#and i have this image of ian's head within bread like when you 'bread' a cat's face?

[scurvgirl]

random drabble words you say? gotcha: gingerbread.

you're telling me a ginger bread this man?

Something kinda stupid for your time. and no I don't get the giggles when I'm high what are you even talking about <.< >.>

“Mickey, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ian was saying but Mickey couldn’t hear over his own laughter. Serves his redheaded husband’s ass right for leaving him home all day with nothing to do but get baked and watch youtube videos.

What was he doing? Oh, right!

He held up the bread slices next to Ian’s scowling face and burst out laughing again.

“You said this was important,” Ian bemoaned. Fuck, he was right. This was important.

Mickey took a deep breath. Held up the bread.

“Ginger…bread. GINGERBREAD!” Laughter overtook him. Ian’s eye roll made it 100% worth it.

Thank you for the word!

Send me a word for a drabble!

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Could we get an update on As Yet Unread pretty please?

anonymous asked: I NEED AS YET UNREAD

femcoastie asked:Please forgive me in advance, but can I have some more of As Yet Unread, please and thank you. Truly from the bottom of my heart.

anonymous asked: Just binged As Yet Unread and it’s amazing! Might we get another update soon?

anonymous asked: I love As Yet Unread.. any chance of a new chapter on the horizon.  I just love the story…I am fascinated to see how she recovers and where the story goes.

theaccidentalshipper asked: Will there be any more chapters of As Yet Unread?? I’m dying to know what happens after Clair gets out of the hospital and back to Jamie’s!

anonymous asked: Hello. Dying for as yet unread ( I adore it )

@sassyqueenmaker asked: Can you please write a new chapter of As Yet Unread??? 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 

Mod Note: It’s been a while so here are the links to previous parts should you like to catch up :) - Prologue 1. Prologue 2. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

As Yet Unread: Part 8.

“Claire!” Jamie called, turning the radio down as he glanced over to where she had been standing only moments ago. “Lass? Could ye find the kettle alright?”

Since her wild adventure weeks before, Claire had opted to stay more locally on her outdoor wanderings. She had found a local park only a stone's throw from Jamie’s place, it had a bench that sat next to a small coppice of trees and it was secluded enough that not many people frequented it - only a few dog walkers every now and again.

Rolling her eyes, Claire balanced the tray of tea on one hand whilst she rifled in the cupboards for the biscuits she’d thrown into the lunch basket. “Yep,” she hollered back, “I’ve got it Jamie, don’t worry.”

Today, though, Murtagh had called Jamie, coughing and spluttering down the phone. Suzette and Fergus had been sick with the flu the week before and he thought he’d gotten away with it -until he’d woken at 4am with a high fever. So Claire had offered her services to Jamie on-site. Even if she couldn’t do the majority of the heavy lifting and laying, she could keep him company through the day and fetch and carry should he need.

“I do know how to make tea you know.” She chastised as she placed the tray on a small table.

“Ye do know that I’m fine wi’ ye just putting the tea bag in the cup, aye? You didna need the fancy pot.”

“What do you take me for?” She scoffed, lifting the fine china lid to stir the tea bags around in the boiling water. “I make it the proper way, or not at all, Fraser. Now, milk and sugar?”

“Aye,” he chuckled, “both please, sassenach. One sugar, no’ too much milk.”

So far she’d just been collecting things from the van and supplying Jamie with an endless supply of hot drinks (coffee for the morning to perk him up, tea for the afternoon to keep him going) but being put to work gave her added purpose and she found that she enjoyed being busy.

“Could ye pass me the tape measure as well, lass?” Jamie asked, smiling as he held his hand out to Claire.

It had been a quiet few weeks, the job at the university had been completed and Murtagh and Jamie had moved on to a smaller project to help restore a small village hall on a local estate. Claire had spent any time in the flat whilst Jamie was at work researching new and improved recipes on the internet and had increased his vegetable intake ten fold. But she’d soon grown bored of the same four walls and Jamie had sensed a change in her.

“Sure.” She replied, passing him his cup before hunting for the tape measure in amongst a variety of intricate looking tools. “Do you want the five metre one or the eight?”

“There’s an industrial one somewhere about, sixty metres, I need that one if ye can find it.” He mumbled, his chin against his chest, a small pencil tucked behind his ear as he scrunched his brow whilst he inspected the flooring he’d begun to lay. “Can I have yer opinion as well, I’m not sure that the colour matches on these panels.”

“Don’t they come as a pack?” Claire returned, passing over the large yellow tape measure. “Shouldn’t it all be the same finish?”

“It should, aye, but it doesna mean that it is. Mistakes happen. One just looks a wee bit lighter - but it’s noticeable.”

Stepping over the myriad of equipment that lay on the cement underbelly of the floor, Claire glanced over at the few sheets Jamie had already laid down and tipped her head to the left. “I think that’s just the oak. See,” she pointed, “there’s a knot there that causes discolouration. That’s why it’s lighter. It’s just how the bark is but I think it’s nice, you know? Unique. You’ve used high quality products, natural ones, and it shows.”

Smiling, Jamie took a sip of his tea. “Ye’ve a keen aye, Claire. I’m glad ye offered to come today. I’ve really loved having you wi’ me.”

Claire’s ears pricked at the word ‘love’ and something stirred within her as she took a step back, the heel of her foot catching against the lino Jamie had already placed on the next part of the floor.

Her interest had been piqued by an offhand comment Susie had made one afternoon whilst they were having a picnic in the park. Murtagh and Suzette were the perfect couple. Both carried a picture of the other in their wallet. They both doted on one another, took care of their son and one another when they were sick. It was the kind of love Claire hadn’t seen before and her heart ached a similar phantom feeling even though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when this particular desire had arisen.

Whilst buttering bread, Susie had looked at Fergus, readjusted his wee bib, wiped some milk from his chin and glanced towards the apartment block. “I always hoped Jamie would find something like this,” she had said, a sigh escaping her as she’d paused, “he and Murtagh are so close and so similar in many ways. I still hope for it, his own family.” Afterwards she had shrugged, not waiting for Claire to respond in anyway before turning the conversation back to a less complex topic.

“Have you ever been in love, Jamie?” Claire asked, the question falling from her lips before she could consider it wise or not.

Raising his head, his eyes caught hers -intrigue clear in his gaze- as he let the measuring tape slap back, loudly, into its casing. “Do ye mean have I ever had a girlfriend, sassenach? Or true love, like in the movies?”

Sweat pooled at the base of her spine as she considered his question. Having missed out on a usual upbringing she didn’t have enough knowledge movies to really comprehend what he meant, but she had a very basic understanding - a black and white variation of Jamie’s colour version.

“You’re a good looking guy,” she replied, assessing him as he stood staring with his hands balanced neatly on his hips, “I’m, and this is a massive assumption here, thinking you’ve been in relationships. But love, that’s something more special isn’t it? Deeper and more all consuming. I just,” she sighed, picking up her own cup of tea and swirling the beige liquid around the mug, “I’m curious. Murtagh and Suzette, the way they look at one another, it’s...rather exceptional, isn’t it?”

“Aye.” Jamie replied, his eyes softening as he watched Claire carefully. She had a glass face and he could see every emotion as they changed her features, the muscles in her cheeks twitching as her eyes got this far off look of fascination and yearning. “It’s a Fraser trait, ye ken. Did Susie tell you?”

“No, she didn’t. Can I hear it?”

Sitting on one of the abandoned bean bags that had been left in the space for them to use, Jamie patted the one next to him and beckoned Claire over. “Of course! Bring yer tea and sit over here and I’ll tell ye.” He waited until she was settled and looking at him once more before he started, a wistful look in his eye as he clinked his tea mug with hers playfully. “Frasers,” he started, winking at her as he took a large swig of his drink, “ye’ll come to ken, are a wee bit like swans. We mate for life. My grandpa and grandma were the first. My dad and mam the second. Jenny met Ian and within months they were engaged to be marrit. Murtagh waited the longest, I went to Paris for a year and he came to visit just before I came home, met Susie in a bar and fell head over heels in love. Wham. Like an anvil dropped on his head,” he quipped, “ like in those acme cartoons. He was a goner and stayed wi’ me until I was due to come home when he brought Suzette with him and immediately married her.”

“That’s some powerful magic.” Claire whispered, her mind conjuring the image of her own ill-fated relationship as she tapped her nails against her cup. “How did your mum and dad meet then? I knew about Jenny, of course, it’s one of the stories she told me when she came. But I don’t think I’ve heard about your parents.”

“Och, well, that’s some prime storytelling there, Claire. If I had any writing ability I could pen that wee tale and make some money, but it isna where my proclivities lie, aye?”

“That certainly sounds like a good yarn, tell me, please?”

“Here’s the thing, Claire,” Jamie said, a smile in his voice, “ye can ask them both yerself. They’ve asked if I’ll bring ye to Lallybroch next weekend but I didna ken if it was something you’d like. But now I think ye would. I can finish this off this week, hopefully Murtagh will be well again next week and we can take a vacation up there. What do you say?”

“You’d show me where you grew up?”

“Of course, lass! It’s a beautiful place.”

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Claire replied, smiling widely as she finished off her tea. “Knowing how well you tell stories, I can’t wait to hear your mother tell me her own.”

“She’s verra verbose, her and da love recounting the blossoming of their relationship. What I said about books before, I’ve told her plenty of times that she should write it. She’s a dab hand at weaving interesting and colourful tales and her own is truly wonderful. She used to rock us all to sleep telling it.”

“Then you should probably show me some of these films you mentioned before, the ones with fiction love in them, that way I’ll have something to compare it against.”“Trust me, Claire,” he returned, a hint of humour in his tone, “once my mam sit down wi’ ye, you’ll forget all of that Hollywood nonsense in an instant.”

“Ha.” She laughed, knocking her knee against his marrily. “I believe you. But it would be nice to know what you were talking about before, even if it is silly.”

“Then yer on. Tonight, after tea, I’ll find ye a cheesy film wi’ some sickly sweet romance in it for you, but don’t say I didn’t warn ye.”

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

The Sand In Your Shoe (p13) - NSFW.

Mickey doesn’t want to move but he also doesn’t want Mandy or Juan or a hapless early customer to walk in and find them naked and spooning on the floor.

“Time to shift it, Gallagher.”

Ian kisses the back of his neck in response and tightens his arms around Mickey’s chest, strumming the firm bud of his nipple with the pad of his thumb. Mickey has no idea how such a small touch can make him feel so damn good but he finds himself grinning into the crook of Ian’s arm, practically giddy with happiness.

“C’mon. If you let me up, I’ll get you a sandwich.”

“You a nineteen sixties housewife now?”

“Fuck you!”

Mickey lightly swats the hairy thigh slung across his hip, laughing, a sweet sound that stirs parts of Ian that are still throbbing from their last effort.

“I’m a modern man and I can feel your belly rumbling through my back, but fuck it, get your own damn food or starve, see if I care.”

“I got all I need.”

Ian smiles sleepily and blithely bites Mickey’s shoulder, pulling the flesh slightly with his teeth before letting go and pressing a kiss to the same spot.

“Yeah? Well cannibalism has drawbacks so …”

Mickey rolls over so that his forehead rests lightly against Ian’s own and runs the back of his hand from Ian’s shoulder to hip and back again, lingering slightly on the convex swell of his ribcage.

“… Get your ass up.”

Mickey pats the object in question affectionately, kisses Ian’s forehead and sits up. He finally has the presence of mind to lock the door to the bar and then pads out to the kitchen, not bothering with his clothes and realises with a start that he is humming.

“Well that ain’t fuckin’ happening.”

Mickey frowns, berating himself quietly as he pulls bread, chicken, mayo and various salad bits out of the fridge. He loves the bar, restoring and transforming the battered old dive into ‘Galagers’ is most definitely the best work Mickey has ever done, but perhaps his favourite thing, besides the beach location, is the kitchen.

He keeps it stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables and there is always good quality meat in the fridge. Mandy asked him if he had a Martha Stewart fetish when she first opened the fridge, expecting to find not much beside beer and candy. Mickey had played it gruff but the truth was that whilst he was in prison, he had access to candy and bitter grog that passed for a sort of hellishly strong beer; what he didn’t have was any sort of vegetable that crunched.

