#weza

I wanted to get an early start on my day, so I awoke around six to accompany Leo on his morning bathroom break with a light jog in the jungle. Adorned in my pink sports bra with black trimmings and black shorts with pink trimmings, I listened to the energetic drum beats playing from my kimoyo beads. I don’t usually jog, but during my leave of absence, I found it relaxing—minus the sweat of course.

About an hour later, Leo and I returned to the palace, entering the kitchen through the back door, so I can give him his morning steak and shower before making breakfast.

Once inside, I heard the suspicious sounds of shuffling coming from the lower cupboards, an indication that someone was there. Besides Weza and I, no one else in the palace was usually awake and moving around this early.

I inched closer to get a better look, but all I could see was someone squatting and fishing through the junk food stash cabinet. From my view, I could see this person had big Afro-textured hair, sun-kissed mocha skin, and a medium brown dress—intricately woven with furs and complimented by a grass skirt—with a pair of medium-brown fur boots to match.

“Isis!” I addressed her, and she jumped. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t scare me like that, chica,” She responded with a glare towards me, her words laced with a thick Dominican accent.

Isis is a Dominican-Wakandan. She was born a year after me in the Dominican Republic to a Wakandan War Dog and her Dominican lover, who decided to remain unmarried. Unfortunately, an incident, one she hasn't given me the full story on, cost Isis her father and her childhood home, forcing her mother to return to Wakanda to raise her. She and I met in our teens when we both took jobs at the market—she worked the fabric stand while I worked the fruit stand—and have been friends ever since. Of course, T’Challa did have some jealousy about me having another best friend, but I guess chasing after Nakia kept him too occupied to care. Isis now lives in the Jabari mountains as Lord M’Baku’s wife and the mother of their two children--three if you count the little one inside of her now.

“Isis, why are you here?” I asked again.

After grabbing a pack of Oreo's out of the cabinet, she stood and scoffed at me. "You sound like I'm not welcomed."

“I didn't say you weren't," I rebutted while walking to the fridge to find Leo's steak and a bottle of water for myself. "I would've liked it if you called or something before coming over."

I didn't mean to be annoyed with her. After all, it wasn't her fault that I've been jumpy since T'Challa's long-lost cousin attacked the palace. The worse he's ever done to me was grab my wrist after I refused a pass he made at me. Had Ayo not intervened, stating that Weza needed me—which turned out to be the truth—who knows what could've happened to me?

“Hey hermana," she addressed me with her unique nickname for me and put a supportive hand on my shoulder, "what's wrong?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, I closed the fridge and turned to her. “Have you heard from Dakarai?”

It seems that I’m always asking someone that question.

Isis scoffed and rolled her eyes at the mention of his name. “If that idiota knows what’s good for him, he wouldn’t think to contact me.”

“You’re right,” I agreed defeatedly.

“I don’t know why you want to stay with that man after everything he’s put you through.”

All I could do was nod before taking a sip of my water. “I know. I know. It’s just that….” my voice trailed off when Weza entered the kitchen with a sorrowful look on her face, causing me to furrow my brows. “Weza? Is something wrong?”

She reached into her yellow dress pocket and pulled out a pink envelope, holding it out towards me. “This came for you yesterday. I should've given it to you, but you said you wanted to be alone, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I hesitantly took the envelope from her, and the first thing I noticed was the familiar handwriting. Dakarai's cursive had always been a bit sloppy, but with time, I learned to understand and recognize it. The other thing I noticed was the envelope didn't have a return address, almost as if he didn't want to a return message from me.

“Good morning," T'Challa's cheerful morning voice caught my attention. When we briefly locked eyes, I saw him lift a concerned brow before I shifted my focus back to the envelope.

Biting the bullet, I decided to open it. Inside of it was a white Get Well Soon card, beautifully decorated with red tulips (Dakarai knows that’s my favorite flower). Shaking my head, I made a mental note to scold him for giving me this card of all greeting cards—especially since he knows why I was absent for a month. I, then, opened the card to find a long paragraph, nearly filling the entire card space, of his handwriting.

‘Dearest Rose,’ it read, ‘I hope you won’t take it personal that I chose a Get Well Soon card, but I…’

I wasn’t in the mood for the formalities, so I stopped reading and began skimming over the words, hoping to find something about where he was and why I haven’t spoken to him since I left Wakanda a month ago.

But then, something caught my attention, and I gasped at the words I read, words that smashed my heart into pieces.  As I reread them to make sure that I hadn't imagined them, a lump formed in my throat and a sob escaped my lips.

“Rose?” T’Challa addressed me in concern, gaining my attention. “Yintoni ingxaki?”

Instead of answering him, I turned on my heels and ran out of the back door and towards the jungle, dropping the card in the process.

“Rose!” he called after me, but I kept running, quickening my pace as leaves from the trees slapped my face.

The leaves and my tears blurred my vision, so I didn't notice the root that stuck out of the ground until I tripped over it and fell,  getting dirt on my face and leaves in my hair. Once the shock of what happened wore off, I sat up and winced at the pain in my knee. I looked at it and saw that it was scraped and bleeding from the fall.

“Rose?” I heard T’Challa’s voice, an indication that he caught up to me, killing any chances I had at running from him. Then again, it was stupid of me for trying to run from the Black Panther.

