Forbidden Fruit
‘The genesis of desire awakens’
hour past midnight, and I was crouched underneath the covers with a flashlight and my drawing tablet. Sometimes, I liked to commission my art for comic books when I had the time. My favourite comics of all time had to be the teen titan and Archie comics, I was more of a painter, but I genuinely believed that if the creators ever reached out to me to draw something for them, I’d pass away on the spot. I found such comfort in having that one thing for myself that I just did for fun, not for academic purposes.
I was being paid an outstanding sum by a new amateur comic book writer to help design one of her characters that she couldn’t quite think up an image for.
I had initially taken up graphic design as a hobby, but once I uploaded a few fan drawings of Archie and the gang to Tumblr and they’d gotten millions of re-shares, likes and comments asking for more— I’d immediately known I could profit off of it. I primarily used the money I made to buy a few nice things for myself; dresses, jewellery, film cameras and sometimes art supplies, although my parents mostly covered the bill for that.
‘What’s next?’ A voice questioned, lifting her head underneath the blanket with me, ‘Stepping onto platform 9 3/4?’
It was Keomi sleepily rubbing her eye. I thought she was asleep. I laughed at the Harry Potter reference. ‘Perhaps, because I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’
‘Okay, Potter, what do you have hidden under there?’ She asked, crossing her legs and sitting opposite me.
‘What else?’ I responded sarcastically, ‘The marauders’ map.’
‘Oh, come on!’ I pleaded bobbing up and down giddily,
‘Let me see. I promise I won’t tell a soul.’
‘Yeah, you all seem pretty good at keeping secrets,’ I affirmed, and she looked down in avoidance,
‘Oh, you have no idea.’ She sighed, and I could tell from the look on her face that she was burdened enough, so I decided to lighten the air.
‘I’m a secret agent.’ I told her, and she burst out laughing, ‘Okay, fine, I’m a graphic designer!’
‘Oh my gosh, shut up!’ She exclaimed, ‘Show me, please, what kind of graphic design do you do, and why don’t you make that your major?’
“Okay, fine, I’ll show you.” I beamed, selecting one of my older drawings of Raven and beast boy from the teen titans comics and showing her. I deliberately depicted Raven as a black girl with darker grey skin. Her hair remained purple but was kept in an Afro. She and beast boy were giving each other a shy high five after a successful mission. It was really nothing special—
“I love it!” Keomi exclaimed, taking a screenshot of my drawing and forwarding it to herself, “You don’t mind if I make this my new lock screen do you?”
“I— uh, of course not,” I responded, scratching the back of my neck with a slight laugh. “One woman’s Walmart is another woman’s Chanel, I guess.”
“Armani, I’m pretty sure that’s not how the quote goes.” She pointed out, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure?”
“Never heard of it.” I joked, shaking my head.
“You’re truly hopeless.” She concluded, “Can you teach me how to use this digital drawing app? I want to draw Fabian as the Flash; he used to be really into DC. I think he’d love it.”
“Of course, we could draw Gene in as poison ivy if you want to?” I suggested with a subtle hint of sarcasm, and Keomi cupped her hand over her mouth, almost as if what I said was blasphemous.
“If she heard you say that, not only would she call you a DC dork but would proceed to throw a fit because she’s a diehard Marvel fan.”
“Oh come on you know she’d find a way to insult me regardless.” I snorted,
“True!” Keomi affirmed, “That’s why we’re about to draw her tangled up by vines.”
“I will not be taking credit for this drawing.” I reminded her, and she rolled her eyes playfully.
“Of course, we can’t risk revealing your secret identity to the public, now can we?”
That night Keomi and I stayed up till sunrise working on that drawing and arguing about who the worst villain in Gotham City was; I never quite thought I could have so much fun hanging out with someone I had just met, but it felt like we’d known each other far longer than that. This would become a regular occurrence for us both. Sometimes, we’d watch back-to-back Batman movies and debate which actor portrayed the superhero the best. It was obviously Heath Ledger, in my opinion– also known as the only correct opinion regarding such matters. Nevertheless, Keomi Nakamura became my first friend, effortlessly, passionately and all at once.
A week or so had flown by, filled with worrisome lengthy phone calls from my parents urging me to stick to my promises and remain focused on my studies, bitter morning coffee, demanding teachers and paint in my hair. After our last class, that day, Fabian and I made our way to the little Ice cream parlour down the street. It was a quaint little place owned by the sweetest elderly lady Madame Sakala. She was from Africa, just like me, born and raised in the beautiful central African country of Zambia. She moved here with her family twenty years ago to start a new life and opened se rencontrer avant qu’il ne fond. Meet before it melts.
