Part 4 – Kibria’s Story

For some people, it is a burden to live. They wake up with no real joy for the day ahead of them, and they go about their tasks carelessly, their eyes dull and tired with the façade they have of pretending that everything is all right.

I was never one of those people. I had my depressing moments, sure, it wouldn’t be life if there were none; but never had I wished that it would all end.

Excitement thrills me. I hate lives that have routine, are monotonous, that never seem to differ from each other, day in, day out.

I try to keep my life as varied as possible. It usually works.

My father was a bar tender, and my mother was never that strict with me. She understood me, knew most of the people that regularly came into the bar, and trusted us all. We deserved to be trusted, we were her life long friends, and we were her family, in some ways more than her own parents were.

My grandparents had been rich, and weren’t very accepting of a marriage by their only daughter to a lowly bar tender.

My parents lived on love and good will. They let me roam the bar, and had done ever since I was a toddler, until I was six and could pour complicated drinks with the best of them. By that time though, my mother had gotten slightly stricter with her impish son, and sent me off to school.

I didn’t like schooling much. Sure, it was fun for the first few days I was there, being new and different, but after a week or so passed, and I realized I was supposed to keep going into the boring building to do the same work over and over again. I was horrified. There was no variety to life once I started going to school. The days faded into one blurry mess, and could no longer be separated. I longed for the days when there was always an adventure around the corner, a new story to be told while sitting on some middle-aged man’s lap by the bar.

Thankfully though, something new came to ease the tedious way of life. I used magic for the first time.

The first thing I’d like to point out is, it wasn't my fault. Even if it had been, I didn’t know I could use magic yet, so there’s no point in accusing me of something I had no idea I controlled.

It all started with a girl. Every guy out there will probably shake his head in sympathy for me, because what problem doesn’t start with a girl? I’d also like to take this opportunity to assure you girls out there that we guys love you for it anyway.

That aside, this specific girl was a pest. You know the type, always wanting to do things her way, and brutalizing anybody who tried it different.

Her name was Sherice, and she was one evil girl. Added to that was the fact that she appeared to have a crush on me, and would not take no for an answer, the simple results of putting us together was always disaster.

Unfortunately, the teachers of that boring school hadn't noticed that yet, and since she was as much a favourite as I wasn't, she could usually coax the teachers to put her and I in the same group for group work. Every group experience I was forced to share with her was traumatic. In the most basic sense of the word.

Year after year, with her premature crush growing into some full-blown infatuation, having her hang on me and pester me and never giving me a minute’s peace…

Is it any wonder that I lost control by the time I was ten?

Four years had gone by since my whole Sherice Problem started, and I was no nearer finding a solution than I had been when I ran home telling my mother of this girl who wouldn’t leave me alone. She thought it was cute. She said that I should reciprocate Sherice’s feelings.

Hell no.

It was about half way through my tenth year, and Sherice had been bugging me more than usual for the past week or so, rambling on and on about some birthday she had coming up soon. I spent the time being insanely bored and idly wondering what would happen if I set the school on fire, just for the fun and excitement of it.

By the time this had become a small, vaguely obsessive idea, Sherice had passed all boundaries of Annoying and was well into the way of being utterly intolerable. And finally, I snapped.

I whirled around to tell her so, opened my mouth to scream at her, and the school burst into flames.

Unfortunately, I was still laughing with glee once the teachers had herded everyone out in a brief flurry of controlled panic and orderly lines. As you might already know, laughing was not a very good thing to be doing, especially not then.

The good thing though, was that Sherice had apparently seen something in my face to put her off me for life, and I was incredibly grateful for that. I meekly accepted all the detentions, even though nobody, including myself, had any real proof that I had done it.

There ended the mostly routinely life I had been living.

I had suspicions that I might have caused it – it had, after all, been my latest obsession… Now came the problems of either controlling it in secret, or telling everyone about it. I pondered the possibilities for a while, and decided that it was a ridiculous thing to keep quiet about – after all, what happened if I snapped again? What if it was a building that was closer to my heart (ie, the bar) that burst into flames the next time I lost control? At least if I told someone, they might be a bit more prepared to face the problems. Maybe I could get help.

Besides, the excitement of everyone knowing was also quite tempting in a way.

I needed more excitement.

I didn’t tell my mother first. I didn’t tell my father first either. I told my favourite patron of the bar, a wonderful, slightly older man, who was a merchant of some sort by trade, and was always bringing me things. He was also quite a good friend of my parents, despite the age difference.

My mother had just invited him for supper, to celebrate some sort of occasion, and he was knocking back a few beers on our balcony. Mom and Dad were downstairs in the bar, since we lived above it, and I had been banned for the evening from entering, due to a slight mishap with a new customer that I didn’t much like.

Julian (my merchant friend) was leaning over the railings, and I was sitting on them, balancing in a way that I had perfected a few years before. My mother hated me doing it, needless to say, but neither Ju nor my father really minded, so long as I held onto something other than the top railing. So I was sitting quite calmly, my hand lightly gripping onto his sleeve in an empty attempt to obey my father’s law. And then I took the plunge.

