Black Sheep Pt 03

CHAPTER 3.1: HENRY

Fuck!

She still had some kind of hold on me. I had planned on driving her to the doctor and...What the hell did I want with her, anyway?

Nothing I planned went the way I wanted. Like a freaking teenager, I was back to whispering stupid shit in her ear. And dammit I loved it. She still used that apple-flavoured shampoo of hers; so being that close to her, inhaling that intoxicating scent messed with my mind big time. She was so close, only a touch away and I had to remind myself that she wasn't mine anymore.

The thing is I didn't even want her back. I didn't want to hurt my brother. But at the same time, I was reciting that stupid shit into her ear like a fucking fool. And she had that look in her eyes that always drove me crazy. She also did that thing where she bit the corner of her mouth. Her voice too: she whispered the way she used to back when we were still together. I don't think she even knew when she was doing to me. I had to get out of there as soon as I could.

Fuck! What was I still doing there, anyway? Why didn't I just get on a plane and head back to Nairobi? That's what I needed to do—I needed to say goodbye to my mother and head back to my life. Being around Ishtar wasn't going to help anyone. I couldn't think when I was around her. As soon as she entered the room she became the only thing that mattered to me. That was the kind of shit that would end my relationship with my brother.

Things were such a mess. I was slowly realising that. Ishtar was definitely right, I needed to leave as soon as I could. And that was exactly what I was going to do. Soon as I figured out what was going on between my parents I was out of that place.

CHAPTER 3.2: ISHTAR

My passing out at the party had done a great job at endearing me to Roselyn and Charles, more so Roselyn. Over the next few days she constantly fussed over me. She always asked if I had eaten, if I drank enough water, and if I was getting enough sleep.

Charles even cracked a few jokes whenever we all had dinner together. Linc was always missing at those, though, to his mother's dismay. At breakfast he promised her he wouldn't miss the next one, but then he did and at dinner Roselyn looked a little broken.

It was as if he was suddenly actively avoiding his family. So one day at the breakfast table Roselyn finally cornered him with the charity fundraiser she was organising for several women's shelters in the city. "You can't very well say no to that," she told him.

Sure enough, Linc kissed his mother on the cheek and promised he would be there. "This isn't another empty promise, is it?" she asked him.

"Not this time. Plus, I want to steal a few ideas from you on how to raise funds."

Roselyn practically beamed at that. "Oh good. Thank you so very much, my love." Then she looked at me to say, "Ishtar, I was hoping Avery could help me but she's managed to make one excuse after another, until she outright asked her boss to give her more work so that she wouldn't have to be involved—"

Avery interjected with a protest: "That is not what happened at all—"

Roselyn just as quickly cut her off and continued, "As I was saying, my daughter has managed to wiggle her way out of it but you know, if you wouldn't mind, Ishtar, could you help me? It will also be good for you to be introduced to the club. These people will be your friends once you and Christopher are married."

I was used to making signs and picketing the hell out of anything. My parents taught me well in that regard. When it came time for fundraisers, I knew which community leaders to get in touch with so we could organise some kind of yard sale where people donated things they didn't need anymore, anything from old bikes to clothes.

Sometimes we did it with bake sales and people donated dishes with heirloom recipes from their families. Those ones were always my favourite. I loved making food with my mom for fundraisers. When I was still a kid she always let me wear my Halloween costume when the day of the sale arrived. My dad helped me with making the costume most of the time. That somehow became a thing in our outcast little neighbourhood.

None of those things sounded even remotely appropriate when considering the scale of what Roselyn was doing. It was going to be one of those fancy ball events where people bought a plate a food for thousands of dollars. Then they barely even touched the food as they moved on to the even more expensive wine.

I knew I was out of my depth, yet at the same time, I couldn't exactly say no. I wanted to bond with Roselyn really badly. So what if Linc was getting involved too? He seemed to be making a conscious decision to avoid me so there was still a chance we would barely even be in the same room at the same time. I said: "Of course, I'll help where I can."

Avery mock-cried: "Are you replacing me with Ishtar, mom?"