We sat by the little shop window, it wasn’t very crowded that day, and we definitely took advantage of that. It obviously didn’t hurt that I felt like I could talk to her for hours,
‘Do you ever miss home, aunty?’ I asked, and she insisted I call her that. It was custom to call older women that back home as well out of respect.
‘All the time, dear, I miss my brothers and sisters and even just being in Lusaka.’ She assured me, her filmy brown eyes were divine. They carried a life well lived behind them. I wanted my eyes to look like that too someday, some evidence of a fire that burned vehemently once.
‘I haven’t been back home in Nairobi in so long, I almost can’t remember what it felt like.’ I admitted with a sad laugh, and Fabian placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Sometimes I dream that I’m there.”
“I can understand your struggles. It’s never easy leaving home. You can change your hair, your clothes the manner in which you speak…but your heart will always long for home.”
“Yeah.” I affirmed, gazing out the window into the distance, “Exactly like that.”
‘Promise me one thing.’ She asked, her voice rich and clear,
‘Of course, aunty.’ I smiled, and she placed her hands on mine,
‘Promise me and your bibi, that the white man’s lands won’t allow you to forget your home and your culture.’ She asked, and I nodded in agreement,
‘Never, I promise.’ I assured her, and she laughed, “Frog legs and escargot will never be able to replace ugali in my heart.”
‘Feel free to come around anytime you want to. You must meet my son Muleya. I would see it good for him to meet more nice African girls like you, ai?’
‘I’d love to,’ I assured her, checking my watch. I had to work on my art assignment later that afternoon, ‘I have to go. I promise to come back.’
‘Me too, aunty Sakala. You make the best ice cream in all of Paris.’ Fabian complimented, and she smiled. soon after, we were on our way.
‘Is that a carousel?’ I asked, taking notice of the fair that was happening across the street, ‘Fabian, we have to go!’
‘I thought you said you had a project to work on?’ Fabian asked, but I pulled his hand and begun walking towards the fair,
“I need inspiration too!” I insisted with a playful grin,
‘You need a break from anything artsy anyways.’ He laughed.
We paid the man standing by the Carousel, who we assumed was in charge of everything, and Fabian helped me onto the Pretty plastic pink horse. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, with sharp engravings and a paint job that looked like it would never fade. The second the carousel started moving, I lifted my hands up in the air and tilted my head back to feel the fall breeze. It had been a long time since I felt this… well… free.
Fabian was on the blue horse in front of me, looking back at me with this dazed look in his eyes. We laughed and laughed until we felt like we couldn’t bear to do so anymore. Then, just as the sun begun to set in the sky, we finally begun our walk back to campus.
‘I’d hoped that’d make you feel better. You’ve been in a mood all day.’ Fabian teased, nudging me with his elbow, ‘What’s that about anyway?’
‘Do you want an honest answer or a simple one?’ I offered, recalling everything that happened.
‘We can’t build a friendship on simple answers, now can we?’ He encouraged me, and I decided it was best to just be honest with him,
‘River is um…complicated,’ I murmured, and Fabian rolled his pretty brown eyes,
‘Tell me something I don’t know, care to clarify?’ He asked, and I did just that,
‘I feel like there’s this huge wall between us like he’s telling me everything and yet nothing at the same time. He’s impossible to read.’ I sighed, confiding in him,
‘Are you guys friends now?’ Fabian asked as we turn onto the next street,
‘I don’t know what we are, Fabes. When I’m with River, I feel like I don’t know anything.’ I fumed,
“What?” He gasped dramatically, “He has no place making the smartest girl in the world feel like she doesn’t know anything.”
“Come on, Fabes, don’t make me laugh. I’m being serious,” I warned with a weak smile, shoving his shoulder.
‘He wasn’t always like that, you know?’ Fabian recalled, a reminiscent look in his eyes,
‘So I’m told…’ I dismissed, “But why did I have to get the polluted River?”
“Polluted?” Fabian laughed, hunching over,
“Yeah, everyone else got to know the clean version!”
‘I know it’s frustrating, Armani, believe me, but we made a pact as friends not to talk about Jace and to be honest with you, I’m starting to think it’s doing more harm than good.’ He confessed with a scoff,
‘Then talk to me, Fabes. You can trust me. If River and I are ever going to move forward, I have to know what happened.’ I insisted, for the first time ever, I insisted on nothing but the truth.
‘You can’t tell the others I told you. They won’t like that, okay?’ He cautioned, and I nodded in agreement.
