At Midnight

Chapter Two

Leila Pelare

As the man with the sandy eyes pushed himself up from the picnic table, I explored him. His fuss made some eyes turn- mine including. Watching as he tossed the book down into the trash and left, my body pulled forward, wanting to follow his lead.

My left leg stammered over the right before the song ended, making me lose my place in thought. Ceasing in the middle of my dance to catch his back and turn away, my eyes followed him as he left. My body came to a standstill, unable to register what was happening around me, pulling me from the deep-seated thoughts. The crowd clapped and drew my attention away from the man and back to the surrounding picnic tables.

I bowed to the town’s applause. Soaking up all the crowds’ affection and swallowing it as it fed my ego. But my eyes- just this once, couldn’t relish how the people around me smiled and clapped.

Why lie? I liked it when they gave me the attention- one of the many reasons I always danced. However, today was a different case. When the dance was over, my father ran over to me, clad his arms tight around my shoulder, and squeezed. His silk-pressed shirt warmed my bare shoulders.

Since I moved here, I’ve learned two things: one, their fried catfish looks like it fell between the crevices of two counters and pulled back out with puff balls, dried crusted forgotten crumbs, and dirt. And two, these town folks consider cloudy days with a mild breeze good weather. When today was one of the better days, and I wished would stay.

“Good job,” he said in his broken accent. Of all my tribe people, father looked the least like us. He wore suits and never wore the tribal markings on his skin. He looked mundane and could fade into the crowd compared to the rest of our people, and I wished he’d embrace his culture as much as I did.

“Thank you, papa.”

Skimming over his shoulder, I observed the picnic table in front of me. My thoughts ran wild, trying to figure out who that man sitting there was. Watching me back. His eyes didn’t look like he wanted me, more like he was confused by me. Which made him far more interesting to know what he was thinking.

What was the fuss for and why did he have my attention? I messed up the beginning dance because of him and the last bit. I could already imagine the nitpicks my friends and family would say about the little misstep in the dance- as if I don’t hear enough about every little thing I do. Whether it’s right or wrong.

However, this man was handsome no doubt, but so was every boy I encountered. After my father let me go, he headed over to some of the town folks to bow and thank them for their applause.

I wandered over to the trash bin, leaning down, pulling the book out, and wiping all the guck from the food it had touched.

A pale woman came over and smiled. “Oh, can I please have that?”

“Why, it belongs to the trash trolls now.” I smirked. Seeing if I could make her laugh.

“My son threw it away, but I’m sure he’ll want it later.”

“It’s damaged. Old and irreplaceable. Not much use for it now.”

“I know,” the woman gestured for the book back, but I pressed it closer to my heart. My eyes trained on the damaged book. Looking down at it, I could see what all the fuss was about it. This one was very old. My grandfather before passing used to dig up old treasure and history as he was an archaeologist- still staying true to our people and culture unlike my father who became a Family Physician.

My grandfather would take me sometimes with him to the dunes to find things. But the only thing I found more interesting than mummified corpses where the books people left behind. This one was worth fuming over. Especially since I’ve read it.

“No worries, I can fix it.”

“You can?” The woman leaned in, engaging deeper into our conversation.

“I have a thing for broken books, I should say. He looked pretty upset too. I can appreciate a man that likes literature especially as old as this.” I flipped through the sticky pages. “He spilled something all over it, you can’t fix the pages. There’s gunk all over it and the title is barely legible. But I can.”

“Would you mind fixing it? I’ll happily pay.”

A smirk perched upon my lips. “No need. Gimme some time and I can.”

“Thank you,” her voice was a soft wind that blew through a willow tree. “My name is Wilma. It would mean a lot if you could fix it. Maverick is a very peculiar one, but he can be a sweetheart once you get to know him. He values all his books. He’s quite the collector I should say.”

So his name is Maverick?

Without grabbing her hand, as this book now had a special place in my heart, I pressed it harder against my chest and bowed. A book like this always had an old smell that would ride my senses, but now this one smelled like fish and ketchup.

I nodded at Wilma. “I’m Leila.”

“I know, graceful dancing. You look beautiful.”

