Confrontation

A stocky man in a shirt and tie came through the hotel doors followed by the hulking Makenju. Queen Maryam looked Liliputian between the two brawny men.

Theo came from around the corner. He shook the stocky man’s hand. Makenju embraced him in a hug. They looked like tow large brown bears in the lobby.

Naomi smiled at the queen and proffered two plastic hotel keys. “Is he always this friendly with someone he tries to kill in the lavatory?” Her smile was genuine but icy.

Maryam smiled as well. “A man who does his duty well can seldom be criticized.”

The men had separated and Theo was explaining where there rooms were on the property. He bowed to Maryam, who smiled curtly, and then the royal party was on its way, leaving the cabbie behind.

As they rounded the corner to the elevator, Maryam said, “She loves him. But there is someone else.”

Behind the desk, Naomi was shaking her head.

“What?” Theo grinned.

“She…I don’t like her. She acts like she is royalty or something.”

Theo’s grin got wider. “She is royalty, Hon. Be easy.” He was headed back to his office when Naomi said, “I’ll give her this: she loves him, that’s for sure. But there’s someone else.”

“Story of our lives,” Theo said over his shoulder.

“What’s up for today?” Naomi called.

“Clear my calendar. I have to go downtown for a while,” he replied.
“Calendar’s empty, Boss,” Naomi’s tone was just slightly sarcastic.

“Even better,” was all she got in reply.

Makenju and Maryum waited for the elevator.

“She loves him,” Maryum whispered, “but there’s someone else.”

“You would know,” Makenju grunted.

“Could you not be so difficult, all of the time?” the monarch looked up at him. Makenju shrugged his huge shoulders.

“And that gesture is so…plebian,” Maryam sniffed.

“You are a monarch, Majesty, Makenju apologized with fake sincerity. “I am a simple clod who once had tastes too expensive for him.”

Maryam shook her head. “Someone should have told you it is unhealthy to hold onto things,” she said with concern.

“Things and people are not the same, Ma’am, “ Makenju said as they entered the elevator.

They rode in the car in silence, and Makenju quickly found their adjoining rooms.

“Ma’am, if you please,” he instructed, “out of sight, behind that pillar.”

“Oh, Makenju,” the queen looked exasperated, but she obeyed.

Makenju undid the lock and turned on the lights in the sitting room of the suite. He motioned, and Maryam strode in behind him.

“There is a reason we do this in teams,” he explained. Maryam shook her head again and entered the bedroom once Makenju announced it clear. He left her alone while he went out the door and keyed into the room next door. Momentarily, he opened the door between the two suites.

The Queen, in a rare gesture of familiarity, had removed her shoes and hat and was sitting on a sofa in the sitting room. Makenju stood until she motioned for him to sit. He did.

“If we are going to get through this without vexing each other, Ibrahim, you are going to have to adjust for the situation.”

“Ma’am?”

The queen reached out with a stockinged foot and rubbed the leg of his creased trousers.

“I recall you losing a bet,” she said softly.

Makenju grunted.

The queen got up, bolter her outside access door and the door that led to Makenju’s room.
She then came and sat, quite delicately, in the big man’s lap. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“You are as rigid as a board,” she murmured.

Makenju decided against responding.

“I am sorry, for the last time,” she said softly, in the soldier’s ear. “You know that I am. You also knew the rules.”

“I know you lied to me, Maryum.”

“May May, Ibrahim. Never.”

“Oh, then you lied on me?”

“Not at all.”

“Then which is it, May May? How did I wind up imprisoned?”

“A people will forgive their monarch’s human failures provided the monarch not flaunts them in public.”

“So?”

“To have an ongoing situation with someone on your staff is common, Ibrahim. Monarchs are people, too. To take that situation to the next level causes so many problems, as you well know. Even your military, Major, has rules against fraternization.”

Maryum raised her arms above her head and stretched. When she lowered her arms, they circled Makenju’s neck.

“I’m married,” she said softly.

Makenju’s laugh was harsh. “You’re reminding me? Hmmmm…”
“I love him, Makenju.”

“I can see that.”

“Is sarcasm a soldier’s way of denying his emotions, Major?”

Maryam leaned her head on Makenju’s shoulder, never removing her arms from his neck.

“Everyone loves differently. I love Mark for being my friend. For supporting me, for being loyal. All things considered, he has been a wonderful father to Thandiwe, his discretion has been commendable, and he has done his best in dealing with a difficult wife. It is not the love of storybooks, Makenju. We are dear friends. Our intimate life has been nonexistent for years. That is not our relationship. He is my husband, he is my friend, he loves me in his way, and I him in mine. Do not confuse the issue. Ours was a marriage that had to happen.”

