Saving Neba

𝐗𝐕𝐈: Nothing like an Extra Room

I put the rice through the machine just as Tujan had instructed. It came out through the other chiselled end in a granulated, almost flake-like form as it went into the green bowl I'd placed at the end of the machine.

Tujan was stirring a stewed mixture on a stove, adding spoons of ingredients every so often and tasting it with the wooden ladle she turned the stew with. She wore a long sheer silver gown that accentuated her tall angelic body type. As I moved around in the kitchen, I kept taking a glance at her unusually clear eyes.

The rice had already been cooked and mixed with a bunch of stuff Tujan had elaborated: kisgan, pepper, hraft oil, that was the much I remembered.

"Set it in that dish," she instructed and I took a spoon from the rack and began to pour the yellow grainy mixture into a serving dish Tujan handed to me. The entire kitchen—besides the ceiling—was tiled, from wall to floor. I set the dish on the worktop.

The tomato mixture was ready now according to Tujan. It looked too thick and extremely red, with brown tiny bits of things visible sprinkled around the pasta. She transferred that to a bowl.

Nilsa walked into the kitchen. "Are you girls done?"

"Zhun, Mama," Tujan replied. "Emery, please take this to the dining room while I clean this place up." She set the serving dishes on a rectangular tray and handed the tray to me.

"Okay." I took the tray and marched to the dining room. Tujan's father was there, and so were Bihak and his other aunt. Nilsa and Tujan stepped in and took seats for themselves. The plates were already organized by Nilsa in front of each sit. There were six chairs in total: two at each end of the longer sides and one each at the shorter length sides. An extra wooden chair was placed just beside one of the longer lengths.

My slot. I almost smiled at how Nilsa was already trying to accommodate me.

"Where's Tevessa?" Nilsa asked.

"At the back," Bihak responded, taking his hair to the back. I spotted a scar on his forehead just as his hair fell right back and covered up his forehead. "He's still practising."

"Well, it's way past our lunchtime," she shot me a look. "Tart-kaw'lnu hi, Tujan." [Go call him]

"Zhun, Mama." She got up and strode to the living room and disappeared into the curtains.

I cast a look at Tevessa's father. His face was neutral. Then, he caught my eyes with his, strictly taking them in, like an observant journalist. Slightly uneasy, I dropped the contact and stared at my ceramic side plate instead.

He still did not trust me.

Tujan came out through the curtains with a sweaty Tevessa in a black tank top, sweatpants and no footwear. He wiped his face with a towel as he marched to the dining room, a smile etched his face once he saw me.

"Why didn't you tell me promptly that Emery was here?" He hung the towel on his chair. "Has she come to declare openly her interest in getting married to me?"

I put my face down in embarrassment, unable to think of a comeback in the presence of twelve-year-old Bihak, the two scrutinizing faces and Tevessa's father who didn't trust me.

Crypta sat down beside Tujan. I sat at the edge, near Bihak and his aunt. Everyone began to serve themselves. As hungry as I was, I kept to a small quantity. One, I didn't know if I'd enjoy the food. Two, I didn't want to appear desperate.

Observing the latter was hard. The food was amazing.

***

"How's your wound healing?" Tevessa asked me. He sat on a light red mat, using his hands as support. I leaned on the garnet wall, watching him rest after performing a round of pushups.