Intentions

I understood why Malcolm changed even if he chose not to acknowledge it. Like me, he had lost the most significant love in his life and there was no hope for time or prolonged youth to give him a second opportunity at anything similar. The unspoken offer was always present between us, but it was never a consideration. He would be even more eager to meet his wife in the after-life were it not for daughters.

As he aged, it became more difficult for Malcolm to spend time with his ageless friend. For him I was an ever present, sometimes painful, reminder of mortality and immortality, of love and loss.

At twenty-six Ngozi returned to take care of her father and put her medical degree to practical use in the care of her own people. Her sister returned for a short time but eventually returned to England to take up an accounting position with a prominent firm. Malcolm and I were proud of the women they had become and their sense of independence and I was grateful that Louis and Elizabeth had not only looked after them but had also made a place for themselves. Louis and Elizabeth had found an easy companionship with each other and in time this affection deepened beyond friendship. They had played the part of surrogate parents to the girls and, with my consent, told the girls our secret when they were old enough to understand…they would decide if they wanted to maintain any relationship with us.

For her part Ngozi seemed pleased to play messenger between her father and me. In his final months Malcolm and I saw less of each other but stayed in constant communication through daily letters that he dictated to Ngozi and my letters which she read to him. From his words and her emotion I could tell that he would not be with us much longer, but remarkably it seemed that they both made peace with his condition and what lay ahead.

On the evening that would be his last, Ngozi knocked the door to my study firmly. I had been alerted by her scent for some time before.

“Come in.” I said evenly. She entered with a ready, natural smile which always put me at ease. She wore a simple black skirt that ended mid-calf and a white cotton blouse. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, giving her high cheek bones and light brown eyes prominence in her smooth, honey complexioned face.

“Hello Nicholas.” She said, taking the seat before me.

“How are you Ngozi, how is your father?” Invariably I asked it all as a single question because her well being was linked to his.

“I am better than he is.” Came her familiar refrain, followed by another disarming smile. “He wants to see you.”

“Really?” I said, successfully hiding my surprise.

“He wants to see his friend, while he still can.” She continued her eyes, moist and shinny with tears.

“I’m sorry.” I said rising slowly.

“I know.” She said, brushing some tears away. “It is sad, but he is ready. As ready as anyone can be I suppose and you have helped. My mother always said intentions don’t store well, good or bad, they can weigh on you…change into something else.”

“I understand.” I said, walking to her and holding her as she stood up. Feeling her warmth and listening to her heartbeat. I felt her hot tears soak through my shirt, against my cold skin. “We should go.” I said.

“Yes, we must.” She said raising her head to look into my eyes with a look of determination. “But you must also know. I do not blame you for anything Nicholas. In fact I have never loved or respected any man as much.”

I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out and she covered my mouth with hers kissing me with passion and purpose, before turning and leading me out the door.

We didn’t speak on our way to their home and when we got there we held hands with Malcolm as he did his best to reassure us that he was going to a better place and that it was time. Moments later, with a smile on his face he passed from this world to the next and I was left to consider my responsibilities and my intentions.

All That Glitters

It is surprising how much the human condition changes over the passage of time. Birth and Death is a natural part of the cycle and in the distance between there is, often times, a physical and metal deterioration. This was just one of the problems of being friends with humans, that and of course the old adage of not playing with your food.

In the six months after the girls were away it was if there was less life in the Brown household. The correspondence between the girls and I was extensive as they detailed every account of their new adventure. Ngozi wrote meat least two letters a day and I was flattered and saddened by her growing concern and affection for me.

Beatrice reduced her visits to my house and in time they would stop all together. The health of both her and Malcolm was also in decline. Malcolm’s demeanor changed as well. He apologized for his wife. “She loves you Nicholas.” He said with a faint smile. “It’s just difficult for her to be away from the girls.” I actually felt better about this change. I too was not sure that I had changed their lives for the better.

Within in a year Beatrice was bed ridden. I made one trip to England with Malcolm to visit the girls, who appeared to have grown up in our absence, without their mother. She had sent them individual notes, detailing her pride in their dedication and imploring them to stay focused on their studies and not worry about her. I will be fine, she said, I will visit you the next time.

Both girls excelled at their studies and were becoming very fine young ladies. I was happy that they had Louis and Elizabeth to watch over them because suitors and danger couldn’t be far off. It would be another two years before the girls would see their mother again, and by then it was too late for goodbyes.

