[R u ok?] Brenda was messaging again.

Zaire could only sigh – the girl was nothing if not consistent when it came to the people she cared about.

The problem was, like himself, not all of the people Brenda cared about reciprocated her positive feelings.

‘I am fine…’ was Zaire’s short reply… he hoped his text message would convey a sense of distance, but he doubted Brenda would think too deeply.

That was the benefit of being an edge-case – when you were more edgy than usual, no one would notice.

[Heard it wuz a pretty bawd fight.] Brenda messaged back – her concern could be made clear through the emoticons she used.

‘It was… but I won… haha!’ Zaire joked but how could he win against eight people with the four teammates who had his back?

And in some ways, he won… after all, he was beating down Clay while the others were beating him down.

It was a comedic scene made even more chaotic by Zach throwing punches with no distinction whatsoever.

[Not the way I am hearin it!!!!]

Lots of exclamation marks.

‘Then u hearing it wrong…’ Zaire threw his phone onto the seat next to him.

Talking to Brenda was frustrating – there were too many feelings involved… talking to Henry utilized the same feelings but with a greater degree of cynicism than Zaire could manage.

Besides, Zaire was sure he would be taking the entirety of the blame for the fight that happened, especially since The Sheriff had walked around the hospital taking statements a little earlier.

“That man is racist!” He complained.

Ever since mistakenly arresting Zaire for driving a car that he actually owned, The Sheriff had been spending overtime trying to prove that his initial instincts were not incorrect.

“The team still needs me so I can depend on that at least,” Zaire grumbled, knowing he was indispensable since Clay tended to become flaky in big games.

Just as Zaire was about to leave the hospital – his checkup had ended after a couple of stitches to his arm – the ambulance rushed into the driveway with blaring alarms.

Then, he felt a shudder along his spine alongside the hardening of the surrounding space… it could only be one person – Zaire rushed toward the ambulance, intent on keeping the surrounding people from mysteriously disappearing to some other part of the world.

……………………………………

He had drifted to sleep in the lobby at some point… after all, he wasn’t allowed into Henry’s room since he wasn’t an immediate family member.

“Zaire… Zaire Aionios!”

A voice called…

“Zaire… Zaire Aionios!”

The voice shouted once more…

The first time, Zaire was weakened, and by the second time, he realized that someone actually knew his second name – he rushed to the Hospital’s front desk.

Everything would have waited until midday but thankfully, Zaire knew someone who knew someone – they had exchanged a few messages online and though it didn’t evolve into a one-night stand, there was positive history there.

Enough positive history for her to let him know which room was Henry’s.

“Caroline…” Zaire smiled as politely as he could manage, and it wasn’t one of those ironic smiles that always remained on the corner of his lips.

“Mr-can’t-come-to-the-party because of basketball,” Caroline’s voice was sarcastic but in a joking manner. “Guess you won’t be playing basketball for a while, huh?”

“This?” Zaire snorted as he gestured to his swollen right wrist. “I pulled a muscle – this will be healed in a day at worst. In Africa, it wouldn’t have even been a problem – I wrestle lions with these hands.”

“Is that your expert medical opinion?” Sasha questioned, withholding a giggle at Zaire’s antics.

Then she flirted. “Can you wrestle me… say, tonight? My place? I’ll text you the address…”

“I’ll definitely be there…” Zaire replied – he was not one to reject a free meal, especially when the person offering was so slender, gracious, and medically accomplished.

“Why would he bully the lions, Mommy?”

A child’s voice shattered Zaire’s moment of grandeur and several people in the waiting room chuckled, even the man who had a piece of metal jutting out of his head.

HAHAHA

Though, the man hadn’t really stopped laughing since entering the hospital.

Caroline didn’t hold it in – she shed her professionalism for a second, had a good laugh, and instantly recovered.

“Okay… I am sending you to Dr. Janis…” Caroline entered the relevant information into the computer. “Still living in that cottage in the woods?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay, and…” Sasha browsed through the information on the computer, verifying that it coincided with what she knew of Zaire, and then she sent the request. “A couple of minutes and you will be registered as Henry’s fiancé…”

Caroline further warned. “Keep in mind, this will pop up on any system connected to this hospital’s… which is a lot. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Never been surer,” Zaire confirmed, knowing he had to block the scans from getting out, lest someone notice the peculiarity of Henry’s brain scans and come looking.

