crave | 16+

XL

JOSEPHINE
A week later

"JOSIE, IT'S GOOD TO see you," my boyfriend's brother says. I smile at him, and watch as he takes a seat before me, at the café we're sitting at. His words ring in my ears, and I detect a kind of sincerity behind them. Aaron beside me, lights a cigarette. I frown, and turn to him.

"You hate cigarettes," both Malik and I say in unison. Aaron shrugs, and takes a long drag from the cigarette between his lips. I sigh, and turn back to Malik who's watching me. Observing me. Reading me. I lean back in the chair I'm sitting in, letting the spring weather serenade my skin. It's not always this great of a weather in New York – we might as well appreciate it.

Crossing my legs under the small table, I smile as the waiter brings over the coffees Aaron and I ordered when we arrived. The waiter puts four cups down on the table, which causes Malik to raise a questioning brow at me. I can't help myself; I stare. All I see when I look at him, is an older version of Elijah. A part of him breaks my heart, and the other part is content, having to look at something that resembles him.

"Are we expecting company?" Malik questions. I nod my head, and take a careful sip from the coffee. Malik doesn't ask further questions. He simply inclines his head, and mimics my actions, sipping his coffee, until he finally breaks the comfortable silence we'd fallen into. "This reminds me of home," he assesses, looking around in the back gardens of the café. It's one of my favourites. It allows one to sit outside, and enjoy being away from the busy street.

"Palestine?" I question. My query raises a shock on Malik's face, and frankly he doesn't have time to mask this emotion. Like he does with all his other emotions; always wearing a mask, always hiding his true emotions away. I wonder when he'll trust me enough, to drop the mask, and allow me to see the real him.

"I see my brother told you about our origins, but not the story of our parents?" I shake my head no, and silently ask him to elaborate. "My father was in the military. When the US sent aid to the civilians in Palestine due to the war, he was stationed as a peace-keeper in the Gaza strip. Wandering the streets, he bumped into my mother. My family may not be of religion, but Palestine is a religious country. My father was a black man in the late seventies. I believe you see the difficulty their love might've brought," he says, so casually, telling me about his parents' story. A story Elijah never told me. A mask my boyfriend still wears around me.

"Your moms family were religious?" I inquire. He nods his head.

"My mum's side of the family are all christians. Back then, muslims, christians and orthodox jews lived in peace and harmony in Palestine. Religion didn't matter – everyone respected that Palestine was a muslim country. But it wasn't religion that was the barrier between my parents. It was my father's skin colour. An African American who wasn't acquainted with Arab culture, wanted to take my grandfather's daughter, and immigrate her to the US on a IR1 visa? I think my late grandfather would've rather had someone shit in his hands and clap."

I bite back a smile. He changed from calling his mom, 'mother' to 'mum'. It might be a small change, a change Malik probably hasn't realised, but I realise. And then I scrunch my face at the thought of their grandfather being so...narrow minded. "What happened then?"

"My grandmother, actually. She saw a brighter future for her daughter. She understood what position my father had in the US, and how he could provide for her, if he were on the white house's good side. So she arranged a small marriage, and she was there to testify for their matrimony. Soon later, my mum and father left for the US, but the IR1 visa only lasted two years. They moved to England, and then they had us. Christ Enterprises might be huge here, but it was founded in London, in a small two-bedroomed apartment. So when I speak of home, Josie, I mean London. With my brothers. With my mum."