"She hasn't made excuses to avoid spending time with me yet. So yes, at this very moment she has replaced you as my favourite daughter."

Chrissy mumbled just barely above his breath: "Just wait until she gets used to you. Then she'll have you doing everything she wants but nothing you want."

"Shut up," I mumbled in response, softly nudging him in the ribs with my elbow. It was not as subtle as I would have liked because everyone at the table caught on and laughed.

"Careful now, honey," he retorted, "we don't want to show your claws just now."

"I hate you right now," I said, turning to him with a wide smile on my face.

"No you don't," he said, smiling back.

"Yes, I do."

"No you don't."

"Ugh," complained Avery, "some of us are trying to eat. So please, whatever is happening there," she waved her hand at us, "can it please stop."

"You're just jealous," said Chirssy.

"More disgusted than anything, I assure you."

Although my full attention was on the banter between me, Chrissy and Avery, I couldn't help but steal a peak or two at Linc, who was sitting to my far right. He was clearly only pretending that he wasn't interested in our conversation. But I could see that he was. He watched us intently, me in particular, so I had to work extra hard to pretend that I couldn't see him. That didn't help; it was like one of those moments when you can feel someone's is looking at you.

Good thing he didn't persist with his interest in me once the organising started. It turned out that Roselyn was just being nice when she extended the invitation to me. She didn't actually need me for anything. The only thing of substance I did was double-check that the invites going out matched the guest list that was going to be used at the entrance; then when that was done I checked which of those people RSVPd (which was almost everyone). That was it.

I mean, there was a lot involved, but considering that Roselyn had already created a spreadsheet and confirmed most of the invites with her guest before we even sent them out, there wasn't much to do. That's when I decided I liked her. She was obviously doing her best to welcome me into the family. my mother had worried a lot about that too—she just couldn't see how a family like Chrissy's was going to just let me be one of them, even more so because we were moving to LA and she always worried I was going to get rejected because of the way she and dad raised me.

When the night of the fundraiser arrived I had gone an entire week without really interacting with Linc. I felt like Chrissy and I were finally getting back into the bliss we had enjoyed before Linc came back. Obviously we had to sneak around when we wanted to have sex because we had been assigned different rooms upon arrival.

That didn't matter, however, since we were very creative with finding opportunity. I think I even came a few times without Linc's image popping into my head. Now that I knew who he was, it was easier for me to block him out. It irked me greatly that he was still able to somehow work his way into the back of my mind, but at least it was getting better with each passing day.

Chrissy warned me that the fundraiser was going to be packed with a whole bunch of snobbish people. His mother didn't even like most of them, but she had to put up with them. I understood how she felt because everyone there was wearing some big name designer dress that probably cost as much as a full year of my tuition, perhaps more.

It was one of those moments when I was reminded of the differences between Chrissy and I. It never bothered me before because my parents were poor by choice. It sort of came with being a stubborn hippie. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it.

But when you're standing in a room full of people who all breathe and stink of money, you start to feel ashamed of the cheap dress you bargained from some flea market vendor. And the fake diamond earrings you borrowed from your mother stand out, and pretty soon you feel small. I hated that feeling. I hated myself for feeling that way. My parents would have been ashamed of me. Heck, I was ashamed of me.

What could I do, though? Plus, I wanted Chrissy's family to know that I wasn't after his money. I planned to remain myself even after we got married. I figured I had to start getting used to receiving the kind of judgemental looks I was getting that night.

What made it even worse was that Chrissy had to spend the first half of it with Mr Rush and his people. He wanted me to stay with that circle but he saw how bored I got. He kissed me on the cheek and freed me from having to listen to another account of Mr Rush's adventures on the golf course. I have to admit that there was brief moment in which I felt a bit like a trophy wife. I mean, I know that's not what Chrissy was trying to do, and I didn't want to stay there, but I didn't feel relieved when I finally walked away from them.

There was a group of women I later learnt was mostly composed of the wives and girlfriends of the powerful men littered around the room. Each of them perfectly merged into the Arabian Nights theme of the night.

