Intermix Nation (21 page)

Nazirah stares at the floor, scuffing her
shoe, willing herself not to cry. She’s completely unable to answer
his question. Cander knows that Nazirah doesn’t forgive Adamek, no
matter what the campaign implies. She may hate him just a little
bit less, may understand him just a little bit more. But she
doesn’t forgive him. And she can’t lie, not about this.

Aldrik notices her hesitation and quickly
steps forward to save face. “Sometimes we must put aside personal
vendettas,” he says, “in order to pursue the best interests of
others. It’s a hard road that no one wants to travel, and this
young woman has unfortunately found herself on it. And I can
honestly say,” Aldrik gives Nazirah a significant look and she
knows he’s going to ream her out later, “that her actions towards
Adamek Morgen have been gracious, affectionate, and merciful.”

Nazirah is none of these things.

Cander looks entirely unconvinced and
extremely angry as Aldrik wraps up the meeting with a few brief
words. To Nazirah’s complete shock, however, she sees a few people
nodding their assent. Do these fools actually believe the complete
lies Aldrik’s spinning?

If they do, there aren’t enough of them.
There aren’t nearly enough and Nazirah knows she’s failed.

#

“That went well.”

Aldrik looks pointedly at Nazirah, who sits
cross-legged on her bed. He sighs, dramatically slumping onto her
window seat. Adamek silently leans against the opposing wall. “I’ll
do better,” Nazirah murmurs.

“You better,” Aldrik growls, scratching his
beard. “I saved all our asses today, Nation. I don’t care if you
hate him, if you wish he were dead. During the campaign, when
someone asks you if you’ve forgiven Morgen … what do you say?”

“Yes,” she mumbles.

“Try again.”

“Yes,” Nazirah repeats. She tries to sound
sincere, but the word is hollow on her lips.

Aldrik moans, tugging his beard. “This isn’t
going to work.”

“Why do I even have to pretend?” she asks
him. “Why can’t I be honest?” She gestures to Adamek. “We hate each
other, but we’re working together towards a common goal! Shouldn’t
that be something both intermix and territory-born can relate to?
Why do I also have to be some champion of forgiveness?”

“Because honesty’s not enough,” Aldrik says,
rising from his seat. “Even if a cause is worthwhile, it doesn’t
mean people will rally behind it. A person is smart and empathetic.
But people are ignorant and follow the will of the masses. Because
they’re scared and they falsely believe that there’s safety in
numbers. It’s not enough, you see, for you and Morgen to simply be
enemies working together. You need to give the people something
that tugs their heartstrings, something to believe in. Morgen can
only become Renatus, the face of redemption, if you become the face
of forgiveness. They go hand in hand and we need both in order for
this campaign to work.”

Nazirah grits her teeth. “So what exactly do
you suggest I do?”

“Pull it together,” Aldrik snaps. “Fast.
I’ve already set the wheels in motion, during the brief
conversations I had after the meeting today. It’s not like I would
leave our fate in your fumbling, inept hands.” He doesn’t
elaborate.

Nazirah is annoyed. “Are we done here?” she
asks.

Aldrik nods. “Tomorrow morning, Morgen and I
are following up with some of the suppliers we met today. It
shouldn’t be too hard to incentivize these trout fuckers.” Aldrik
nods at Adamek, who pulls out a pouch of gold coins and tosses it
to him.

“Why am I not going to this?” she snaps,
insulted by Aldrik’s crass words.

Aldrik gives a short, barking laugh.
“Nation,” he says, “maybe you’ve misunderstood your purpose here.
You’re not expected to actually negotiate with the sundry civilians
we meet. Your job, as you said before, is to be a pretty face … a
face of forgiveness. Tomorrow afternoon, we’re going to visit an
intermix slum. That’s all on you. So get some rest, pray to whoever
you intermix pray to for a lesson in compassion. Or deception …
I’ll take that too. And don’t leave your damn room. I can’t have
you wandering off, alerting the whole country to our location.”

Aldrik slams the door shut behind him.
Nazirah rubs her temples, eager to be free of them both. She soon
realizes, however, that Adamek still leans nonchalantly against the
wall.