The beans were always cooked to a dull greenish slop, the carrots fell apart on his fork and the one time Mickey managed to get an apple, it was like biting into sponge. Meal times turned his stomach in jail and decent food is almost sacred to Mickey now.

Warm arms encircle Mickey as he is slicing tomatoes and hands that are warmer and bigger than Mickey would have thought possible, cup his genitals, shielding them protectively.

“Be careful with that knife.”

Ian grins, resting his chin on Mickey’s shoulder, watching him work and pressing his chest flush to Mickey’s back. He begins to sway slowly back and forth and Mickey sways with him, a little less sleek than Ian but radiating blissful contentment all the same.

Ian starts to hum a low tune, something Mickey knows but can’t quite place. He stops worrying about it as Ian’s dick slips between his cheeks, hard and slick.

“Already?”

“I like a man who’s good with his hands.”

Ian catches Mickey’s earlobe between his teeth and suckles it, moving his tongue against the sweet curve of skin, feeling Mickey’s cock stiffen and thicken in his cupped hands.

Mickey makes a soft ‘Mmm’, humming it out between his lips and Ian has to squeeze the base of his dick hard and fast to stop himself cumming right then. Ian used to wake up in the middle of the night, sweaty and sticky, the mere memory of that happy little hum buzzing in his head enough to bring him to the edge. Hearing it again for real is more wonderful than he can describe.

“Mick? Please?”

Ian’s voice sounds whiny even to his own ears and he makes a mental note to man the fuck up just as soon as Mickey gets off of him in what Ian guesses will be approximately two and a half minutes time.

“Does it seem like I’d say no?”

Mickey twitches in Ian’s hand, grinning as he turns and pushes him backwards. Ian’s thighs bump against the short dining table and he cocks a slender red eyebrow at Mickey in question. Mickey has his bottom lip twisted in that way which tells Ian this is going to be over quickly and nods

“Lie down.”

Ian lays himself back and Mickey straddles him, already slick from their earlier frolic. Ian dips his fingers into him, curling them until Mickey gasps and rounds his shoulders as if blocking an invisible assailant.

Ian removes his hand and as Mickey slides onto his cock in one smooth movement, Ian slides his hands down the front of Mickey’s thighs, digging his heels into the floor and contorting his face in ecstasy.

Mickey rides him slowly, one hand braced on Ian’s chest, his head tipped upwards to the ceiling.

“Look at me, Mickey.”

Ian urges and slowly, like the sun coming out from behind a lazy summer cloud, Mickey’s eyes meet with Ian’s and hold. This time neither gives voice to the words that thrum in the air between them and the silence is filled only with the sound of mingled breath, each listening for the hitch or catch that will signal their lover is near. Ian gasps first and props himself up on one elbow, his free hand working Mickey with expert precision. They linger for the space of two or three more heartbeats and then the universe tilts on its axis and scatters them both into perfect nothingness.

*

By the time Ian comes back from the customer bathroom drying his hands on a paper towel, Mickey is washed up and back with the tomatoes. Ian peers over his shoulder, arms once again coming round Mickey’s middle, higher this time but no less insistent. He knows he is being clingy but he can’t seem to help it and Mickey clearly doesn’t mind. One of Ian’s favourite things about Mickey has always been that he leaves you with no doubt when he minds something.

“That looks like a really healthy sandwich. I remember when you used to just chuck a poptart at me.”

“Yeah and that was only if you fuckin’ earned it.”

Mickey smirks and lifts a slice of the red fruit from the chopping board, quietly touching it to Ian’s lips without looking at him.

“Mmm. Damn! Is that some sort of Mexican super tomato?”

Ian licks his lower lip and glances down at the rest of the slices hungrily.

“Sun grown, makes them sweet. You know I like ‘em sweet, Firecrotch.”

Mickey lays the slices across the top of each sandwich, the pride in his voice unmistakable even through the teasing tone.

“Did you grow them?”

Ian nuzzles his nose into the hollow of Mickey’s collarbone and feels the reluctant nod his lover gives. Mickey’s shoulder twitches beneath his cheek and Ian fights back a grin. Mickey always gets squirrely when he is caught in something harmless but contrary to his image of himself.

“Yeah, no, I mean, there were a couple stringy plants left in the upstairs bathroom, they seem to like the light or whatever and I accidently fuckin’ sprayed ‘em with the showerhead thingy a couple times … anyway next thing I know, there’s fuckin’ tomatoes sprouting everywhere. It’s not like I tend a fuckin’ garden or any shit like that.”

Mickey can feel the vibration of Ian’s suppressed laughter and turns his head slightly to give him a mock-stern look, eyebrows arched.

“You laughin’ at me, Gallagher?”

“No ... Yes.”

Ian snorts and gives in to the fit of giggles, letting go of Mickey and stepping away, hands raised defensively

“I was just picturing you … with one of those purple, wide-brimmed hats old ladies wear to do their ro…roses …”

He is gasping for breath, backing away from Mickey as quickly as he can whilst the brunette stalks after him, nodding along with a sardonic little smile at the corner of his own mouth, fighting back his own amusement for all he is worth.

“… standing ... in the shower w…w…with your tomatoes all scandalised …”

“So you know you’re fuckin’ dead, right? Like, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Mickey raises his hands in a gesture of inevitability as Ian ducks behind the stumpy little kitchen table. He is not really even close to annoyed but he knows Ian enjoys teasing him and Mickey enjoys seeing Ian flushed with laughter, so they are both happy.

“I’m sorry …”

“Nah, it’s too late for that, man.”

Mickey feigns to the left and then chases to the right, but Ian is quicker.

“Really Mick, I’m sorry! … I’m sure you look fucking adora..!”

The last word is cut off with a squeak as Mickey lunges after him, they’re both laughing now, though Mickey’s eyes are large and dark with arousal and that more than the laughter is making Ian’s knees go weak.

“Was that girly little squeak you or have I got rats?”

“I did not …”

“You fuckin’ did!”

Mickey finally catches him and uses his body to box Ian into the corner, placing his hands on the wall on either side of Ian’s grinning face.

“You gonna show me who’s boss?”

He asks, running his hands lightly down Mickey’s forearms and linking them around the back of his head.

“Do I fuckin’ need to? Cause I don’t think I do, bitch.”

Ian had almost forgotten just how much that soft, arrogant, Southside drawl turned him on when Mickey used it like this. Hot and teasing and so damn sexy it was unreal.

It reminds him of the teenage menace who fought dirty and half-smothered Ian in his bedsheets and came within seconds of breaking his face before they fucked for the first time. There isn’t much similarity between that boy and the man Ian sees before him now, but the memory still gives him shivers and he kisses Mickey deeply, suddenly desperate to be closer.

“You OK?”

Mickey pulls back from Ian after a minute and gives him a lopsided smile

“Yeah, I was just … I was remembering the way you used to be when we were kids.”

Ian whispers and twitches his nose a couple of times, lifting glazed eyes to the ceiling. Mickey lets go and backs off immediately, misreading Ian’s sudden mood swing as fear.

“Woah … Ian, I know I was an asshole back then but ...”

Ian’s head snaps back down and he seizes Mickey’s upper arms in a grip that he knows will leave bruises tomorrow but neither of them seems to really notice.

“You were not an asshole! You were just a kid dealing with more than anyone should have to and I am so fucking sorry I didn’t see it. I was so wrapped up in my own shit … everything that went down with my illness and before … the stuff with Sve...”

“No, shhh. Not now.”

Mickey’s surprised expression morphs into one of unshakable authority as he cuts across Ian, pressing a hand firmly over his mouth for good measure. He holds Ian’s gaze, keeping him steady with a look

“I know we have some things to talk through and later, I will hear out whatever you want to tell me, I promise I will. But just let us have this,”

Mickey gestures around them; their naked bodies, the playful chasing, the sandwiches waiting to be eaten at the hastily cleaned table.

“for a little bit longer, okay? I have missed the shit out of you, Gallagher. Please?”

Ian nods and Mickey removes his hand, rubbing Ian’s shoulder instead.

“You want your sandwich?”

“Yeah.”

Ian nods and Mickey smiles encouragingly at him, patting his face and gripping his chin lightly.

“Get dressed, you ain’t eaten a post-cum snack til you’ve eaten it on a sandy beach with the wind in your hair.”

Ian feels the jealousy bite back at him but nudges it aside with a little more ease than last time. They’ve both lived their lives the best they could in the years apart, and he also knows that Mickey might just be talking about jacking off, or at least that is what Ian tells himself.

For Mickey’s part he casts a concerned glance at Ian’s back and rubs his upper lip, wondering if Ian is really alright. He doesn’t want to ask about the medication, he does’t want to ask about Ian’s condition at all until Ian brings it up but Mickey knows that this is all a Hell of a lot to take in and that dealing with emotions can be beyond draining for Ian.

‘Later.’

Mickey thinks. They will deal with whatever they have to deal with later. Grabbing his plate he follows him out, hastily tugging on his clothes and waiting for Ian to catch up before throwing the front door wide open and gesturing at the pristine beach before them.

“Welcome to fuckin’ paradise, Firecrotch!”

*

[kavuyi]

Nkani: All That Glitters 29 Part 1 https://ift.tt/308LNrO

Ola. It’s been a while my darlings. Rest assured the writers behind Nkani were writing to create this perfection of a chapter. The chapters are longer and will be split into two. Yay right? More drama! We love drama. Let’s dig in with a recap.

Sonia, the chef, engaged to Ian who happens to be younger than her and white. His family is against their union and Sonia is willing to fight knife and bread to keep her man. Thandiwe, the diva, married to James who kisses the ground she walks on. They are expecting their first child and she can’t help but imagine the end of her busty lifestyle once the baby comes. Mable, the housewife, married to Chinyama who can’t seem to let his mistress go. Maybe it’s time she steps out of their vows with Isaac. Sampa, the manager, dating Sangu for years with no ring and baby in sight. What happens if the no baby is a deal breaker in her relationship? And Yolanda, the bald/bold, fun is her middle name. Sleeping with her bosses is on one part of her dramatic lifestyle. Will she ever get caught?

Chapter 28 was all about secrets we keep. Thandiwe finds out she’s having a girl bad the thing on her mind is if she will be a good mother. Is she ready to carry her child to full term? Yolanda is still juggling two men with Masulani showing a little bit more interest than before. Mable’s good mood has Chinyama wondering and begging to be forgiven. Will she finally let him back in?

For a full recap you can read chapter 28 here…

For those who know what’s going on…. Let’s dig into Chapter 29…. Dramaaaaaaa!

13th February 2017

I hate weekends.

More so busy weekends that entail me doing things that seem like chores. Maybe I should feigned sickness earlier, a stomach bug or a migraine, something serious enough to make me stay home.

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel staring at the plenty cars in the driveway. I need to park my car and join the party. I am tired and the thrill I had earlier is gone.

I can’t believe the woman has the nerve to make me feel like maid. I’m her son’s current girlfriend for crying out loud. Surely she could have sent anyone to do this days ago or today morning. But no she wanted me the instead.

“Maybe we should have gone there late.” I tell myself

She did this deliberately. She didn’t care I was a guest, calling me aside minutes after I got to Sangu’s family home. She had one of her maids call me from Sangu’s side to tell me she needed to see me; like the perfect girlfriend I am I went to her. I figured scoring points from my boyfriend’s mother would do well for me and go a long way to making us better acquainted. Or so I thought.

I found her in her bedroom – the most luxurious bedroom I had ever walked in,  a mini home within a home, putting Thandiwe’s room to shame. Sangu’s mother was sitting in front of her makeup table and mirror painting herself hideous. While I expected a hug and plenty stories nothing prepared me for what came out of her mouth.

“I’m so glad you’re here darling. I wish I didn’t have to do this but you’re the only person I trust. I need you to go to the nearest mall and get more wine. I swear when you have guests as picky as mine you have to make sure they get what they want.” She said silky.

I looked at her in shock, wondering if she knew who I was or if she was playing with me. No smile on her face, the woman did not even look away from the mirror to face me. Not once.

“The list is on the bed over there.” She continued.