“I'm fine," I tried to keep him from worrying about me, but it was no use.

When he saw me on the ground, he knelt beside me to inspect my knee, causing me to wince at his touch. He scooped me up bridal style and began carrying me away from the area. I assumed he was taking me back to the palace until I saw the path he was taking me on, a path I haven't walked in almost two years.

This path leads to our tree-house that was built for us when we were children. Of course, it looked fancy for a couple of kids to play in, but King T'Chaka always wanted the best for his children. Over the years, it turned from a playroom for two kids, to a teen spot, and now a quiet place for both of us to get away from life's anxieties.

T’Challa carried me inside and set me on one of the chairs before he went to look for something. “Here we are,” he said after a few minutes, returning with a first aid kit—we needed that on many occasions. He knelt in front of me and took an alcohol swab to the wound, evoking a wince out of me. "Sorry." He finished cleaning the wound and placed a band-aid over it.

“Thank you," I told him before he left to put the kit back in its compartment.

A few minutes of silence passed between us before he broke it.

“Rose, we need to talk.”

“About what?!” I snapped, evidently annoyed. I was already emotional from that sorry card Dakarai sent me, so I wasn’t in the mood for whatever ridiculousness he was about to subject me to.

“You told me things were fine between you and Dakarai.”

“They are….were," I corrected myself. "It doesn't matter anymore. Besides, what happened to the you-know-when-I ‘m-lying thing?"

“I knew you were,” he replied. “But I was waiting until you were ready to come to me with the truth.”

Instead of responding verbally, I hugged my knees to my chest and stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with him.

“What is it that you're not telling me?" He asked, and the concern in his voice caused another lump to form in my throat.

Another silence passed between us before I released a sigh. “He broke up with me.”

T’Challa’s brows furrowed. “When?”

“Just now," I answered as tears fell thick and fast down my cheeks. "He feels that it's in our best interest if we go our separate ways. At least, that's what he said in that card."

I released a small laugh at those words. This wasn't an amused or joyful laugh. This laugh was laced with sadness, anger, pain, despair, and bitterness.

“Can you believe he actually broke off our engagement with a greeting card?” I asked T’Challa, my brown eyes locking with his sympathetic baby-doe eyes. “And of all the cards, he chose a Get Well Soon one.”

One last bitter laugh left my lips before I looked at the floor again, resting my head on my knees and letting the tears fall.

“I am so sorry, intyatyambo.”

I shook my head. "Don't be. I've handled everything else alone, so I guess I'll deal with this alone too."

"Hey now, that's not fair!” He expressed and took a seat in the other chair. “Haven't I always been there for you?"

"You have," I emphasized. "You've been there for me through everything, but you shouldn't have. When I was sick during the early stages of my pregnancy, it shouldn't have been you helping me get through it. It shouldn't have been you that held me after I lost our child or held my hand through the grief. And it shouldn't be you that I run to every time I have a nightmare or a dream about my baba or my son. He should be the one doing those things. Not leaving me to deal with them alone, and certainly not going weeks without speaking to me."

My tears came faster and harder, my body was shaking, and I was struggling to catch my breath. I soon felt T’Challa’s warm arms encircling my small and fragile body as he pulled me out of the chair and into his lap. He began rubbing calming circles on my back while guiding me through a breathing exercise to get it under control. My breathing returned to normal after a while, but the tears were still leaking from my eyes.

“The last time I saw him was when he abandoned me at that mental health center,” I broke the silence between us. “He told me that going there and taking time away from Wakanda would be best for me. Then he left. He never called, never visited. Nothing. Just left me there by myself.”

Silence fell between us again until T’Challa broke it with words that threw me for a loop.

“I know.”

My eyes widen and I sat up to look him deep in his eyes. “You know?”

“I came to visit you one day. You didn't know because you were asleep."

My heart dropped in my stomach and more tears fell from my eyes.

“When I asked the nurse if anyone has checked on you, she said I was the only one.”

“Y...you saw me there?”

“Yes,” he answered with a nod.

I released a small sob before my gaze shifted to the floor in pure shame. "I never wanted you to see me like that. To see me so….so weak."

“Hey, look at me." He lifted my chin, so I could look him in the eyes. "You're one of the strongest persons I know. After everything you've been through, you still manage to fight through it. I've always admired that about you." He cupped my cheeks with his hands and pulled me closer to him, so my head could rest on his. "I know you're going through a tough time right now, but I also have faith that you will fight through it, just like you've done everything else. And you won't do it alone. I promise you that."

“Thank you,” I said softly as T’Challa began wiping my tears with his thumbs.

“Anything for my intyatyambo ekhethekileyo.”

I smiled a bit before wrapping my arms around T’Challa’s neck and snuggling into his warm body. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes contentedly.

“Rose,” he broke the comfortable silence between us.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad that you’re comfortable, but you’re going to have to get up eventually.

I sighed heavily, assuming that he was talking about work. "I don't feel like doing chores today."

He shook his head. "I have no problem with you wanting to take the day off, but you need a shower. You smell like a mixture of sweat and dirt."

I playfully slapped his chest, receiving his loud, but pleasant, laugh in return.

~~~

Translations

Spanish

Hermana - sister Idiota - idiot

Xhosa