Beautiful? My mind stuttered. I’ve heard that word all my life, but when women said it to me it was out of pure envy and rage. Looking at Wilma, a woman with a deep seed of beauty that even Hathor would kneel to her, the word beautiful had a different meaning I was unfamiliar with. And the way her tone rode on the words, it was soft and natural with a hint of a Victorian slang. Who uses the word peculiar nowadays?

Before leaving, we exchanged information. “I’ll pick it up in a few weeks.”

Such a strange woman, or maybe I’m strange for thinking she’s strange. I threaded off to my picnic table to meet my family, keeping the yucky stained book close to my heart.

Kicking my leg over the bench and taking a seat, my father leaned down to stare at my hands. “So that’s why you messed up?” His words rolled off his tongue as thick as oil.

My fingers traced over the white cover. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You never can.” He smiled back. My father’s skin, so tan, no matter the weather condition, glowed warm like fresh sourdough bread. His brows stitched together. “Will this book also hold your attention until the games are over, or will you watch it with your mother and I?”

I flinched at his words because usually he was right about all-things, but I wasn’t sure if rebuilding Maverick's book would keep me from participating in the games this year. For a book like this, it was going to take days or even weeks to fix. Especially if the pages were ruined.

I shook my head. “Actually no, this year I’m playing.” This year I will be claimed. I’ve always ignored the Mating Game, but this year I need to find myself and someone who’ll love me- flaws and all.

Dad’s brows shot up in surprise. Why was he upset by this news?

In the tribal games, the men and women would play for one’s heart. I wanted a man who would fight for my attention and stop at nothing to win me, as I’d hoped if I met my soulmate I’d do the same for him.

My father and mother played these games. And even my grandparents did. And looking at them, my eyes roamed across the table, I envied such love between them. And because of this big envy, the day before yesterday, I had met the Elders to apply for the games.

“And how did the application go?” Unhappy lines on dad’s face etched deeply.

“Exhausting. I didn’t know so many were playing this year.”

I thought dad would be happy for me, but suddenly, there was an aura of gray around him. It was a fog that wouldn’t rise or fade. It now made the butterflies in my stomach turn to stone and weigh me down in my seat.

Just when I thought the application was nail-biting, glaring at my father was probably equally nerve racking.

During the application process, the Elders asked detailed questions about what I find suitable in a man and what qualities I- myself had. The Elders were in charge of picking individual games for each player pretraining to what the woman was looking for in a soulmate.

However, we’re not supposed to know this, but dad told me they aren’t looking to match me with the one I wanted. But they would match us to the one we need, so all their questions were mumbo-jumbo. They were really looking to study us, pick our brains, and select games based on what they see is best suited to challenge our future soulmate. It was a point based game and whoever had the highest score would be mated and soul-bonded by our Goddess under the Midnight Moon.

“You don’t seem too happy for me.”

“No I am.” His lips perked into a smile, but his eyes were still big as if he was trying to pull off puppy eyes mixed with a force of happiness.

“Mom?” My eyes see-sawed between both my parents. “He's brooding, isn’t he?”

“He’s something else for sure.” My mother’s old jewelry silvery jingly caught my eye. Usually jewelry was supposed to enhance one’s beauty, but for my mother it was the opposite. If she took out that nose ring and earrings, they’d look like someone fished them out of the sea covered in rust.

I had a few men who I had my eye on, but so did every other woman in my tribe. I did once over my shoulder, back at the table the golden eye man sat and I wondered what was he thinking about?

Focus Leila! I better work on this book as fast as I could so I’d have plenty of time for the games. There was so much to prepare for before it started: the dance, bone calligraphy, physical endurance, the flower bestowing, and the Midnight Mating where the man finally picked his woman from the crowd and claimed her under the moonlight for the Love Goddess to see.

The Midnight Mating was also one of the reasons I skipped the games every year because under the mating moon it marked who your mate would be forever. These games weren’t mandatory, but if you started it, you can’t leave it. In the end, you’ll be mated to someone.

My stomach cartwheeled at the thought. There was one man I knew for sure that was waiting to steal me. Every year I turned down the game so he wouldn’t dare lay his hand on me, but now as I reached a certain age I was ready for whatever lurked in the shadows- or who.

