Niko’s Eye

Chapter 39.

"Truth Be Told."

Sergio.

He needed water. His mouth was the Saharan desert. As he stood outside of his daughter’s residence, he meditated and rehearsed everything that he was going to say to her.

I keep trying to dial the fun and playful me but he won’t pick up the phone. Why is that? Oh yeah, I’m scared; but it’s time to figure out what’s going on, for real this time, no comforting self delusions.

You were taken from me, I never wanted to lose contact with you. Your mother..

And then he realised something.

What if Aisha and this adoptive family have some sort of agreement together? And this will only put her on my tail? There might be a special instruction on my part. I mean, she wouldn’t just stop at taking the child away from me. She’d put extra effort into it. s**t, let me go and think about this in the car. What’s wrong with her?

You were a bad lover, perhaps because you are yet to learn what a lover is. What was going on inside of you at that time was difficult, from the way you behaved it must have been painful. Yet there are times we must protect the self, protect our own hearts and souls if the damage from a friend is too much. I wanted to walk with you through any and every storm, but it was akin to trying to hold a toddler who scratched and bit for years whilst alone. And though I tried, you broke me, literally, in pieces. So I’m taking this rebuilt version of myself, "Me 2.0," and I’m going to find my daughter. She’ll be somebody who loves me and treats me well. I would always stay with a lover in any storm, yet walking into the same storm that once left me for dead, not a chance in hell.

He was already walking towards the door when he rushed back to his car in a hurry.

"I hope nobody has seen me."

He looked around, eyes low.

Do they have my photo?

Maybe he was being a little too paranoid but you just never knew when it came to Aisha. She was the ’Red Dragon’ after all.

The ache in my chest tells me that I’m anxious. It comes as an electrical storm in my brain that, quite honestly, is painful. It’s different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow, perhaps as a sort of frozen panic with nowhere to go. So though I appear calm, my sad eyes are saying far more than "Help me," they are saying that my soul is in such unbearable pain and all for the fact that it’s difficult to find a way to reach my own daughter.

"Hi! Can I help you?"

His heart was beating out of his chest as he stopped dead in his tracks.

That doesn’t sound like a matured woman’s voice. It sounds like..

He slowly turned around, swallowing his fear and keeping his hands to his side.

This must be her. She doesn’t really resemble her mother. She looks more like my mother. Oh my God. Zainab?

Tears welled his eyes, his voice chords drowning in fear and anxiety.

Clearing his throat, he dared to speak.

"Hello, I’m here to speak to Zainab."

She had afro-curly hair with a kind of artisanal topography that invited the sensual touch. It made him want to reach out and dig his fingers into her hair.

There was a warmth her brown hair brought to her features, a simple frame for that smile and eyes that held more love than she would ever admit to. The hue altered as the strands curled and moved, as free as autumn leaves playing in the dayshine.

She is an angel. Oh my soul. Bless the Lord.

Her small-framed face scrunched up, "That’s me. Am I in trouble?", she asked with a nervous laugh.

He chuckled. "No, not at all. Actually, I’m your father."

Oh boy.

Alejandro.

Some of those functions in the deeper parts of the brain can be seen more as essential features to our evolution rather than ’primitive.’ There is something very functional in feeling a little more connected to the natural world and to each other, still keeping all of our higher functions and individuality, yet feeling that love for the world and each other. It feels soulful. These senses vital to our art, for developing our playful creative intelligence. These deep senses give us a deep sense of togetherness that is vital to our evaluation, a part of the recipe of being truly good. The good news is that we can access it regardless of religion or none. It comes from a sense of awe, a willingness to be part of an inclusive ’we’ as well as a unique ’I.’ It comes when we balance the ego, the sweet spot when we develop as an individual so that we can serve our community and world to the best of our ability. Just as we see the trunk of a tree as vital to the health of the tips of every branch, so too can we see the more ancient brain. How else could we have become a loving mammal in tribes, forming families and pair-bonding as couples? So, let us be okay with how each of us expresses this part of the self, through nature, faith and love for humanity. I think I understand her sense of expression.

Is that why she doesn’t know if she loves me? Because she thinks I killed her father? Okay, let’s settle this once and for all. This is getting a little annoying.

"Take a seat Ice."

"What? Ice? As in, ice, ice?" She questioned him.

"Your name is already a nickname as it is so I couldn’t come up with anything better babe." He said, putting his hands up in defence.

