The Evening

The soldiers dined in their room together, leaving their monarch to her food in peace.

“I’m not dying to see my sovereign eat barbecue,” Akbar said in mild disgust once the two men had slipped out of their jackets and laid their pistols on the table.

“Don’t be a hypocrite,” Makenju attacked his food with gusto. “We’ve eaten worse.”

“We have. She should not have to.”

“Don’t forget, her mother hid her and her brother during the civil war. She’s lived, friend,” Makenju cleaned one bone and placed it aside. “This is better than prison food by a long shot.”

Akbar shook his head.

“What’s with you?” Makenju grabbed another rib and paused. “You’ve been out of sorts this entire mission.”

Akbar looked glumly at his food.

“Spill it man!”

“Doesn’t this feel odd to you, Ibrahim?”

Makenju cleaned his second rib. “I was on Death Row a few days back. Odd is all my life has been for a while now. What’s on your mind, soldier?”

Akbar cleared his throat. “We are in a foreign country looking for the princess who, for all intents and purposes, appears to just be on holiday with her boyfriend. Not the best thing, but no capitol offense. The US State Department is paying us an awful lot of attention, and what is with this ‘Mrs. Oludara’ stuff?”

Makenju continued eating.

“No, Ibrahim, look, something isn’t right here.”

Makenju wiped his hands and pulled a pen from his pocket. On a napkin, he wrote, “Assume this room is bugged until you hear otherwise from me.” He put the napkin in his pocket. Akbar nodded and changed the subject.

When their meal was finished, the two soldiers busied themselves writing back and forth regarding their plans when their telephone extension rang. Akbar answered.

“Ma’am? Yes ma’am. Right away.” He replaced the receiver and nodded at Makenju. “She wants you.”

Makenju nodded, grabbed his pistol and jammed it in the small of his back. He slipped on his jacket and knocked gently on the door that adjoined the rooms.

“Majesty?”

There was a sound on the other side of the door and Makenju opened it and stepped in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Ma’am? Did you enjoy your supper?”

Maryam Oludara sat in a chair at her desk and motioned for Makenju to take the seat next to hers. “It was, Major. My compliments to Mr. Mitchell. I would like to visit his establishment again before we leave.”

Makenju took the napkin from his pocket and presented it to the queen before he sat down. She nodded and passed him a note she had written before he entered.

“We need to operate from a different base, Ibrahim. Make that happen.”

Makenju nodded.

Maryum spoke aloud. “And I trust your meal was satisfying as well, Major?”

“Indeed, ma’am. It was a far cry from prison food,” he grinned.

She sighed and wrote, “Are you armed?”

He wrote back, “Always.”

“Let’s go.”

“I have to get Akbar.”

She was already out of her chair and headed towards the door. Makenju reasoned: if he waited for Akbar she would be gone. If he called for Akbar in haste, the other man might come prepared for the worst.

He followed her out the door. She was already punching the button for the elevator.

“Ma’am? We really need another…”

“May May,” Maryum said sweetly.

The elevator doors opened. The queen stepped in lightly. Makenju followed a look of concern on his face.

“Have you the keys to the car?”

“No Ma’am…”

“May May,” she smiled.

“Ma’am, I haven’t driven in a while.”

“We can walk,” she smiled and patted Makenju’s middle. “You could use the exercise.”

Makenju shrugged, resigned to his fate. “Where are we going?”

“To see Chicago. And someplace where we can talk.”

The elevator landed in the lobby. Makenju followed Maryam as she exited a side door.

“Ma’am? I really need an idea…this is really unorthodox…”

Maryam began humming softly and sang, “Ma’am is not here…Neither is Maryam or Mrs. Oludara…for the next hour I am only answering to May May.”

Makenju settled into an easy stride. How were legs as short as hers moving so fast?

She began walking in the direction of the lake.

“Where are we going?” he demanded.

“May May wants to ride the Ferris Wheel, Ibrahim?”

Makenju began puffing. “I won’t be much use to you if you don’t slow down and I pass out.”

She laughed. “I had CPR during the war,” but she slowed down.

Makenju’s mobile rang. It had been so long since he’d had one, the sound initially confused him. He felt in his pockets and found it. Maryam grabbed it from him and answered. Makenju made a grab for the handset that was deftly avoided.