However one of the men I did have my eyes set on was Dakota. I knew if he had chosen me, the lurking creeper wouldn’t dare put up a fight against Dakota. He was at the end of the table, surrounded by the pretty girls who were leaning so far forward that his eyes couldn’t help but look occasionally down.

I’m supposed to be that woman and I sucking so bad at keeping him trained on me. Hell I’m twenty-six and I can’t keep a man long enough. Who could fight the thought of any woman kneeling to your every whim especially if the only thing on your mind is s*x.

My mother leaned forward and whispered to me, “staring at man isn’t going to keep him there.”

“I know, but what do I do? I got the looks, I have the boobs, but everything I say doesn’t keep them around long enough.”

“They finally realize you’re bossy and start running for the hills, classic reason for anyone.” Dad chuckled under his breath. As if he didn’t think I could hear him.

“I’m not bossy! I know what I want, is that so bad?”

“I think you’re looking at the games all wrong. You’re not supposed to find a one night stand. You’re supposed to find your mate.” Mom interrupted. I think she could sense how much this was eating at me. And that if we kept this conversation up, dad and I would be butting heads again.

“And here I am having a s*x talk with my mom, what I need are friends to have this conversation with.” I looked over at my dad, “right?” I would want my friend Momo here to talk about this with, but lately we’ve been more distant.

Dad bobbed his head, but I could tell he didn’t even want to hear about it.

“How am I supposed to get Dakota’s attention when all the other girls are trying to get it too. My friends are even trying to woo him. He’s fair game for everyone.”

“Alright,” dad clapped his hands awkwardly and stood up. “I’m going to find something to eat.”

“Thanks,” I muttered in annoyance.

“Sit down!” Mother leaned over the table and dad stumbled back into his seat. “Can’t you give her some advice on how to attract a man such as Dakota?”

“I’d rather not.” Mom gave him a stern look. Dad’s brows stitched together and he rubbed his face trying to mentally prepare himself for this. “But let’s say I did, is Dakota the man you want to be with?”

“I would surely think so.” Looking back at Dakota, he was handsome. Never really had much of a conversation, but the way his muscles plex through his white shirt I would say I wanted him purely for the enjoyment of the Midnight Mating.

“Okay, let’s try this another way. Can you see yourself down the road in the next 40 or so years being with him?”

No. But with my legs wrapped around his neck, I could surely see it.

“Okay, I see your point. So what do you suppose I do?”

“Go into these games with your head and your heart. This is about finding your true match. Connect with people, other than Dakota. He may not be the right man for you.”

Shit.

“Men want what they can't have. If he truly wants you and he sees you don’t want him and if he’s truly interested in you he’ll follow. If he doesn't, you have other men in line who do want you. You know the saying, don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

The all-knowing father struck a nerve, but he was right. Maybe I was making myself a little too unavailable. I needed to strategize this next hunt for a suitor. Could I see myself with Dakota was the question and that was something I needed to figure out.

“And don’t be so mean,” he added lastly.

I nodded and mother kissed dad’s cheek, cheering him on as he’d given another great words of wisdom.

I kicked my leg over the bench and stood. “I think I’m going to walk this one out.”

“Good choice,” dad notioned. “I heard there’s a duck pond on the hiking trail. And if you sneak real well around that table, no one’s looking, you might even get to steal a few extra pieces of bread.”

“It’s like you never stop saying the right thing.” We mirrored a grin at each other and I walked over to one of the tables full of all you can eat finger foods and grabbed a couple pieces of bread.

__________________________________

The trail greeted me, speaking in tongues as the rustle of its leaves and the jibber-jitter of insects chattered in my ears. I could only assume it meant the forest was just as happy to see me as I was happy of it. Fairy green foliage draped down like curtains, and an avenue of umbrella leaves shielded the tinted sun.

Walking through the path, I felt like a runaway princess in a romantic movie. All I needed was just a man to follow behind me and kiss me under this magical forest. With a single breath, I took in the pine air wishing silently to myself I’ll one day find my soulmate.

