Niko’s Eye

Chapter 55.

Zainab.

My brain is an extinguished fire. Once it burnt bright and I knew of happiness and light; I could see a future... Now my mind is dark, subsisting on the burnt tinder of who I was. In these ashes there is nothing to even renew a spark. All I can do is huddle in this moment, live from heartbeat to heartbeat. I feel like the world isn’t really there at all, like it was stolen and replaced with something empty, photoshopped, fake. It makes sense in a weird way, the real world gave me feelings of joy. I felt connected to it, part of it. But either it was taken away or I was; every second of every minute of every day all I can do is float in the void.

Zainab held Isis’ hand as they walked around, outside the premises of Alejandro’s mansion.

"The weather’s pretty nice today gyal." Zainab sang.

"Mmmh," hummed Isis, looking like she was stuck on her head.

"So, are you really going to marry Alejandro?"

Isis stopped walking, and turned to face Zainab.

"Zee, people don’t come out of their mother’s v*****s with a manual on life. We go with what our hearts want. We navigate life using our intuition, and our goodwill. Yes, I want to marry Alex. He’s the only man who ever came into my life and showed me the meaning of being transparent, with a dash of consideration. What do I have to lose? I’ve got nothing. He had become my everything. I love that goofball, and he adores me. Now come, let’s practice walking down the aisle."

She egged her elbow around Zainab’s elbow and forced her down the pathway, to the garden of chrysanthemums.

Zainab playfully sang the wedding tune as they strolled into the garden, with Zainab picking one of the flowers and sliding it into Isis’ hair.

"You look beautiful my bride." She gave a low, rumbling laugh in her best Alejandro impression.

Isis fake-wiped away tears and expressed her gratitude.

Zainab hitched up her pants, loped forward and took Isis’ hand in both of her hands, as she slipped on an imaginary ring and attempted to make up some vows.

"September can be a rotten month in Barbados, throat-constrictingly hot or clammy cold with heavy rain, shadowed by a grimy marine layer that turns this beautiful island into a pile of soiled laundry. But through all of that, I found you. September sun is bad for my beautiful complexion, but you were there, burning with me. Oh Isis, you weren’t there when I was driving an old Chevy that had seen better days. But you are here now that I have a private jet. You..."

"Whoah! Shut up!" Isis screeched. "You’re getting so personal."

Zainab studied Isis, and said nothing.

Modern life is an ill-fitting mixture of social darwinism and loving empathy. It is the money-nexus and the love-nexus, two fundamentally opposite systems that have become so intertwined we have lost the ability to tell them apart. Yet to fix our modern world, we must learn all we can about them... so that we can choose. One promotes power dynamics and vices as if they were virtues, it promotes brain development toward emotional indifference. The other promotes cooperation, empathy and creativity - boosting a more healthy brain development in the prefrontal cortex. We can have sustainability and peace, we can have a future for our children and theirs... if we are willing to learn about the love-nexus and chart our societies to socially evolve into it.

Isis folded her arms across her chest. "Interesting. The scariest word in the English dictionary."

Zainab laughed. "Like someone trying to fix you up with an ugly blind date. ’Is he cute?’ ’Well, he’s interesting.’ I didn’t mean to get off track babe. And speaking of blind dates. I think I found someone that I really like. And I have to tell you something too."

"Talk to me," Isis said, with a concerned expression.

"Ice, I think I’m a lesbian. I mean, I tried d**k and I don’t feel connected. I like women more than I’ve ever liked men."

"Eat my p***y!" Isis screamed, smilingly widely.

They burst out in laughter, falling over, and almost rolling onto the grass."

"You know, I always knew that you were a lesbian. You touched me with passion Zee. You looked at other girl’s asses and watched lesbian porn. I saw that in your chrome history, on your laptop by the way. I was just wondering when you were going to tell me."

Zainab gathered Isis into a tight hug and kissed her.

"I’m going to be somebody’s wife. Get your nasty fingers off of me. I don’t know where they’ve been." She said playfully.

They went back into the house, laughing and making inside jokes.

I love this girl.

Alejandro.

Every day I do my best, every night my duvet feels as a blessed reward.

When the stars come out to play and the evening takes on that aroma of the night, when the crickets sing for the joy of living, my bed awaits. I love the softness, the quiet, the sense of rest. My thoughts slow as a beautiful carousel, each dancing as ribbons from a kite string that reaches for sky, its colours embracing those lofty heights and inviting in the dreams that wear festival costumes and are formed of music. As I rest my bed is the four pillars beneath me, my safe place and cozy serenity.

Suddenly.

As he lay in his king-sized bed, asleep, Isis crept in and pinched his buttocks.