I walked to the bed, more like a castle decorated in shades of brown and cream. On it lay a piece of paper, a list of wines written on it. She was serious, very serious. She trusted me with this! Where the hell would I find a Nederburg Late Harvest 2013 bottle on a freaking Saturday afternoon? Was she crazy? Or seriously crazy! I didn’t want to know. I looked at my watch my breath rising as I noticed it would almost be fourteen hours in a few minutes time. The party was meant to start at fourteen! She definitely was crazy. Besides her being the birthday woman meant everything she wanted would go.

“Let Sangu give you some money. Tell him mommy will give it back to him.” She said slowly.

I looked at her and our eyes met in her mirror image. She smiled at me, a forced smile that made her look more hideous with her horrible makeup.

“You look pretty.” She said. “Though don’t you think you’re a little over exposed dear.”

I couldn’t open my mouth to answer her. Instead I looked down taking note of how my white wrap dress hugged the right parts of me. The dress flowed slightly passed my ankles to show my gold sandals. If a little over exposed meant the way the ends of my dress would show some leg then yes I was a little over exposed; or maybe it was my cleavage? Sangu told me I looked beautiful when we left home, and I knew he was telling the truth. My makeup looked great. My hair was done for this occasion and all she could tell me was I looked pretty? Gosh. I know for a fact that Sangu would not have let me walk out of the house wearing the dress if he thought it was too much – or in this case too less – for the party.

“Okay.  And thank you for the compliment.” I finally responded. “With regards to the wine I’m sure Sangu will know the right places to go and find these with me.”

“Huh?” She asked.

“Sangu will help. That’s what meant. Two heads being better than one.” I laughed.

“Oh no dear. You’ll have to do this alone. I’m sending Sangu on another errand.” She responded. “So much to be done in so little time.”

“I wish I had moved the date earlier you know.” She laughed.

I wished she had done that too. She clearly wanted me to be her wine maid. I had to do it or she would use it against me in the future against Sangu. I already had enough problems with her interfering in my relationship; and going by what she did to make Sangu break up with me over my lack of children issue, I didn’t want to get on her bad side any time soon.

“Get going dear or you’ll be late. Do hurry.” She said happily.

I left her bedroom determined. Even Sangu cheered me on for helping. He was happy we were getting along and putting what happened in the past to rest. In the spirit of happiness he gladly gave me his debit card to get whatever his mother needed for the party, and I drove off in search of wines which I was certain would probably not exist.

For an hour after visiting three malls I actually believed she sent me on a wild goose chase until I found myself at Manda Hill Mall staring at the wines she wanted for her special guests. I was fuming and angry at the fact that in all that time no one had called to ask if I had found what I was looking for, not even Sangu himself. It took me another thirty minutes to get back to Sangu’s family home in Bonaventure only for me to see guests mingling in the backyard of their huge yard as I drove in.

I know now she did it on purpose. The nerve of that woman. I park the car and step out banging my car door as I hear the loud music playing. I quickly rush to carry the plastic bags of bottles of wine from the back seat. I walk to the front door that I assume is the kitchen when a young woman in a uniform comes my way.

“Hi.” I tell her. “I was sent to buy these bottles of wine. Where can I take them?”

The young looks at me then the plastics in my hands and giggles as she shakes her head. I curse under my breath before she quickly walks up to me and gets all the plastics from my hands.

“Thank you.” I tell her.

She walks towards the kitchen door before I call out for her.

“I am so late. Tell me which door can I use to find myself at the back without being noticed?”

“You can walk around the house to the right. No one will notice you just arrived.”

She nods in the direction. I mouth a thank you to her and quickly walk in the direction she advised. The trek lasts me less than two minutes, the music getting louder as I approach the backyard.

Nothing prepares me for sight: The party is in full gear, tables laden with all types of food and drinks in the middle of the backyard and guests sitting at various tables talking, some standing and others dancing on a makeshift dance floor. Money was definitely spent on this party. I walk towards the most neutral place, the table of food and drinks while looking out for Sangu. I reach the table looking at the plenty trays of exotic food sitting on the table. I walk slowly around the table looking for the right drink to calm me. I stop in shock when I notice the names of some of the wines on the table.

Did the maid get to this table before me? Or….

That women sent me to get wines that she already had!! Why? Who does that? I shake my head and grab the nearest empty glass and pour myself a glass of red wine. I need to find Sangu. This is too much for me to handle.

“Sampa.”

I turn around at the sound of my name. I notice Sangu’s mother walking towards me in a pink strapless dress. Must have a lot of fat holding the dress up I think to myself. Her makeup – still over kill – looks a little better in the fading sunlight. She comes closer to me with a huge smile plastered on her face.

“One of the maids told me you brought more wine.” She says

I offer her a smile. I don’t want to talk about the wine anymore. I might lose it.

“Have you seen Sangu?” I ask

“Why of course. I’m his mother, I know where he is. A mother senses these things. Come lets go to him.”

She grabs my hand and leads me towards the house. She waves to a few people as we weave our way between the tables to the house. She never lets go of my hand. I notice Sangu’s back first, standing near one of the tables closest to the house. My heart leaps in joy, and for the first time in this place I feel relieved by the sight of him. We get closer to him and his mother pats his shoulder. He turns around to face us, slight look of worry on his face.

“I found her darling. Here she is.” His mother says happily.

Sangu gives me a weak smile.

“Hey.” He says. “You took too long. Are you okay? Are you hungry? Let’s get you some food.”

“Wait honey.” Sangu’s mother says. “Introductions first.”

It is then I notice the woman standing behind him. The woman offers me a bright smile, her perfect white teeth exposed; I can’t help but stare at her beauty. Her smooth skin, shades lighter than mine, her long dark hair, expensive weave that probably curls around anyone’s finger, big round eyes that just added to her beauty topped with her red lips her face was the definition of beautiful. Gosh even her gold like colored loose knee length dress looked amazing on her. Easily the most beautiful woman here I think.

“Penelope dear.” Sangu’s mother said happily. “You have to meet Sangu’s new girlfriend. Remember I told you about her.”

Penelope gives a nod at Sangu’s mother. She smiles at me. Not a word out of her mouth.

“Now Sampa meet Penelope. The daughter I never had. Sangu’s ex-girlfriend. I’m sure he’s told you about her yes?”

I look at Sangu who looks irritated by what his mother just said. I look at his mother who has a smug look on her face and I look at beautiful Penelope who looks uncomfortable being near me. I offer a smile which freezes on my face when I notice her hand cradling her now visible pregnancy.

I need that Nederburg bottle now.

***********

I hate weekends without Ian. To fix that I find Ian replacements that bring almost as much happiness in my life like he does.

Chilled glass of wine. Check.

Good music. Check.

On my sofa all warm. Check.

My favourite book in my hands. Check.

Saturday afternoons are meant for lazing around, and just enjoying the free time before the pressures of work get you jumping around again. Nothing beats this moment. Except being with Ian of course. Most weekends I am with the man I love when he is around; otherwise I use the weekends alone to read and improve on my culinary skills so that one day I’ll be head chef of a restaurant. One day soon I hope. The ringing tone of my phone makes me sigh, so much for enjoying the moment I think. Without looking at my phone I quickly answer it.

“Hello.”

“Sonia. Hello.”

I sit up quickly, putting my book aside. I recognise her voice. It’s impossible to forget it. Why is Ian’s mother calling me? What does she want from me? Does she want to talk Ian? I’m not even with the man at the moment. Ian is in Ndola on a project surely she must already know that.

“Sonia.”

“Ma.” I respond.

I roll my eyes at my response. I doubt she understands why I used that term. Doubt she will ever want to know why.

“Where you sleeping?” She asks

“No. No. No. How are you?”

I know how she is. She talks to Ian every day, minutes at a time. Ian tells me everything they talk about. So I know what she is up to without asking for any information.

“I am fine thank you for asking.” She says

“How is the family?”

“Everyone is well dear. Thank you for asking.”

What else am I supposed to ask her? How her neighbours are? If she’s eaten or not? What?

“Did you want to talk to Ian?” I ask abruptly

“No. I spoke to him minutes ago actually. Told him I’d call you.”

“Oh. Is something wrong?”

“No. I just wanted to find out if you had any thought into anything we had discussed that day.”

The day in the kitchen? Was there anything for me to think about from our conversation that day? Did I promise her feedback?

“Sonia.”

“I’m here. I’m sorry but I’m lost. Was there something pending?”

“Well I did ask you questions about your wedding and future.” She starts. “I was talking to Ian and he was telling that you guys want to get married this year? In a few months’ time? Is that true? He mentioned a small wedding and something about a small party. I was shocked.”

“Well we were just discussing the options we…”

“I was thinking you two would take your time. Especially considering your denomination change.”

“My what?”

“Church denomination dear. Kindly catch up, I don’t have enough minutes on this call.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I just needed to find out if you two had decided on any important details. I’m his mother. His family deserves to know about your decisions.”

I take a deep breath. What is she going on about? It’s only been days since she left Zambia and she’s already on a bender about wedding details. Gosh and for Ian to tell her what we talk about is too much for me to handle. Can’t he keep things to himself? At least for now as we work out the details. I don’t need his mother budging into my plans. I’ll have to call him after I’m done with her. Talk about an afternoon ruined.

“Sonia dear.”

“Yes.” I say through my teeth.

“Gosh is your line bad? I can barely hear you. You haven’t responded. What is going on? Why are you guys in such a rush to get married?”

“We are not in any rush to be honest.”

“Then why is Ian telling me all those things. He said you said that you wanted the wedding in Zambia. Is that true?”

“Well expenses would be cheaper if it was …”

“He also said you said that it would be better to get married sooner and get the kids out of the way as soon as possible.”

She pauses hoping I say something and when I don’t she continues.

“You already planning for kids? Isn’t that too soon. Shouldn’t you guys have a honeymoon phase and all? Besides Ian is still so young.”

Oh my word. Did he tell her everything we talked about? We had discussed this yes but nothing was set in stone. Ian and I made plans yes, we made them to guide us on this path. But never did I think he would tell his mother. I haven’t even told my best friends yet. I seriously need to sit him down and talk to him. His mother doesn’t need to know everything.

Yet.

“I don’t think we have decided on anything concrete yet.” I respond. “Believe me we shall tell you when we finalise everything.”

“Well you need to. You have to be on the same page with everything. Then tell us. I would hate to miss out on the important things.”

“No worries. I’ll make sure I tell you everything as it happens.”

“That’s really good dear. Well I have to go. Calling Zambia is so expensive. Talk to you soon. Goodbye.”

“Goodb…”

The call cuts and I sit staring at my phone in wonder.

I need to talk to my fiancé.

********

“Yolanda I swear you gotta stop doing that.”

I smile and slide my foot onto his arm. For a man who just warned me he sure does look like he’s enjoying my foot on him.

“Or what?” I laugh.

“Or I’ll let you have this seat to yourself. You should be watching your movie.”

“But I know Cassablanca word for word.”

“You wanted to watch this. You chose it. And we are gonna finish it to the end.”

“But you’re not even watching it.”

“Well I’m being generous. Unless you don’t mind me watching my own stuff.”

“Okay I’ll watch the movie. For the umpteenth time.”

I giggle and lift my foot higher up his arm to his shoulder. I see the corner of his lips twitch upwards. He turns the page of the magazine in his hands, clearly trying to pretend that my foot on his shoulder is not sexy enough to bother him. I look at his face as he tries to concentrate on whatever he’s reading. I can watch him all day and still not think it’s enough. The man is attractive and it’s a good thing.

Masulani sure does know how to treat woman to a good weekend. Mr Forty would be jealous. Yes, ignore-me-because-I-said-no-to you-ending-your-marriage-for-me Mr Forty would be very angry if he knew what I had been up to this weekend. He would probably want to make it work with his wife if he found out everything I had done with Masulani. He would probably accuse me of sleeping with Masulani because the man is tall walking chocolate of muscle.

And what’s better than attractive man? An attractive man that can cook an actual meal. He’s Mr Do-It-All and I like it. He’s been the highlight of what could have been a very boring weekend home.

