“This is weird.” King grumbled, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he and Joan stood awkwardly at the corner of the entrance of the church.
He couldn’t deny that she had a good taste in men's clothes, he thought looking down at his trousers. She definitely knew his style.
“You’re the one making it awkward.” She whispered.
He was about to respond but stopped, chuckling instead when he saw her fiddling with the sleeves of the burgundy gown she wore, she was also nervous.
They had come to the Catholic Church closest to her house, St. Thomas Aquinas. The mass had ended and everyone else were either leaving or socializing. Joan had said they wait to make new friends; he wasn’t sure you could make new friends standing invisible at a corner. He glanced at her then looked at her.
She looked beautiful. Her burgundy dress hugged her figure but not too tightly that would border on indecent; the dress slipped a little off her shoulders, perfect for the necklace she wore, she called it a choker. Choker? Women…
Her braids were tied back with a scarf and she hadn’t applied any makeup except for a glittery lip gloss. She always managed to put makeup to shame.
He gave her shoulders a little bump with his.
“What?” she asked, not looking at him.
“How are you my height?” he whispered in pretended anger.
She laughed a little.
“Little miss heely fault, not mine.”
He laughed with her.
There was something else on his mind, the homily the priest had given. It had stuck in his head like glue and refused to come off.
“King!”
He snapped out of his thoughts. Joan was shaking his hand while looking straight ahead.
“What?” he asked, confused at her behaviour.
“Someone is coming towards us!” she whisper-shouted and stopped shaking his hand. He noticed the woman just as she got to them.
“Hello to you too!” the woman greeted, offering them a big smile.
“Hi.” Joan greeted, her voice coming out like a shy whisper. She pinched him.
“Good day ma'am.” He rushed out.
“I noticed the both of you are new. I'm right?”
He nodded as Joan replied in the positive.
“Great!” the woman beamed, “We love new members…”
“Oh… we just came for this Sunday, we're not joining yet.” Joan clarified.
The woman’s smile didn’t drop at the dissapointment instead her lips stretched even wider.
“That’s fine. Anytime you want to come again, you’re always welcome. I’m Gertrude.”
“Joan.” Joan pointed to herself, “And he's King.”
The woman’s brow shot up, “Of what kingdom?” she asked.
He and Joan looked at each other then back at the woman who watched them amusedly, then back to each other. Joan's brows went up high as her eyes widened then she broke into a hearty laughter, turning back to the woman.
“No kingdom, he's a lone King.” Joan spoke, still laughing, the woman laughing also. He got the joke then and he chuckled, itching his head, a bit embarrassed at how slow they were to get the joke.
“Come on” the woman smiled teasingly at them, “Joan and her King, let’s meet the rest of the family.”
Joan pulled him along after the woman before he could protest.
“You’re supposed to kneel or genuflect or bow.” She whispered to him when he passed the entrance of the church without making any sign of respect like she and the woman did.
“Oh.” He released his hand and went back, going on his right knee as he had seen her do.
“It’s because the Tabernacle is placed there.” She added, still whispering as they moved along. He wanted to ask her what Tabernacle meant but shut up as they had gotten to the rest of the family. The family consisted of both adults, teenagers and children.
“Hello everyone! This is Joan and her King!”
All attention turned to them.
“Wasn’t it fun?” Joan asked him when they were back in her room.
“Yeah.”
She paused, half way through removing her heels. Her eyes were glittery, bright and he couldn’t look away from them..
“You don’t sound so excited.”
“I am. I just conceal it much better than you.”
She gave him a look, “Why do I have to hide the fact that I’m excited?”
“No reason.”
She eyed him, sitting up straight at the foot of her bed, her heels forgotten while he stared blankly at her from his position at the door. He loved it when he played her, when he made her wonder.
“Go change so we can have breakfast and decide what we'll eat for lunch.”
He nodded but didn’t move.
“Joan…” he called after a moment of silence.
“Yes?” she answered, moving to her wardrobe.
He hesitated, “Nevermind.” He said.
He'll just wait or better still won’t tell her at all. Their relationship was okay as it was, he wouldn’t be the one to destroy it.
She narrowed her eyes at him, “Tell me.” She ordered.
He gave her smile.
“I'll tell you later.” He said then quickly walked out of her room.
“King, be careful.” Joan repeated for the unpteenth time. He looked into her worried eyes and he couldn’t resist, his hands went around her back and he kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger alittle longer.
“I will.” He spoke upon retreating, giving her a reassuring smile. He looked up and met Mrs. Michael’s piercing gaze from the staircase, his hands came off Joan’s back.
“I'll call you.” He told her then disappeared out the door and into the cab Joan had called for him. He gave the cab man his address and they sped off.
It was afternoon, almost four days since he left home. He could imagine how furious Jamal would be and how much beating he would receive. If Joan had her way, she would have locked him up in her room forever.
“Thank you.” He told the cab man as he got out of the cab. He waited until the cab disappeared round the corner and he had made sure he wasn’t being watched or followed before he began the hour's journey that would take him to his home. Joan had told him not to give the cab man his address just in case as she had reapplied the ointment on his wounded back, she wouldn’t admit it but she was scared to her bones for him.
It didn’t take him up to an hour, he sped walked and finally with a lot of dread, he let himself into his house. He didn’t bother to dally outside, no delay would take Jamal’s anger away, it would only invigorate it.
He was right.
The minute he shut the door, a pan came flying in his direction. He forged and the pan hit the wall and fell to the floor with a loud clang.
“How many whore’s this time?”
Jamal stood in front of the kitchen, his face that if the devil’s, a knife in his right hand. King became alarmed, he hadn’t thought of the knife, not at all. His eyes stayed locked on Jamal, his hands still on the knob, ready to flee at the slightest opportunity.
“I asked how many whore’s this time!?”
Jamal advanced slowly and the knob twisted down slowly, soundlessly in response. Sweat trickled down his face, his breathing increased as his heart pounded wildly in his chest, his eyes flitted warily between Jamal and the knife. One wrong move and that knife would end up in his stomach.
“Four days.” Jamal laughed maniacally, “You leave my house for four good days.”
King swallowed, holding the knob still, ready to pull it open. It would be longer next time, he thought, and then it would be forever.
“King Johannson, I'll kill you.” Jamal said, “I’ll butcher you with my hands and feed on my prize.”
And then Jamal suddenly came running at him. King wrenched the door open but he wasn’t fast enough, the knife was already flying towards him. Everything happened too fast. He was escaping out the door one moment; the next, he felt a sharp pain that lasted for a flitting second and then something was flying over his head and Jamal was down on the floor.