Rebirth: President Fatah Escapes

A rather awkward silence prevailed, amplified by hands and eyes looking for everything except one thing to lock on to and interact with.

Despite my usual self, I'd yet again found myself feeling uncomfortable in silence. A state I thrived in. The last time I'd felt this way was with Luciano right after I'd pretty much flipped off President Nawab of Comoros.

Then I felt uncomfortable and tense because I sensed I was about to be told things I didn't want to hear. Things that didn't sit well at all with me. Things I didn't want to realize.

However, this time was different yet just the same in the amount of discomfort it gave me. I can't remember how many times I'd thought of walking right out of the room but I imagined quite vividly how much more awkward that would make things when I inevitably met again with this person.

With my eyes trying and failing to read the contents of a magazine I'd forced into my face, I gulped as I finally amassed enough courage to take a peek at the woman seated across the little glass centre table in the living room of the guest house.

Miss Leriva. Smooth and rather enticing legs crossed she wore a rather standard 'Power Woman' look that screamed authority and importance despite her petite stature. It would seem running a multimedia company had done well for her charisma. She idly played with her purple painted fingernails, picking at the dirt that'd gotten under them.

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She looked rather unbothered by the silence, with exception of the brief but deep scowls that appeared every few seconds, whatever she was thinking about obviously wasn't pleasant and with a look at her purple coloured nails and glasses frame, I had a good idea of what it was.

Miss Leriva and I hadn't spoken for quite a period of time. In fact, it was merely thanks to my idle viewing of a post of one of my old contacts on social media, I wouldn't have thought to contact her nor would I have landed a chance with the three large cargo ships.

Last we'd spoken was a brief and rather jovial conversation on the day of my inauguration. But afterwards, with everything I had to deal with, picking up my phone to make contact seemed like a hurdle of its own.

Of course, being the meaningful and understanding adult that she was, she wasn't above reinitiating contact as she'd did about a week ago, just after the Chiefs had been executed. I didn't respond, in fact, I'd dropped my personal line until the happening of this trip.

I believe it was simply bad timing as Luciano had given me quite a bit to think about and any more things weighing on my mind were simply unwanted. I catch myself in the thought, did I see Miss Leriva as a burden on my mind now? What happened to all those sparks and blushing? What happened to taking her to dinners?

Trying to process any of it made me feel nauseous as that feeling of having the answer to everything below shallow waters, ready to be brought up, that feeling of knowing but not wanting to know had me crippled.

"So this is really just business, is it? Hasina?" she breaks the silence with ease, her eyes set firmly on me.

"I'm sorry we haven't had time to socialize, Miss Leri-"

"Aina. Stop calling me by my surname already. It feels wrong now."

I nod. But that wasn't enough.

"Well? What's been up with…whatever this relationship is." She lets out an exasperated sigh and pulls back on her hair, she'd worn it down today.

"You look good, Aina," I test the name on my tongue, it felt strange as I'd never called her by her first name despite all the times we'd texted.

"Answer the question." She was blunt.

I frown at this, I'd long since set aside the magazine I was holding so now we stared face to face at each other.

"What do you think has been 'up' with whatever this relationship is?"

"I think you've been ignoring me." Again I held her in high regard for her maturity, little to no beating around the bush. But I see even she has her limits on how honest she could be as she avoids my gaze for a moment before coming back fiercer.

"Not on purpose I assure you," I say, keeping my calm and professional outlook, as much as I wanted to confide in her about all that is and all that was and even what I feared would be, I just didn't feel like it. Especially being confronted like this, "I'm a very busy man Miss…Aina."

"I know that, Hasina. I'm a very busy woman as of recent as well. But I thought you'd give me an explanation or at least a brief on your ghosting. A little how have you been maybe?" She doesn't break as I want her too, instead, she surprisingly remains level-headed despite my pushing her away. Though I know what she just spouted isn't at all what she really wants to ask.

"I'm very well thank you. How are you? You look rather healthy." I say with a smile.

She scowls and folds her arms. "We'll talk later, Hasina." It's easy to catch the emphasis on talk.

Again silence prevails.

Thankfully I don't endure much more of it as finally, Niaina and Agric spare me from any more of my own self-torture.

"What was there traffic?" I ask rather sarcastically. Not giving either of them to apologize I took up my blazer and wore in a swift move as I strutted away from them, "Let's go, Bernador's been waiting."

Bernardor, as well as some of his advisors, had taken up residence in a room of the guest house while we waited for Niania and Agric to finally arrive. The room had in it a large brown thin oval-shaped table with many chairs at its sides, a TV hung from either side of the wall and the table had two telecoms places on it.

Their chatter stopped once we walked in and I shook hands with the now standing President, "Terribly sorry for the delay," he waved off whatever more apologetic words I had to give.

"No matter, the time gave us a chance to truly go through the rather thick proposal the fine Miss Leriva had come with." He takes a seat and soon we all do.

"And? What do you think of it? Would you like something like this, a distraction and a reminder of how much better off they are in your administration in comparison to other African countries," I could see Aina's mouth hang open at my words. She quickly recovers as Bernardor moves to respond.

He chokes out a laugh and smiles at me, "Well, well, a few days in Namibia and you already know what I want." He looks to his advisors who are closely seated behind him, one whispers something into his ear and he nods, turning his attention back to me, "Fine then. We'll import Schelar's media."

He gets up and we shake hands, "To a long and prosperous relationship."