Not that he pulled out all the stops, but him showing up at my flat, picking me up and surprising me with home cooked dinner at his house yesterday night was definitely a plus in my books. And desert? Going by the smile on my face it was to the least, intense. I have that after sex type of glow. The glow that has me biting my lips and shaking my ass as I walk, feeling as if I am top of the world. Of course any woman would feel like me if they had a man like the one beside me doing all the bending and stretching parts of their body they forgot existed in the celibate era. It was a well needed “frustration ender” of sorts. Now he has me smiling and ignoring a moody Mr Forty like the happiest girl in the world. And because I do not disappoint I have Masulani smiling like the happiest supervisor.

He deserves it.

The man had it all planned out from the word go. Out of everything he did, what impressed me the most was him taking me to his house. It was an unexpected pleasure. Who would have thought it had it in him to take me home? And I wasn’t disappointed. The one thing that stood out when I first walked into his house was how clean it was. Manly clean that is. The man seemed to have OCD when it came to his house and I got to see it first hand in his kitchen. Or maybe he was tying to impress me and it worked. His home cooked version of lasagna was to die for; his choice of wine heaven. I enjoyed it all; and just when I thought it was time to go home he managed to surprise me with a request to stay over. Who was I to say no? I said yes wholeheartedly before I jumped on the man and let him have his way with me.

He shifts on the sofa, my foot slides from his shoulder down to his elbow. He looks at my foot then lifts his gaze to my face. His eyes tell me all I need to know. The man wants me and I want him. Pretending to wait for the inevitable is boring when we both know it’s gonna happen anyway.

His left hand grabs my foot off his elbow, running circles with his thumb on the spot slightly above my ankle. Everything else around us forgotten we sit in silence, his eyes on me and mine on him. He cocks his head to the side and smiles exposing the dimples in his cheeks.

“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny? What’s on your mind?”

His smile spreads even further.

“Come here.”

He lets go of my foot placing it on his lap. He grabs my other foot as I grab his arm and slide over the leather seat towards him till I’m right next to him even though my legs are on his laps.

“What?” I ask again

He leans in and kisses me.

Yes.

That’s what’s what.

**********

“You’re leaving the house now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes. I have the thickest coat on.” I respond. “And when I get to the event I will ask the hotel to provide me with a heater.”

“Are you mocking me Thandiwe?”

I lock the door to my house and walk towards the car, my heels clicking on the rough stones. I love the feel of them on my feet as I walk.

“Ahh how can I? You are my husband.”

“Are you sure you want to attend this thing?”

I roll my eyes and my lips break into a smile. This “you’re-pregnant-so-you-can’t-do-anything will be the end of me. I am not the first woman to get pregnant, neither will I be the last. But to James being pregnant means I am incapable of attending dinner parties. I start the car and secure myself into my seatbelt.

“Just hold on James.”

I enable the loudspeaker option and place the phone on the dashboard as I reverse the car through the open gates.

“I swear you over worry over the most useless things James. Quit worrying.” I respond as I watch the gates close.

“You shouldn’t stress yourself babe.”

Staying at home is more stressful I think but not utter the words. I don’t need him over worrying about me. I look in the rear view mirror and turn the car onto the road.

“Driving is not stressful. It’s actually relaxing.” I tell him. “And the good thing about this is it’s close to home. A good fifteen minutes.”

I know he is not convinced about my statement. I need tonight to happen. I am tired of being alone with my “sitting in the womb baby.” I need some time out and feel normal. Like even if I am pregnant I can still do the things I want to do. James keeps acting like I might lose the baby at any given time, making sure I don’t burden myself with chores; even my cooking activity has been taken over by James, preparing hot baths for me before bed. It’s so bad the man has driven me to the boutique, the store and every freaking where in the past three days. But today, tonight him being away is my chance to be me.

“Maybe you should have called Mable to pick you up.”

He won’t stop worrying. He never will. And to think I still have at least five months to go.

“And sit as some sort of pregnant third wheel. Hell no.” I laugh.

“I swear I think you staying home would be okay. No need to dress up and strain yourself.”

“I swear you are amazing. Besides Mable will be alone. I’m doing this for her. And she had no one else to ask.” I respond. “I am going okay?”

“Okay. If you say so.”

“I will stay for two or three hours and leave.”

“Maybe you should have waited for me to drive you there myself.”

“Oh come on James. We both know you are an hour away. I don’t need to be late. Mable will not be impressed by that stunt.”

“You make Chisamba sound so far.” He laughs

“Let’s consider that crazy traffic. So yes it’s far. I will see you when I get home right?”

“Of course. I will be waiting for you. Drive safe Thandiwe.”

“I will. You do know I am a careful driver. See you later.”

“I love you.”

“Love you.”

James cuts the call. I grip the steering wheel with my right hand while my left hand sits on my little round mound. Maybe it’s just me but I think it’s growing everyday. I notice something new everyday like my first small stretch mark on my right side. It begins. The body destruction. The past three days I had had to sit and reason with myself. There is nothing I can do about this anymore. I am in it for nine months and eighteen years. That and James telling me about his future plans in relation to us and his dream to have three children. He made it sound beautiful. So beautiful that I forgot all thoughts of not having the baby.But the thing about disappointment is it finds its way when one is alone.

So in the end it came down to one thing. I might not want a baby now but James is around to help me through it. I am doing this for my husband.

I have no choice. I might as well enjoy this experience whatever it brings. I smile as thoughts of James trying to decide on names for our daughter. Our daughter. The words are heavy on my mind but easier on my heart.

“What do think about Nasilele? What about Liseli? Or maybe we can give her two names you know.” James said excitedly. “Our little princess.”

I watched him go through names that he thought would be perfect for his little princess. It was fascinating to watch him talk to my abdomen, saying the sweetest words, lots of kisses and tummy rubs. I pat my stomach and smile.

“Hey.” I start. “My little Princess. James’s little princess. I hope you know how much your dad loves you. I can’t even leave the house without him worrying. I swear I don’t understand the fuss.”

I feel something move within me. I feel a kick like move, almost hard to feel except through my hand. My eyes widen as I feel it again. The baby is kicking. Already? The doctor said it would happen but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

“Is that you telling me something?” I ask.

No movement. I reach for my phone on the dashboard as my foot presses on the brake pedal gently. I look at my phone quickly unlocking it.

“James. James.” I say aloud, laughing. “Gosh where is his name? Oh last dialled. There we go.”

I smile as I hear the ringing tone.

A light so bright hits my eyes and I turn my eyes away from the mirror reflecting the light, dropping my phone.

“For crying out……” I start.

It takes a second for me to realise the blinding lights are flashing at my car.

“Oh now you apologise huh? Nonsense.”

I hear the sound of the horn before I see where it’s from. I turn my head and gasp as I notice the car coming towards me from the left.

It takes a second, thats all is needed. A second to decide, react, act and avoid the danger. It’s all I have, a second and a second later all I see are the bright lights before I feel the impact of metal on metal, the glass on my face, before the force pushes me back into my seat, before I feel heavier than I ever have in my life. My world spins out of control. I become one with the earth before the air takes me back taking me back to earth. I have no idea how long it takes for the feeling to last. But I do not last long enough to wait for the stillness.

My life goes dark.

Blank.

Total darkness.

*********

“You see the idea about the project is to safeguard not only your children but your wife as well, family as a whole. It is a product that almost runs like life insurance but it has a twist to it. You still have access to loans with better interest rates than most banks are offering at the most.” Chinyama says happily. “Save the client more. Help them build…”

Where the hell is Thandiwe? I need a friend around to help me with getting through the night. This party is boring. Why did I agree to this in the first place. Why did I promise to attend this silly party? I hate feeling lost and alone. Chinyama looks at me, he cocks his head to the side, his eyes meeting mine. He can tell I am bored here. He excuses himself from his guest and comes to me. I breath a sigh of relief.

A kiss here. A kiss there. Smile and look in love. No need to pretend. We already are. For tonight.

His hands slides down my arm and I get chills. This man. Why is he doing this now? Getting me all heated up. His hand slides to my back running circles. I wish the lace was off my body right this minute. He knows what he’s doing. It’s deliberate. He wants tonight to be a success not just in his work but also at home. He wants more than I’m willing to offer. Why the hell did I wear lace when I know he loves it do much. I’m literally in his favourite colour and he can’t stop staring at me.

A shy smile on his face. He whispers sweet words into my ear and he smiles as he says them, loud enough for some people around us to hear him. Everyone sees us as the perfect couple. And maybe we are. After all who ever knows what happens in anothers marriage except the two parties in it.

We dance to the music playing. Slow music. His body so close to mine I feel lightheaded. It’s been too long since we…. I shouldn’t be thinking like this tonight. Not when it will lead nowhere. He heads off to make his speech, the speech from a man who had worked hard to develop the product that will change everything. And I’m proud of him. He deserves this moment. His speech is encouraging. I watch the faces of his employees as he talks. They listen to him. They love him. I smile to myself. Immediately his speech is done everyone claps for him. So do I. I have to. I stand up clapping for him the brightest smile on my face. Yes I am the vision of a proud wife. He walks over to me, his eyes only for me. He kisses my cheeks and the last kiss lands on my lips, a minute long. This man is pulling out all the stops for tonight. He wants more of this later. I can tell from the way his hand stays on my back as employees shake his hand. He deserves this moment, and it’s all come to this. His late nights paid off.

I stand away from him, to let clients talk to him about the new savings account that changes everything about banking. A new innovative way to bank. For the future. I take the furthest seat from the clients and employees gathering around him. I look at my wrist watch and look around the huge ball room looking for Thandiwe. She should have been here by now. Unless she changed her mind about coming. But she told me she would be here. She’s very late. I hate being alone at these events.

The first chance I get, I grab a glass of red wine. Yes. Alcohol. A sip of it and I place my glass away. I need to get drunk tonight but for what? Getting drunk won’t stop or change anything. I wish the woman next to me can stop her loud mouth from blubbering..

“You are so blessed.” She says loudly. “Your husband is blessed too to be honest.”

She looks like she’s day dreaming about my happiness. I smile at her. If only she knew the cost of being married to Chinyama.

“You have a husband that adores you. So much in fact.” She continues. “He talks about you so much. My wife this. My wife that.”

Liar. This woman is a liar. A bad one at that. But I don’t tell her that, instead I nod my head.

“Hmm.” I agree

This wine won’t do for me. I need rest. I’m not in the mood for stories about my picture perfect life.

“How do you do it? Three kids. A nice handsome husband. Being a house wife right?”

I smile at her. “I don’t know.” I respond.

“Of course she does!!”

I turn and see Chinyama smile at us. He was listening. Ahh there it is. That dazzling smile that got to me years ago. Ahh yes. I am blessed. I have a husband that loves me. The next speaker informs us about another dancing session and the people around Chinyama lessens. He says a few more words to the few remaining people before he walks around the table to me. He takes a seat next to me and grabs my hand.

“We are blessed.” He says. “My wife is amazing to be honest. This strong woman makes my life easy. It’s true what they say. Behind a great man there is a greater woman.”

“Successful man honey.” I scold playfully.

He laughs and touches the back of my neck. He squeezes the back of my neck, leans in close and kisses my cheek while I smile at the lady watching us. If only she knew. Can she see it now? The pretense…

“Well you two look so good together. And my your children are so beautiful.”

I smile brighter at her compliment. She’s right, our children are beautiful. They are my greatest treasure.

“Thank you Mrs Phiri.” He says. “Our children are our greatest treasure.”

“You should bring your wife to more events Chinyama. God knows why she stays home often.” The woman laughs. “On your hand she is the perfect one.”

“I will definitely bring her alo….”

His words are cut short as he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone. He looks at it before he puts it back in his jacket pocket.

“Kindly excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He says. “Ahh something urgent.”

He stands up from his seat and I watch his back make his way across the room to the exit.

“So my dear why don’t you come for these events? Did you come for the end of year bash or was it a ball last year?” The woman asks.

“No. I was home. My children gosh. The twins were sick actually.” I lie.

I had no interest in attending a ball with Chinyama. I wanted to be home and that’s what I did. I stayed home with my bottle of wine.

“That’s sad. What was wrong?”

Gosh. This woman and her questions.

“A cold. Imagine that.”

“In December? That’s weird.”

Is it? Gosh. This woman. I can’t lie forever.

“But they healed up pretty quickly. I swear I think kids just have this intuition about parents events.” I laugh nervously

“Ahh that. And soon enough they will be teenagers.”