That would be disastrous for everyone… luckily, in his capacity as a fiancé, he could request an immediate shift to physical file storage, completely removing the information from the computers in the hospital.

Anybody curious would have to come looking personally… and nobody that important could appear in Reston without Zaire being aware beforehand.

In small communities like Reston, strange and new people stuck out like a sore thumb.

Caroline stared into Zaire’s eyes for a couple of seconds then nodded. “Dr. Janis will give you the account to transfer the funds,” She stated.

After which, the duo acted as if they didn’t know each other at all… what they were doing was highly illegal but nobody would come looking.

It was a profitable business that Zaire had discovered by chance… and it was in no small part due to the fact that he was already in business with Betty from the bank.

Foreclosed homes were perfect Jump locations, much better than appearing in the open after every Jump.

۞۞۞

After a brief meeting with Dr. Janis, Zaire stared at the documents burning in the metal trash can – as it turned out, the hospital created the bins exactly so fires would not spread.

The corridors in the hospital – any hospital – told dark stories.

……

Zaire sat in the room, staring at Henry’s unconscious figure.

The machines were hooked up to her head and wrist and one of the first things he did upon entry was remove some of the chords.

Of course, he had to be careful about the method of removal not to alter anyone.

Then… she groaned.

“I feel like I was dropped into a blender and then ass-fucked by the blades…” Henry clutched her temples with both hands. “What happened?”

“I find that metaphor very concerning,” Zaire commented from the side, thankful to see Henry was awake. “Got me worried for a minute there.”

Henry groggily raised her head from the discomfort of the hard pillows, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the bright lights all around.

“What happened?” She questioned.

“You got ass-fucked by the fat retard with a mystical doctorate,” Zaire explained.

Others wouldn’t understand but Henry picked up on his meaning immediately. “Fuck!!!” She realized the source of her problems. “It was the asshole Shelby, wasn’t it?”

Zaire shrugged.

“Are you not gonna back me up?” Henry frowned, already thinking about revenge.

“Shelby pays for sex, you know?” Zaire voiced, an evil plot forming in his mind. “It would be super easy to talk to Sweetless about planting cocaine in his house.”

“What kind of prostitute is called Sweetless?” Henry chuckled, not allowing her mind to drift that far.

She knew Zaire tended to take a dive off the deep end of darkness and she was not willing to swim with him in such deep waters… as a matter of fact, she was the one keeping Zaire from drowning most of the time.

“Shelby is fifty-four and Sweetless is a prostitute who specializes in a particular type of man…” Zaire explained, a perverted smile making its way onto his face. “Let’s just say, men like Shelby appreciate all types of breasts… even those that are un-firm.”

“He likes saggy boobs?” Henry shot up from the bed – somehow that news was more vital than her seizure. “That’s amazing! Oh, we are going to socially murder that man,” She grinned.

“And to add to the benefits of being my friend…” Zaire pulled down Henry’s sheet slowly.

She was apprehensive at first, then she got lost in Zaire’s sensual movement – finally, the sheet was pulled down entirely, not revealing what she expected.

“Wow! You got them to put me in my own clothes?” Henry was immediately grateful. “Zaire… I know sometimes we—"

“Before you become grateful…” Zaire raised a hand to pause Henry’s gratefulness. “—I didn’t get the hospital to do anything… I personally took you out of the hospital gown and re-dressed you.”

Henry’s smile froze – she hadn’t shaved down there in a while… Zaire had seen her a couple of times before but never so intimately and closely.

Just as she was going to direct her murderous glare at Zaire, questioning exactly what he had seen, the smile on his face told Henry that he was joking.

“You?” She sighed in relief.

“Yeah, I know a nurse,” Zaire amended his earlier statement, then leaned forward to meet Henry’s eyes. “… I may be an asshole but never to you… I respect the shit out of you, Henrietta Coles.”

Perhaps the moment was filled with too many honest emotions, Henry snorted. “Who don’t you know?” She rolled her eyes, removing the needle from her arm as she tried to get out of bed.

Zaire pushed her back down. “I can tell you who I don’t know,” He slowly smirked, causing Henry to flinch. “I definitely don’t know the doctor that is going to take your license away… again.”