Makenju snorted. “An heir must be produced.”

“One was.”

“I know. Your Majesty,” Makenju’s tone had surpassed sarcasm. This was contempt. “Did you ever stop to think that ‘royal duty’ was no excuse for disregarding peoples’ feelings? For playing with their emotions? For abusing their trust? For imprisoning them? For what? To keep a country safe? To save lives? No. To preserve the image of a monarch. Royalty,” he spat the word, “is no license to trample the lives of others.”

The queen appeared unfazed by his rant. “My image is part of what keeps my country safe, and that saves lives, Ibrahim.”

Makenju shook with rage, but he remained seated.

“I save lives, Maryam,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

She cocked her head at him quizzically, a small smile on her pretty, round face.

“YOU are the man that has “killed more Africans than AIDS”, according to that magazine,” her laugh was deep and throaty.

“In honor of queen and country,” he whispered. “But no more.”

“You’re quitting?”

“I’m in good standing. My pension is secure. After we get this girl back, I am retiring.”

Maryum pressed her body closer to Makenju’s, something he did not think possible. “You can’t quit. I need you. Thandiwe needs you.”

‘Thandiwe needed me so badly you put me in prison for it.”

“You were detained to keep a scandal from brewing, Ibrahim. Your behavior was inexcusable, and you know it.”

He shifted slightly in his chair. “I love her.”

“You should. How one demonstrates that love, and when…she is a girl, Ibrahim,” the monarch’s voice grew harder. “You confused her.”

“Yes, I can see where the confusion was all my doing.” His tone was now bitter.

Maryam shifted, turned around so her back was to him, never leaving his lap.

“This conversation is exhausting, dear. Undo me.”

Makenju laughed. “Why do you always feel so entitled to everything?”

“My dear,” she giggled, “I AM royalty. Undo my dress, and stop pretending your feelings don’t exist.’

“My feelings got me into trouble once before,” he mused quietly.

“Not your feelings, Love. Your judgment.”

“You can’t just turn it on and off, May May,” he said huskily. “When something means something, you can’t…I can’t…just take advantage one day and pretend it does not matter the next.” His large hands reached up and delicately undid the buttons where her throat met her back.

“Of course you can,” Maryum pulled the dress from her shoulders, stood, and stepped out of it. “All that you have is today. You, as a soldier, know that best. Yesterday is done and tomorrow is not promised. All you have is today, right now.”

Makenju was past trying to avert his eyes. “Sure you had a baby?”
The queen giggled. “Yes, and I am middle aged. I know who and what I am, Ibrahim. I don’t pretend. At least not with myself.”

She stretched again and grabbed Makenju’s hand.

“Now, you know I haven’t the strength to pull you out of that chair.”

Makenju glowered, remained seated, and looked away.

Queen Maryum nodded and began to unbutton his shirt. ‘Where is that stupid pistol?”

“Back of my pants. In my belt. This can’t always be about you, Maryum.”

“It always has been, Mr. Man. We would be foolish to think anything would change.”

“Then, no.”

“Stop fooling yourself, Major,” she laughed. “If you are dying to hear me say, ‘This is about me, all about me, nothing will change afterwards, I will always care for you, but I have to live as I am and you just have to bear with that,’ then so be it; I said it.”

“Why me?”

“Why was it you before? Because it is what I want.”

“What about what I want?”

“Your control over your wants, regarding this, is limited to the choice that you make now.”

The big soldier exhaled.

“I miss being an us, but the us we were had to change. You understood that for so many years. I still want us, Ibrahim, but we have to do this my way.”

“There are consequences, Maryum…”

The throaty laugh again. “Indeed. And that consequence is loose somewhere in this city. There will be no more consequences of that sort, I assure you.”
“ I don’t mean that,” he blustered. “I can be here when you need things done, when you need me, but when I am not needed, I have to sit along the sidelines and watch you and whomever else…”

“There won’t be anyone else, Ibrahim…”

“But your husband.”

“You understand what that is and why it must be. Mark won’t interfere.”

“He is a man, Maryum. He has his pride.”

“And being with me, he has many other things he would not care to lose. Thandiwe, for starters. His pride? Mark is married to a queen. Twenty years ago he had to learn, sadly, the price that he paid for that was his pride. A lesson he has relearned since.”

Makenju grunted. “Picture him being imprisoned for demonstrating a father’s love.”

“I’m not picturing him at all. Do you want to help me with this?”

Again, the big soldier’s hands were on her back.

“Thank you, Ibrahim.” She left him standing there as she went into the bedroom.

He followed.