We issue out into an evening that still smells damp, humid, even though it's been a few hours since the last rain of the day fell. In silence we walk to her bike, where a messenger bag is perched. She takes the bag and suggests we adjourn to the park some blocks away. Seeing no reason to object, I agree.
Silence still as we traipse from noisy, crowded concrete jungle to refined, civilized, tamed greenery. Not quiet, though - there's too many families and friend groups being boisterous for that. Not quiet, that is, until Big Bird takes us into an alcove deep in the interior of the park, draping vines forming its doorway and shutting out the distant sounds of celebration and relaxation.
"Why'd you come and get me?"
She continues unlatching the satchel as she answers, "Because I heard in your voice and read in your eyes that you didn't really want to go. And because you're suffering a heartbreak."
"...How'd you know?"
"Because I've been around enough men that I know when they're hurting. Why do you think I've never offered to sleep with you? I'm a whore, after all."
There's nothing I can say to that, and I don't want to talk about the Mocha Girl. I'm about to change the subject when I see the bag's contents spread out on a stone table in the middle of an alcove. More pictures and maps. A bottle of wine. Two plastic cups. A small white cardboard box that when opened reveals itself to be a two-portion chocolate cake with a single, unlit purple candle.
"Why purple?"
"You were born on a Saturday. Your friend told my friend your age. I calculated from there."
I oh as she fills the cups with the wine and hands one to me, taking the other for herself.
"It's my day off and your birthday besides, so don't worry about money. We'll drink wine and I'll tell you more about my ancestor."
If I was a different sort of man, I might object to all the assumptions and presumptions she's making. But I'm not, and besides, she's right anyway. I take a gulp of the wine. It's sweet, yet not too sweet. Peaches and apricots in the notes. I like it.
"'lise knew it was important to learn Arabic, as I said before. It took a number of years, but he finally mastered it and gained the approval of many who were formerly against him. He'd also appointed his teacher as his first vassal in thanks for taking the time and patience to instruct him.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. A peasant revolt broke out while 'lise, tired of sitting around Mahra, was becoming the whale that ate the morsel in front of him.
The rebellion was swiftly put down, the war concluded. But that wasn't the end of things - Islan Mukhtar, however brilliant a teacher, had a deeply flawed character - one that caused no end of scandals. First, he abused his other guests and his wife at a feast, which 'lise publicly denounced him for. Then, while the Gerard of Mahra was involved in his most complicated war yet, word spread that Mukhtar was sleeping with 'lise's sister, even though both of them were married.
My ancestor imprisoned them to worry about later, turning his attention to the matter only after the war was finally over, the wealthiest territory of the Ziyadid Emirate added to Mahra. Once peace settled again, 'lise freed the adulterous couples, but only after forcing his vassal to embrace the Somali faith. Hard feelings between teacher and student for many years, until just before Mukhtar's death.
Friend turned enemy. Enemy turned friend, as my ancestor realized the giant of a man was an excellent diplomat and warrior, and so would make the perfect husband for his eldest daughter. The wedding was swiftly agreed to - on the point of a sword, so the story goes. It was such an outrageous turn of events that few could believe it, and his eldest daughter lost much face as a result.
A couple years later, it was time for his heir to be married. 'lise needed to marry the most fertile woman, but with his line well-secured, he could afford to marry his oldest son to the prettiest woman he could find - a much older Kashmiri woman, as it turned out.
Some time after that, my ancestor's first grandchild was born.
Monstrous even as a baby, Magol's body was never the same after that, as you can imagine."
Big Bird chuckles at her own not all that funny joke. Not even the wine is enough to make me laugh. It's just too bad she's bad at jokes, but I suppose at least she tries.
"Anyway," she continues, "'lise continued his mission of conquest, gradually consuming territory by territory. The last war was the worst, resulting in his heir losing an eye and being imprisoned, his giant son-in-law killed in battle, and requiring the summoning of all his allies. In fact, for many months, it appeared as though my ancestor would finally lose his first war, his ambitions for a kingdom arrested just short of the goal. But Fate was on his side, and they secured a narrow victory just before the superior troops of the enemy's ally could march in and undo everything. And so 'lise in the span of his lifetime went from young chieftan to middle-aged king."
"Here's the pictures I have of the first royal court and the lands held by my ancestor at the time of Yemen's creation."
"...That's impressive. How long did it take him?"
"25 years."
...25 years ago, I was 18, having just graduated high school and looking forward to escaping the hell of my hometown. In the 25 years since? A few short careers, constant job-hopping, a few even shorter relationships, a bit of travel. Nothing like creating a whole new kingdom.
"I need to go. My mother needs me."
I nod to Big Bird's remark and we walk back to her bike. When she climbs on, she turns to apparently look at me.
"I don't think we should meet at the house anymore. People ask too many questions. Let's meet in the park about this time - it's when I get off work, and I have a caretaker for my mother in case I have to work later. Are you free tomorrow night?"
I am and tell her so. Screw Kenny.
"Oh, and if you need to sleep with a bargirl instead, I understand. I'll just go if you're -too- late."
"Noted."
Big Bird rides off into the darkness, a spot of yellow on a green bike until finally I can't make out her color.
It isn't until she's gone that I realize she's just told me her mother is sick. I probably should have said something, but really, what I could say? Not anything that would have made her feel better or changed reality, and besides, she had to go as it is.
Still, I wish she could have spent the night with me. Not for sex. It sounds like Big Bird isn't down to get busy with me, and honestly, I don't want to anyway. But just... conversation. Kenny's my friend, but we don't agree on anything and no longer have the matching interests that brought us together in the first place. And the bargirls? Forget it.
There's more drama waiting at the bar, so I'm not going back there. I'll deal with it tomorrow. For now, I'll just go back to the condo and sleep.
What a weird birthday.