“True.”

I grab my clutch off the table, open it and take my phone. No missed calls from Thandiwe or anyone from that matter. Where the hell is Thandiwe? Surely she could have called me by now to cancel! Gosh Thandiwe I can’t even depend on you for a little support I think. I’ll give her a piece of my mind.

“So what will happen when they grow …” Mrs Phiri starts

“Uhh I’m sorry I’ll be right back. Need to use the bathroom.”

“Of course dear.” She smiles.

She winks at me and I smile. Did that wink mean something? I do not dwell on the thought. I stand up and walk as quickly as my heels can carry me. A few men turn to look at me, their thoughts probably bordering on how amazing I look and how their boss or colleague is a lucky man having me below him every night. I walk with all the confidence I can master until I reach the exit. I push the heavy door and walk outside. A cool breeze hit my face as I walk towards down the hallway towards a top to floor window.

I dial Thandiwe’s number. No answer. I roll my eyes and redial her number.

“For crying out loud Thandiwe the least you could have done was tell me you weren’t coming. So undependable.”

The call goes unanswered. I curse under my breath. I walk past an open door and I stop, take a few steps back and stand at the slightly open door. I notice a man standing a few steps from the door, his back facing the slightly open door. I would know the back facing me anywhere. It’s a back I’ve seen bare and dressed for so long. Chinyama’s back and head are two things I can never forget. I stand by the open door wondering why he’s in the room in the first place. I lift my hand to push the door when the sound of his voice makes me freeze.

“Jesus Cynthia… You need to stop.” He says. “Once and for all. I’m done. This. No.”

Cynthia? But. What the hell is going on? She’s here? But how? Wait? But he mentioned… Cynthia was the urgent call? Or she’s here. I place my hand on the door handle, no need to knock anymore.

“But Chinyama you just can’t say we are done.” A female voice responds. “You act like I’m clingy. Like I follow you around. Please calm down. I called you out of respect.”

“Why did you call me?” He asks

“You forget I should be attending this event. I’m not here because I don’t need drama tonight with your wife around.”

“You should have attended. No one cares. If that’s why you called me then please stop yourself. I don’t care what you do.”

“Oh please we are still making excuses for her? You’re a fool. Mable is always angry. Isn’t that why you loved me. She’s a wreck with a bottle for a titty.”

“Don’t you ever say a thing about my wife again. She’s my family. She’s the mother of my children.”

“I know that. But we are your family too.”

“Are you kidding me? Please stop.”

“You know you talk a lot and yet can’t put action to words. How many times have you said you’re done?”

“I am done. Now if you called to see my face, you have. I’m leaving.”

“You know you can’t go. Gosh you men. What about Komani?”

Who the hell is Komani I wonder. What about him? What is happening?

“What about him?”

“He’s sick. You haven’t been by in weeks Chinyama. He misses you. He wants to see you.”

“Don’t you dare use the child in this mess Cynthia. That chapter is closed.”

“Excuse me you’re the one who imposed yourself in this. Those are responsibilities.”

“Are you delusional?”

“You just can’t up and leave him. He needs you. You’re the only father he has.”

“What the hell are you going on about?”

“Chinyama he’s only five years old. He’s baby. Don’t do this. You can’t just disappear and stop paying for everything.”

Whoa. I grip the door hard as I feel my heart beat faster. They talk of high blood pressure as a silent killer, maybe they never considered breaking news as a starter. Father? Chinyama has another child? How is that possible? What kind of a wife have I been? I didn’t know my husband had another child? Have I been so out of touch with my marriage that I didn’t see this? That’s why she never leaves us. She never will.

“Gosh are you listening to me? I’m done.” He says

“No. We are not.” She responds.

“Yes we are. Cynthia. I cheated on my wife. She forgave me. She’s trying to. I won’t do it again.

“But…”

“Look Ive helped you out over the years as a friend. Period. And if you thought it would more then I’m sorry. That is done. It’s over. I won’t allow you using me for Komani’s sake.”

“Chinyama wait. But.”

This can’t go on. Not anymore. I’m done. I turn the handle and push the door in.

Chinyama turns around, his look of anger replaced by a mixture of shock and defeat. I notice Cynthia standing behind him. I notice her curly long dark hair, the makeup on her smooth face, the red heels and best of all her white bandage dress that hugs her body too tightly. How does she breathe in that dress? A size too small considering how her breasts are trying to let loose from the dress. How is it possible she has a child and looks like that while I can’t even lose weight? How is that possible she still looks perfect. I have three kids and this stupid man of a husband cheats on me either way. Pumping me with kids while she looks perfect.

“Hello.” I start. “Cynthia, again.”

“Mable. Hello.”

“Well this is cosy.” I laugh.

Our eyes meet and she looks away. I wish I could slap her. Again. Like the first time. Pull her hair out this time. Fight for what’s mine again. I wish. Never again.

I look at Chinyama and his eyes do not meet mine. Guilt? Shame? I don’t care. I want to leave now. Being here is unnecessary now. and I can’t leave unless he gives me the car keys.

“Don’t worry you two.” I tell them. “I won’t go crazy.”

I smile at them.

“I won’t say I’ll stab you or kill you in your sleep.” I say as I point at Chinyama. “And you Cynthia I won’t beat you up. Because if I take a step towards you I will finish everything you have.”

“Mable.” Chinyama starts.

“Gimme the car keys.”

“Mable wait.”

“Gimme the keys!! Now!! Or I swear I’ll lose it tonight.”

He digs into his pocket and takes his car keys out. He walks towards me keys dangling from his finger. I grab the keys just as he reaches out to touch me. I slap his hands away and shove him backwards. It’s unexpected, he stumbles back and bumps into Cynthia.

“No don’t touch me. I’m going home. Ya’ll celebrate this valentines together. Don’t bother coming home either.”

“Mable. Babe wait. I can explain.”

“Bye.”

I turn and walk out. I need air.

To be continued….

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[kimamanitranslatesnovels]

Destruction Flag Otome v3c4pt1

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Volume 3, Chapter 4: My Life as a Captive Continues

Part 1: Pg. 272 - 295

That butler appeared the moment when I had finally found out Selena’s motives and when it had seemed like I had gotten closer to her. He’s a young man named Rufus who was always by Selena’s side.

After appearing so suddenly, he said something disturbing - that Selena’s role was “to take responsibility for this kidnapping and any other such crimes, then to disappear along with Prince Ian.” He even told me that my role was “to disappear with Prince Jared”.

But caring little for the bombshells he had just dropped, he took advantage of my shell-shocked state to pick up Selena from the ground and leave the room.

When I returned to my senses and tried to pursue him, it was too late – the door to the room was already locked.

I was left alone in the room.

It was the middle of the night, but in this situation, even I wasn’t able to go back to sleep soundly… I instead mused about Rufus, who had left after saying such disturbing things.

Selena had suddenly collapsed to the ground. “I’m just having her sleep for a bit,” that man had laughed.

It hadn’t seemed like Selena had been doused with some kind of medicine like I had back at the academy. Naturally, nor had it seemed like she had been knocked out through violent means. She had just quietly collapsed to the ground for some unknown reason.

But that man had said that he was the one to put her to sleep.

It hadn’t seemed like he had used medicine or violence, but his hand had been on Selena’s shoulder.

I knew just one power that could put people to sleep by simply touching them. I learned of it for the first time last year, during the incident I had gotten involved in – this was a power limited to only dark magic users, dark magic that could manipulate people’s hearts and minds.

Whenever Selena had thought to tell me why she had kidnapped me, that man would touch her. Then, she would immediately shut her mouth and her face would go blank, almost like a doll. I recalled that this happened numerous times.

… That man called Rufus may wield dark magic.

Apparently dark magic may be wielded by anyone who can use magic – but in order to do so, you need to perform a ritual with a human sacrifice.

Dangerous magic that can manipulate people’s hearts that can only be obtained by stealing someone’s life away… naturally, dark magic is strictly forbidden and its mere existence is a secret.

If Rufus truly wields dark magic… this means that he performed the ritual and sacrificed someone. That means that it’s possible that he’s a murderer.

It’s possible that he was forcibly given the power like Rafael, but considering those cold eyes as he looked at Selena, and his cheerful laugh… a shiver went up my spine.

************

I thought that I wouldn’t be able to sleep after everything that happened… but when I came to, I realized that I had slept well.

Now that I think back, I recall that the night before the graduation ceremony, when I knew that the destruction flags might be coming for me, I slept well. It seems like I can sleep well no matter the situation. Still, I’m surprised at myself for being able to sleep so soundly after being kidnapped and being told by a potential dark magic user that he would make me disappear.

And the one who woke me up from my sound sleep was –

“Geez, I can’t believe it. She’s sleeping so deeply after everything that happened – does this lady have nerves of steel or what?”

– someone who sounded incredibly exasperated.

“Ugh…”

Wondering why I was woken up from my nice sound sleep, I somehow force my eyes open. In front of me is a man’s face, one I saw just last night. If I remember correctly, his name was…

“Rufus…”

“… I am honoured that you deigned to remember my name, Katarina-sama. Now, I believe it would behoove you to get up already. It’s already past noon.”

For some reason the way he’s speaking is completely different from before, but his voice sounds the exact same. So then the one who woke me up was this person?

But more importantly…

“What?! It’s already past noon?!”

“… That’s what you latch onto, I see,” says Rufus, again in an exasperated tone… but seriously, I thought that I had only closed my eyes for a bit after all.

After Rufus had left, I thought that I wouldn’t be able to sleep for sure so I decided to start planning my escape while it was still nighttime. For example, I thought about using the dark to hide me and sneak out the window. To think that I had ended up sleeping past noon… and was woken up by a probable enemy…

“I’m surprised at myself.”

“… No, I’m the most surprised here. I couldn’t hear your voice all morning and even past noon, so I thought that you were trembling and crying… but to think you were sprawled out on the bed, snoring…” says Rufus, his exasperated tone increasing in intensity.

I see, so I was sprawled out on the bed… I’m a little embarrassed.

But this isn’t the time to worry about something like that. There’s something more important I need to confirm.

“There’s a lot I want to ask you, but firstly, is Selena alright?” I ask, looking at Rufus in a challenging tone.

Selena suddenly collapsed before being taken away by him… is she alright?

“… The rumours do you no justice. Very well, I’ll answer your question. Selena is safe, she’s sleeping soundly in her room.”

“… I see.”

I stare at his eyes but it doesn’t seem like he’s lying, so I decide to believe him for now.

Someone mentioned ‘rumours’ again. Was this about me being ‘unrestrained’ like Selena said? Well anyways, I couldn’t care less about that right now. What I want to know most is…

“Rufus, do you wield dark magic?”

His eyes widened slightly at my question. He quirked his lips.

“That’s very direct of you.”

Yes, I did think that it was perhaps too direct, but my conversational skills aren’t good enough to slyly pry it out of him.

“I couldn’t think of any way to hint at it.”

“You’re truly an odd person. And as you’re aware of the existence of dark magic, you must have been involved in last year’s incident, as I had suspected.”

I was shocked. While it was known in wider society that someone from a Marquis’ house had committed a severe crime, it should have been kept secret that dark magic was involved.

“Were you surprised? Did you think that it should’ve been a secret? But there’s no way that it could’ve all been kept quiet. Especially for the nobles who were friendly with the Deek family and for those involved with the darker parts of society,” he continued, as if he had read my mind. Rufus smiled crookedly, “And so dark magic caught his attention as well.”

“His?”

“My master. I obtained dark magic and came to the Burke household on his orders.”

“W – what for?” I ask, feeling a bit overwhelmed by Rufus, who had suddenly changed in intensity.

“I already told you – for Selena-sama to take responsibility for any crimes related to the kidnapping and disappear with Prince Ian, from both the battle for the throne and from greater society. You and Prince Jared as well, of course.”

“But why would you do such a thing…”

“Why? Because you’re in the way, obviously. My master wants the first prince, Prince Geoffrey, to ascend the throne, and he’s not the type to be picky about how he sees his desires fulfilled.”

I was shocked. Ian and Jared were in the way of Geoffrey’s ascension to the throne… wait, what about Alan?

This is probably a pretty serious conversation, and I knew that I needed to ask more, but a mental image of Alan floated up in my head and started sulking, complaining that he was the only one not involved.

