Inside Out, page 10
11
So, personalities have clashed, and if something doesn’t give soon, an explosion will rock the Atam palace, and I’m sure it will never be the same again.
Anyway, something does give.
Apparently, the queen’s offence at Nkoyo makes a dent in her confidence. She is beginning to really see herself through the eyes of other people. It isn’t easy for Nkoyo though, in fact, she feels as though she is stabbing herself in the thigh, but she manages.
She washes her clothes and hangs them in front of the AC to dry. Tidying the room is out of the question presently, but she intends to do it at some point.
When she arrives for breakfast the next day, she doesn’t feel so self-conscious. Her clothes smell clean, and she believes she is ready for anything the queen would throw at her today.
Onen’s day is worse. He is conscious that Nkoyo deserves the acerbic words he threw at her yesterday. But he can’t seem to escape or understand the curious sense of guilt his conscience flings at him.
The woman said unforgivable things about his kingdom. Was he supposed to overlook it?
In line with his recently acquired habit since meeting Nkoyo, he groans his frustration and wishes he never met the woman. That his parents never came up with their ridiculous plan that brought Nkoyo to his awareness. The woman is seriously messing up with his concentration, and he has no idea how to handle it.
Although he’d loved Trisha, she hadn’t been a source of distraction for him, and they had been intimate. He barely knows this woman, yet he feels the unmistakable pull towards her, despite her bad character.
He is last to arrive at the dining room. His gaze flashes to her first before he even knows what he is doing. When he realises it, he frowns, angry at himself as he takes his seat.
Nkoyo sees the frown and assumes that the prince is still furious with her. She lowers her head as he greets his parents, and then she has no choice but to greet him.
“Good morning,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.
“Morning,” he grunts curtly, his eyes taking another glance at her, and the reaction is the same, his breath caught in his throat at her beauty. He curiously wonders, though, why she had the same cloth she’d been wearing yesterday. But then assumes snidely that she might arrogantly have the same clothes in the same colour. Some celebrities do that, and she sure looks like a trend follower.
The meal begins, and conversation between parents and son ensues. As usual, nobody pays her any mind. Nkoyo can’t fathom how they do it—just ignore her as though she is invisible. Usually, her presence takes over the interest of a room whenever she enters it. She makes people want to talk to her, but here, she feels like nothing.
Even a slight breeze garnered more interest than her presence, and she did not like it one bit. Suddenly, her spanking new conscience surges up with a solution to ease her predicament.
Nobody looks at her. Therefore, they miss her mouth tightening and the slight shake of her head as she rejects the idea of apologizing. The idea of admitting that she was wrong, therefore seeking forgiveness like a common slave. No, she won’t do it. But it seems as though her conscience has grown a potent mind of its own because Nkoyo can feel the words surging up in her throat.
She reaches for her glass of water, swallowing it in gulps to desist from speaking the words. Nkoyo struggles with herself, valiantly refusing. Still, the words lodge in her oesophagus, blocking her breathing. And if she can’t breathe, it means she can’t swallow the food she shovelled into her mouth a moment ago.
The urge to apologize is pressing. Nkoyo is beginning to choke on her food, and she can’t stand the thought of gagging. She imagines spraying everybody on the table with food from her mouth. An unpleasant situation, which will be her death from embarrassment, especially in front of the prince.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs out through her mouth full of food.
Conversation ceases immediately, all eyes rivets on her. Even with suddenly being the centre of attraction, Nkoyo breathes easily and swallows her food.
“What did you say, Nkoyo?” the queen asks, almost sounding caring.
She nods to show that she will reply while she struggles to hurriedly swallow her food and take a sip of water. “I said I’m sorry for calling your kingdom torpid. I sincerely regret the way I’ve portrayed myself and promise to try changing.”
The table is silent for seconds that seem like hours to Nkoyo. She half expects them to return to their meal without acknowledging her apology, which would be terrible. She didn’t plan on saying the other things after the apologetic words, but it seems to have done some good. She feels lighter for telling them.