For as long as I can now recall I have been the only constant in my existence and in some ways I think that I was affected just as deeply as anyone by Beatrice’s death…

Transitions

We were all overwhelmed. I had no way of knowing how my blood would alter the girls beyond improving their condition. I could tell that Beatrice and Malcolm now felt a greater degree of indebtedness to me and I was still uneasy.

Ngozi and Nabila became the focus of our interactions and they were now tied to me. With those that share your blood, that you have made there is a bond that goes beyond the familiar. You sense their emotions and you can tell when they’re close. But these girls were not mine, I did not make them and yet I could sense them in much the same way. What was most unsettling though is that they now treated me like a second father. Malcolm thought it harmless, but something in my extensive observation of human emotions filled me with a deeper concern.

They were getting older, changed by their experiences. Still, when I looked into their eyes I saw a maturity and wisdom that extended beyond their years. Nabila was growing into a beautiful, outgoing young lady interested in bookkeeping and dancing, but Ngozi was becoming a truly remarkable young woman, striking, artistic and gifted with an understanding of medicine. I wondered what part my blood played in their changing present and promising future.

I continued to watch over them all, but I also forced myself to create some distance mindful that they could never truly reach for a normal life in my constant presence. Nabila was developing, what I hoped was an innocent crush on me and Ngozi seemed quietly determined to get to know me better. I wanted to give them the opportunity to reach for their dreams. I found Elizabeth, which was not too difficult, turns out both she and Louis were keeping a watch over me from a respectful distance. As soon as I focused on her I realized how close they were…my blood, how close they have always been. They agreed to be my surrogates in England, look after the girls as they pursued studies in Accounting and Medicine. Financing their education was the solution to their problems and my anxiety.

We spent the next month getting the girls used to their new care givers and ensuring that Malcolm and Beatrice were comfortable with sending their girls away. They were sad to see them go, but excited about the opportunities that they would be open to them because of this sacrifice. Of course they would visit the girls regularly, I would make sure of it. But we all decided it would be best for them to get settled for a couple months and get used to their new environment and school. For their part the girls put on a brave front, saying that they understood that this would be best for them and their family. I held a dinner for everyone on the Saturday before they left. It was a bitter sweet time, but there was no indication that this would be the last time that all of us would be together like this…

Ngozi & Nabila

When you encounter pure, certain evil it changes you. These unfortunate souls indulge in wickedness for the sake of seeing others suffer. There is no reasoning with the fanatic, the pure in heart on either end of the spectrum. Their belief is the only truth and in too many instances they are underestimated.

Malcolm and Beatrice had chosen, thoughtfully, their daughters names. Their first, now close to twelve, was a breeched baby that almost died at birth. The mid-wife who helped deliver her looked down at her and said she was perfect, a blessing. So they called her Ngozi, which means blessing. Malcolm, being the proud black man he is I believe he wanted a son to carry his name, perhaps this is why they called their second daughter Nabila, African for Noble. Now their noble blessing was missing, taken from them on my watch and I couldn’t rest until the balance was restored.

I was alone in a neighboring canfield, my eyes pressed shut, isolating the sounds of the night. I turned my thoughts away from the tears of parents and their silent, desperate pleas for the lives of their girls. People’s hearts beat differently and uniquely so when they are excited or afraid. I focused on the girls, their laughter, their breathing, the rhythm of their heartbeats. It was no more than a soft, muffled, whimper made silent after a few short seconds. Then I heard and felt their heart rhythms. One heightened and afraid, the other weak and fading. Thought became movement and in moments I covered the thousand yards to the spot where the girls were being held.

Ngozi was being held firmly in place by several tiny pairs of hands while others held Nabila as her life force seemed to drain slowly from her. Not in the same way that my kind takes life, this seemed to be more about the removal of the spirit. Her heart was on the verge of stopping when my presence startled their spirit captors. Eyeless sockets looked up at me from bodies that only appeared young at a cursory glance. I could sense no emotion from them and no heartbeat. Toothless mouths were agape, emitting an ear piercing scream. Instinctively I bared my fangs and released an angry scream of my own. The duennes scattered like roaches exposed to sudden light. The girls were both in a catatonic state and Nabila was quickly slipping into permanent darkness.

I wanted more time to consider my actions, a different solution to what was before me. But as the time slipped away I focused on saving their lives, and there was only one way I could think of to accomplish this. As I cut the flesh on my wrist and dripped my blood over their lips a feeling of dread and regret overwhelmed me.