No, wait, you’re probably going to be targeted later. You’re still growing, after all, I reassure my mental image of Alan.

I wonder what Rufus is thinking about me, given that I suddenly went dead quiet.

“Was that enough to make even you afraid? Well then, I’ll leave the chit-chat to there. I’ll leave a light meal here, so please, enjoy yourself,” he says, “If you need anything, use this bell.”

He leaves a single bell behind and leaves.

In this way, I was left alone in the room again.

Since I slept so much, I wasn’t tired anymore, so I decide to eat the meal that had been left behind for me.

All that had been left behind were a few different types of bread on the small side.

To be honest, this isn’t enough for a light meal for me – it’s about the size of a snack. Even as I think that it’s not enough, I take a round bun in my hand and bite into it.

… W – what is this?! It’s incredibly delicious!

I ate my fill of delicious food at the festival’s food booths, but this bun was just as splendidly delicious. The outside was puffy, the inside was doughy – I couldn’t get enough of this texture.

Hm, what if I add some of this cream-like mixture placed next to the plate? I’ll add this cream to this top-quality bread.

My, this is delicious as well! It looked like custard cream on the outside, but it seems like it’s something different. It’s not too sweet, but very refreshing – a delicious taste that matches well with the bread.

Alright, next I’ll try this flatbread. Ah, this is delicious too.

I wonder who prepared this light meal. I should ask later.

I eat all of the delicious bread within a few minutes, and with my stomach partially filled, I decide to really get down to business and think about what to do about my kidnapping.

You’re starting a bit late, points out the Anne in my mind. But it can’t be helped, I ended up falling asleep.

Alright! Time to hold an strategy meeting about this kidnapping!

President: Katarina Claes, Vice-President: Katarina Claes, Secretary: Katarina Claes.

I would like to begin by carefully examining our current situation step-by-step. Please, everyone, tell me what you think.

Yes, for now, I’d like to speculate about what Selena talked about last night and what Rufus said.

What an excellent idea.

I agree!

Well then, to begin with, from what Selena said last night, she’s been depressed for a long time about not being any help to Prince Ian.

That’s true.

Then that lady-killer butler Rufus appeared in front of her and suggested that she kidnap Katarina for Prince Ian, right?

That’s true… it’s also possible that he used dark magic to influence her.

Then, Selena kidnapped Katarina as suggested by Rufus… but Rufus’ true aim was to have Selena take all the blame for the crime and have them both be ruined, I’m guessing?

My! Katarina Claes-san, you’re particularly quick-witted today. Is something up?

Heh heh. I ate a lot of delicious food and slept a lot, so I’m unbelievably quick-witted this afternoon.

Amazing! You could call yourself the Great Detective Katarina right now!

Ooh, the Great Detective Katarina has a nice ring to it. Later, I can open up the Detective Katarina Agency, and solve difficult cases as they’re brought to me…

Everyone, please concentrate! You’re going off on a tangent!

... We’re sorry.

 Well then, let’s get back on topic. About Rufus – he said that he’s executing this kidnapping plan for his master, didn’t he? In order to have Prince Geoffrey ascend the throne.

Yes, he did say that.

In that case, what if the true mastermind is Prince Geoffrey himself?

But, I really don’t think he’s the type of person to do this, from what we saw at the school festival…

… That’s true. The snacks he gave us were good too.

Yeah, those snacks were delicious.

I agree, I really want to eat them again. Now I’m getting hungry…

The bread was good, but there really wasn’t enough.

Really. How can we eat our fill with a portion size barely fit for a bird – wait, we’re going off on a tangent again! We need to get back on track…

Even if you say that… we’re already used a fair bit of brainpower… and I’m hungry so I can’t think of anything but food.

Same here… and since it’s not used that much, Katarina’s brain is at its limit… it’s crying out for sugar.

… That’s true… I can’t think of anything but food… Bread, meat, fish…

… cake, cookies, pie…

… apples, oranges, grapes…

All Katarinas became unable to talk about anything but food… the meeting was forced to a close.

This is no good, all that comes to mind is food. I’ll have someone bring food up to me!

And so, I lightly ring the bell Rufus left me.

************

“I can’t believe it. How steely are her nerves? Is she really a noble’s daughter?” mutters Rufus, a bit ruder than before, as he pours me tea.

When I rung the bell and he arrived, he said ‘My my, did even the great Katarina-sama get lonely? But until you fulfill your role, I’ll have you stay here,’ with a villainous smile…

But when I said ‘No. I’m hungry, so bring me something to eat. If possible, since it’s almost teatime I’d like tea and some sweets… just kidding,’ Rufus stood there, frozen.

He stayed frozen like that for a while… but when my stomach made a loud gurgle, it seems he suddenly came to. He left the room for a bit before returning with a cart with tea and sweets.

He seemed a bit scary a moment ago… but he might actually be a good person considering that he brought me tea and sweets just like I asked.

“It’s ready. Please help yourself,” says Rufus, holding out a cup of tea to me.

“Thank you,” I say, accepting the cup, “You know, teatime by myself is rather dull – you should join in.”

Usually, Keith and my friends are with me during teatime. Yesterday, I had Lana join in. So, today, I’ll have Rufus join me. He’s the one who brought me the sweets, so I thought that he’d accept my invitation as well… but he just stood there, looking frozen again.

Does he really like that expression or something?

“… Honestly, you’re just… actually, you know what, whatever. If I keep being shocked at everything you do I don’t think I’ll ever stop,” says Rufus, taking a cup in one hand and sitting in front of me.

Yes, it seems like he’s a pretty good person after all. But one thing bothers me…

“Aren’t you talking a bit differently?”

We were talking pretty casually right now, but when he woke me up in the morning – I mean afternoon – I feel like he was politer.

“Yeah, I was pretending to be a butler so I tried to speak all formal and stuff… but I started to feel kinda stupid for being so polite to someone like you, so I went back to normal. But if it displeases you, I can speak politely again, young mistress.”

That last sentence sounded off – it was delivered with a fake smile. Yeah, it just feels wrong – it makes me wonder why he’s speaking so politely after being so casual before.

“No, I’m fine with your current tone. It feels somewhat creepy for you to start speaking politely again, after all.”

“Ha ha, like I thought.”

“More importantly, you said that you were pretending to be a butler – you weren’t one originally?”

As I talk with him now, I can’t think of him as anyone other than say, a young man from the outskirts of a town, but when I first met him, that butler outfit fit him even better than Sebastian.

“Do I look like a butler right now?”

“Eh, right now you just seem like someone from the outskirts of a town,” I say truthfully.

“Amazing, got it in one. I’m impressed you figured it out,” he responded, sounding impressed, “Wait, you’re nobility – you still go to the outskirts of towns?”

“… Occasionally I sneak out.”

Truthfully, I drag Keith with me to go play there fairly often. The food is cheap, there’s plenty to do, and I love the commoner feel. But I am technically keeping it a secret. If my mother heard about it, she’d probably get mad at me for going out and playing, after all.

“But what do you mean that I was right about you being someone from the outskirts of a town? Are you from there?”

“No, but you got it more or less right. I’m not from the outskirts, even though I spent most of my time there. I’m actually from the slums.”

“What?! The slums?! There are slums in this country?!”

I knew the word, but I heard that thanks to the efforts of the magic users in this country, it was fairly well-off. Apparently, even the commoners had a higher quality of life compared to other countries. And so, I was taught that there were no slums… but maybe I just didn’t know about them?

“Ah, no. I wasn’t born in this country,” he firmly denies.

“Huh? Oh, I see.”

Ah, so Rufus isn’t from this country. Now that he mentions it, if I squint he does kind of look like a foreigner.

“When I was a kid, back when I was living with my buddies from the slums, I fucked up and got captured by slave traders. I was sold, and eventually I ended up in this country when I was bought by my current master.”

He casually drops a huge bombshell. In my sheer shock, I temporarily find myself unable to speak.

“Were you surprised? Maybe it’s something that a coddled noble like you can’t believe, but it’s not unusual or anything in poorer countries. Actually, I was one of the lucky ones – I’m completely healthy and right now, I’m even able to wear this high-quality clothing. I’m really blessed,” Rufus says, seeming to be looking somewhere far, far away.

As I look at him, a small thought briefly stirs in my mind. As I try to grasp at the thought –

“Heh, was that enough to creep even you out? Or maybe you’re pitying me? Sorry, but I don’t need pity. It’s not like I think I’m unlucky or anything,” says Rufus, quirking his lips again.

I can’t see any untruths in those blue eyes staring straight at me.

Looking at him again, I grasp the small thought from before.

“… So cool…”

“What?”

It seems like he didn’t catch what I just said, so I say it again.

“You’re really cool.”

“… Uh, where’s this coming from? I know that I’m fairly cool-looking already…”

“That’s not it. I’m not talking about your appearance, but what’s on the inside. I’m talking about the way you think.”

“… What the hell are you saying?”

“Your positive attitude is really, really cool.”

There’s plenty of people among both nobles and commoners who whine that it’s everyone else that’s to blame, that they’re just unlucky, that people should feel sorry for them.

But Rufus, despite his difficult life, doesn’t whine about it. He even goes as far as to say that he’s lucky. Someone like that just seems really cool to me.

As I gaze at Rufus in admiration, I see that he’s frozen again.

Hm, what’s the matter? Was I rude? Now that I think about it, maybe I was supposed to say ‘It must’ve been tough’…

“… I never thought that I’d ever meet someone who’d say the same thing as him…”

“What?”

After staying frozen a while, Rufus’ shoulders begin to tremble.

Oh no, I said something rude and made him angry – my heart skips a beat.

He then lets out a breath of air and begins to laugh, his arms cradling his stomach. He was truly roaring with laughter.

Wait, why? What was so funny about our conversation? Confused, I wait for his laughter to stop.

After a while, he finally stops laughing and begins speaking.

“You’re really funny. It’s been a while since I laughed this much.”

“Okay...”

But I didn’t think that I said anything that funny.

“Hey, let’s talk some more. I want to talk with you more.”

“Okay…”

This is how Rufus and I began to talk.

T/N:

I admit it, Rufus is growing on me.

No, it isn’t just because he’s the only one to speak casually and I prefer translating casual speech... I don’t know what you’re talking about... 

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[kalendraashtar]

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part II)

Part II – “In slow motion the blast is beautiful”

Twenty

I watched as people walked in the gardens outside the hospital, struggling to distance myself from the acute sound that seemed to be permanently whistling inside my ears. It was the sound of immediately before – the universe’s cry of warning that catastrophe was imminent. I found myself trapped in that moment, long after the physical pain was gone – after weeks in the intensive care unit, I was finally starting the skin grafts on my back –, paralyzed in a life-changing moment. Doomed to stand in the frontier of what I had been and what the blast had made me become.

A couple was strolling nearby, the woman holding the bundle of their newborn baby, the man enraptured, dutifully keeping watch over a couple of celebratory balloons, announcing a perfect boy in impeccable blue.

I had seen myself in that life, before. My hand entwined with a faceless woman – her eyes mysteriously the colour of strong whiskey, enough to inebriate me with its fumes -, mindlessly walking towards a shared house, a shared life. I couldn’t fathom such a thing now – the explosion, caused by a gas leak at my apartment building at the university, had tarnish skin and dreams alike.

The breeze kept everyone outside mercifully comfortable, under an otherwise hot sun. It was only the second time I had ventured to go outside, wearing the notorious grey pajamas from the hospital, which marked me as belonging somewhere else other than sitting on a bench under the leafy tree.

The sense of disconnection from everything around me was crushing – I felt like I was standing inside a glassed cage, looking at people with normal lives, unable to find an escape to join them. Jenny and Ian visited me daily, trying their best to cheer me up and to bring me back to myself – I had no heart to tell them that only dust and fragments had remained from that man. I was alive, thankfully – but had no notion of what to do with that surprising gift.

“May I sit down?” A woman asked me. I nodded, not bothering to look at her – instead I curled more into my robe, making myself invisible, biting my bottom lip to avoid moaning with pain from the stretching skin. Breathing, moving, walking – everything came with a renewed cost, as if to remind me that my survival still demanded sacrifice.

