fool, writing

28 4 15
                                    

"I'm a fool to love you."

"Like you're not a fool already?"

Ndari laughs, but it sounds sad. "Courtesy of you," she returns. "I was doing okay, then you came along."

I smile at this. "You give yourself too little credit, my love."

She pushes my shoulder and we laugh. We sit together in an empty room, each wall naked and cold.

Neither of us know what to say. We both know what to think, we just don't know how to make our lips say anything but that.

Ndari succumbs. "My father hates you. He wants you dead."

I laugh crookedly. "I'm flattered."

"I'd like to run away," she says, but it's half-hearted. She knows I could never leave my family.

Because we both know I'd never, I entertain the idea. "If we ran away," I say, "where would we go?"

"Everywhere?" she says. "I think I want to sail a boat."

I chuckle. "Captain Ndari," I test. "That sounds sexy. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds sexy," she agrees, and we laugh again.

But only softly, in case we wake up Mariah. She's so little she can't keep much to herself, and as much as I love my parents, they'd never let me love Ndari.

She lays her head on my lap, looking to the bare ceiling and to me. I try to breathe as little as possible, lest I disturb her. Sweet hell, I think we love each other.

Ndari says lightly, "I do think I'm smarter than you, Eka; between the two of us, you're the greater fool."

I laugh—she's making fun of me!—and she smiles. "That's subjective," I say. "Maybe that's true, but I'd never fall in love with someone dumber than me. You, on the other hand..."

A sudden wave of sadness encompasses the both of us. I don't know where it comes from, but I dislike being its bearer.

"I want this to end well," Ndari whispers. "I want this to end well so badly."

I press the lightest of kisses all over her face. I do this because it's soft and sweet and I hope it communicates how much I reciprocate that desire.

She holds my head in her hands and pulls me in to linger on her lips a while longer. We are desperate with our time.

Ndari releases me and I go, but slowly because I'm reluctant.

"It will end well," I say. It isn't a promise, but it sounds like one.

She smiles sadly and clicks her tongue. At least you're trying, it says fondly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, cintaku."

My lips relax into a smile because I can't help it with her. "Ah. I'll try my best."

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