The king is the first to react. Nkoyo notices he sighs with relief as though he was holding his breath the whole time.
The man had been holding his breath and wondering if they would ever be able to help their friend’s daughter. He smiles at her for the first time since her arrival, and Nkoyo feels blessed at the attention.
“You are a good kid, remember that,” he says, reaching out to pat her hand closest to him. She smiles back and feels as though she won the lottery. It feels good to be liked again. Although, she doesn’t understand his comment and is shocked she has been called a kid. With a mental shrug, she guesses she is still a kid to someone the king’s age, even though there was nothing remotely kid-ish about her.
Onen is thinking the exact same thing as he uses the distraction to observe her mouth-watering form. Even dressed in a caftan, her bosom bulges out, giving him ideas he shouldn’t entertain at the dining table with his parents in attendance. He returns to his meal and doesn’t say anything to her unexpected apology.
His shameless heart seems happy. It means she isn’t so bad , and he doesn’t have to feel conflicted about liking her. Not that he was ever going to express his feelings, but he could sleep better now.
“I accept your apology, Nkoyo, and I am pleased about it,” the queen says, her eyes looking earnest and her smile relieved. “Please, continue your meal.”
Nkoyo notices the prince hasn’t said anything. She chances a covert glance at him and is shocked to find a slight smile on his lips as he bends over his food. She is sure nobody is supposed to see the smile, but she has, and it does unexplainable things to her insides, a melting warmness being one of them.
***
Nkoyo has no idea what to expect, but she assumes her luggage will return after the queen’s positive reaction to her apology. That doesn’t happen. Instead, the queen sends over a collection of clothes that aren’t hers.
Nkoyo looks over the prominent designer jeans and wonders how the woman knows her size. Apparently, apologies are overrated. If it doesn’t bring her luggage, of what use is it?
With a heavy sigh and the surge from her hyperactive conscience, she appreciates the queen’s actions. At least, she is free of her yellow kaftan.
If she doesn’t wear the yellow chiffon for the rest of her life, it will not hurt her. She almost hates the sight of the item she’s worn for days.
In the pile of clothes from the queen, Nkoyo counts six denim trousers, three yoga pants, a khaki cut-off short and a gazillion t-shirts and roomy tops in assorted colours and designs.
Gratitude surges in her heart for the queen’s magnanimity. She appreciates the casualness of her new clothes because the clothes in her luggage are elaborate and celebratory.
After pulling on a comfortable pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt, paired with the soft house slippers, she leaves her room and goes in search of the queen to thank her. At least, that’s what she tells herself, but honestly, she thinks it is high time she knows her way around the palace. Who knows, she might stumble upon a way to escape this punishment.
***
Wofai wakes with a pleased smile and a dreamy look on her face as she recalls the oh-so succulent feel of the strange man’s lips smashed on hers. She dreams of him all night, and she is curious about who he is and when she’ll see him again.
She moves around the palace in a happy haze. However, the fantasy bubble is busted when she meets the cook and engages the equally dazed woman in a conversation.
Sara is her usual bustling self but Wofai. Still, Wofai notices something different about the woman. Her eyes are glittering gems of ecstatic happiness.
“You’re glowing, cook,” Wofai observes with interest, leaning on the counter and giving her a pointed look that requires Sara to spill her guts.
Sara smiles and then tightens her lips together as though trying to suppress her giddiness. Her eyes lower in abject shyness while she busies herself with clean-up.
“I deserve to know. After all, I helped cover for you yesterday. Dinner was almost late,” Wofai blackmails unrepentantly.
“Oh…I am so grateful for what you did yesterday. I don’t know how to thank you. Did the queen notice?” she asks in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Nope, she didn’t…I think I deserve to know,” Wofai whispers back, barely hiding her smile. She likes the cook, the only worker who accepts her without blinking an eye despite her screaming debacle.