She sat on the other end of the bench. I saw her blue sneaker dangling spiritedly on the periphery of my vision, as my nostrils were filled with the smell of rosemary and lemon.

“Excuse me.” The voice next to me said, somewhat timidly. “I could swear I know you, but can’t really figure out from where…”

I tilted my head and looked straight into the sun.

Her eyes were the exact same shade as ten years before – I would recognize them anywhere, even if I couldn’t recognize her brown curls or her tentative smile. My jaw dropped an inch, as I stared flabbergasted at the girl from the graveyard.

“You!” I babbled, nervously fumbling with the catheter, skilfully taped to my forearm by a kind nurse. “Ah – yes!” I tried to recover seeing her confused look, silently kicking myself for blurting. “We have met once – many years ago.”

“You’re the boy from the cemetery.” She said slowly, her hawk eyes studying my face. She had an adorable wrinkle of concentration between her brows. “Ellen’s son!”

“Aye.” I smiled, shyly. “I dinna think ye’d remember that.”

“Of course I do.” She nodded, offering me a kind smile. “I always pay my respects to Ellen, whenever I visit my parents.”

I couldn’t answer – my throat suddenly thick with emotion, as words and feelings nestled like a snake around my vocal chords. That she remembered her act of kindness as vividly as I did – and that she had kept watch over my mother – deeply moved me. I gave her a – I hope – grateful nod and looked away, composing the emotions that ran wild, raw and untamed, after the accident.

“Are you a patient here?” She asked. I raised my eyes to look at her again and noticed she was wearing a white uniform, akin to the nurses I was used to see, with an identification card that read “C. Beauchamp. Trainee.”

“Aye.” I swallowed hard, attempting at nonchalance. “I have the pleasure of being a guest of the Burn Unit.”

“Ah.” Her eyes softened – it marvelled me how they changed so significantly, reflecting her states of mind. I was prepared to see the pity that always followed such a statement – but it never came. Her face was a mirror of sympathy and concern – but she wasn’t about to treat me as an invalid. “Good thing you’re able to come outside, then. Such a splendid day, today! I had been dreaming all morning of eating my sandwich outside.”

“Do ye work here?” I questioned, watching as she unwrapped and bit her sandwich – egg and tomato on rye bread – with a satisfaction that made my own mouth water.

“Nurse in training.” She explained, closing her eyes in delight for the utter brilliance of her simple pan. “Actually it’s my last day here.”

“I wish I could say the same.” I gave her a lopsided smile and she laughed – a bit too loud and carefree, like a delighted child. For a moment I forgot where I was and why I sat so uptight – she made me forget things. She made me remember others too – transparent things, important things, that could carve the exit from my self-imposed prison.

“The food isn’t that bad.” She joked, offering me some salt and vinegar chips that she had started to munch. Her eyes searched the plastic bracelet on my arm, easily reading my name there. “Jamie.”

“Hmmm.” I smiled, conceding at the personal treatment. “I’m afraid I miss my morning parritch…” I looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to reveal her identity in return.

“Claire.” She laughed, playfully saluting me with her joined fingers like a soldier. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

We stayed in amiable silence, as she completed her picnic-style lunch and I continued to study the world around me, through the eyes of a dead-man walking. But the trees where suddenly greener again and the distant voices seemed to speak to me, teasing me but finally within my reach.

“Thank ye,” I said slowly, tapping my fingers on my leg – much thinner than usual, muscles having been consumed in the furnace of my recovery. “For not asking - about what happened.”

Claire glanced at me – I saw again the same wise-beyond-her-years look, the soul that knew pain and how to heal it, which had held me together ten years before. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

I raised my brows, surprised. “It’s all everyone wants to talk about.”

“You can tell me, if you want to.” She licked her lips for crumbs and smiled, tilting her chin to expose her face to the sun. She resembled a lazy cat, stretching under the warmth, gathering enough energy to wreak havoc afterwards. “But I know you’re here and whole and that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?” I whispered, smiling beyond myself.

“Yes.” Claire threw me an evaluating glare, like she could read into my soul and was ready to challenge the defeatist thoughts that resided there. “Is it enough for you?”

“It hasn’t been…” I admitted, brushing my unusually short hair – another thing lost during the first days in hospital care. “But perhaps I’m beginning to see things differently.”

“I’m glad.” She smiled tenderly – and she seemed truly content. For the first time in weeks I noticed my heart galloping inside my chest, strong and lively, as able to be moved and broken as ever before.

“Jamie!” Jenny waved at me from the door, calling me to get back to my room – it was time for another dose of intravenous antibiotics and physical therapy. I raised my hand in response and slowly got up – whimpering and trembling a little, to my mortification. Claire’s hand quickly came to help stabilize me, holding my chest, as if she had guessed that my back was the source of all pain.

“Ye should be a doctor.” The words burst from my mouth, sounding strangely calm and confident. “Ye’ll be a wonderful nurse – but ye could be a brilliant doctor.”

She looked surprised – an image that suited her, for it was screamed from every trembling muscle, flutter of lashes and promise of smile in the corners of her mouth. Claire’s face spoke of truth as mine spoke of loss and of gratitude to her.

I waved in short goodbye and walked away slowly, holding my crutch for support.

When the physical therapist pressed me to give more, I gritted my teeth and did it, even if cursing every generation before him inside my head. When the nurses applauded the results of the healing grafts, I allowed myself to share the happiness, instead of focusing on everything still left to be done. When the quiet night came, I closed my eyes and dared to plan a life to come.

Claire Beauchamp. The woman who seemed to appear when my need was greatest. I wished I could talk to her and tell her that I had been scared – of living and failing to be enough – but she had healed me, like new and joyous blood cast into my veins. Unfortunately, I had only her name – no phone or address I could use to contact her.

The next time I saw her, she was wearing a black dress, in the middle of a night with no stars.

[zeroviraluniverse-blog]

How to Eat (and Drink) Like the Queen: Royal Chefs Reveal Elizabeth II's Favorite Foods

Visit Now - http://zeroviral.com/how-to-eat-and-drink-like-the-queen-royal-chefs-reveal-elizabeth-iis-favorite-foods/

How to Eat (and Drink) Like the Queen: Royal Chefs Reveal Elizabeth II's Favorite Foods

Stuart C. Wilson/Getty Images

Stuart C. Wilson/Getty Images

It’s good to be the Queen. Twice a week, Queen Elizabeth II browses a leather-bound menu of the latest meal suggestions from the royal family’s head chef, Mark Flanagan, and whichever items she checks off, she gets to eat. The Telegraph recently spoke with two former royal chefs who were ready to dish out the Queen’s most personal food tastes.

Mealtime at Buckingham Palace isn’t always the extravagant affair non-royals might assume it to be. As former personal chef to the Queen Darren McGrady told The Telegraph, her royal majesty is no foodie. “She eats to live,” he said. And even the delicacies she does enjoy don’t appear on her plate every day. “The Queen loved scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and a grating of truffle. But she was too frugal to ever order fresh truffles and only really enjoyed them at Christmas when the truffles were sent as a gift.” Instead, she prefers regular cereal like Special K with fresh fruit for a typical breakfast.

But even the most humble meals served to the Queen are held to high standards. When Owen Hodgson, who worked in the palace kitchen in the early 1990s, spoke to The Telegraph, he recalled the level of detail that went into a simple tuna fish sandwich. The crusts were removed, the bread was buttered on both sides, and the sandwiches were cut into eight identical triangles before they were fit for the Queen.

Of course, the royal diet includes the most classic of British culinary traditions, afternoon tea. Queen Elizabeth has a weakness for chocolate, and there’s usually chocolate perfection pie or chocolate biscuit cake included in the spread.

For dinner, she likes to keep things light with grilled fish like sole served with vegetables and a salad. On Sundays, she enjoys a roast, preferring the well-done end slice over something more rare. Ingredients from her farms, like white peaches from Windsor Castle and fillets of beef and venison from Sandringham and Balmoral, are often worked into the menu.

As for her preferred drink, it’s a gin and Dubonnet with a slice of lemon. She also sometimes drinks wine with lunch, and reportedly enjoys a glass of champagne before bed.

In 2017, the royal palace made it a little easier to drink like the Queen when they made wine from her royal vineyard available for the public to purchase. Beyond that, you may need to hire a personal chef of your own to recreate her full experience.

[h/t The Telegraph]

iStock

A Cure for Baldness Might Come From the Deep Fryer at McDonald’s

iStock

Science has thus far failed sufferers of baldness. Aside from expensive surgeries that transplant individual hair grafts from the back to the front of the head and medications that can slow the progression of loss, there is no cure. But researchers may be closer than ever, thanks to a common food preparation additive found in many fast food menu items.

A study recently published in the journal Biomaterials detailed work performed by Yokohama National University that shows promising results for regenerative therapy—a method for growing hair follicles in enough quantity to repopulate bald or balding areas. The Yokohama scientists were able to produce hair-follicle germs, or HFGs, cells that direct the development of follicles, in the lab. Once injected into the backs of mice, hair follicles and hair shaft regeneration followed: Tufts of hair began sprouting on the mice within days.

Professor Junji Fukuda said in a statement that the key to mass production of HFGs was having a substrate to rest on while being prepared and then injected into the mice. They chose dimethylpolysiloxane, a type of silicone found in commercial frying oils to prevent them from frothing.

The next step will be to see if the approach is as effective in humans. “This simple method is very robust and promising,” Fukuda said. “We hope that this technique will improve human hair regenerative therapy to treat hair loss such as androgenic alopecia. In fact, we have preliminary data that suggests human HFG formation using human keratinocytes [skin] and dermal papilla cells.” 

[h/t Newsweek]

iStock

California’s Proposed Straw Ban Won’t Actually Threaten Restaurant Employees With Jail Time

BY Kirstin Fawcett

February 6, 2018

iStock

Drinking straws are easy to find at eateries, but not so much in recycling bins. To curb pollution, California lawmaker Ian Calderon introduced a bill in January that would reduce plastic straw use in restaurants. Thanks to the measure’s wording, it caused an uproar, Munchies reports. As it currently reads, restaurant employees would face $1000 fines or jail sentences of up to six months if they provide a straw to a customer unasked.

Calderon, the majority leader of the California State Assembly, says that the bill wasn’t meant to be so harsh. He chalked its language up to miscommunication, explaining to The Washington Post that the California Office of Legislative Counsel drafted the bill into a state health code section with jail penalties. They didn’t have time to fix it, and Calderon planned to amend the bill’s wording before it reached a committee. (He still intends to remove its criminal penalties.)

Backlash aside (one Republican politician called for people to mail Calderon their straws), Calderon simply wanted to introduce a measure that required sit-down restaurants to adhere to a straws-upon-request policy. Fast-food restaurants, cafés, and delis wouldn’t have to adhere to the guideline.

“We need to create awareness around the issue of one-time use plastic straws and its detrimental effects on our landfills, waterways, and oceans,” Calderon said in a statement. “AB 1884 is not ban on plastic straws. It is a small step towards curbing our reliance on these convenience products, which will hopefully contribute to a change in consumer attitudes and usage.”

Straws play a small—yet undeniable—part in our world’s ever-growing plastic waste problem. They typically wind up in landfills, and can end up in the ocean if proper disposal methods aren’t followed. This harms marine life, as fish and other creatures can mistake bits of broken-down straws for food.

Cities in California, including Manhattan Beach, San Luis Obispo, and Santa Cruz, have implemented their own versions of a straw ban. Berkeley and Los Angeles might soon follow suit, according to the San Francisco Chronicle. As for Calderon’s bill: It still needs to be revised, voted on, and approved. So nothing’s set in stone (or plastic) for now.

[h/t Munchies]

More from mental floss studios

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[imagineclaireandjamie]

Fast Forward.

Previous part: HERE.

wecouldhangout said:  Love this variation of Jamie and Claire. Don’t let it fall by the wayside.

:: <3 ::

The bright lights of Inverness city faded in the rear view mirror as Raymond drove Claire home. Neither of them spoke, the taint of the evening coating the inside of Claire’s mouth as houses blurred into trees as they passed over the river Ness and out towards Drumnadrochit.

