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Okoye leaned against the frame of the door, the house swaying with the tide of the river. The other woman was only a few steps from her, but she had always felt oceans away.
“Leaving again?” Nakia jumped, her fingers clenching into fists and her locs swinging around to hit at her shoulders. Okoye smirked, then unfurled her lips into a full smile. She stepped into the room as Nakia exhaled.
“Eh, you can not just show up like that. You scared me.” Okoye scoffed.
“You are telling me that I scared the spy ?” Nakia tilted her head, looking up to the ceiling before looking back at the other woman. Their expressions softened.
“I will miss you, usisi .” They shared a long glance. Okoye turned away first, walking the border of the room and marking where things had been left to cover in dust. Nakia had been gone for years. Not days, not even months. Years, with no words. No smiles. No glances across rooms.
“Do not give me those eyes.” She said, down to her hands. Nakia’s eyes. Dark, deep, and endless. She hated looking into them just as much as she loved them for their mystery. “Wakanda will be empty again without you.” She spoke, quietly. There was silence between them for a moment, as Nakia folded a dress. Her back remained to the other woman.
“Have you gone to see him?” She asked, her voice covering her words with an air of unimportance. Even though it was the worst question to ask. And she knew that. Okoye’s husband was a sore subject. Not even sore. Soreness implied the beginnings of pain, or the ending of it. Her husband was a burning feeling. A constant stabbing in her chest that would never go away. A cry stuffed deep in her vocal chords that had only crawled up to show its ugly face during her confrontation with the Queen. That had been the worst day of her life. Reminding her twice over that she could lose everything most important to her, in a matter of seconds. Okoye would have been angry at the other woman for asking, if she could ever hold anger with Nakia.
“Who?” Okoye folded her arms across her chest, pressing her back against a wall. Nakia turned around, her back still bent and her hair falling over her shoulder.
“Okoye.” She emphasized the other woman’s name with an exhale.
“ Nakia .” Okoye mimicked her voice, turning her head away. Nakia finished folding the dress, placing it gingerly in her bag. She stood up to her full height, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her feet at her ankles.
“You do not have to be alone.” She said, “You can forgive him.” Okoye snorted.
“I have no more love left for men.” Nakia smirked.
“I knew spending so much time with Aneka would rub off on you.” She laughed, as Okoye brushed by her, swatting at her shoulder in play. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, picking up one of the pairs of pants sprawled across Nakia’s bed.
“Let me help you pack faster.” She smoothed her fingers over the fabric, folding the clothes neatly in silence. They stood next to each other, wordlessly completing the task. Passing each other items until the bed was empty and the bag was full.
“Will you visit me?” Nakia asked, as Okoye held the last item in her hand. It was a yellow sundress. Okoye knew it well. Nakia had worn it out with T’Challa in the market, years before his father had died. When everything had seemed normal. When Okoye had been normal. She thumbed at the smooth fabric, bringing it close to her chest to embrace, before quickly folding it over her arms.
“What is there for me in Haiti ?” She passed the dress to the other woman, who hugged it to her chest.
“Am I not enough?” Nakia asked. Okoye refused to respond. Nakia cleared her throat, pivoting.“The water is beautiful there.”
“The water is beautiful in Wakanda.” They were both staring down at their hands as they zipped up the bag.
“You can swim in it instead of flying over it.” Nakia smirked.
“I would rather drown.”
“ Okoye .” Nakia turned her head to look at the other woman. The tone of her voice sounded like a mother scolding her child. Okoye wondered when she’d learned to speak like mothers did.
“What?” Okoye lifted her shoulders, turning away and moving back towards the wall. It was anchoring her. “You want me to come there so we can be miserable together?”
“I am not miserable.”
“How then?” Nakia sighed, her eyes looking down at her bare feet against the wood of the floor. “How are you not miserable but I still am?” Okoye’s voice trembled. “How have you found reasons to smile in all these years and I can barely…stand?” She thought of the loss of W’Kabi, his body disappearing into the pit of prison. She thought of T’Challa turning to dust, and then returning to it, just a few years later. She pressed her back deeper into the wall. She wanted to be grounded.
“Okoye.” Nakia took a step towards the other woman, her hands outstretched.