Tucking Maverick’s book under my pit, I tore a piece off the thin slice of bread, crumbling it in my hand, and sprinkled it around in a circle. A row of ducks waddled out of the pond and made their way onto the dirt path.

“Leila!” A man shouted. I peered over my shoulder and looked at who came crawling back. I scuffed under my breath. How is it that my father always knows what to say?

“Hi Dakota,” a smile played on my lips, and I softly bowed to him as he did the same. Grabbing another piece of bread, I brayed it down into bite sizes for the ducks and chucked it far away so there could be an opening between Dakota and me. I trudged towards him, and a strong smell tugged at my senses. He always smelt so good. “I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you get up from the table and thought maybe I could join you.” I bit down on my bottom lip, looking downward so I could hide my cheeks from turning beetroot red, and nodded. His hand stretched out in gesture, and my cheeks quickly got hot. Hooking my arm around his, we took a step forward.

We both strode down the path silently, taking in the view of the woods. Trees stood still like statues in a museum; no leaf dared to fall from their branches. The forest was as magical as it’ll ever seem; felt like we were walking through a fairytale. As Dakota’s head faced forward I looked heavenward at him. His skin was dark as Sienna sand. I’d like for him to melt on my tongue if he gave me the chance to touch him, but with restraint, I decided to imagine how he’d taste.

Dakota had painted markings on his face, which I loved looking at. All our markings were different; they all represented something about ourselves our Oracal Mother picked. I wanted to trace my hand over his markings, but I knew better. It would be disrespectful if I dared smear his markings. I’m sure this was already enough touching between us, and if I took another few steps forward in our friendship, I would explode.

Dakota had two halves of an ox on both sides of his nose and his top lip was painted black. The ox on his nose meant he was strong and brave. He had three painted clawing marks on his forehead that meant he had reached manhood by killing a mountain lion on his first hunt.

Pressing my body against his arm, I nestled his bulky muscle between the space of my breast. Crap! Crossing my leg over the other, my ovaries roused like sparklers against his touch. s**t! I did it again. Without noticing, my fingers dug into his smooth skin. Focus Leila! You’re drowning in your juices over this man.

Trying to distract myself from this overwhelming pleasure building up, I turned my body away to breathe. Letting go his arm to break off another piece from the bread.

“Leila!” As I was about to start talking, I heard my name called and I peered over my shoulder to look for whomever it was. It was a girl, a little shorter than me with a pixie cut. And when I turned around, she was waving her arms at me and smiling for my attention. She was wearing a leather band around her forehead. With a beaded eye in the center.

I scoffed under my breath as I took in her full appearance. A stranger. The last time I tried to wear our traditional clothing inappropriately, everyone including my father was disappointed in me. The band was supposed to only be worn during wedding ceremonies and funerals as it marked the beginning and the end, and I chose to wear mine on my head at my friend’s birthday. Not only was I scolded that night for wearing it when it wasn’t supposed to be worn, but it was supposed to be worn around my hips.

But that was me trying to stop everyone from thinking I was always right. To show that a perfect person can make mistakes. I wanted people to stop following me, I hated that every time I had something of my own, someone else had to have it. But after that, they all started making it a fashion trend and now everyone wore it whenever and on their head. Which I hated.

It looked ridiculous on this girl, but it was meant for me. Not for them. And they took that little voice of mine, that bit of identity I had left, and threw it back at my face.

“Hey,” I said back to the stranger. I’m sure she and I have had a few conversations, but I didn’t care for any of them. And I didn’t care much for this one. I don’t remember this girl, but from the markings on her face, she was one of my people.

“You did wonderful today. You looked beautiful!” And there, I felt that hint of jealousy in her tone by the way she said it. But all girls are like that nowadays. They didn’t really mean it. They just wanted another reason to hate me.

Don’t roll your eyes, Leila! “Thank you. I would love to see you dance some time. We surely need more dancers for our performances.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course.” Don’t roll your eyes!

She squealed. And her eyes gazed at Dakota. “Happy Mating Games, Dakota.”

“As you.”

I wonder if he even knew this stranger’s name as this stranger knew ours as if we were celebrities. Dakota grinned at her before we turned back around and continued walking down the dirt trail. He smiled, what’s the probability he knows her and if he’s interested in her in the Mating Game?