She took a seat, without any further argument.

"I own Pueblo Viejo. Aisha came to me with an architectural idea. I bought it. But I didn’t know that it was a conspiracy theory. She demolished a part of my mine, having placed a number of people she wanted dead, underground. I didn’t know that there were people in there. There wasn’t suppose to be anyone down there. But she ordered the demolishing, knowing that your father and a number of her enemies were down there. She never even finished the job, and then she disappeared. The new team that I had hired to clean up her mess had discovered the bodies and since that day, the case was closed because they had said it just looked like they were at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Now, with everything that’s been happening, I now understand that your father, including those people were actually killed. So that night, when we went in to save your grandmother from Aisha, that was when I realised who she was. I couldn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d leave me. That’s why I was so cold and unresponsive on that night. It was all just too much, and you being caught in the middle of all of that, I just couldn’t hurt you anymore with the truth."

The paradox of our age is that when we feel the fear we need to educate us about the dangers of a polluted and frightened world, we are pushed down into our primitive brains - the part of us that evolved to deal with immediate danger requiring violent and impulsive solutions. When the fear leaves us, we are able to access our higher brain, the part of us with logic, empathy, self control and steady determination. By this time, however, that feeling of urgent need has passed, biologically we are back in "good times" mode and we fail to act with appropriate urgency. This is the paradox we need to fix. We need to be afraid without being frightened, able to use the higher brain while remembering a sense or feeling of urgency so we make the right choices.

That was only a portion of his truth. He didn’t know whether to carry on or not.

But he needed to remain calm.

When stressed and afraid, the human brain is only made better at learning and remembering things we fear - it locks us in with our demons and gives them longer claws. It makes us want to hide in the dark and make no sound, ready to fight if we need to. In this state we invent new monsters, we look for more, desperate to survive... though in truth the stress may have been caused by poverty... the result is that we amp up the fear of whatever we’ve been conditioned or directed to fear. We loose the ability of the higher mind to hush those fears and restore inner peace; all other types of learning need a more relaxed and calm state. They need a little light to show that the "monsters" are only clothes in the closet, that perhaps a fancy dress costume made an interesting shadow, but everything is okay. Calmness is as the dawn when the real world is seen, and the actors pulling the levers of fear are revealed.

He breathed in and decided to wait.

"You said you were a murderer. So, who have you killed?"

Aha.

"Thought Process."

Isis.

Okay, so he didn’t kill my father, but who did he kill? I think that’s what makes me uncomfortable about this whole situation. This is what brings the emotional blockage. I finally figured it out. I’ve just been afraid to go all in because I’m afraid of Alejandro and what he’s capable of. But then the part of me that wants to give myself to him is a mess too. That side of me doesn’t even know what she’s doing half of the time. It’s just that, how could he change so suddenly? And what could be the reason? Is it all just a front?

She wanted to know what his deepest, darkest secrets were before anything else. But something kept pulling her towards him.

Isis, just go with the flow, let each day build a picture until you feel certain that when he is with you, that they are a better and happier version of themselves. And that’s smart, if you think about it. You can only ever get to know a person over time. It’s when you are comfortable together and real, when you talk in way best friends do, that things are right. So, girl, relax and everything will be okay.

But, as long as he doesn’t tell me the truth about himself, I can’t say I trust him. And you can’t love somebody that you don’t trust right? But, deep down...

"I trust you because I saw your soul, and upon that I am prepared to gamble all that I am. I guess it is a form of gambling with the self, but you are the only one around here who is even fit to take a punt on. So I either lose by standing still, or take a chance. I always was adventurous. So, how about it?" she said, half smiling.

Looking straight up at him, she could see that he was relieved, and absolutely smitten by her.

He always looked at her like she was the living heart emoji.

They took a break from their serious talk as they both sat in his garage, as he worked on his own cars and gave them a maintenance, on his own.

She watched him.

On the top was flawless in olive skin and eyes that shone brightly - making Isis want to get to know the person within. She watched him move, there was something of the warrior in him combined with a gentleness that made her heart reach out. He put the engines together like he’d been doing it all his life, every movement competent and flowing. She bit her lip, how could she want him but he afraid of him, all at the same time. Then in that instant he turned and caught her eye; before she could turn away with shyness a genuine grin spread across his face, turning it from handsome into divine. In that moment she felt her body flush warm. This was a person she wanted to know more than she’d ever felt before. This was a guy she could love forever.