Henry sunk into silence for a couple of seconds, then…

FFFFUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK!

-------------

An hour later…

Zaire and Henry waited patiently for the doctor and Cleo to finish their conversation.

Zaire was particularly nervous since Dr. Janis was responsible for substituting the scans – there had to be something equally convincing or other doctors would notice the change.

A minute passed… then five…

Soon, Zaire was sure Dr. Ming – Patty’s Father - noticed nothing.

“This is Henrietta’s second myoclonic seizure in eight months?”

“Actually, it was her third, but…”

Zaire and Henry listened on.

“Wow… your mom is burying you,” Zaire noted.

“It was hardly even a seizure and it was over, in like, three seconds or something!” She complained, raising her voice so the doctor would hear her.

Needless to say, Henry was incensed.

“…Up the dosage of Henry’s carbamazepine and Lamotrigine…”

“Lots of big words,” Henry scoffed, hearing the familiar name of medication she had been taking for years.

“You don’t need the Carbamazepine, but the Lamotrigine wouldn’t be bad for you,” Zaire analyzed – he was familiar with all the Jumper-approved medications.

Henry was instantly surprised – as much as she thought she knew Zaire, it was times like these that reminded Henry that they had only known each other for a month.

However, the way Zaire made it feel like he could always tell what she was thinking, it felt longer on Henry’s end.

“I’ll be damned,” Henry did a quick search on her phone. “You know what you’re talking about.”

“You can say I was a med student in a past life,” Zaire joked though it was not entirely a joke – he did study medicine but he didn’t make it… hence, The CIA.

When Cleo finished the conversation with Dr. Ming, Zaire rose from his seat and extended a hand but was instead greeted with a hug from Cleo.

“I know she is a headache but please just look out for her,” Cleo pleaded. “You are her longest friend in a while.”

“MOM!” Henry gritted her teeth.

“I know, I know…” Zaire gently patted Cleo’s shoulder, allowing himself to be swept up in the joke. “Don’t worry. Someday I will marry her and take her off your hands completely.”

“ZaZa!” Henry yelled – she was serious; hence she used his nickname.

“That would be great,” Cleo ended the hug and smiled at Henry. “No kids before the age of thirty-two… that’s the amount of time you need to build the mental fortitude to endure them… and never get them a car, they will ask about it every five seconds.”

Henry simply sighed, unwilling to aggravate the situation when her car entered the conversation.

“Oh my gosh, Zaire…” Cleo gently grabbed Zaire’s right wrist. “What happened to your hand?”

Zaire’s right hand was firmly bandaged.

“Minor altercation…” He responded and it indeed was – the swelling was already going down.

“We can discuss it over lunch,” Henry announced, casting a nasty glance at Zaire’s hand – she felt responsible for not backing him up. “Mom, Zaire wants to treat us to a meal.”

Zaire was surprised by his own invitation, probably because he had never once invited Henry to go anywhere.

“Um… sure,” The South African scratched his head when he saw Cleo’s expectant gaze. “It’s actually not far from here – a couple of blocks at best.”

“Oh, thank you…” She smiled too genuinely for a woman with a history of boyfriends as long as Mary Jane Kelly’s. “Henry always talks about your cooking. I even got to taste it once.”

‘Did she mention it wasn’t free?’ Zaire internally fumed but his smile was one of total politeness.

Henry smirked.

.........................................

Leaving the hospital was an easy choice…

Since the hummer was left at the school and there was no one to pick it up on his behalf, Zaire stopped a taxi for himself, Henry and Cleo.

He was grateful that Jenna and her father weren’t included in the numbers or, much less the meals to follow, he wouldn’t have been able to catch a taxi.

The ride was a short five minutes…

The restaurant wasn’t too far away but with Henry’s condition, had Zaire made the mother and daughter walk, Cleo’s impression of him would have been shot to hell.

They arrived…

“South African Cuisines…” Cleo read the banner that hung over the small, wooden restaurants.

“You know…” Henry realized something. “—You always bring me food but you never invite me to this place.”

‘With good reason,’ Zaire thought.

This was a small part of his left untouched by his Jumper abilities – something he had built without any advantages, and a dream of his mother’s for a long time.

Unfortunately, she passed before it could come to fruition – this was the one place Zaire hoped would never be pulled into any of his future conflicts with the law… and space.