“How did you know where I’d be?” Claire whispered, plucking at the sewn pattern along the hem of the skirt she’d borrowed from Jenny. Tears welled in her eyes as she caught the torn portion of the fabric, vivid memories of her illicit night out coming unbidden as she did so.

“Some things, my dear,” he began --cryptically, “are more obvious than you give them credit for.”

Sniffling, Claire leaned her head against the cold glass, watching as her breath steamed the window - fogging the blue scenery as Loch Ness came into view. Shaking his head, Raymond slowed down, pulling the car into a parking spot overlooking the glorious loch. The moonlight glimmered off the water as he turning the ignition off and shifted in his seat, the fine leather squeaking beneath him as he moved. His hand hovered over Claire’s briefly as he coughed, waiting for her to acknowledge him before he spoke.

“I’m so--”

“No, Claire. You don’t need to apologise to me,” he interrupted, his voice soft as her glassy eyes looked over at his in the dark car. “But you do need to understand something of importance.”

Swallowing back the excess moisture that had gathered in her mouth, Claire nodded, fatigue pulsing through her achy bones.

Having firmly settled herself to 20th century highland life, Claire’s lust for adventure had intensified. When a few of the local lassies had spoken of a bawdy dance being held in Inverness, Claire had been excited. She’d enjoyed staying with Jenny, Ian and Jamie at Lallybroch and their rural lifestyle had been something to which she’d grown accustomed to. But the stories she heard at work kept floating around her head.

The girls often indulged her, talking of the loud hum of the music, the busy pubs that entertained them over the weekends and the men who took them drinking and dancing. The war and the return of the soldiers had signalled a revival of an active social life and Claire was desperate to see how people her age socialised in the 1940’s. Licking her dry lips, Claire tasted the blood from where they’d cracked, the skin breaking apart easily with the stress of her illicit night out. Goaded on by her *friends*, she’d begged Jamie to let her go, promising she’d be back at a reasonable hour. Worried about her safety, and her naivety, Jamie had rejected her ideas, his solid stance on the matter irking Claire no end.

Fed up of being babied, she’d snuck out. Carrying her plimsolls in one hand, she’d crept out of the big house and along the lane, catching the last bus from Beauly to Inverness. Balling her hands into fists, Claire pulled her feet up onto the passenger seat and wrapped her arms around her scuffed knees.

She --had-- been naive. And foolhardy. Stupid to think she could blend in when she still knew so little of the people who inhabited this particular time period.

“Is he mad?” She whispered, her curls falling forward to cover her tear-stained cheeks.

Exhaling loudly, Raymond patted Claire gently on the shoulder. His knee jingled the keys where they sat, idle in the ignition and the sound broke some of the tension that had built in the small space.

“I think it’s time for me to be honest with you, Claire,” Raymond said, ignoring her original question, his pupils dilated in the low light.

Wiping her eyes, Claire nodded shakily. Making herself comfortable, she pulled the thin cardigan across her chest feeling more exposed than ever after her run in earlier.

Twirling the bronze ring around his pinkie finger, Raymond looked out behind Claire, into the abyss that surrounded them, steeling himself for his confession.

“I brought you here, Claire,” He began, waiting as Claire processed his words.

“H-here…?” She questioned, the skin puckering between her brows as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her.

“Yes, Claire.” Nodding, he lifted his finger, moving away a stray piece of Claire’s hair as she tilted her head to the side. “It was always your destiny. Why do you think I employed you, kept you close by and tried my very best to keep you out of danger?”

His French accent softened the ‘r’, coming through more strongly in his heightened emotional state. He’d made an investment in Claire. Seeing her suffering in her own time, he’d watched as her fate changed from day to day until he’d decided the only thing to do was to intervene himself.

“Is that why you told me to stay?” Gulping, her heart pounded out an erratic rhythm in response, “all those times you hinted that this was my rightful place, that Jamie and Jenny were supposed to look out for me. That was because y-you...knew?”

“Yes,” he replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t sure how much I should tell you. When we first met,” he chuckled, recalling her arrival into his wee apothecary, “you were so...captivated by everything. So timid and yet courageous.”

“Can you --travel?” She interjected, feeling altogether exposed in the face of the vocal admittance of her journey through time.

Eying her carefully, Raymond raised a brow sardonically.

Understanding his apprehension, Claire nodded.

Seeing it as her permission to continue, Raymond turned back to look straight out of the front window. Lights flashed and disappeared as other late night travellers roamed in and out of Inverness. The hum of them passing soothed him like nothing else, the soft swish cars made as they passed each other at speed creating this odd illusion of peacefulness.

“You and I, Claire, are inextricably linked. Something far more powerful than us holds pieces of our souls together. I don’t know how I truly discovered it, but when your parents died -- that horrid disease taking them both and leaving you all alone in the world -- I suddenly became hyper aware of you.”

“D-did you live close?” Claire asked, unable to keep silent through Raymond’s story.

“No, I did not. I was in Paris at the time. I had a shop there too, in your own time.” Taking hold of the steering wheel, Raymond glanced back to Claire, watching as she kept her focus solely on the dashboard now. “I foresaw something, --someone-- *you*”

Inhaling, Claire began to wind the window, breathing in another fresh gulp of air as if feeling suffocated.

“You saw Captain Randall?”

“Yes.” He confessed, feeling wretched that he hadn’t made a single attempt to rescue her from that particular cruelty. “I saw him...and you. I felt the blackness within him and the impenetrable light in you.”

“He offered to save me from it, you know.” She spoke, her voice empty of all emotion.

Raymond watched as the glow faded from Claire’s eyes, numbness seeping over her face as if she were back there, her hands bound uncomfortably as Randall laid out his dark plans for her.

“Then you were wise enough not to accept.”

Scoffing, Claire shifted her back against the seat, old wounds itching with the memory the punish lash as it bit into her fragile flesh. “It wouldn’t have mattered what I’d done. He would have still dragged me out into that square, just for the sick pleasure of it.” She spat, vitriol coating her tongue as she spoke.

The sinister image of the vile men who’d grabbed at her earlier rose behind her irises as she remembered her time incarcerated in Fort William. Bile erupted from her stomach, causing her to inhale sharply as the feel of their wretched hands against her legs caused her thighs to tighten. What had started out as innocent flirting, a dance here and there and some idle banter had turned nasty quickly. A tall brunette male, whose name Claire couldn’t quite recall now in the post-evening haze had pushed her into a dark corner, his dirty great paws tearing at her borrowed dress as she’d tried to push him away. If it hadn’t been for Raymond’s swift intervention…

Claire stilled, pushing away the combined image of the man in the bar and Randall as she tried to calm her pounding heart and refocus her energy on the present.

Keeping his mouth shut on the matter of Captain Jack Randall *and* tonight's new assailant, Raymond continued with his own diatribe. “I orchestrated a plot to save you the most dire fate, Claire. I hadn’t counted on Captain Randall being as devious as he was, but once I knew what was to befall you I had to step in. Had you not been tempted to steal that bread, you would’ve ended up here on your own merit of course, I just aided the process once fate had been changed.”

“So, you saw…”

“Yes, but too late to save you from the flogging.” He said with some regret. “I could, however, ensure your easy escape from Fort William.”

“Easy,” Claire whispered, nervously tapping her foot on the mud-mat at her feet.

“You know how I mean it, my dear. I only knew that you had the strength to bear it. Some things I can see, others I can only feel. It’s hard to explain, but I will try if you wish to hear it?”

Shaking her head, Claire wiggled her bottom in the seat, the numb sensation fading from her extremities as the inky blackness over the loch began to slowly fade. Dawn was approaching.

“No, it’s alright. I --believe you.”

Slumping his shoulders, Raymond watched the soft dappled light sway over the water and started the engine up once more.

“What I truly wanted to impress upon you, Claire,” he finished making his point entirely clear as he pulled back onto the road, eager to get her back to Jamie and Jenny now the main part of his tale was done, “is that although it may seem safer here, there are still dangers lurking. I made damn sure you got where you needed to be, and it doesn’t matter what it cost me to ascertain it, I would pay that price time and time again. But,” he paused, glancing at Claire out of the corner of his eye to make sure she was listening, “since you seem keen on attracting all sorts of strife, I think you need to be reminded of the perils you experienced and how they might manifest in this era.”

Her heart plummeted in her chest at the realisation. Actions had consequences, she had been incredibly aware of that before. Since finding herself here, those worries had all but dissipated on the cool Scottish winds. Wanderlust had replaced her well trained sense of jeopardy, slowly extinguishing it completely.

She’d been wooed by visions of modern living whilst not truly accepting the underlying threats that still loomed over them all.

“Would I…” she sighed, part of her not wanting to know the answer, “would I have died in those cells, in Fort William?”

“Yes,” Raymond replied, the whir of the engine rolling through him, masking the shudder that slipped like ice down his spine at the vision of her cold on the slabs of that awful place.

Silence surrounded them as they rode the rest of the way in the dim light of early morning.

Claire bounced nervously as the porch light of Lallybroch came into view, her palms sweating at the idea of having to face Jamie. Emotionally spent, she had little energy left to deal with his anger but she knew that it was what she deserved.

They’d been up all night too, no doubt. Only weeks before Jenny and Ian’s wedding, Claire was certain this was a stress none of them needed.

The acrid taste of beer lingered at the back of her throat as the car came to a standstill, its stale odour coating the roof of her mouth as she practiced her apology, mumbling incoherent words as she tried not to break down before she’d even come face to face with the Frasers.

“T-thank you, Raymond,” she whispered, reaching out to tap his hand twice before clicking open the door and putting one shaky foot onto the cement path, “for absolutely everything you’ve ever done for me.”

Not waiting for his reply, Claire pulled herself from the vehicle and made her way around the bonnet towards the front door.

Hearing the click rather than being brave enough to look up and see who’d come out to welcome her, Claire slunk forwards until his feet came into view. Standing stock still now, she kept her eyes stubbornly downcast.

Pursing his lips in suppressed anger, Jamie’s flushed cheeks stung in the breeze as he let out a huge breath and wrapped his arms around Claire, bringing her flush against his chest. Rubbing his large palms in circles over her back -being careful not to knock her still sore scabs - he buried his nose into her tamed curls and closed his eyes.

“I’m so --sorry-- Jamie.” She hiccupped, her ribs throbbing as she tried to hold back her sobs.

“I thought I’d lost ye tonight, Claire,” he whispered, hopelessness dripping from each word as he tried to still his trembling hands. “When I went to see you and you werena there…” inhaling jaggedly, Jamie tried to remain calm. Shouting at her wouldn’t do any of them any good. The attempts to subdue his temper caused his Scots burr to thicken, his chest rumbled with the pressure of it sending shockwaves through Claire as she huddled closer.

“I won’t...next time, I’ll listen, I promise,” she cried openly now, her shoulders hunched as she shifted her feet and clenched Jamie’s shirt tight.

“Ye ken, Claire,” Jamie replied, turning them both towards the house and warmth, “that I’m only trying to keep you safe. I want you to have fun, aye? But I also only want what is best for you.” Pausing as he closed the door behind them, he slid his fingers under her damp chin, bringing her head up so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

Biting her bottom lip, Claire blinked away fresh tears and hiccuped. Her nose was red from the crying, her eyes wide and sore as she finally looked at Jamie. Thick lines creased his brow, accenting the bright red that stained his eyelids. Bags sat heavily under his eyes. He looked shattered.

The tickling sensation of fresh sobs bit at her nose as she saw what her evening's misadventures had done to the one person in this world who cared for her and her well being above all else.

“You’re verra precious to me, Claire,” he sighed, leaning his forehead against hers before gathering her up once more. “When I found you, broken and bleeding on that wee hill, I didna ken why, but I felt it then. I feel it now more than ever.”

Gasping between her weeping, Claire nodded as she burrowed her nose against Jamie’s neck, the bright glow of the table lamp encasing them in a yellow hue. “S-same,” she forced out, fatigue pulling her under as Jamie carried her up to bed, “...and I’m s-so sorry, Jamie. So very sorry.”

Placing her gently on the bed, Jamie tried to disentangle himself, his arms nearly slipping free as he reached to turn off the light in the attic.

“Stay,” Claire whispered. Her voice, a wisp in the darkness, held only innocence as she begged quietly for Jamie to lie beside her. “Please, Jamie. Just for tonight...stay?”