“I have lost… everything .” Okoye whispered. She thought of the Queen, looking down at her. Surrounded by the elders as she demanded her head. She thought of digging her spear into the floor, the feeling of its heavy familiarity disappearing from her mind slowly. She thought of the Queen, still and unbreathing. Her silver hair crowning her head like a halo. Nakia’s hands rested on the tops of her shoulders. Okoye’s breath was heavy and uneven but she maintained her ability to speak clearly. She looked at the other woman through her eyelashes. “ Uyaqonda ? Everything.” She spoke with force. “I have nothing .” Nakia clicked her tongue, shaking her head.
“That is not true.” She let her fingers travel up Okoye’s neck and gathered her cheeks in her palms “You have me .”
“I have never had you Nakia.” Okoye shook her head. She could smell her. Like someone had captured the fragrance of the beach and stamped it into her skin. Her smooth, brown skin. Unmarred by scars or any signs of the battles she’d fought. How could she have emerged so unscathed? Okoye envied her. Okoye wanted her. Nakia’s lips curled to form their next words, her large eyes refraining from blinking.
“You have never asked .” She lowered one of her hands back to Okoye’s neck, running a thumb across the other woman’s jawline. Okoye thought of grabbing her wrist and pulling her away. Sending her off without another pause filled with words she refused to say. Vulnerability was not weakness, she reminded herself. But it felt that way. She trusted Nakia with her life, but not with her heart.
“No one has ever been able to keep you in one place.” She started, Nakia’s eyes following the movements of her mouth intently. “You have stayed in Haiti the longest you have ever stayed anywhere.” Nakia’s fingers traveled overtop the tattoos on her head. She shivered. “I know there is someone.” Nakia’s hand was on her waist. When it had found its way there, Okoye did not know. “I would never ask you to leave.” She promised herself she would maintain her resolve. Her back was still pressed against the wall, the other woman curled around her like a snake. She was temptation in every form. Every forbidden thing. Nakia’s lips were soft and sudden on her neck. Pressing a smooth kiss underneath her ear. Okoye closed her eyes. Nakia lifted her mouth to the side of the other woman’s head.
“Do you want me to tell you about him?” She whispered. Okoye shook her head, once.
“No.” She said, pulling the other woman’s lips to her own.
Nakia opened her eyes, the dark of the night sky greeting her along with the shadowed outline of the other woman. She propped her head up in her palm, her elbow digging into the bed. “Did you not sleep?” She spoke, to Okoye’s back. The woman was sitting on the edge of the mattress, staring out at the river and its stillness.
“No.” She said. Nakia sat up all the way, the nakedness of her chest reacting to the cool evening air.
“Are you ashamed?” She asked, swallowing and still tasting the other woman on her tongue. Okoye exhaled.
“Do you love him?”
“Okoye, he is not what you think.” Nakia, moved to explain. It wasn’t a lover keeping her in Haiti. There would never be another lover for her. She’d been in the deepest of loves before, and now that had been buried with T’Challa. Okoye was the only person left who truly understood her, and there was no replacing that. She wished for a word in her vocabulary to convey it. She racked her brain for the best way to introduce the topic of her son. A way that would not hurt.
“Do you love him?” Okoye turned to look back at Nakia over her shoulder. The other woman sighed.
“I do.” Okoye turned back to look at the open window, her shoulders tightening back into their usual position. Her posture was impeccable. The naked skin of her back, smooth and highlighted in the blue light of the nighttime sky. Her bald head, scattered with symmetrical tattoos, was impossibly still.
“I cannot visit you in Haiti.” She said, and then stood up.
“I understand.” Nakia laid back in the bed, her elbows still keeping her slightly elevated as the other woman gathered her clothes. “If you change your mind, you know where I will be.” She stared at Okoye with all the love and admiration she could muster. And it was easy to give. She wished it were as easy for Okoye to receive.
“I will not change my mind.” She slipped her pants over her legs, and then pulled her shirt over her head. Once she was done dressing herself, she moved towards the door. Pausing in the doorframe, she held onto the wood with one of her hands. She turned her head slightly, giving Nakia a half moon of her face. “You break my heart when you go.” She said, even as she was the one now leaving.
“I know, sithandwa .” Nakia breathed out, laying back in the soft sheets. She stared up at the ceiling, the gentle whirring of the ceiling fan covering the footsteps of the other woman leaving her house. “I know.” She closed her eyes and whispered, to no one.