As he looked over our shoulder to see if the stranger was walking behind us, his lips brushed against my ear lobe, and a shiver ran through me.

“Will you be playing this year?” He asked.

“I turned in my application yesterday morning.”

“Wow, what took you so long? I really thought you’d join years ago. Any man would want to claim you.” Is he referring to himself?

“No reason in particular.” There was only one reason: everyone expected me to join. And because they did, I wanted nothing more than to do the exact opposite just like wearing the band on my head. “So have you picked who you’re claiming in the games this year?” Trying to distract myself from his touch.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, “I haven’t decided yet. But I surely have my eye on a few women.” He winked at me.

My skin felt hot and beads of sweat produced through my skin. Curling my shoulders forward, in my small voice I pushed the words out, “I’ve talked myself out so many times, but to be honest, this year I’m dying to find someone I can connect with. You know?” Someone I can be myself with.

The ducks waddled back around us as an army and started pecking at my heels, so I tore another piece off and chucked it further, giving he and I more time to talk without any distractions.

A little ways from where we were walking, we stopped in our tracks. A deer trouted from the pond on our right and onto the dirt path, and boy did I want to touch it. I loved animals, and deers back home were less afraid of strangers who lived among them, but the ones in Washington were so afraid of humankind that they stopped in their tracks as if we were coming at them at full speed with a truck and beaming headlights.

With my hand outstretched, I stepped forward tiptoeing, but Dakota had clasped and caressed my fingers with his own. He shook his head and like boiling noodles, my legs started to crimp beneath me. His brawny hands were like a blanket- soft and comforting. Why couldn’t he just claim me now? I was his for the taking if he asked.

Then the deer whirled and ran back into the cover of the trees. An awe of disappointment escaped my lips. Dakota chuckled and then hooked my hand back around his arm. This time he patted my hand and we pushed onward.

“Did you hear about what happened with me and Nuni?”

“I try not to be nosey.” How could I not know what happened, everyone was positive they’d last forever and we were shocked that after the games were over they fell apart. Dakota was playing these games with Nuni and he got injured and had to drop out which was unusual, but he’d gotten such a bad concussion and broken rib everyone thought it was best he sit it out. This was the only time our tribe had bent the rules. While Nuni on the other hand found her mate. But I had played it off like I wasn’t happy they didn’t last long though my heart was break dancing.

“It’s okay to be.”

“So what happened?”

His hands rubbed against each other and maybe I shouldn’t have pried for answers though he did bring it up. “We thought the games meant if we picked each other, it would mean that we’re fated to each other. I think we both were to blind to see that the games didn't determine it. It takes more than just a simple game to be lovers.” Is he lying to me? I know I wasn’t there to watch his game, but everyone talked about it for weeks. He was incapable of playing, it’s not like he had a choice.

“How could you say something like that? Look at our parents and our friends, you’re telling me the games don't find your soulmate?”

“First off our parents and grandparents are old school, the games were tougher and love back then had a different meaning. We’re a newer generation. All I’m saying is I wish I let the games play themselves and looked for other women like how you're supposed to play. Instead I focused on one person alone. I’m sure I would have found someone else. You don’t always get the girl you want.”

I never thought about it like that, is that why Dakota wasn’t giving me all his attention like I’d hope? It made my veins thrum with jealousy when I saw him with other women. Was he that afraid to put all his trust and heart into just one woman all because of Nuni?

“Do you still love her?”

Dakota rubbed the back of his neck and bottom lip drew between his teeth. “I’ll always love her, but as a friend and nothing more.”

I guess that made me feel a little better, but the fact that Dakota couldn’t put all his heart into me also bothered me. Maybe my dad was right or knew something I didn’t know about how these games worked. However if Dakota was going into these games with not just me on his brain, but of every other woman then so should I.

If I didn’t get him out of my head before the games started, I was going to leave the game broken hearted.

A sudden movement caught my eye, a bird broke away from the canopy and it flocked its wings. In the distance as the bird brushed past, I saw the golden eyed man- Maverick. The one with the book. My hand retracted back to my side and the air in my lungs filled so much I could hardly take in another breath to breathe.