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“There is no point to coffee if there isn’t caffeine,” he finished. Turning back to me he pointed up to the fixture that hung over the kitchen island. “Let me go home to my pots,” he said in a mocking tone. “Are these the cooking pots you were talking about? The ones you’re using as decorations?”
“Hey!” I pointed at him. “That was different!”
“How so?”
“You didn’t have pots and the closest restaurant is a few miles away and no one out there delivers! Here I could get warm soup within minutes.”
“So why have pots at all—”
“Because I could decide to cook at any time.”
He took one of them down and showed me the shiny stainless steel underside. “When is anytime? Because it looks like these have never seen a stove.”
I glared at him but he just gave me that smug grin of his as he moved over to the sink to fill it with water. I watched for a moment. He walked around my kitchen with ease like he’d been here a thousand times before. He was so relaxed…and happy. He didn’t seem to walk like the world was on his shoulders anymore. It was as if he was just a normal guy who wanted to have some coffee at his girlfriend’s place.
But he was not a normal guy.
And I was not his girlfriend.
“You kissed me!” I said and he froze for a moment but he kept his back turned to me. “You said you’d made a mistake, and you kissed me.”
“I did,” he said softer and much more serious now as he poured the coffee into the boiling water.
“Malachi.” I took a deep breath. “This is crazy! You can’t just show up like this! You can’t just…say everything you said and pretend like it’s normal! I’m not…I’m not who you think I am and—”
“When I told you the story of Obinna and Ada did you realize I was speaking in another language?” He cut me off and asked. Turning off the burner, he poured the golden brown liquid into the mug before turning to face me.
“What language?”
“Igbo,” he answered. He didn’t move closer to me, he simply leaned back against the counter. “You don’t know that language, and even if you did, it is not the same as modern Igbo, the one you’d learn via books or in school. It’s close but not enough for you to perfectly follow a whole story from beginning to end.”
I wasn’t sure what to say because I didn’t even know modern Igbo…how then had I understood him? “Languages are all connected maybe I was able—”
“I ran into Li-Mei,” he confessed without looking away from me. His blue eyes held me in place, rendering me unable to look away. “I expected…I expected the emotions and feelings to coming rushing in. But I stood in front of her and felt nothing. And yet when I touched a worn-out copy of Sophocles’ Antigone, it felt like my heart was on fire. And it wasn’t just because that was our story too, it was because the owner of that book—you—had spent so much time reading and rereading it that you imprinted a part of yourself onto it. I touched it the first time I met Li-Mei and I mistakenly thought the book was hers. Just like I mistakenly believed her rings were the reason that my memories were triggered when actuality it was the first time we’d been formally introduced in this life that did it. I was an idiot and jumped to conclusions out of fear—”
“Like you’re doing now!” I wasn’t sure why I was yelling, but I felt hot all over and my heart hurt so much that it made everything else hurt too. I moved closer to him. “You could be making the same mistake with me and it’s okay because—”
“You’re in love with me?” he asked before he brought the mug to his lips.
“I never said that,” I replied shaking my head.
“I’m in love with you, and I’ve never fallen in love with anyone but you—”
“You can’t say that!” I put my hands on my temple as I tried to breathe. “You can’t just…”
I tried speaking but the pain was worse…and so was my headache. I gripped the edge of the counter…
“Esther!” He grabbed on to me as I gasped for air that wouldn’t make it into my lungs.
“Ahh…” My vision grew spotty and the more I tried to breathe the more it hurt. I felt him wrap his arms around me as he held me tightly. It should have made things worse but instead…instead I started to feel better.
“Shhh…it’s okay. I know it hurts,” he whispered right into my ear as he stroked the back of my head.
I held on to him for what felt like forever before I found the strength to breathe again.
“What’s happening?” I whispered more to myself than to him as I backed out of his arms just a bit.
“The more we fight our memories the more painful it becomes,” he said as he petted the side of my face when I looked up at him. “It’s going hurt a little at first but you’ll be fine.”