What the hell is going on with me?

Had Alejandro touched me months ago, this fire would have been enough to burn brighter than any he’d ever known. With every passing day it grows stronger yet, and I wonder what will happen the day he lays his hand on my lower back and pulls me in tight. The thought alone consumes my mind, jolts my body with electricity. I want to taste him, feel the movement of his body, become one. It’s still not time though, so we wait, caring for one another as our hidden inferno grows. Perhaps that is what others see when we look at one another, like that fire connects between us, igniting our smiles and laughter, changing our posture, inviting the most intimate of body language.

Alejandro had always been there. Her memory was jogged back to their dates, and the times they spent together.

When I wanted to cry he took me to the movies. When I wanted to shut the whole world out he came over to make me fresh pasta the way his "mama" made it. When I wanted to drink alone he arrived with a shot glass and chips. Every time I pushed back he gave me no resistance, but every time I fell he picked me up, no "thank-you’s" required. I deserved something real, something that would last me until the end of time, not my ex, some flake who doesn’t know what shirt to wear in the morning ’cause his hangover’s so damn bad.

But.

"Alejandro, I came to you like a hurricane, everything that once held me in place ripped away. I was raw, hurting and you were patient, caring, no matter what. The love you showed was a new thing to me, though I’d given it to others I’d never felt it poured over me like a salve. I’d been aware of my love for you since we were skinny dipping in oceans and running away from the ’Red Dragon’ , but in those precious moments, in those times you picked me up and set me back in my feet, it magnified. Yet the love burns too hot, consumes me, and so I must quiet the flames, bring them to a warmth that can be sustained. The fuel of new romance should only be affection, caring, love - never the fear of being with someone. So let me grow strong, let me loose that fear. Then we have a better foundation, a footing that can last."

He nodded, and kissed her forehead.

Sergio.

Zainab had looked like she had just choked on Sergio’s words.

"Yo...you’re...m...my...f...fa...who?"

He decided to take a huge risk in stepping forward, towards her. She moved back, eyes bewildered and tears in her eyes.

"Give me a chance. I know it’s a huge chunk of information to register, to process. But I promise you, it’s worth it."

He held out his hand towards her, their energies connecting and intertwining. He could feel it. She was his.

She stood there, motionless. And then her arm shifted, her hand beginning to rise.

Just as their fingers brushed against each other, the door opened.

"Zainab, who is that out there!"

He watched her as she snatched her hand away from him and quickly wiped away her tears.

"Oh, it’s just somebody who got lost and needs directions!" She shouted back.

She secretly slipped him a card, and motioned for him to leave.

He nodded and watched her as she ran back up the stairs, and into the house.

He couldn’t get a glimpse of the woman who called her into the house but he was glad because that was definitely the case on her side too. She didn’t see him. And from the look of things, she was a culprit.

He quickly got into his car and drove away, enough to be out of sight.

He parked his car and reached into his jacket to see what Zainab had given him.

Her number. And she was a photographer.

He wondered why she had a camera dangling around her neck.

The camera he had seen around Zainab’s neck had a case made from black hammered metal, the lens jutted out on a highly polished brass looking cylinder, finished at the end with a rim of more black metal. Two dials and a button poked out from the top and it bore the name Leica. It had to be almost 100 years old.

He smiled at his thoughts.

She’s interested in capturing moments? That would be interesting.

He thought of Aisha.

Sergio was actually glad that Aisha didn’t raise his daughter. She seemed well-mannered and kind of heart. Even if the family that had adopted her were Aisha’s goons, he was especially relieved that they had done a handsome job at raising his daughter. He owed them his life.

Okay, maybe not my life, but I owe them a lot.

In a love-nexus world growing up is the same thing as becoming more psychologically mature. It is becoming a good role model and being a place of calm for the young, one whom encourages and supports them as they grow. As such, it is a blessing, for this is when you begin to give back to your society. It is when you take those great and noble steps on your way to becoming a respected elder.

He was determined to be the best father to Zainab.

And I touched her, oh. My daughter, she’s so beautiful. What a marvellous gift. I had lost my child and my sanity. For once, that happened and then all bets were off. The beast was out of his cage. The father bear will rip your heart and lungs from your body if you’ve messed with my kid. I guess that a part of that father bear stays awake, ever watching, ever protecting. I promise to always make sure that she’s safe.