Wofai recalls how she almost screamed in the woman’s face once. But the queen saved the day. She always feels safe with the queen; the calmness of the monarch relaxes her.
Just like the man yesterday, she thinks and doesn’t control her pleased smile.
“You look moony too,” Sara notices, giving her a queer look, “Am I missing something. Did your boyfriend call?”
Wofai grins. She can’t hold it in any longer. She has to tell someone, and she needs to find out the identity of the strange man.
“I kissed a man yesterday, and my life isn’t the same again. I can’t stop thinking about him, Sara,” she says excitedly and giggles.
Sara’s eyes widen in shock. Who did the princess kiss? One of the guards? She is sure it isn’t one of the workers. No one of them would inspire such feelings in a princess.
“Who did you kiss?” she asks with a frown.
And Wofai describes Prince Ekong down to the colour of his eyes and is confused when Sara gasps, but not in a way that bods well.
“What is it, Sara. Did I, by any chance, snuggle with a lunatic?” which would be terrible, Wofai thinks.
Sara shakes her head, unable to speak for a while before she stutters, “You kissed Prince Ekong, Princess Nkoyo’s fiancé.”
Her frown clears, and breathlessness takes over.
There she was, already creating an impossible fantasy about a man…a stranger, another person’s husband. Of course, nothing that good could happen to her. Wofai worries that she is cursed. Now, she isn’t just a crazy screamer. Flirting can be added to her list of negatives.
Why didn’t she figure it out? When something seems too good to be true, it probably is too good to be true?
Wofai’s chest tightens to the point that she groans for breath. The vein on the side of her neck bulges out at the effort she is exerting not to scream. Tears rush from her eyes. They become bloodshot in the little time she’s been told her sweet dreams were just that, dreams.
“Princess…” Sara mutters tentatively, afraid for the young girl. The news takes only moments to change her sunny demeanour. Sara is confused about handling the situation as she is sure the girl is about to scream any moment now.
Taking a deep breath of courage, she moves slowly towards her, trying not to make any sudden movements. Wofai looks as though she is suffocating, and Sara doesn’t want her to faint.
“Should I get the queen?” Sara asks fearfully, feeling extremely bad for being the cause of her pain.
Sara couldn’t have known, but Wofai was having a conversation with herself. Of course, getting the queen would be quick relief. It always worked like magic. The woman’s presence melts her anxieties. So had the man’s lips on hers. And she groans at the pain of never getting a chance of a good thing with him.
Cook’s question penetrates her fogged mind, and she shakes her head. She wants to struggle through this alone. The queen won’t always be there. Wofai has, at most, six more weeks to stay here. She is determined to be better. If not for her sake, then for her parents’ sake. They don’t deserve the shame her behaviour rubs on their faces.
Someday she’ll be completely whole, and she’ll have a man who evokes those nameless feelings Prince Ekong aroused in her. However, for now, she has to move on from this alone.
Besides, calling in the queen will require an explanation of her crisis. Wofai can’t have that. She doesn’t want the queen hating her at this point for having indecent designs on her daughter’s husband to be.
Sara is impressed. Right before her eyes, she watches the princess struggle with her feelings, her hands sometimes hitting the counter she’s leaning on, as though the pain could detach her from the one in her heart.
She has no idea how this kiss came about. What was the prince doing at the palace in the first place in Princess Nkoyo’s absence?
Wofai is breathing easier, she is taking deep breaths, and her demeanour calms. She looks up with a small smile, and the kitchen woman is sorry to see the sadness in her eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” she croaks as a reply to the pitying look on the cook’s face.
“Of course, you’ll be. You’re a strong girl,” Sara encourages while moving into action. There is no need to dwell on a mistake. Best to move on immediately, and to do that, she pulls open the mighty, industrial fridge and takes out a small container of ice cream.