What is wrong with his girl?

He groaned painfully, irritated but amused at the same time.

"Why would you do that?" His voice hoarse and low.

"Tough love." She kissed his forehead and jumped over him, to the other side.

"Now that I can see those beautiful olive-green eyes of yours. I want us to speak about what car I wanna get."

"Mmmh. Talk to me wifey."

"First of all, Zainab is lesbian. And second of all, I would like a 2021 Rolls Royce Cullinan in star black. With blue stitches in the seats, and some diamanté on the steering wheel."

"Is that all?"

"What do you mean is that all? That’s too much. I’m just telling you what I would like. I’m not saying it’s the one we should get. What you can get for me is just a Mini Cooper."

Alejandro sighed, turned around and reached over for his cellphone.

He made a call and put the phone to his ear.

"Mr Dominic. Listen. Star-black 2021 Rolls Royce Cullinan. Blue stitches in the seats. Diamanté on the steering wheel. It’s for my woman. You know what to do."

He put the phone down and pretended to go back to sleep.

"What Madame wants, Madame gets." He shrugged.

"I should’ve known. You are Alejandro Xylon Dominic either way. But I f*****g love you."

As she said it, Alejandro emerged from the covers and placed his mouth over hers.

I love you in the way a puppy loves - devoted, playful, trusting. I guess I should be ashamed of that somehow; aren’t we all supposed to be tough? Yet I prefer to be strong; strong enough to risk being broken all over again, to love again, full knowing my own fragility. I’ve known heartbreak enough to shatter my mind, to leave my soul feeling like dust in the wind and my body unwilling to live. But, my love, you are worth my life and all that I have left is yours. I have lived long enough to know that what we share I can’t replicate with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and me. I could travel the world and the seven seas; I’d still have to come right back here if I wanted true love. It’s not that nobody else wants me, or you, but that we were born to spark and run the same course. We are the protectors of one another, confidents and true friends. The trust I give you, that you give me, is what keeps us safe in this world, in this life. So whether this heart beats another day or another hundred years - it is yours.

"Let’s go see a movie."

"I hate the cinemas. No amount of expensive equipment can make up for the lack of plot. The movie starts like a tortoise and ends like road kill. Each actor stands around delivering their lines with less feeling than a kindergarten play. The special effects are really "special" and if they guy behind me coughs into my neck one more time I’m gonna give these fine folks the show they paid for. Should there be at least one good murder in a picture? At least a bloody nose, right? It’s all I can do to exhale in short puffs and keep my meat hooks on the semi-bald armrests."

"I didn’t know it was that deep," chuckled Alejandro.

His laughed evolved from a light chuckle to a rumble. And soon enough, Isis joined him in laughter.

They giggled inbetween kisses and rolled around in bed like teenage lovers.

Isis.

She cruised in her Cullinan, still unable to believe that Alejandro had actually gone through with getting it for her.

"This car breathes and takes energy as if it were part of the flora of the land, and so driving becomes as natural as running free."

I’m so blessed. And I’m so happy that I have nothing that attaches me to Aisha. I was so scared of having inherited her personality.

Personality was once thought of as more inherited than it is. In truth the way we are has more to do with neuroplasticity and epigenetics than anything else. As such it is more fluid, as a river responding to its bed and the weather around. With love and nuture, with taking on our inner battles to become the best version of ourselves, by embracing our inner passions - this is proper characterization, for this is the character of humanity.

Driving through aquatic sunshine, amid a sea of blue petals in the green, I feel the grip of good new treads, I feel myself flick into cruise control.

When you work for the benefit of all humanity, appreciated or not by your contemporaries or community, the good universe colludes to raise you up and bring opportunities. The evil force will do the opposite. When you learn how to make each curse a blessing, to learn from pain and be led through your sense of love and integrity, then you win great things for all. That is the way of the hero and the hera.

Our creator is as real to me as the Mother Earth herself, as real as the trees, the water, the sky. I have only to open my mind and heart to the power of love and He is there, healing wounds I didn’t even know I had. I have an unshakable faith - yet faith is not religion. I put all my trust in our father the creator, and none in religion; for to me the later is a form of cult. Our creator is love, truth, blessed peace, forgiveness and joy. Love and fear cannot co-exist, and so I choose Him; I choose Love, and lay my fears at His feet so that He may help me unravel them and remain His child in mind, heart and soul.

They had gone to do her learners and driver’s license a few days ago, and she couldn’t have been more unprepared. But surprisingly, she had passed.

Something in her hutch had told her that he had paid to get her passed, but she didn’t really care about that. She had just been really nervous.

