Taboo Descendants and the Multi-Dimensional War

If anyone would have looked up ‘fool’ in the dictionary right then, they would have seen a picture of me standing in the parking garage of Jackson Memorial Hospital, staring at Rahim and his gorgeous brunette companion, wearing a look of complete devastation.

I glanced out towards the night sky, fighting back a flood of tears that threatened to break the levees of my control. I felt more embarrassed than anything. I longed for darkness to engulf me and protect me from the humiliation as it had protected me from the shock of T-Rick’s death.

I waited, but no such help arrived. Completely conscious, I simply kept my eyes to the sky.

“Kaya, are you alright?” asked Rahim. His once sweet voice rang bittersweet in my ears.

I did not answer him, but continued to stare at the nearly starless sky. Washed out by the bright lights of the Miami metropolitan area, the sky here did not appear luminous as it did in more rural areas. The same sky, stunning to some, appeared vast and empty to others.

I wished to escape to my mother’s quiet hometown where I would hear nothing but leaves waltzing in the wind to an orchestra of frogs and crickets. No sirens, no horns, no bittersweet voices.

“Kaya, if you have fallen ill, I can take you inside to be evaluated.”

“The only place I want to go is home.” I said, attempting not to sound dejected.

“Are you sure you want to go out tonight? We can reschedule if you are not feeling up to par.”

How can he talk like that in front of her as if she’s not here?

I chanced a glance at her face. She watched me with increased interest and amusement. I felt my eyes narrow and my eyebrows lower as I gave her an incredulous look. I would not be anyone’s source of entertainment.

In response, she smiled even harder. I became angry. I could not understand how she found any of this humorous.

“You have exceptionally strong emotions, considering—” she spoke in an amazed tone, her voice trailing off into a whisper as is she had said too much.

“Considering what exactly? What are you trying to insinuate?” My voice was level, but my tone could have cut sheet metal.

“What my sister is trying to say is—” Rahim began nervously.

“Your sister!” I gasped, shocked, not allowing him to finish his sentence.

“Yes, Iris is my other half,” he spoke as if this explained everything. “My twin,” he added.

Whether due to hysteria, the abrupt collapse of my nerves, or a combination of both, I broke out in fits of laughter. Not a giggle given politely to a boss’ bad joke or even a genuine laugh experienced after hearing a good comic act, but a spasm of frenzied and uncontrollable laughter resulting in tears, a loss of breath and in this case, a large helping of embarrassment.

Oddly enough and to my relief, I was not the only one laughing. I looked over and saw Iris fully enjoying the moment.

She stopped laughing long enough to say, “It was nice meeting you, Doctor Jerito.”

“Please, call me Kaya,” I responded embarrassed but cheerful. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Iris.”

How was I supposed to know they were siblings? They looked nothing alike. Rahim looked more Middle Eastern and Iris more Mediterranean. The only thing they had in common was their unusual surname and their blue eyes. His baby blue eyes appeared lighter than her deep blue ones.

Sibling looking unrelated in the physical sense occurred fairly often in a global city like Miami. Looks deceived often there. Someone could look Lithuanian and be Chilean or look Nigerian and be Cuban. Assumptions based on appearance could not be trusted.

“Well, Kaya, I hope to see you soon.” She turned her attention to Rahim. “I will wait for you out front. I trust you will not keep me waiting much longer,” she taunted teasingly.

“I would not dream of it, Dear,” he said sincerely as she departed.

Once again, his full attention fell on me. I felt even more awkward than before.

“Now that you have had the chance to meet my sister, I hope it will not disappoint you too much if she and her date meet us at the café.”

I thought I heard, or possibly even felt, something negative at his mention of his sister’s date. He seemed overprotective when it came to his sister, so I dismissed the notion.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” I said with a smile.

“Wonderful, so I will see you in two hours,” he responded cheerfully.

Two hours? It’s seven o’clock already? I looked down at my phone. Sad, but true.

“Sure,” I said and turned to leave. “Wait.” I turned back around. “Don’t you need my address?”

“Of course.” He took out what I believed to be his phone. I had never seen anything like it before. “Where do you live?” he asked.

I told him my address as he stood there and listened attentively, staring into my eyes. My face aflame, I kept my voice steady. When I finished, he read the address back to me from his phone’s screen. He even told me the route he would take and approximately how long he would be in transit. I never saw him touch the phone.

“Is that phone Chinese or Indian?” I asked jokingly.

“Neither. Do you like it?”

“Yes. It seems extremely convenient.” Not to mention impossible.

“Later tonight, I will show you how it works if we get a chance.” He took a few steps backwards and paused as if wishing to remain there the entire night. He knew his sister waited for him to return promptly.

“See you then.” I tore my eyes away from his and walked to my car alone.

When I reached the driver’s side door, I looked back to see if he still stood in the same spot. He did. I figured he wanted to make sure that I got in the car safely before he walked away.

I opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat, placing my purse on the passenger’s seat with my briefcase. I buckled up, started my engine and pulled out of the parking spot.

I peeked in the rear view mirror to the spot where Rahim had been standing. He was gone. I looked around the parking garage to see if I could see which way he went, but I could not find him. I could not expect him to hang around all night watching over me.

JJ looked wide awake when I arrived at the house. Though he had already eaten his dinner, he still wore his school uniform. According to him, he could not get ready for bed before I kissed him good night. I apologized for being so tardy.

As promised, I planned to tell him about his father. I sensed that he knew some sort of announcement weighed on my chest.

He followed me to his room silently and we both sat on his bed. I felt so anxious and conflicted about our pending conversation that I did not know where to begin. Time had run out and I could not stall any long.

