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“It’s a job. What else?” he sneers.
“It’s consumed your life,” I argue. “And there’s no way out for you. If you step away from your responsibilities, you appear weak. What would you be doing if you weren’t in Katantia, protecting your family?”
His silence doesn’t fool me.
“Would you leave Katantia now?” The past week washes away. I’m back in my role of authority, and I feel comfortable here. This is my turf, and he’s trespassing. “You don’t have any friends. What’s keeping you here?”
Jordan doesn’t respond.
“Would you step down as the Head of Intelligence? Palace Security Advisor? Father? Grandfather? Uncle?”
In an instant, he gets up from the couch, ready to leave.
“Sit down. If you leave now, I won’t allow you to come back.” I add, “Please.”
Jordan stands in the middle of my office, dominating the room with his presence. I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s breathing hard, and I want to comfort him, but in this space, I sit on my seat peacefully. It’s irresponsible to put my needs over his. He doesn’t need my infatuation right now.
He needs somebody to talk to openly, and there’s no shame in that.
Jordan returns to the couch, but he’s still avoiding my gaze. I take a deep breath and open my mouth, hoping that I won’t alienate him even further. “Look, I’ve heard a lot of things in this office. Sometimes, silence roars, too. You don’t want to share your struggles. I understand that. You think that I can’t grasp what you’ve gone through in your life?”
He doesn’t respond. I continue, “You’re right about that. I have no idea how you’ve lived. We’ve grown up in two different countries with different experiences.”
“You were adopted. I grew up in foster care,” he tells me. His knowledge of my past doesn’t scare me. It’s one of the least intimidating aspects of this man.
“You know what I mean,” I say.
“Yeah, you’re the chubby little Asian kid that went to King’s College London on a scholarship, although your adopted parents were filthy rich.” This is an image I don’t want to court at work. He’s pressing my buttons now, responding to my attack. “I never finished high school. I almost sold dope, you know. I barely missed out on the crack epidemic.”
I stop him before he ventures into further details. “You don’t have to share that with me. What you did doesn’t matter as much as what you felt like back then and how it affects you right now.”
“I don’t remember having any dreams or aspirations,” he reveals. He’s sitting back on the couch, and it almost seems disrespectful since he never loosens up his posture in this office. “I lived to survive. It was Travis and me and this little girl that was in our protection.”
“This started when you were fourteen?” I know the answer, but I’m trying to make a point.
“Felicita came to that house when she was four.”
“And you were eight? Is that correct?”
He finally nods.
“Later, you found out that she was raped by your foster father.” I can’t shake the feeling of unease. I hear these stories daily, and I can’t leave them in here. They follow me everywhere I go.
What have I done?
“I’ve failed my sister,” Jordan blurts out. “I—”
“Stop right there,” I interject. I shut my notepad. “You haven’t failed your sister. You’ve failed yourself.”
“I can’t do this right now,” he says, and I hold on to my thought. A couple of minutes pass, and we sit there, unmoving and silent. A lifetime flashes in my eyes. There are no images of a young Jordan. I’ve snooped around in the palace or in Felicita’s home when I was invited. In fact, there are barely any images of Jordan. The only one I’ve ever seen is him holding Kendrick. He’s shown it to me, carrying that image in his wallet.
“What are you trying to say?” he finally asks.
“What have you done in your life that’s solely satisfied you? Something that nobody else can have a piece of.” He contemplates. He travels far in his thoughts, and I wish I could accompany him. Then I remember that what’s in that skull of his is more than I can ever imagine bearing. I cry at him for being rude to me. I doubt I’d be able to withstand the monsters that plague him.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” I repeat. “What gives you pleasure these days? When are you the happiest? What do you do to unwind?”
