Howler Monkeys

The birds were Yani’s enemy. She decided at around 5am, when after a night of fitful, restless sleep, she couldn’t remain sleeping as they began to wake. Today was the day- it was time to face the music, and time to face Blain.

She hated his name, just like she hated everything about him. She was sure he had been teased in school for it, that combination of old-fashioned and rich-people-weird, but she resolved that he probably deserved it. He had to deserve every bad thing, because then she could hope for lots of them to befall him, and not feel the least bit sorry about it.

The clock eventually reached a reasonable hour, and Yani rolled out of bed. She had to look presentable, or her parents would surely redress her in an outfit of their choosing. However, she was hoping that she could get away with borderline weird. The kind of strangeness that only someone born within a decade of her would recognize as strange.

She picked a top covered in chameleons, the biggest trend from fifteen years ago, and paired it with a cloud print skirt, which every pop star had been wearing only two years ago. To her parents, she was sure it would come off as their weird daughter attempting to be trendy, but her fingers were crossed they didn’t understand her enough to pick up the truth.

She wished she could talk to someone about this before it happened, but she didn’t want to bother June any more than she already had. The truth that no one could wring out of her, not even herself, was that the ones she truly wanted to talk to most were Naira and Imon. And she couldn’t talk to either.

If those strange siblings had taught Yani anything, it was that she was in the right in the fight between Naira and herself. She decided that she was allowed to be prideful and refuse to speak to her. If Naira began to worry, that was even better. Yani could certainly give her something to worry about, and she probably would before this day was over. She was supposed to be around for at least the beginning of Yani and Blain’s meeting, after all, and Yani hoped that seeing her act lovesick over a man Naira knew was attempting to ruin her life would be cause for concern.

Imon, on the other hand, was a source of endless comfort, but Yani was limited in her communication. She could pray to her in her heart any time she wanted, but Imon could only hear her clearly and speak back at the shrine. Yani feared that if she went too often now, her parents would take notice and become suspicious that Yani wasn’t truly ready to give up being a Godsinger.

She wasn’t, of course, but her parents didn’t need to know that.

Yani opened her message logs, and smiled. Blain had listened to the audio recordings she sent last night, but he hadn’t responded. Ideally, he now thought she was a freak of grandiose proportions, and had begun to develop cold feet about this whole “marriage” idea. Who wanted to be tied to a girl who acted like that before they had gone on a single date? Not any prissy little rich boy Yani knew.

She sent one last message to Blain.

Hi lovebug! So so excited to meet today! I hope our families get along, since they’ll be seeing so much of each other from now on!

Sure, she was laying it on a little thick, but the fun of imagining him grimace as he read the messages almost made the situation bearable. As Yani tied her hair back, adding a few small braids, she was shocked to hear the chime of a new message.

Blain had actually responded. I look forward to meeting you. I think we have a lot to discuss.

Not exactly good, but not exactly bad. She could definitely interpret that as “let’s discuss why you act like this, because I want nothing to do with you, and we should break our engagement off in front of our parents”. However, she could also imagine “let’s discuss what our first six children should be named”. With a wild card stranger, anything was possible. All that was left to do was find out.

*

They were meeting in a tea shop, like rich people tended to do. It was owned by a friend of a friend of the family who almost got that Michelin star, and would never let anyone forget it. The space behind it was lovely, too. There was almost a full acre of garden paths, all lined with vibrant multicolored plants, and populated with birds and insects and mammals Yani was almost certain didn’t belong in this climate. The howler monkeys were cute, sure, but one of them had howled right next to her right when she was walking in, as if her nerves needed any help to make her jumpy. Their occasional howls heard from far away lent a discordant background tone to the whole place.

Yani was sitting with her parents, who had insisted they arrive early, and Naira, who had insisted on nothing at all. She listened as the three of them discussed Naira’s academic and extracurricular successes, and how very proud they were of her. Yani wondered if that could have been her, if she hadn’t become a Godsinger. She didn’t think so.

June’s family loved that June was a Godsinger. They celebrated her for it. Both for the fact that she worked a job that would take care of her financially for life, and for the fulfillment they knew being a Godsinger brought her. They loved that it made her happy. That was enough for them. Yani tried not to be horribly jealous, but it was hard sometimes. She’d be happy if her parents could at least be glad she made good money, but that wasn’t enough for them. She had to question if anything ever would be.

Even this marriage her parents arranged probably wouldn’t be. She was sure they would find some fault in it, and some way that Yani was to blame for it. Maybe the guy really was the wrong pick, and if Yani had just convinced her parents properly, they wouldn’t be in this mess. That certainly sounded like something they would tell her.

“Don’t pick at your sandwich like that, Yani.” Her mother prodded. Yani hadn’t even realized she was pulling the cucumbers out, eating them, then tearing off little bits of the bread. “They’ll be here soon, and it’s unbecoming.”

“I’m sorry.” Yani said. She rearranged it on the plate, using the side of her fork to slice off the torn-up edge. It was a good sandwich, even in this situation. The bread was pillowy, and gave way under her fork with ease. She lifted it to her mouth.

“Hello again.”

Madame Atori stood above her, with a man standing next to her.

The food in Yani’s mouth lost its taste.