“Where the devil are you Makenju?” Akbar could barely contain his anger.

“Good evening, Major,” she responded coolly, “I tried to escape the hotel without security and the good major followed me out the door. He is with me right now. We shan’t need you until later, if you would like to pick us up with the car.”

“Ma’am, might I remind you…”

“I fully understand the risks, Major. You seem a bit tense of late. You are ordered to stand down for the next couple of hours. Take a nap. Thank you and goodbye.”

She tossed the mobile to Makenju, who caught it one handed and replaced it in his pocket.

“Ma’am…”

“May May?”

The big soldier shrugged in exasperation. “May May. This is a bad idea.”

Her face changed slightly. “Major, I intend to ride that Ferris wheel. I intend to hear some music. I intend to have a good time. You are my escort. I am ordering you to join me and enjoy yourself.”

“May May, I swore an oath to protect you even if it runs counter to your orders. No doubt Akbar is on the line with the embassy as we speak raising hell with our embassy.”

“No he’s not,” she said wearily. “The one thing, the only thing major Akbar has is his duty, and I am at the top of that roster. He would not do anything to cause a row where I am concerned. Ibrahim, unlike many other men, Akbar has no desire for love, or approval, or acceptance. His life is his duty.”

“Well, it’s kept him out of jail; I can say that much for him.”

She ignored his comment and kept walking.

They entered the Navy Pier concourse and walked past the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company & Market.

“Just like the movie,” Maryam murmured.

Makenju thanked the Almighty he’d had the presence to bring his pistol and eyed the crowds uneasily.

Maryam was oblivious. She walked and smiled and took it all in. As they walked towards the Ferris wheel, Makenju sidled up beside her and whispered, “This place requires money, your majesty…”

“May May,” she whispered.

“I just got out of prison.”

The tiny monarch pulled the burly soldier close and he felt her hand in his trouser packet.

“You have to pay for everything.”

“Where did you get this? I never knew you to handle currency.”

“Oh, stop asking so many questions and enjoy yourself. That is an order. And here,” she put her hand to his mouth. Reflexively, he opened it. “Chew this. Your breath smells like barbecue.”

Makenju began chewing and felt what appeared to be an envelope in his pocket.

They made their way to the Ferris wheel line and Makenju began to look uneasy.

Maryam hugged his arm. ‘What’s wrong?”

“Heights.”

“Aren’t you a soldier?”

“Reason I didn’t join the Air Force.”

She looked genuinely concerned. “We can skip it, Ibrahim.”

“You’re holding my arm pretty tight. I think I can make it.”

They both smiled as Makenju tried to simultaneously keep his eye on the crowd and his mind off the woman holding on to them.

The line was short and soon they were seated in one of the carriages. As the wheel began its arc, Makenju stiffened somewhat. Maryam increased the pressure on his arm. They rode in silence until the wheel stopped and they were near the top. Makenju exhaled, and Maryam leaned against him.

“This is beautiful,” she exclaimed softly, “not a care in the world.” She exhaled and put her arm around his middle.

“May May?” Makenju’s voice was hoarse.

“Yes, Ibrahim?”

“Why did you do it?”

She snuggled against him more as the wheel began to move again.

“I had to, Makenju. If you had just been willing to go along with things, nothing would have happened. But you didn’t. You got insistent. Thandiwe got emotional. We could not have a scandal. Decorated military officer, chief of security to the royal family, involved with a royal? On that level? Ibrahim,” she sighed, “no amount of love can come between a royal and her duty. Any amount of embarrassment can hamper a royal’s ability to rule. The plan was to keep you out of circulation for a while and repatriate you somewhere, quietly. You have to believe me.”

“I believe you want what you want and the human cost means nothing to you,” he said.

“No you don’t.” Maryam sighed again, “If you believed that you would have taken your money and left.”

“Wasn’t this a condition to get me off of death row, out of prison?”

“I never signed any death warrants and specifically forbade anyone else to do so. How would that look to Thandiwe?”

“So much for love.”

“Love is important, but duty must come first,” she said firmly. “I am part of a line that has been willed by God Almighty to do this job. We have withstood colonialism, a civil war, and coups. God wills us to rule our people. Obedience demands that we put duty before all else, even our personal feelings. It was a hard lesson for Thandiwe to learn, but she learned it.”