“Sweetheart,” I sighed, “You know how we never talk about your biological father.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he answered respectfully.

“Well, I think it’s time that we do that.”

He did not verbally respond, but sat up a little straighter. His eyes scanned my face. I had to keep it together.

I continued, “Your father’s name was Timothy Derrick Jones. I knew him for most of my life. I was about your age now when I spoke to him for the first time. I’ll never forget it.”

I felt my eyes moisten as my throat became a little scratchy. I took that moment to reach over to his night stand and take a tissue to wipe my watering eyes.

“Did something happen to him?” he asked in a calm voice.

“Yes, Honey,” his attentive expression faltered, replaced by one of apprehension. “Your father is dead.”

I watched and waited attentively. He gave off no emotion. The space that surrounded him and spilled into the room felt emotionally calm, relaxed.

“That’s too bad. I would have liked to meet him,” he said gently, looking at me directly. He took the news very well.

“Are you going to be ok, Baby?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s sad, but it won’t change anything really. I have everything I need right here with you and Grandma.”

I reached over and gave him a long, emotional hug. His nonchalance washed over me and I felt more calm and composed than I had a moment before. Knowing he would be okay gave me all the solace I needed.

“I love you, Jarrice.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

I got up to leave and remembered that I meant to give him the option of attending the funeral. “JJ, I forgot to ask if you wanted to go to the funeral. Grandma said she’d take you herself.”

“No, thank you. I rather spend time with you. Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Nope, I’m all yours.” And with great big grins, we wordlessly booked a Mother and Son Saturday which usually involved a picnic, arcade games, and a movie.

“Good night, Mom,” he said still grinning.

“Good night, Son,” I said giving him a kiss on the cheek and leaving him to dream the night away.

Divulging the partial truth regarding T-Rick had not been nearly as difficult as I imagined.

I walked down the hall to my mother’s room feeling relieved. The great weight that I had been carrying since the first time JJ asked about his biological father departed, as was the weight I had recently picked up since T-Rick’s death. The icing on the cake would be recounting all of this to my mother.

I knocked on her bedroom door twice and waited for a response.

“Come in, Kaya,” she said in a soft voice that suggested she had yet to fall sleep. “The door’s open,” she added.

I open the door and stuck my head inside. The room looked dark with the exception of a warm glow coming from her condensed florescent reading lamp. The radiance shown down on her head giving her an angelic appearance.

I gravitated towards the golden cone of light like a moth to a flame and said, “Is that a romance or a mystery?” She held an open paperback novel in her hand.

“A mystery,” she responded without taking her eyes off the page.

“Mom, I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I speak to you for a moment?”

She looked up. “Is everything alright, Dear? You seem a bit flustered.”

“I just have a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

“Alright. One moment—” She returned her attention to her book and slipped in her favorite bookmark constructed out of laminated daisies on a cardboard backgroud. I had made it for her as an elementary school student.

My mother looked up at me and smiled, giving me permission to continue.

“So, I told JJ about his father.”

“Great. What did he say?”

“Nothing really. He was fine.”

“I thought he would be. Does he want to go to the funeral?”

“No. He wants to have a Mother and Son Saturday instead.”

She smiled again. “I’m not surprised, he loves those.”

“I’m still worried about him, though.”

“You shouldn’t be. He’ll be just fine.”

As I thought of a rebuttal, I reminded myself that I did not have time to debate. I needed to go and get ready for my date. I only had an hour before Rahim arrived and I had not decided on an ensemble. I still needed to take a shower, fix my hair and apply some makeup. My heart began to race faster.

“What’s wrong now?” my mother asked concerned.

“It’s just that, I have a date and—”

“A date?” she interrupted before I could finish explaining. “Who is he? Do I know him?”

“Mom, please don’t go getting all parentally paranoid on me.”

She raised one eyebrow. “I asked you a simple question.”

“No, you don’t know him.”

“Then the answer is no.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“I am perfectly capable of choosing my own date.”

She looked skeptical. I knew my past ‘relationship’ with T-Rick triggered that reaction. My sharp tone did not help.

“Really?” she asked, her voice saturated with rare sarcasm, “Since when have you been able to see someone for what they’re truly worth?”

Her response to me stung, but I refused to get angry. “I don’t know, Mom, but trust me. This one is different.”

She took a deep breath and continued with a more even-keeled tone, “I want to believe you, Honey, but you’re extremely gullible. You see the good in everyone. Anyone could convince you of their sainthood.”

I rolled my eyes and pressed on, “Well, I don’t have a date with a saint, I have a date with Rahim and he’ll be here in an hour to pick me up.”

She lost her composure and settled somewhere in between irate and flabbergasted, “I don’t even know who man is and he’s coming here in an hour! You have some nerve, Girl.”

“Tell me something, Mother,” I only called her that when I was straining to be polite, “How long did you know Dad before the two of you ran off together? A few hours, maybe?”

“That’s completely different! Your father and I were deeply in love from the moment we laid eyes on each other. I’m talking about love, now, not lust.”

“And how do you know the same thing didn’t happen to me?”

“Because that little, fatherless boy across the hall is proof that you are incapable of discerning between love and lust.”

The situation had gotten out of control fairly quickly. I closed my eyes and granted myself a personal moment of silence. In this instance of peace, I sought out a place in my subconscious that existed unaffected by this calamity. I could feel my muscles relax as I regained my composure.

I opened my eyes and looked at my mother squarely. “Good night, Mother. I’ll see you in the morning.” Everything would be fine then, as always.

I walked out of the room before she could rebut, though she seemed to have lost her fire in the stillness as well.