“Please… have a seat,” Zaire pulled up a table, and his only other employee, Chase – an orphanage runaway, got the chairs together.

“Thank you…” Henry and Cleo were impressed.

Zaire subtly nodded at Chase – the teenager understood it was time to depart for the attic… Chase had no other place to stay so Zaire offered him the attic and minimum wage.

Henry and Cleo took their seats, marveling at the unique, cultural design of the walls, floors, and pretty much everything in the restaurant.

The curtains were vibrant – handwoven Kente Cloth from The Ashanti Tribe.

The stone sculptures were made by The Shone Tribe of Zimbabwe…

And, of course, Zaire got his hands on these things without the use of his Jumping abilities – nothing in the restaurant was gained using his Jumping abilities.

“You girls enjoy while I head to the kitchen to make us something,” He voiced.

Henry nodded – she had already started sipping the cucumber-and-mint water Chase left on the table before he departed.

………………

Zaire hesitated to use the palm batter instead of the oil but since Cleo was looking for the authentic South African experience, Zaire held nothing back.

The food was more authentic than it had ever been – the way his mother used to make it.

Direct from the fields into the boiling pan of spices and into the dishes… Zaire could recall he used to eat straight out of the steaming pot above the firewood.

An authentic experience included enough lard to finish putting a fat man in the grave.

The scent of African excellence wafted out of the kitchen, enticing Henry and Cleo who sat in the dining room.

Zaire knew that impressing Henry’s mom would be a plus in Henry’s book but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Cleo would hinder Henry’s future journey.

After all, an extraordinary girl born to an ordinary woman would never end well… Cleo had to become extraordinary as well.

A couple more minutes of cooking…

Zaire checked the dish for the third time, then he allowed the pot to simmer for a couple more minutes…

…………………………

With a series of dishes clutched between his chest, neck, and two arms, Zaire cautiously made his way out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

Henry was out of her seat and helping Zaire before he could even blink – she was unwilling to risk the delicious, free meals.

Soon, the table was filled with the dishes.

“What is the dish called?” Cleo poked the stew carefully, trying not to offend the coast.

“Chicken Muamba…” Henry mentioned, earning surprised glances from both Zaire and Cleo.

“What?” She shrugged, trying to make it not seem like a big deal. “Zaire has made it for me before… I know all the dishes he makes.” She bragged.

“It’s actually called Angolan Muamba de Galinha in South Africa,” Zaire explained, talking between bites of the chicken. “My mom used to cook it for me before she unfortunately passed.”

“I am so sorry…” Cleo voiced, and then she started to indulge herself.

Surprise was apparent on her face when she found the unique taste of the stew… it didn’t look the best but it tasted unlike anything she had tried before.

“It’s fine…” Zaire comforted. “It was a long time ago and I already achieved her dreams. One was to come to America and open a shop and the other was to send me to school.”

“I think South Africa is better,” Henry grumbled as she ate.

“HENRY!” Cleo yelled.

Henry sighed and extended a hand under the table, interlocking her fingers with Zaire’s – it was their ritual of sorts when they wanted to comfort each other.

Neither of them was the type to bear their feelings, so even when they held hands, they never talked about it after the fact.

It was an understanding they shared.

“So…” Cleo continued the conversation. “You work here?”

“Zaire basically owns the place,” Henry voiced, gesturing to the unique designs of the tables and chairs in the restaurant. “He sells furniture as his first job and then someone offered him the place as a furniture storage location and he turned it into this restaurant… It’s pretty amazing and gets decent traffic.”

“I don’t own the place…” Zaire corrected. “—At least, not entirely.”

“And, why don’t you own the place?” Cleo quirked a brow. “Because from how it sounds, I think you basically do…”

“I don’t…”

“Why not?” Cleo frowned.

“Mom…” Henry tried to subtly kick her mom under the table but her feet were too short.

“I am simply asking why he doesn’t buy the place…”

“Because I can’t…” Zaire sighed and explained. “I thought the owner was helping me when he offered a place to store my furniture but he simply wanted to claim my furniture as his own. He had lawyers and I didn’t… he spun the story in a way that made it impossible to recover my furniture from his property. I turned this place into a thriving restaurant since there was a loophole in the conditions of storage – as long as a profitable business is on the residence, then I am entitled to use the place as I like.”