“That’s cute, Nation,” he says. Adamek walks
towards the window, nodding to the random figures Nazirah drew in
the dust. Much to her chagrin, he doesn’t leave, instead sitting
down in the seat Aldrik just vacated. He looks at the picture Cato
gave Nazirah, picking it up from her nightstand. “Yes … real
cute.”

“Why are you still here?”

He remains fixated on the photo, ignoring
her question. “Never would have taken you for a fisherman.”

Nazirah reaches for the frame, but he
doesn’t return it. “I’m not,” she says. “Cato caught it.”

Adamek smiles cruelly. “Caal catches the
fish, but not the girl,” he says. “Story of his pathetic life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what you think it means.”

“I can’t be caught, Morgen,” Nazirah snaps.
“Not by Cato. Not by anyone.”

“Saying something out loud doesn’t make it
true.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m not calling you anything,” he says.
“Who was that guy today?”

“Who?”

“The one who wanted to string you up by your
jugular.”

Nazirah groans. “That would be Cander
Caal.”

“Caal?”

“Cato’s older brother,” she explains.

Adamek looks at the picture again before
setting it down loudly. “Of course it was.”

“What do you want?” she asks.

Adamek leans back casually against the
window. “Just trying to figure out what you see in that loser,” he
says.

“Cato’s not a loser!” Nazirah says. “He’s
the best person I know, the best friend I’ve ever had! He’s kind
and selfless. He’s always there when I need him. Cato’s been more
of a brother to me than Niko ever has.”

Adamek stifles a yawn. “Let me stop you
right there,” he says, “while I go and find my violin.”

“Cato is a good guy,” she hisses spitefully.
“He doesn’t fuck every girl he can get his hands on.”

Adamek’s eyes flash dangerously and he leans
in close to her. “I guarantee you he isn’t happy about that.”

“I mean that he doesn’t use girls,” she
stresses. “He’s not like other guys.”

“Not like me, you mean.”

“You said it, Morgen,” she tells him. “Not
me.”

“You know what,” Adamek says coldly, “fuck
you, Nation. You know shit all about me and my life. And you might
want to take another look at your so-called best friend before
running your mouth again.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he says, smiling nastily. “Do you
really think he slept alone last night?”

Nazirah is afraid Adamek might be telling
the truth. “Can you just go?”

She doesn’t expect him to and he doesn’t
disappoint. She wonders if this is Adamek’s personal retribution
for her reaction to Cander’s question. As soon as Nazirah thinks
it, she knows she’s right. “You ever wonder why no one tells you
anything, Nation?” he asks quietly. His voice is even, but Nazirah
can sense the hardness behind it. “Why people never confide in you?
You tell yourself alone at night it’s because you’re better than
they are. They know you’re not interested in their petty gossip,
because you’re above it all. But that’s not it.” He leans even
closer, placing his hands on either side of the mattress. “No,
that’s not it at all.”

“What is it, then?” she asks softly, hating
that she’s allowed him to crawl under her skin.

He pulls away. “It’s because no one wants to
hear holier-than-thou judgment, especially coming from a frigid
prude like you. Something no one wants from you anyway.”

“You wanted it,” she says defiantly,
bringing up the taboo topic neither of them has discussed since
that day in the classroom.

Adamek rises, causing Nazirah to stumble
backwards. She stands on the opposite side of the bed. He swiftly
walks around it. “I wanted to knock you down from your
self-constructed pedestal, you selfish bitch.”

Something about his words seems inauthentic,
almost like he’s trying to convince himself of their truth. “I
don’t believe you,” she says boldly. “Why did you show me the same
memory as Cato in the Iluxor?”

“I thought that much was obvious,” he says,
a little maliciously. “I wanted to show you something I knew your
fragile mind could handle, so I used what I had already seen. It
was an added bonus that it didn’t have your parents.” He takes a
step forward, cocking his head slightly. “Was that not what you
wanted to hear, princess? Did you want to hear that I was jealous?
That I wanted to see you like that? You’re sorely mistaken.”

“If that’s what it takes to let you sleep at
night,” Nazirah says, tired of this game.

She pulls the door open for him. He slams it
shut again with one hand. “What do you know of sleepless nights?”
he asks.

“A lot actually,” she snaps, “thanks to
you.”