Most were wearing either a golden or shimmering white dress, matched with immaculate make-up that subtly echoed (perhaps somewhat inaccurately) ancient Egyptian queens, and the kind of personalised and classy jewellery it would take years for someone like me to afford.

One of the women (I think her name was Katherine) asked what I studied in college. When I said archaeology and social anthropology, she looked at me as if to say: 'You're never going to use that degree here.'

I know the poor woman probably wasn't thinking that; it's just that I was slowly starting to feel like a movie cliché. You know, those women who are always portrayed super-negatively because while their husbands work in big-shot companies, the women stay at home to attend yoga classes and organise charity events. So I abandoned that group as soon and as discreetly as I could. I wasn't judging them, that just wasn't something I wanted to do, at least not in my thirties.

Soon after that I spotted Linc entering the room. Like most of the men, he was wearing a black tuxedo. It was kind of annoying that the women were the only ones who seemed to have put an effort into dressing for the theme, but Linc looked so good in that tux, that I couldn't really be annoyed with him.

He looked a bit like Pierce Brosnan back when he was still James Bond, with the exception that Linc never really made time to shave. So of course, my cheesy little imagination immediately thought: 'Ah, I got it! He looks like a Jesus James Bond.'

He seemed to be looking for someone. As soon as his eyes connected with mine, we just looked at each other. I wanted to look away so badly, to find somewhere else to be, but I just couldn't. Thank goodness one of Uncle Julian's friends chose that moment to ask me for a dance.

He was smartly dressed man (which, in that context, just meant he looked like every other man in the room) who looked to be in his early forties. His name turned out to be Malcolm. "You look like a deer in the headlights," he said, starting our dance.

"Am I that out of place?"

"Yes and no. You're a beautiful woman in a room filled with beautiful women so no, you're not out of place. But I can tell this isn't your kind of scene. You've spent most of the night either standing next to a member of your fiancé's family, or just awkwardly trying to find a crowd that you fit into, so yes, in that regard you're absolutely out of place."

"You've been watching me all evening, have you?"

"Oh, don't worry about me throwing myself at you. I'm a man out of place, myself. I was just looking for more people of my kind. I thought I should rescue you."

I laughed and soon enough he laughed too. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Ishtar."

"Like the pagan goddess?"

"Wow. You're the first person I haven't had to explain my name to."

"That makes me feel really special."

Malcolm and I got into an easy conversation about nothing and everything. I think at one point we even talked about coconut milk and whether it could be classified under dairy. Pretty soon I started enjoying myself. He wasn't a particularly good dancer; in fact, he was pretty horrible. We kept bumping into other couples. 'Sorry,' was our word of the night. Then we erupted into fits of giggles, which caused us to bump into more people.

The only thing that threatened my mood was Linc all the way on the other side of the room. Whenever he came into my view I found his eyes boring into us like he was angry or something. Even Malcom noticed. "That guy doesn't like me," he said, nudging his head toward Linc.

"Who cares what he thinks?"

"Do you know him?"

"He's my future brother-in-law."

"Oh, he's the estranged one, isn't he? This just got very interesting."

I didn't want clarification on what Malcolm meant by that. I felt like I was getting a small pit in my stomach. So he and I settled into an uncomfortable silence after that. Thank goodness the song ended and Uncle Julian asked for a dance.

He just wanted to ask how I had been doing since the check-up. "Don't ever hesitate to come to me if you feel anything is wrong, okay?"

"Yes, Uncle Julian."

Before the song even ended we found Linc standing right beside us. "Hello, Uncle Julian. Would you mind if I got better acquainted with my soon-to-be sister-in-law?"

"Oh, hello there, Henry. I don't mind at all," said Uncle Julian, stepping aside.

"Shall we?" asked Linc, offering his hands to me.

I accepted his offer mostly because I didn't want to cause a scene. For the first few steps we just went around the dance floor without saying anything to each other. He just looked at me and for lack of things to do, I simply stared right back at him.

I was the one who finally broke the silence when I told him: "You need to stop looking at me like that. You do it every time you see me, you know. Pretty soon other people are going to notice it too."