‘Jace Monet was, in my opinion, the last of the genuinely good, the last of people with good hearts and intentions, and because of that, everyone was drawn to him. He was so easy to know and talk to. Everyone swore he was like their best friend after one conversation. Not to mention he was a great artist— fantastic even, the only one until you who could challenge River.’ Fabian explained, “Artistically that is.”
“But he was only you guys’ best friend, right?” I asked,
“Yeah, we definitely like to think of it that way, but with Jace, you could never know.” He perplexed,
‘Tell me about his relationship with River,’ I suggested, getting straight to the point, and he nodded in agreement.
‘From what I know, River and he had been best friends since they were kids, family friends. They grew up together and were inseparable since, when we met them, they were always in sync. I don’t know; I can’t quite find the words to describe it in English, but they held our group together. They were the balance.’ Fabian spoke, looking up at the sky, then paused. “Have you ever stacked up a pile of cards?”
“Yes, of course, hasn’t everyone?” I giggled,
“What happens when you take out a single one?”
“Everything collapses,” I concluded, and he looked at me as if I’d just cracked DaVinci’s code.
“Exactly.” He sighed.
‘How did he die?’ I asked, changing the question, and Fabian looked down at the ground,
‘A car crash on Lune Avenue last summer. It was sometime after midnight.’ Fabian told me, and my heart dropped, so much so that I placed my hand over my chest to ensure it was still beating. “The medics said that with the way the car spun, there was never any chance of him surviving, especially being in the driver’s seat. That the impact probably killed him immediately, a painless death if you will.”
‘That’s- That’s terrible. Oh my God, Fabian…’ I paled, and Fabian grabbed hold of my hand,
‘I know River can be impossible and guarded like Fort Knox but that’s just because he lost someone who meant the world to him. That shit fucks you up, Armani.’ Fabian tensed,
‘I think I get it now…’ I muttered,
‘No, you don’t, and that’s okay— look, it’s no secret I’m not exactly a fan of whatever is going on between you and River. I most definitely think he’s not in the right space to open up to anyone just yet, let alone someone he met about a month ago.’ Fabian explained, scratching the back of his neck, ‘But I see the way you are around each other, the way you talk and understand each other’s robot language or whatever. But you’re just both way too damn stubborn to let your guard down.’
‘You think so?’ I laughed bitterly,
‘It’s something worth fighting for, and if that doesn’t work out, then that’s okay too, and I assure you that you’ll always have your old pal Fabian to catch you when you fall.’ He smiled, and I wrapped my arms around him in an embrace and he clung onto me, like he always did, always would.
Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the notification.
RIVER K: (LIVE LOCATION) 77 Rue Marie De Medicis
ME: I’ll be there in half an hour.
The only reason I’d accepted his invitation after he’d spoken to me like that in the hallway was that I’d assumed he was finally ready to talk to me like an actual human being. And after Fabian’s transparency with me earlier I thought that maybe I could hear him out.
‘It’s River.’ I blurted, and my gaze met Fabian’s ‘Thanks for spending the day with me. I needed that.’
‘No problem, you’re leaving now?’ He asked, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes for a second.
“Yeah, is that okay?” I asked, checking in with him, “Did you want to hang out some more? because we can if you’d like, I wouldn’t bail on you like that so suddenly.”
“Um, no, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s important.”
“Hey, are you sure?” I insisted with a smile,
“Yeah, you should go…see him.”
‘I’ll go ahead then, okay, I’ll see you later!’ I called, proceeding to make my way down the street.
I hopped into my car and placed the address River had sent me into my GPS. It was on the other side of town. I hadn’t driven my car much since arriving in France. But, in all honesty, there was no need for it. I could get everywhere I needed to be on foot.
It was slowly starting to get dark when I arrived at Marié De Médicis, a series of luxury apartments and penthouses along the River Seine. Although the sky was beginning to fade into a blanket of blue as I made my way in, it was hard to deny that this place was beautiful, incredible even. With high-rise ceilings and crystal chandeliers, I couldn’t possibly afford to stay in a place like that.
‘Bonjour mademoiselle, are you Armani?’ A formally attired lady asked as I made my way into the building, her hair tied up into a bun with a name tag that read, Annette. I nodded, ‘welcome, we’ve been waiting for you. Come with me.’
She instructed, and I did just that. I followed her up the elevator to the top floor, which opened to the view of a penthouse with expansive open windows and dark oak flooring. Everything was black and silver sterling. The lounge chairs, the kitchen, and the ceiling was painted with cherubs and angels. And then there stood River, looking out at the view. He didn’t even bother to turn around when he said,
‘Merci Annette.’ Before she pressed a button on the elevator and disappeared.