“Ju,” I said slowly, “what would you do if I told you I started the fire?”

He blinked at me. “That school fire a few weeks ago? I imagine I wouldn’t tell your parents, that’s for sure.” There was a short pause. “Did you?”

I looked down at the ground, some two stories below. “Um… Yea.”

He laughed. “Christ, Kibria! I knew you never liked it all that much, but honestly. Did you really find it that boring?”

My love for all things non-routine was well known, even then.

“Well,” I stalled, and then looked up at him, grinning. “You wanna know how I did it?”

He grinned back. “Yea. I heard you were arguing with that girl at the time though. How did she not see anything?”

 I shrugged and sneered at him. “She didn’t. I used magic.”

He blinked at me, still grinning. “Come on.”

“I did,” I insisted, not put off in the least by his obvious disbelief. “Really! I wanted to light the school on fire because she was annoying me more than usual, and it happened!”

His grin faltered and faded somewhat. “Seriously Kib?”

“Yup!” I nodded happily.

My own grin faded when I noticed he wasn’t looking as proud and as excited as I might have hoped.

Then he sighed. “Your parents will kill you.”

I blinked, feeling my eyes begin stinging. “No they won’t.” I sounded unsure even to me. Really, it was pitiful. A boy, crying. And in front of one of his best friends too.

Julian searched my face for a few minutes, and then sighed. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m not,” I insisted. “The light’s too bright.”

He raised his eyebrow at me. “Oh really?”

I sniffed and nodded, and he sighed again, backing away from the railing and pulling me gently off. “Come on then, you’d better go tell your mother.”

I grinned up at him. “She won’t kill me.”

He smiled back slowly. “I know.”

Needless to say, she didn’t take it too well. I had to prove it before she’d believe that I could do something like burn the school down, although I didn’t burn another building down to prove it. She told me that the legal procedures wouldn’t make life any easier.

When I had proved it to her, and with a little difficulty, I might add, as I hadn’t perfected the art of using it at will yet, she sorted it all out quite decently.

And with minimum fuss, which was somewhat a disappointment, but I didn’t want to make life hard for her, which it would inevitably be anyway. I decided to do what she wanted without too much fuss. Besides, when she enrolled me into a magic school, I learnt things that made me begin to believe that life would never be excruciatingly boring ever again.

Years passed.

I was now seventeen. I could handle my magic most admirably, although the most I ever used it for outside the school classroom I learnt stuff in, was for mild and cheapish sort of tricks for the bar. My parents let me man the bar every so often, and I was quite happy to do so, as this enabled me to see Julian every time he came in, which alternated between frequent for a few months to seldom the next couple of months. But I didn’t mind too much in the beginning. He was still bringing me gifts from the places he had traveled, and when he did come in after missing a few months, he’d stay for hours just telling me about everything. I drank it up. I couldn’t ever get enough. It was entertaining being bartender every few nights, but I still wanted to experience the kind of things he had.

Oh, the stories he told me.

I guess I fell in love with him then.

It was a while before I realized it, though. In the meantime, though, I had dates regularly. I wasn’t all too unattractive, and I really enjoyed having a good time, so most girls weren’t capable of being bored when they were with me. Hardly anyone ever was.

No one knew I could do magic, however, until I met Her.

And the only reason She found out, is because I found out She could do magic first.

I met Her on the way back from some class that I had just taken for the hell of it, and the first thing I noticed about Her was that She was incredibly thin. The second thing was that She had a powerful reading of magic surrounding Her.

Except, the thing is, it was different than mine somehow. During those magic classes, I had learnt not only how to control it, but also everything about its history, and the different types there were. Far from boring me, it was actually all rather interesting.

I think She saw my aura as well, because She stopped me on the street and asked me out.

Thus began what has to be the worst possible relationship I have ever had in my entire life.

Oh, She was a nice girl occasionally, or I’d never have kept seeing Her after that first date. Except She was almost insanely power hungry. She wanted to know all about my magic. When I stopped returning Her calls, trying to give her a hint, because She was not the sort of girl you just dumped out of nowhere, She began following me.

It drove me mad.

I couldn’t get rid of Her at all. It was literally impossible.

And since I had been given Callistus by that time, I enlisted his help. He would try not to let Her get near me, but he couldn’t talk back then, and he still was barely more than a fledgling, so it was understandably hard for him.

That didn’t matter though.

After She had learnt everything She wanted to know about my magic, and me She stopped stalking me. I was sort of glad. But, stupidly, I wanted to be the one to end the relationship, which had never really existed in the first place.

I called Her up one day, told Her to meet me at some café, and when She arrived, I told her we were through.

I’m glad I got out of there before she could blow too many things up.

I also, very agreeably, paid for damages, since it was my fault, in a manner of speaking.

And I went back to my quieter life at the bar, dating other girls, arguing with parents and Callistus when he learnt to talk… It was my life, and I was happy about it, but I still missed Ju.