It was weird how she had learnt how to drive but now she was a natural, cruising on highways and overtaking other drivers.

Grand Theft Auto on these bitches.

She could feel the stares as she pulled up in the school parking, like a boss. She felt bad. Not only did she feel sorry for the other students, but she felt bad about how the government wasn’t doing anything to help the ones who were less fortunate.

Teachers are being asked to teach kids who have eaten nothing, or sometimes breakfast was sugary pop. How can we justify expense for classrooms and specialist teachers and overlook the most basic thing kids need to thrive - food. Free school meals makes sense from every perspective - morality, health outcomes, education outcomes and building a sense of community kids can believe in. Eating is such a basic right of all animals. You couldn’t have a pet without feeding them. To not have food is so stressful and humans are the same. Free school meals says to kids, "You are one of us." That’s a powerful message they all need. Human tribes shared food, no food meant you were out, that’s about as stressful as it gets for animals. Let’s choose kindness. Let’s choose to give free meals at school.

Cohesive society and culture comes from healthy individuals who are able to act in empathic and cooperative ways. The macro-level is always built from the micro-level (as in chemistry, as in biology and ecosystems). Measures that seek to contain macro level society and cultural issues without focus on the micro level are playing with symptoms rather than cause. Or put simply, free school meals are more effective for societal healing than riot police - though as a society transitions it will need both attention to symptoms and cause.

"Kinda sucks that I’m more priveleged than other kids. And since that’s the case, I have to do my best to help where I can. I’m going to be the wife of a billionaire either way."

She grabbed her school bag and a few of her textbooks that were nestled onto the passengers seat.

Isis ran a hand on the blue stitching of the seat, still unable to come to terms with her reality.

I love you Dom. Thank you.

Zainab.

Being fit was always a part of who I am, right from childhood. I was lucky to have an outdoorsy adoptive mother and the chance to play with my adoptive brothers in our garden and in the woods. There was no focus on what we ate. We just ate. We played. We ate some more. It was simpler than it feels now. But, I digress. To move from a fitter childhood into a fitter adulthood is easier than adapting good habits you never had. It can feel as if you are being asked to reinvent the wheel and then not being given credit for what a genius achievement that was in the first place. I can only imagine the challenge of being fit for those raised on poor quality nutrition and limited access to outdoor play. Life became so sedentary and indoorsy. However, when I have been out of shape, what got me back in shape was making small changes at a time and evolving my habits slowly rather than expecting to do it all at once. One small change. Live a month or two that way. When you are comfortable, make another small change. It takes longer, but in my experience it works and the results last - no yoyo effect.

Zainab was a sports girl. She was well-built, and leaning towards a male figure, more than a female figure. This is what convinced her that she was meant to be a lesbian.

Her libido just wasn’t womanly. And there was no way that she was going to pretend and live a lie.

Being open minded us about being willing to see the perspectives of others and then make your own choice if you wish to do the same or take a different path. Being wise is neither habitually saying "yes" or "no," yet in taking a moment to process, to be emotionally tuned in to the self and others, to use logic, to be loving and kind.

Meeting someone new is a divine pleasure. Regardless of how things turn out, I love the dance that begins. The most important idea is to be able to get a true feeling for who they are over a few weeks and months without ever forming an opinion of them. You let them develop as a old polaroid photograph, nice and slow. Perhaps they are a life long friend, a lovable rouge or a person too damaged to give in an emotionally warm and nurturing way. So, my new friend, all I can say is I am glad we met.

She thought about the new girl in class.

Her eyes spoke of a beautiful soul and her movements told of a need for nurture, but then perhaps that’s how we all are. How telling it is that so many have the appearance of the animal that has known intense suffering, such at the dogs that are rescued from cruel indifference. I knew right then, that all she needed was my love, something steady to hold onto and in time those eyes would shine as they were born to. And perhaps in that rescuing of her I was rescuing myself too. For what is the appearance but the window dressing of the soul?

It was just that, Zainab had no idea if she was straight or was into girls too. That would be the challenging part.

From under long blonde bangs shone eyes the colour of wet earth, and below that a nose so freckled that the brown splotches overlapped much like fall leaves after a wind storm. Her smile was warm with a hint of shyness. I loved her already.

The girl had a voice that was like music under a summer breeze, almost lost against the noise of the Monday morning traffic. Yet somehow it took hold of Zainab, making her want to listen all the more.

She didn’t know what to do to impress her or to be noticed by her.

And as she sat in class, squinting at the board, she felt a trickle of fear. Fear of what her father would think.

I can’t lose him now that I’ve found him.

"I should talk to Isis when I get home."