Zemira

The word interview was a sour topic for me. So much so that when Haley set it up with one of her close friends, I prayed for it to be a non-visual one.

From the day I accompanied Dad for his first televised interview, the limelight followed me. No amount of hiding took those focus lights off my life. Its intensity only grew stronger with my age. It wasn't until recently that I made peace with it, knowing my life would always be under scrutiny.

Haley and Kiera accompanied me to the lounge when Samuel walked in. The tall, slender man with neatly placed curly brown hair was Haley's college friend who owed her favors.

Deviating from our usual televised norm, we went for a podcast instead. It was Dad's idea to go with something simple rather than blowing up things that may not draw attention.

"Little sparks create fire too," he had stated while giving his assent to our little coup. Though apprehension gushed in my bloodstream, I surrendered myself to his assurance. My dad could never be wrong.

Samuel opened his tattered brown leather bag and out came two large silvery microphones, two distinctly marked headsets and a whole lot of wired tentacles. I watched in amusement as he attached and assembled everything.

"That's the mic." He tapped at the speaker and looked at me. "And these are the headphones for you to wear."

"Is that so," Kiera chimed, mocking him. I smiled courteously, knowing Samuel must be intimidated by her intense gaze.

"Appreciate the walkthrough, Samuel," I said, throwing a stern look toward Kiera. "Please ignore my friend. She missed having her caffeine fix today."

Samuel nodded, scratching his stubble face and wiping his sweat-laden forehead, looking away but occasionally meeting my eyes.

"Hey, Samuel," I leaned closer. "Are you nervous?"

As a podcaster, Samuel must have conducted many interviews. Yet, his body language rendered a different answer. He strummed his fingers together, gawking at his shoes.

"I haven't done an interview-" he began.

"But I've heard your interviews before..."

"What I meant to say was," he smiled into his chest. The wide, grey-eyed man looked up and leaned closer. "I haven't interviewed someone who was-"

"An industrialist?" My eyes widened. "A woman? What?"

"A woman such as yourself," he said, withdrawing his gaze. Laughter rumbled in my chest.

"I'm pretty sure that's not true. You did that interview with that one... umm... err... whatshername... ahh, RJ Hibiscus. She's kinda famous."

"It's not that." He peered at the ceiling, then down at the table. "I'm going to sound stalkerish but what I meant wasn't about fame or facial features. I was saying about this..." He gestured to the silhouette that was me. "About you and what you have come to represent-"

"Enough with the niceties, guys." Haley trotted inside the room, lending her hand for Kiera to take. With a stern nod delivered toward me and Samuel, she continued. "Please let me know if you have any technical troubles. And Sam," she waited for him to look up. "Only relevant questions...okay."

With his nod, both girls walked out.

I inhaled deeply. The artificial lemongrass scent from the air dispenser pricked my inner nose lining. As opposed to the guaranteed calmness on its label - Calming dew - I felt a turbulent force drumming on my chest.

Scanning through my surroundings, I felt calm only when a steel letter opener came into view. I had my weapon in place if need be.

Samuel straightened, placing a paper in front of me. "You can look at these pre-framed questions. Haley wrote them so you won't be caught off-guard."

He continued, casually tapping at the speaker and chanting varying tones of hellos into it. Tuned to perfection, Samuel cleared his throat. "Also I've to tell you this. What you're doing is really brave, Zemira," he said.

His words uplifted my courage. "Thanks, Samuel."

"Zemira." His hooded eyes watched me. "Please call me Sam."

Another curt nod was all I could deliver.

We began with Sam narrating the reason for the podcast, the listener's discretion and a generic introduction about me. As was with all interviews, the initial few questions were easy. The marching anthem of upcoming questions echoed in my ears before their appearance.

The air around me thickened when Sam straightened in his chair. It brought back memories of the day when Antonio and I sat for our interview.

"Zemira," Sam captured my attention. "We know that you wanted to share something with our listeners. So tell us what it is?"

I inhaled deeply, mustering my diffused strength from the air. Then my throat clamped shut. My mind felt numb, holding back my rehearsed speech and thoughts.

I was drawn a blank.

Sam must have understood the situation.

He leaned forward, holding out his hand. When I clasped his cold palm onto mine, I channeled something different, something invigorating. Maybe it was the way he treated me - a woman and not a victim.

"You're a strong woman. Remember that," covering the mic, he whispered. "Please, take your time."

He gently squeezed my hand.

