Intermix Nation

  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.”

&nb
sp; 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?

  Cato’s mother Juliya rushes downstairs, also in her bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Nazirah can tell from Juliya’s unusually tight ringlets that she’s removed her hair rollers in a hurry. It reminds Nazirah of something Riva would have done. Riva used empty cans, though, because the Nations could never afford anything else. Juliya squashes Nazirah against her chest, hugging her tightly. “Oh Nazirah!” she cries, “let me look at you!” She sniffles and grabs Nazirah’s shoulders. Nazirah awkwardly pulls off Cato’s cap, stuffing it into her back pocket. “You’ve always been so beautiful,” Juliya says, and Nazirah doesn’t quite believe her. “But you’ve grown up so much.” That, Nazirah believes.

  “Not any taller though.”

  Cander haughtily enters the room. Whereas Cato shares Cameron’s medium build, Cander is surprisingly tall for an Eridian. Nazirah wants to tell him off, but holds her tongue in front of his parents. Luckily, Juliya does it for her. “Cander, quiet,” she hisses. “Honestly, you act younger than Caria.”

  Nazirah smirks at him cheekily before Juliya turns back to her. Juliya’s hands shake slightly.

  “Nazirah, please,” she says, “Let me make you something to eat. You’re all skin and bones. Don’t the rebels feed you?”

  “They do, but the food is awful,” Nazirah replies. “It’s nothing like how you cook.”

  Juliya kisses Nazirah on the cheek and hurries into the kitchen. Nazirah’s eyes dart between Cander and Cameron. The two of them seem to be having a silent argument, which Cameron appears to win for the time being. He gestures for Nazirah to take a seat on the couch, which she does. Cameron settles beside her, while Cander sits in a nearby armchair.

  Cameron pats her knee kindly. “Nazirah, there’s been so much left unsaid between us. We wanted to see you again, after everything that happened, but the rebels whisked you away so quickly.”

  “I remember,” she mumbles, looking at her hands. “At the funeral.”

  “They wouldn’t let us approach you,” Cameron says, shaking his head. “It devastated us, not being able to say goodbye.”

  “It’s okay,” she says feebly. “I wasn’t really in a great state that day.”

  Cameron gently takes her hands in his, which are calloused and weathered from the ocean. “Not a day goes by where I don’t think of them,” he says earnestly. “Not a day passes when I forget their kindness, their joy, their ceaseless optimism. Not a day do I lose sight of their love, the enthusiasm your mother brought to h
er students, the dedication your father had for his work. I miss them all the time, Nazirah, as if they were my own flesh and blood. All of Rafu misses them, and you.”

  “Thank you,” she says. It’s all she can get out without splitting into pieces.

  “Nazirah,” Cander interrupts and Cameron looks at him sharply. “Tell us what’s happening with the rebellion. We hear whispers here and there, especially on the boardwalk, but we don’t know much.”

  “I wish I could tell you,” she sighs. “But I probably know less than you do. Niko barely tells me anything, unless he wants something from me.” Nazirah traces a small circle in the floor with her shoe. “All he asked me to do was gain intermix and territory support. But as you saw from this afternoon, I’m not particularly good at it.”

  Cander snorts. “You can say that again.”

  “Thanks,” she snaps.

  “To be perfectly honest,” Cander scoffs, “you don’t need to do much. You said a total of about ten words today, two of them your own name, and Eridians are already singing your praises around town.”

  “How is that even possible?” she asks, stunned. “I completely messed up at the end! Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cander says. “All of what, fifty people, were there to see it happen? And they don’t even know what they saw. What’s important is how it all spreads across Eridies by word of mouth. And you should hear how your mentor – or whatever – Aldrik, is twisting your silence around.”

  Nazirah is worried now. “What’s he saying?”

  “You really want to know?” Cander asks mischievously.

  “Yes!”

  “He’s telling everyone you and Adamek Morgen are secret lovers. And that your silence was you refusing to publicly admit it. The Eridians are eating it up like candy.”

  “He said what?!” she screeches. “But that’s ridiculous! That excuse doesn’t even make sense! Who would believe that?”

  Cander shrugs. “People believe what they want to believe,” he says. “Everyone loves a fantasy, Nazirah, especially when reality is so bleak.”