Devour | on hold

Chapter 12 (Three stories)

- Chapter Twelve -

T H R E E  S T O R I E S

“And who’s that lucky girl?” I fake a laugh.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He shakes his head slightly.

I frown, “why not?”

He gets up and rubs his forehead, “you’ll know in time, I just gotta be going now.” I nod at him and he leaves.

Akando’s in love!

I scold myself over and over again for my reaction, what’s so wrong about my best friend’s being in love? Why am I being that creepy? I mean I’ve always waited for the day Akando would come tell me he wants to marry someone, and I’ll be more than happy to see my only true friend in love. Besides I’m not even in love with him! He’s like my brother. It’s weird. I’m weird. I admit.

I let out a frustrated groan and lay on the ground, facing the tree leaves above me. I remember Lenno. I’m obviously having a crush on him, but thinking of the way he talked this morning, I just wish I could go slap him hard on the face. He’s stupid. Well, all boys are. Akando and Lenno are acting like jerks and I’ve had enough thinking what’s wrong with both of them. There’s no time for such silly issues. I need to talk to father. The Leader.

***

“Hey, father.” I find him home once I get back. Readying himself for the Celebration. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, Lenmana,” he replies putting on his cloak, “go on.”

“Can we do it outside?” I ask glancing at Orenda who is on her knees adjusting Kaya’s skirt.

“Okay,” he gestures for me to walk ahead of him.

Once we’re outside, the hot morning air – that I didn’t get the chance to miss – welcomes us with a light blow. “I wanna ask you some questions about mother,” I start.

A look of longing and despair falls over his face like a bucket of cold water, I can’t believe the way and much he loved– loves her. Although it makes me feel good – knowing that this kind of love exists, it ruins it the fact that he married after her death. True love never lives to be complete, never gets the chance to be perfect. This is life; this is love.

“What do you wanna know?” He finally asks, after a few seconds of silence in which he seemed to replay all his years with her.

“Just talk about who she was,” I said, “it seems like I don’t know a thing about her.” I take a deep breath, “what were her political views, her religious views, her opinions?”

He remains silent for another while, and its surprises me – father always has something to say, something to order, something to be mad about, but his silence this time scares me. I can’t quite make a picture of his coming reaction – will he shout at me? Tell me he doesn’t want to talk about it?

Anticipation kills me slowly.

I need to know his answers. I need to know them now.

He finally shifts his gaze from the ground to me, looks deep in my bright brown eyes – does he see her there? They say I look so much like she did – “she–” he trails off, “she was the same like you, Lenmana.” He breathes, “you’re the new version of her, I just see the person she was in the person you are.” His eyes get wet, and he just approaches me. He wraps his arms around back and pulls me into a long, tight, hug.

***

You’re the new version of her.

The words keep roaming wildly in my head, making me go crazy. She was just like me. Father knows who I am. She protested about this life and those rules. She wanted a change. She sang for it. She sang it for me.