Grabbing two spoons, she places the tub between herself and Wofai and hands her one of the spoons. The princess grins, collects the spoon and digs in. The ice cream is from princess Nkoyo’s stash in the fridge. As far as the cook is concerned, the princess wouldn’t die from losing one container of ice cream.
After taking three spoons, Wofai looks at Sara with sincerity in her eyes, “I didn’t know he was engaged. Please, do not think me a slut—”
“Oh my God, princess, I know you aren’t. It must have been a mistake—”
“An unpardonable one, and I don’t want the queen to know. I don’t want her to hate me, and I don’t want to bring shame to my parents…God knows I’ve done that enough already,” she whispers the last part, obviously talking to herself, but Sara hears it.
Sara isn’t planning to blab about the kiss. Her mouth is sealed. Wofai needs relief from the guilt she feels, so Sara nods to her request.
“We have ice cream in this palace? How come nobody told me?” the queen asks in an appalled tone when she happens on the two women licking away at the crux of the matter.
Sara almost chokes on the iced confection at the sudden appearance of the queen. Then she clears her throat and tries not to look guilty.
“It’s…it’s princess Nkoyo’s own,” she finally stammers.
Queen places her hands on her curvy hips in exasperation.
“Well, she isn’t here. Get me a cup…or container,” she corrects herself when she glances at the almost empty tub in front of them.
“Of course, your majesty.” Sara bustles off and is soon serving the queen a container of ice cream and a teaspoon.
“Thank you very much, Sara. Wofai, let’s talk,” the queen says business-like.
Wofai’s eyes widen fearfully. Does the queen know about her indiscretion already? Her startled gaze swivels to Sara, who shrugs with an equally anxious expression.
“Hmm,” the queen hums as she enjoys the first spoon of the ice cream, blithely unaware that she caused heavy dread to settle in the hearts of the other women in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe we had this in this palace, and I just know about it,” she mutters to herself and takes another spoon.
“Sara, could you excuse us for a moment?” Affy asks politely.
“Of course, your majesty,” she says and hurries off, closing the door behind her and leaving poor Wofai to her plight.
The princess watches the queen savour her ice cream with blatant pleasure, it should have been a funny sight for her, but dread wouldn’t let her break a smile. If the queen knows about her indiscretion, it isn’t showing on her face. However, she reminds herself that most queens, her mother included, are experts at hiding their real emotions.
Wofai has no idea if there is a unique expression-control school for queens. She recalls the times when her mother was angry at a chief. She could have bitten his head off for the rubbish coming from his mouth. Nevertheless, her face remained serene throughout the meeting, and she never offered any unkind word to the man.
Wofai moves her weight from one foot to the other, the only sign revealing her anxiety.
“I’ve been meaning to talk with you for a while, but royal duties have gotten in the way. So, today I thought I’d just say a bit before I have to return to the next meeting. Is that okay with you?” Affy asks with a small smile while she licks off the ice cream from the spoon.
“Yes,” Wofai answers breathlessly, still unsure what to expect.
“Good. Now I want you to regard this place as a safe place, anything you say to me will remain with me, and all I want is to help you with your scream issue. Is that okay?” Affy asks again, making sure that the girl is in agreement. She cannot help a person who does not want help.
“If you feel the kitchen isn’t conducive, then tell me where you’d prefer. But I can assure you that I’ve sent everybody away from the immediate vicinity. We are alone.”
“I feel safe wherever you are, your majesty,” Wofai acknowledges and is glad to see an adorably pleased look on the queen’s face.
“Oh, darling, that’s sweet. I feel honoured. That means you trust me, and I would never betray that trust, okay?” and she watches Wofai nod before she continues.
“Okay, let me warn you, I’m not going to beat about the bush, I’m just going to delve right in, so here goes. Can you describe the feeling that makes you want to scream? The feeling that creates the urge to scream?”
The queen isn’t joking when she says she is delving right in. Wofai is nervous. She never examines herself deeply as she’s petrified of what she might find. However, surprisingly, she is willing to try in the presence of the queen.