Their car came to a stop on the ground, and the attendant helped Maryam alight from the car. Makenju stood, checked to make sure his pistol was secure, and followed her.

“What now?”

“A drink sounds nice. Perhaps a walk after that.”

“Maryam?”

“May May?”

“Yes?”

“Thanidwe?”

“It can’t be, I am sorry,” she sounded sincere. “I know you love her dearly, but this entire escapade has not been good for her.”

“I saw her picture with the young man. She appears fine.”

“A mother understands things her daughter cannot.”

“Then why are we here now?”
“To find her, to speak sense to her, to make sure she stays on the right path is all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ibrahim? You are a member of this family. You have served us loyally for many years. Do not mistake those sentiments for something they are not. I have a duty to do, and sadly, soldiers can be imprisoned as easily as they are set free.”

Makenju remained quiet and walked beside her.

“Let’s stop here for a drink,” she suggested. Soul music wafted from the doorway of the pub.

“You give the orders. My job is to protect you.”

“Don’t be like that. Tonight, we are who we are, who we were, and we are going to enjoy a drink. “

They went in and sat down, with Makenju facing the doorway. A waitress met them promptly. The Queen ordered a martini. Makenju requested club soda.

“He’ll have a single malt. Make it a double,” Maryam grinned wickedly.

Makenju pulled out his mobile and dialed Akbar.

“Meet us at the entrance of navy Pier in an hour. No, with the diplomatic plates, you should be able to wait in the cabstand.”

“Ending our night so soon?”

Makenju changed the subject. “Who is this playing?”

Maryam smiled. “That, my dear, is your theme song. Marvin Gave. “Trouble Man.”

The tune was haunting but the lyrics spoke of something else.

“You are the Trouble Man,” Maryam repeated. “The true survivor.” She began to sing.

“I'm ready to make it
Don't care what the weather
Don't care 'bout no trouble
Got myself together
I feel the kind of protection
That's all around me

I come up hard, baby…”
Makenju grinned. Their drinks arrived. He instinctively took Maryam’s, sipped it, and looked at his watch. After a few minutes, he nodded. She appeared relieved and a bit embarrassed. Makenju downed half of his whisky in a swallow.

“That’s me?”

“The man trouble cannot hold down. Yes, my friend, that is you.”

They enjoyed their drinks in silence until the next song started. Makenju felt warm in his middle, the barbecue and the scotch, the sheer strangeness of sitting across from a woman who had him imprisoned, now in a foreign country with a gun butt digging into his back.

“Who is this?”

“Oh, my dear, I forgot, your time in the States before was limited to your work,” Maryam giggled.

Makenju smiled. “Giggling in public over alcohol is most unregal.”

She giggled again. “That’s not even a word!”

“Care to wager on it?”

Makenju stuck out his little finger. Maryam locked hers with it.

“It’s a bet. What are we betting?”

“If unregal is a word, then you…I don’t know. I can’t think of anything I want.”

Maryam raised her eyebrows and gave him an alluring look.

“I can think of one thing.”

“I’m not getting it.”

“I never said you could not have it. I said you could not have it forever.”

“Same difference. What do you want?”

“If that silliness is not a word…”

“Yes?”

“Then you, my dear Ibrahim, must refer to me when we are alone as May May. No questions asked.”

“Really?”

“Whenever we are alone.”

Makenju’s mobile chirped. He glanced at it and threw back the rest of his drink.

“You never did tell me the name of this song.”

“It’s the Commodores. ‘Just to be Close to You.”

“Who sang lead?”

“Lionel Richie. He’s huge over our way, now.”

Makenju listened to the singing. “He never went to jail for a woman. I can tell.”

Maryam giggled again as he helped her to her feet.

Akbar had the Cadillac idling at the curb. Makenju held the door for Maryam and climbed in the front seat.

“Thank you, Major,” Maryam said. Makenju was not sure to whom she was speaking. Akbar nodded.

“The embassy called, Ma’am.”

Maryam sat a bit more erect and asked, “When?”

“This evening.”

“Why?”

“A Mr. Darren Summers is requesting an audience with you tomorrow morning. Regarding his son.”

Maryam nodded. ‘Of course, Major, tell them 11am is fine.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

The car sped back to the Sheraton.