"Looking at you like what?"

"Like you're picturing me naked."

"How does a person look at another like they're imaging the other person naked?"

"The way you're looking at me right now—it's like...like...ugh, you know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't, Ishtar. But let's consider this: if I'm looking at you the same way every man in this room is looking at you, I don't understand why I'm the only one getting told off for it. Look at that poor guy over there," he pointed to an older man standing next to Uncle Julian, "that guy practically has his tongue out—panting. Why isn't he getting an earful from you? Also, before you interrupt me, you look at me like you're picturing me naked, yet you don't see me giving you an earful about it. Why do you think that is?"

"You're making up bullshit to deflect from the issue."

"The issue being that I'm looking at you like I'm imagining you naked?"

"Yes."

He leaned into my ear and dropped his voice even lower. "But unlike that poor sucker, I don't have to imagine it; I already know what a goddess you are." He returned to the normal position and smiled wryly. "You regret starting that subject, don't you?"

"I regret dancing with you."

"Ouch. Am I that bad?"

"You're horrible company. And I thought you hated dancing."

"I do hate it. But I wanted an excuse to touch you, to hold you again. I couldn't stand another second of watching you in someone else's arms."

He had been somewhat playful earlier. But when he said that, he looked very serious. He just stared into my eyes like I was the only thing existing in the room. I swear he froze me in space. For a moment it felt like he was saying more than what he was actually saying, and it felt like seven years ago. I realised I was staring at him and that I was breathing very heavily. He noticed too because he lightened the mood with a blinding smile.

"Anyway," he said, "you're breath-taking tonight. Then again, you're always breath-taking. Tonight it's just different, I guess."

"Ugh, we both know I look cheap as hell in this cheap, stupid dress."

"Are you doing that thing where people pretend to self-deprecate so that they can get compliments? I've heard that some girls do that. They'll go on about how ugly they are so that people around them can be all like: 'Oh no, Ishtar, you're so absolutely gorgeous. Everything about you is absolutely perfect and it's very difficult to even look away from you.'"

"Ha ha, very funny."

"I'm serious. You really are breath-taking."

"Could we please change the subject?"

"I'm okay with that. What would you like to discuss?"

"About a million things; but most importantly, why you lied to me about yourself."

"I didn't lie to you—"

"Oh, come on, Linc! You're deflecting again. Was I ever even a person to you? Or was I just an exotic curiosity to use and then discard when you were done?"

"You're seriously asking this right now?"

"When should I do it, oh great one?"

"Maybe when we aren't surrounded by a gazillion people."

"Okay. I'll give you that one. But I still want to change the subject."

"Your wish is my command."

I suddenly didn't know what to ask him. Everything I wanted to know would take us down memory lane, which was very likely to end with Linc and I having a screaming match in front of everyone. I didn't want that. Instead I went for something neutral. "Chrissy says you've been in East Africa."

"Yeah, Kenya. I've been working with refugees. Ours is the third largest refugee camp in the world. You wouldn't believe how many people have been displaced from their homes. It's really heart-breaking. It's also a lot of work, long hours and all of that. And the heat is a monster for most of the time. But I've fallen in love with the place. It feels like a second home. I even learnt the national anthem."

For some strange reason I didn't like that his life was so fulfilled without me. But what did I expect; it wasn't like we were in love? Still, it stung that after he moved on he went on to something so monumentally better. It also didn't feel good that after all that time I spent hating him and imagining he was the absolute worst scum of the earth, he was working with the United Nations. Gosh, I really hated myself right then. There I was, taking something so beautiful in his life and making it all about me.

"You sound like you're ready to live there forever," I said.

"For the foreseeable future, yeah. But don't tell my mother. It will break her heart. She thinks she's finally getting me back."

"I thought the reason you came back now was because you were transitioning back."

"No. I needed to renew a few things. I'm heading back as soon as it's all done."

"Oh." I hated that I sounded sad in that moment, like I actually wanted him to stay in the States. He noticed it too because he stepped back for a little while to stare at me. I averted my eyes from his. "What exactly do you do there?"