Page 50 of Ashes of Gold
“And if he lives to tell this story, everyone he retells it to will fear you too. And that’s what you want. Good job.”
“As long as I get the information I need out of him, I don’t really care if he fears me.”
He tsks. “Ah, but you should care.”
A gust of wind rushes around us, and I let our conversation blow away with it. This is a sweet moment and I don’t want to ruin it. For several moments we walk in silence. Bri glances at the hostage a few times then at me.
“We could have pulled some good coding out of it to help us find out more about its origin,” she says to me, still unhappy about leaving the deactivated trap. “Like, who made it exactly. How they plan to use it.”
“Bri, we went over this. We can’t lug it with us.”
She huffs a sigh. “I mean, yeah. I don’t know.” She slows her pace,digging in her bag, and Jhamal walks so close he could be a part of me. Every few moments our bodies touch, and I wonder if he feels the adrenaline pumping through me.
“Couldn’t have done this today without y’all. Foreal.”
“Together.” His cheeks push up under his eyes, which could outshine the starriest sky.
“Together,” I echo, my heart beating so loud when a patch of birds take flight, I’m convinced it’s my nerves that did it. I gulp, folding my hand more properly in his, taking the leap needling at me. He squeezes, holding on as if letting my fingers go would be the worst thing in the world. The way he clings to me makes me want to squeeze back… because… because…
I gaze up at the sky remembering the pain of losing my father. The way I loved him and yet he slipped from my fingers after it was too late. The way Bri broods over conversations she hasn’t had with her parents, her little brothers, and not knowing if, or rather, when, she will again. The way Titube might have not told her mother goodbye before she last saw her. Time ticks and I feel it on my very skin.
I squeeze Jhamal’s hand. Because somewhere deep down, I guess I want to believe I’m worth clinging to.
We walk for several minutes, the silence hanging between us, and the bone I haven’t picked with Jhamal prickles through my mind.Do I say something… right now?I chew my lip.
“You know I never got in your ass like I should have about you and Bati plotting behind my back to nominate me as Queen.”
He chuckles.
“I’m foreal,” I say, trying to keep the moment light, sweet.
“Jelani, it was meant with the utmost respect.”
“But you should have told me what you were thinking, right? In that cell, all those months, we kept nothing from each other. I told you about my Moms. Where I grew up. You told me about growing up in Yiyo. I thought we were better than that.”
“I knew if I told you, you would not like it.”
I let go of his fingers. “So, you do it anyway?”
He sighs. “I am sorry. That is what I should have said. I am sorry I did not tell you.”
“Thank you.” I cling to him again. If we’re going to do this, whatever this is, we have to be on the same page. “If you know anything about me, you know that’s not my lane. Like, not even close.”
“Forgive me, but I will always disagree.” It should be flattering but it’s more irritating. I get he sees it as a high honor, but every time he looks at me, I can see right through him—the crown he wishes was on my head.
“You know, sometimes I wonder whether you think I’d make a good Queen because of who I am or because of who you want me to be.” It slips out and I regret it immediately. My moment of vulnerability has me looking for a fight. Some reason to retreat, like a turtle in its shell.
He shifts, stunned, mouth open like I’ve wounded him.
“Rue, how could you…” His head drops. “My Memi, you remember her?”
“Of course, I do.” In prison, he would hold me when I had nightmares. My hands would shake and he’d trace circles on my forehead, telling me stories she’d told him.
“Memi would remind me of who I am, who I would be,” he’d explained. “And so too, I tell you, Jelani. You are my Queen.”
Yeah, he calls me that but I thought he meant it in jest. Still, the sweetness of his intentions smooths my sharp edges. “I don’t mean that how it sounds. I just… want to be sure you see me, all of me, the scars, the mess.”
“Jelani.” He faces me and we stop. “How could you say it? I see all you are. Sometimes I think I see more in you than you see in yourself.”