“But if my business fails, the government stops sending checks to the owner of the building and he can come to me for future payments. Luckily, under DC code – I just need to hang in there for three years and the building’s owner will have to renegotiate the contract… and I will be free to stay… leave, whatever I want.”

“But The Judge is a really fucked up dude,” Henry snorted. “Gets to decide what business is considered successful, and they can also adjust profitability margins for breach of contract regardless of inflation status.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Cleo questioned.

“As long as they don’t kick me out of the building, they can turn up the heat all they want,” Zaire explained – he had grown intimately familiar with the law due to this incident. “And I doubt the owner would want me out right now. He makes good money from the government checks and a few antiques that flow through the restaurant. We have achieved a sort of parasitic relationship.”

“Right now, Zaire is trying to suck him dry faster than he is being sucked dry,” Henry summed up the matter in a few words.

“Well, I hope you kill that parasite someday,” Cleo’s words were vicious – she had shed all pretenses of being Henry’s normal mom. “I have dated enough to know when a relationship isn’t worth it… and this isn’t worth it.”

Zaire raised a glass to that bit of knowledge, and Henry and Cleo reciprocated… their glasses clinked and some small talk followed.

Henry’s and Zaire’s hands beneath the table gradually loosened as his need for emotional support lessened.

An hour passed rather quickly.

Then, it was time to leave.

Henry and Cleo headed for the door.

Cleo thanked Zaire for the treat and invited him to the house for dinner sometime – of course, Zaire noticed that Cleo felt too uncomfortable to specify when.

Obviously, she was going to work on her cooking skills before then.

Henry, on the other hand, was gone with a single fist bump; though Zaire could tell all the words the fist bump contained – stay safe, don’t work too hard, eat healthy, and leave before dark.

There was also a -pick me up at 2.

------------

When Cleo and Henry had departed, Zaire re-stocked the chairs on top of the table and bid Chase farewell before similarly exiting.

A couple of minutes later, walking down the street, Zaire was confronted with a feeling he was all too familiar with – a profound sense of isolation.

It was dangerous to feel alone…

It was especially dangerous for Zaire to feel alone – it brought back memories… after what happened to his mother and siblings, Zaire locked himself away from the world.

Maybe not physically but emotionally…

Nearly seven years later, some of his deeper anti-social tendencies still lingered.

“I guess I have to look for Henry again tonight…” Zaire mused. “But after I pay the nurse a visit…” He contemplated.

Sex was the cure for lonely nights… and the only way to completely rid himself of the anxiety was to emerge himself in uncomfortable environments.

After all, in unfamiliar places, one only needed to think about survival and not much else.

Zaire walked and sunk into his thoughts… countless ideas flashed through his mind but in the end, one stuck out from all the others.

It wasn’t necessarily his best idea but ultimately, he was a teen – with all the advantages and disadvantages that came with such a status.

Zaire pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message without thinking about it too much… if there was one person willing to come whenever they were called, it was Brenda.

‘Pik up kar frm skul! Key in dashboard…’ Zaire sent.

A couple of seconds later, a reply came. [Already dne dat yesterday – where to meet? Nite, ur place? Weed… fxck?]

‘Meet me outside the bank…’ He replied.

It would have been immensely easy to simply Jump to the alley before the bank – nobody would have noticed but Zaire had long since learned the reality of his abilities.

Jumping too much would attract the worst type of attention… The Nazis were just the most recent trouble on a long list.

“It was luck that I survived so long without knowing they were there,” Zaire mockingly chuckled to himself.

The light changed and he crossed the street.

The journey to the bank was not long.

Zaire still had trouble finding his way around sometimes, especially in the absence of familiar faces.

Familiar faces were how he navigated.

So, as he passed by Timothy’s Subway, Zaire waved… then again when he passed by Patricia’s Salon.

Then again when he walked past James’ Hardware Store.

Each time he faked a smile, Zaire couldn’t help but convince himself that all the feelings were genuine – he longed for the feelings to be genuine but some secret at the back of his mind knew they weren’t.

In his last life, he would have fit right in but not in this life and it was not due to his Jumping ability – it was…

“Just a matter of survival…” He stated, turning down the street that would take him to the bank.

There, his hummer’s engine rumbled as Brenda Gasser kept the car warm and ready to leave.