They glare at each other, the moment
extending for an eternity. A couple, clearly inebriated, stumbles
drunkenly into the hallway. The sound of their loud laughter snaps
Nazirah and Adamek out of it. Adamek wrenches the door open.
“People are complex, Nation,” he says quietly, before leaving. “No
one is perfect, not you, not even your precious Caal. Just remember
that. A man is not defined by one thing.”

The room feels blissfully empty without his
presence. Nazirah throws herself onto her bed, inhaling deeply. She
yells out, sitting up, because the scent of Adamek Morgen is
everywhere. It is in the air, in her pores. It is spice and
cardamom and sage. He has invaded her room, invaded her head. He
has completely invaded her life.

Nazirah grabs an old cap of Cato’s and pulls
her hair up into it. She walks out of the room, exiting the inn,
desperately in need of fresh air. She doesn’t care if she sees
Adamek or Aldrik. She doesn’t care if anyone recognizes her. She
needs to get away from here, away from him.

She heads out into the darkness, searching
for solace but fearing she may only find solitude.

Chapter
Sixteen

Shadows drift over Nazirah like smoke across
water. She walks cautiously through the familiar streets, keeping
her head low, avoiding the main thoroughfares. Nazirah cuts across
town fairly quickly. It’s late now, so dark that she can see barely
a few feet in front of her.

Rafu is changed. It’s quieter, more desolate
and impoverished than Nazirah remembers. Several of the bungalows
are dilapidated, boarded up with musty wooden planks. Beggars on
the streets shakily wave tin cans, wailing babies in their arms.
Nazirah hugs her chest as she passes. In the air is the chill of
misery.

Nazirah doesn’t know where she is going
until she is already there. Turning onto the Caals’ street, Nazirah
realizes that she has been walking there all along. She breathes in
the smell of the surf: salt stinging the air, mulch, and
seaweed.

Nerves crawl over her, itchy and restless.
What if Cato’s family rejects her, doesn’t want to see her? She
already knows how Cander feels, but what about the rest of them?
Would they harbor so much resentment as well? It would devastate
Nazirah to be turned away. The Caals have been like family since
she was a little girl. She has always been welcome in their home,
even though she is intermix. Even though she is a troublemaker who
stole their son’s heart and then stole their son for good
measure.

Nazirah hops the short gate she’s entered
countless times before. She skips up the front steps. Holding her
breath, she raps on the door. Nazirah stuffs her hands into her
pockets. “This is stupid,” she mutters. “They’re probably all
sleeping.”

But she hopes they aren’t. And, even though
no one comes to the door, Nazirah stays. And she waits.

A mangy dog howls in the distance, probably
part of the mutt packs that roam the boardwalk at night, scavenging
fish bones and carcasses clean off the shore. Nazirah glances
anxiously over her shoulder. She shouldn’t have come; Aldrik was
right. But she needs to see them, these people from her past.

A light flickers on. The door opens,
revealing Cato’s father. Cameron is dressed in a worn blue robe and
striped pajamas. Nazirah looks into his face, wanting to smile or
cry or both. Cameron looks older than Nazirah remembers, gaunter.
His face has more lines and his hair is grayer. But his kind brown
eyes, Cato’s eyes, are exactly the same.

Any fears Nazirah had melt away as soon as
their eyes meet. Cameron looks shocked, not entirely processing
that Nazirah is standing before him. He reaches for Nazirah through
the doorway and embraces her tightly. Nazirah clings to Cameron’s
neck. She hasn’t felt this safe since the last time she was in the
arms of her father.

“Nazirah!” he cries, into her hair, “We’ve
missed you so much! We were so hoping you would come.”

“I missed you too, Mr. Caal,” she mumbles,
hugging him tighter.

Cameron reigns in his emotions, darting his
eyes around the deserted street. “Come inside,” he says, ushering
Nazirah into their small cottage. “Watch your step.”

Nazirah is over the moon, walking on air.
Her argument with Adamek and poor performance at the meeting are
removed from her mind. Walking inside feels like getting caught in
a sun shower, feels like coming home.

Nazirah enters their sitting room and runs a
hand slowly over the worn green couch. The memories come flooding
back like ocean waves crashing onto shore. How many times have she
and Cato sat exactly here, mimicking Medi news anchors? How many
times has she curled up on this floor, telling Oseni fables to
Cato’s baby sister? How many times has she eaten dinner in that
kitchen, knowing she was saving her parents an extra mouth to
feed?