"Hello everyone," I began, peering at the mahogany table on which the mic rested. "Most of you might not know but it was a couple of months back when I was sexually assaulted. I knew the perpetrator. Actually, he was engaged to me before a scandal broke us apart..."

I wasn't a victim.

I wouldn't blame myself for a vile man's actions.

"Why did you decide to narrate the incident now, Zemira?" Samuel asked, his eyes flooding with kindness.

"Because if I didn't, then he'd walk free. The people I'm talking about are powerful. They can buy their son's freedom. I had to come out because the very thought of having him breathe the same air as me was killing me. I refuse to let him walk free or let him do this to someone else."

I composed my thoughts and peered at the silver metal-meshed speaker. My ordeal shouldn't be repeated on anyone else.

"I'm ensuring that men like him, who assume they wouldn't suffer the consequences learn a lesson. So I'm speaking out. I am coming forward."

For a long time, I had suffered in silence. I felt the boil of shame blister my skin whenever the thought of that Monday reared up.

Today, that shame faded into oblivion.

My resolve to speak up rendered me peace. My willingness to accept that day balmed my aching heart. Free from my past, absolved of the shameful burden, I dove, only to soar.

For an hour more, Sam continued asking me more about that day.

At the finishing line, when I fumbled for words, he took over. "I may not be able to fathom the magnanimity of pain of those who suffered, like our guest today. But I promise I wouldn't stay ignorant of the issue. In whatever way possible, I will be ready to help those who seek justice."

The rest of his speech was a formality; of helpline numbers and support group information. But his promise lingered in my mind for it was the truth.

Haley and Kiera barged inside the moment Sam disconnected the wires and pressed the save sign on his laptop screen.

"How was it?" Kiera asked, eying Sam and subjecting him to her truth-extorting torture. "Was it good? Did you ask all the questions that Haley wrote?"

"I think it went well." Sam stuttered. "I... I... mean Zemira spoke the truth." He loosened his tie, intimidated by Kiera's crooked smile. "I'll let you all know the release date. The recording still needs some fine-tuning and editing."

While Kiera continued scaring the little lamb, Haley pulled me to a corner, holding onto my shoulders. "I'm so proud of you, Zem. It takes strength and sheer willpower to do something like this, baby."

For the world, I might have done something great but all I did was liberate myself.

Sam walked out with me while Kiera and Haley discussed our next recourse. It appeared that the idea of bringing down an empire had both my friends bond better.

At the threshold, Sam turned to me, hand outstretched. "It was nice to meet you, Zemira."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Sam."

"You know..." He began but nodded to himself. "Never mind."

"No, tell me. What is it?"

"No. It's rubbish."

"Sam..."

"Okay fine. You have the right to say no but I was thinking if you'd be willing to have a cup of coffee with me. You know..."

"The thing is..." There was nothing to explain what held me back. "I'm still getting over someone. I'm-"

"I understand that getting over part quite well." He bobbed his head, clutching his bag. "But truthfully, the offer was only as friends..."

"Oh, sure."

With Sam's arms suspended in the air, waving a no, I couldn't ignore the genuineness in his voice.

"I swear, Zemira. If I wanted to ask you out, I'd have done that before Leo came into the picture." My eyebrows hooked. "I'm not blind to see you what's really going on between the both of you. Also, I'm not a crazy stalker who's asking for a chance. I'm genuinely asking as a friend."

My index finger tapped at my jawline, pondering. One couldn't have too many friends now, could they?

"Sure. Why not," I said. "Text me the time and place."

Sam smiled - a full-blown one tipping the edges of his lips till his waterline. It filled my heart with happiness and made me smile harder. Carefully placing his bag inside, he slid into the driver's seat.

"I can't believe you thought I was asking you out," he said, his fingers rhythmically tapping at the steering while soft music emerged from inside. "Such a bold move."

"Your lousy, pickup lines are to be blamed. So you should brush up on your communication skills," I said, walking in parallel as he drove in reverse to exit our gates. "Perhaps... I can ask Kiera. She's a very good teacher."

"I'd rather die than be trained by her." Displaying his crooked smile, he winked. "Stay smiling."

I did as asked.

~

And she smiled, for she was at peace

I had edited all these chapters for the Wattys, so the last few chapters had me feel anxious and depressed. Only now do I feel that pain that my character carried lessen in me too.

Ever written something that hurt you? Made you feel something heavy in your chest?

Let me know...