And then when I was eighteen, he walked into the bar with a girl on his arm.

I didn’t recognize the feeling of heartbreak because I had never really felt it before. I never liked girls enough to love them, and I still didn’t realize that Ju was the one I wanted.

Apparently, neither did he.

He introduced me to her, quite cheerfully, and I pushed the foreign feeling away until I could examine and analyze it at leisure later, when I had the time. I was too busy being with Ju to even think too deeply on it now, and since it was after a period of seldom visiting the bar, I assumed he had a lot to tell me.

He always did.

Except for that night, of course.

Obviously.

Bet you never saw it coming, did you? I can promise you I never did.

For years, Ju had been my best friend, despite being eight years older than me. And for most of those eight years, I was accustomed to his full attention when he was around me. I was fine with sharing it with my parents, because I knew and loved them as well, and there was nothing for me to feel left out there.

But with that girl…

You guessed it.

He still talked to me, of course. But he didn’t sit at the bar. He sat at a booth in the back, and he talked continuously to that girl the whole night. And I was stuck with watching them, because for some reason, my eyes couldn’t leave the pair at the dark end of the bar. I tried not to look. Honestly I did. But to no avail.

And still, I didn’t understand.

Ju came up to the bar later, when the girl had disappeared in the direction of the girl’s washroom, and I was stricken by a most unprofessional wish that something bad happened in the washroom. Of course, even that was half hearted, because I didn’t want Ju sad.

I also didn’t want to have to clean up the mess.

“So?” Julian asked me, grinning somewhat shyly. “What do you think?”

I battled down my jealousy of her usurping his attention so unhesitatingly. “I like her,” I lied through my teeth.

It was one of the first times I had ever told a blatant lie to him.

His eyes searched my face. I cleaned a glass to keep him from seeing the truth, only showing him my covered eye. I did so love my hairstyle. It was perfect for moments like these.

“Oh really?” Up went the dreaded eyebrow.

“Yep,” I quipped happily. “She’s perfect for you.”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You’re lying. And you’re about to cry.”

“Am not,” I retorted uselessly. There was no point trying to hide it. He had known me too long to accept lies at face value.

“Don’t give me that profile, if you aren’t crying. Why not show me your eyes?”

I scowled helplessly at the glass. It was reflecting the lights of the bar. Hopelessly, I gave in. I looked up.

He blinked at me. “Damn, you really are crying.”

“You already said I was,” I muttered.

“I didn’t expect to be right,” he replied softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I told him honestly. I always told him the truth, except when I had to tell him lies.  He obviously believed me.

“Don’t cry then, Kibria. Surely it’s not that bad, whatever it is.”

I sniffed unwillingly and shook my head. It hurt.

He leant forward, and I looked back at him over the bar, and then he said “Shit!” really loudly, and jumped off the bar stool, coming around the bar and dragging me into the backroom.

There he stood and watched me as I blinked at him in confusion.

When he said “How long?” I had no idea what he was talking about, and told him so, asking why he looked so angry at the same time.

His face softened. “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

He didn’t answer. He stepped closer and pinned me against the wall. “How do you feel if I do this?”

I stared up at him, and my breath was suddenly ragged, and my heart was suddenly beating faster and I suddenly knew why.

“Shit,” I said softly, half unable to believe it, half not wanting to.

“Yeah…” he replied equally softly, and backed away quickly. “I’m sorry Kibria.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “You didn’t ask for it to happen.”

“Neither did you,” he reminded me carefully. “How long has it been?”

I shrugged, taking a guess. “Maybe a few years, I suppose. I don’t know.”

“Shit,” he repeated.

I agreed with him completely.

After the inevitable comfort and apologies and some more tears, although I’d deny them if you ever asked, he left me to the bar and went to drop his girlfriend back home. It hurt, but now I knew why, at least. And he promised he’d come back to help, so we could talk, and maybe I could start getting over him.

We remained best friends without too much awkwardness, but since I still loved him, and he believed me over him, it wasn’t very easy on my part. I suppose his part wasn't all that easy as well, because he probably knew, somewhere in him, that I still adored him. He could see it in my eyes, I was sure. It was how he had spotted it the first time.

By the time I was twenty, Ju had married his girlfriend, and by then I honestly did like her, except for the minor feelings of resentment because she was stealing Ju away from me.

I got rather irritable, with good reason I think, and eventually Callistus had had enough.

“Stop sniveling and come with me. You can forget about Julian, and I can start a little project I’ve been thinking of.”

That was what he said. So, because he told me to, and because I didn’t want to live in England and near Ju, yet so far from his personal life my whole life, I agreed. More like obeyed.

We moved to America.

And because I didn’t know what Callistus was planning, I gave in to everything he said, merely wanting to try and get on with my life. By the time he had told me, and I had agreed with him yet again, simply to avoid the overpowering boredom settling over me, we had met his other recruits, and we barreled into each other’s lives amidst chaos and utter havoc. It almost made me forget Ju.

It was the most exciting time of my life. And I’ll let Callistus tell you more about that.