to take Nadya away from here before all those puzzle pieces fell into place.

   The bartender Natalie answered my unspoken prayer and handed me the bill. Nadya looked like she was purring at the sight of her date taking care of the bill even when she didn’t
ask of it. Her first few dates on American soil were seemingly haphazard at best, and I still manage to catch her off guard over random small nothings. Like simply holding the door for her; something she missed about Russian dates.

   Nadya was enjoying the fact she found herself an American gentleman who didn’t drink his meals and expected her to pay for herself. Though she quickly held protest upon realizing I was ready to leave, but obliged when the worry started to creep forth from my eyes,

   “Mikayla it was so very nice to meet you. Maybe we can all go on a double date soon.” Then Nadya gave her an unexpected hug.

   Nadya’s back was to me as she went in for a hug. Wasn’t sure if I saw a snake flicking its tongue from behind Mikayla’s head or not. I just stared off into nothingness for a few seconds. Reality quickly resumed when Nadya crooned,

   “Ready Darling?”

   Just breathe... We’re walking out now.

   “It was nice to see you again Drew. Take care.”

   Mikayla’s voice made my body stiffen just slightly. It was the calmest it had been the entire night, but it didn’t mask the anguish that lingered. It must have looked like smiling back at her was painful for me as I held the door open for Nadya.
Because Nadya didn’t walk through.

   As if she was watching a sunrise for the first time, she looked at me with her head tilted, then at Mikayla, … at me, and Mikayla again. And it dawned on her.

   Time must have forgot it never takes a break... for those few seconds dragged on for far too long. Only after she tenderly took me by the hand and we were out the door did Nadya conclude,

   “We need to find a new place to share a drink, my love.”