Thunder and Lightning

Chapter 8: Practice

It was 11 and they were both pushed beyond their limits .

"Can I use the shower?" She asked shyly. He nodded toward the back. She went to the room and closed the door. Nzinga removed all her clothes and tucked it in a netted laundry bag inside her suitcase. She pulled out her robe, long socks a shirt and shorts. After she bathed and moisturized she walked back to the living room. "Can I have a pillow and blanket?" Her hands rubbeds nervously over her shoulders.

"You can sleep in the bed" his low voice responded.

" I don't want to put you out."

"I won't be out." He stood walking toward her. Her heart hammered at her chest.

"About last time, it was -" she stammered

" it was what?" he interrupted.

"It was just my magic"

"Don't fool yourself . I am wiser and have seen things you can't even imagine. Your magic alone would not have enthralled me, I'm an old creature. I wanted to be there." His posture was sure and his eyes were fixed on her, arms crossed. The rhythm of his words sounded as old as he was. The youth he portrayed in the day was gone, his costume uncloaked for her.

She left him standing there to get her bag left at the front door and pulled out a tin of loose tea, a deeply stained cream mug, and a tea infuser. Once back in the kitchen, she went through his cabinet and found a tea kettle and filled it with the filtered water in the fridge. Nzinga placed the kettle on the gas stove, turned on the pilot and quietly waited. Once the water boiled, she grabbed a kitchen towel to grab the hot kettle and poured the water slowly into her mug.

He watched her every move as he stood in that same position. She navigated around his kitchen as if it were hers or perhaps it was that the kitchen was some sacred place for her. She did not utter words or flatter his ego by asking for help or offering a cup. She just glided through a routine that was clearly done out of muscle memory. The loose tea was fragrant, the colors were a subdued beauty with warm browns, flicks of gold and purple. She placed the loose leaves in a caged container, snapped it closed and dipped it into her mug. Finally, she looked up into his face in her own unmasking and walked back to his bedroom. His room was dark. The floors, like the living room were hardwood and bare of any warm thing. There were no TVs or electronics, save a lamp on the nightstand. The bed was a large leather sleigh bed with white sheets, down comforter and what must've been 10 pillows. Glad for her socks, she gently walked toward the right side of the bed. The bedding was incredibly soft and enveloped her body. Nzinga had a strong body, with thick powerful legs, so she never felt small or overwhelmed in this way. The bed, the room, that place felt— safe. She sat up to finish her tea. He walked into the room to see her mouth to the cup looking down almost inhaling the scent as much as drinking the tea. The peace in her face seemed to settle him. He walked to the bathroom on the left side to brush his teeth and wash his hands from dinner. He flicked off the bathroom light and stood in the dark of the room. Light beams from the window shades seeped through shining across the room.

He got in bed beside her. "Do you need anything?"

"I forgot to light sage."

He smirked. "My home is warded. But I can light a candle if that will settle you"

She nodded. His magic stretched across the room to the drawer and lit the single white candle. It twinkled in the dark, her shoulders sank deeper and she exhaled a long sigh of relief .

She put down her empty mug and slid under the blanket. The bed was big enough for each to sleep without touching the other and within ten minutes she was sleep.

At 5am she found herself snuggled against his warmth, her braids fell out of her bun and were laying across his pillows . Perhaps aware that he was looking, she opened her eyes. Still not saying a word she got up, used the restroom and put on a sports bra and shoes.

Huskily he asked "Where are you going at this hour ?"

"I have yoga at 6:30"

"No" he replied firmly.

Her eyebrow raised. "No what?"

"Someone invaded your space , it's not safe to walk alone."

" I hadn't plan to, get up you're coming too. But just so we're clear , if I did want to go alone - I would," and that was that for her.

"Uh huh" he responded, annoyed tone returned.

"Lets go, I need to release some tension" she rushed him.

He grinned at her words. She realized double meaning, and rolled her eyes. "Let's go"

They arrived early enough to get great places for mats. The class started promptly with the teacher's first words "Let's start in child pose." Throughout practice his body moved with such grace it looked inhuman. The deepness of his humble warrior expressed sincerity and honor and his sun salutation showed reverence to higher beings. She fed from the class and his beautiful movements, and when the class ended, she felt full and satisfied in a way she had never experienced. As they walked back to his apartment, she wondered out loud "how long have you been practicing?"

"Close to 50 Years. Like you, it helped me focus and set intentions for each day. Living a long life is a burden, how does someone still have desire or ambition when, in effect, you know you can have anything you want? Through my practice I began searching for my light, my contribution, my intention for these years I've been granted. You asked me why I'm here? It is to help the oppressed in whatever way big or small possible. In past lives I was a banker, lawyer, pilot you name it. For a while , it was dark and I just floundered around not doing anything. During the late 60s I met men who had nothing but would die to bring honor and equality to their people. After their deaths, I began praying, meditating and practicing. I wanted the kind of peace they had knowing that- what they contributed meant something. I've dedicated my immortality to that mission." The passion in his words warmed her, she could feel the emotion and dedication in what he was saying. From all that she had experienced with him in this short time, these words revealed much more than their daily interactions or school environment could. These words, his practice and his passion revealed purpose and ambition.

They arrived back at his space, printed out several copies of their presentation, prepared for class and walked onto campus in silence. Once there, they parted ways.The night was over, reality had returned and Nzinga sank a bit in the loss of the quiet peace she felt in his presence.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.