I made my way across and stood next to him; The city below was so far away it was like another world. Those ant-like people and all their little problems were of no more consequence than temporary static on an intercom to me from all the way up here. It gave me a certain sense of escapism I wasn’t often able to feel.
‘You can sit down, you know?’ He smiled politely, and I did just that, narrowing my eyes in suspicion. The lounge chair was uncomfortable and hard beneath me.
River disappeared into a room down the hall and came back with a bunch of art supplies and placed them on the glass table.
‘What’s all this?’ I asked, and I had a terrible feeling I was wrong about the intentions of his invitation.
‘We have to work on our project.’ He stated, laying out all of the printed photographs we took.
‘Are you serious?’ I scorned tucking a loose curl behind my ear and folding my arms. ‘You know what, it’s fine, let’s just get started so I can go home.’
I couldn’t believe he dragged me halfway across Paris to work on a project we could do in class, I thought he was finally ready to apologize, but I guess I was wrong. I wasn’t going to ask about it, I allowed my mind to focus on the work in front of me for a while.
We started by glueing the scrapbook’s pages together, which River did the most of because I don’t know how to use a glue gun without permanently glueing my fingers together. Then I began to stick the photographs into it.
‘You can’t paste the photos so close together. I need the space to write.’ River protested,
‘Just shut up and paint the cover, River. Okay, I have my responsibilities, and you have yours.’ I hissed, and River stayed silent.
I knew I was being impossible and irritable, but I was mad, and I had every right to be, so I was going to pick a fight with him.
‘Don’t use yellow. That’s not very Paris- esque.’
I instructed, and River dropped his paintbrush.
‘Is something bothering you, Armani?’ River asked, placing a hand on the table. His hands were slender and steady. They were an artist’s hands. There was a silver ring on his index finger.
‘Nothing in particular.’ I chided,
‘Nothing in particular yet something enough to get under your skin so intently?’ River persisted, and I could feel the anger building inside me.
‘You’re insufferable.’ I retaliated, and River’s eyes danced with mischief,
‘Am I?’ He smirked. God, he was gorgeous.
‘Enough!’ I exclaimed, getting up and nearly knocking over the pot of paint onto our project. “Enough mind games, Kennedy I’m serious.”
But River reached for it just in time, my breath hitched, and he paused for a second, looking up at me slowly, so slow…until his ravishing penetrating blue eyes met mine in a warning. Just then, he got up and grabbed me by the arm and led me to the balcony. His stare was electric and unforgiving. I was molten under his touch.
‘What’s the matter, Armani?’ He asked impatiently,
‘I’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with you, River.’ I expressed. My voice was almost inaudible.
‘Where is this going?’ He asked. The very thought of an honest conversation terrified him.
“I overheard your conversation on the phone at the farmers market, okay?” I admitted, and he seemed entirely perplexed,
“What?” He asked, sounding slightly English there for a second and it startled me.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” I refuted, “You said that I was incompetent and expressed how horrible it was to have to work with me.”
“Tu as tellement tort que c’est ridicule.” He refuted, rolling his eyes. You are so wrong. It’s ridiculous.
“I’m not stupid, River.” I scoffed,
“I wasn’t talking about you. Why the fuck would I be talking about you?” He told me, “I was talking to my father about a problematic agent at the bank.”
“You’re lying—” I began, but he cut me off,
“If I was, you wouldn’t be able to tell.” He assured me, glancing the length of me up and down. “Why are you so interested in me anyway?”
“Because I…God, even I don’t know. Maybe I just want a chance to really know you.” I confessed,
“How?” He asked, confused,
‘I need you to–‘ I sighed, ‘I need you to talk to me, please.’
‘I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for. It’s hard for me. It’s a lot, Armani. You wouldn’t understand .’ He agonized, his expression slightly pained.
‘Then make me understand, make me understand why you’re so indecisive and uncertain about me, why you’re pushing me away when all I want is to–‘ I blurted out, and his gaze softened, and so did his grip on me,
‘What?’ He challenged, ‘What do you want?’
‘You know what I want.’ I retaliated, leaning closer to him, so my chest was pressed against his. I gazed up into his eyes….divine.
‘Yeah?’ He said, trailing a curious finger along my side,
Gentle, River was gentle despite the roughness of his dictions and the torment of his mind. I placed one my of hands around the crook of his neck, and the other I used to swipe over the fullness of his rosy lips. River’s eyes darkened as he let his daring tongue envelop the very tip of my thumb. His eyes danced with nothing but pure desire, and It was then I knew that I would give anything and everything to be the one to make him feel that way once more. If I got burned, at least, I knew I evoked something electric inside of him. Even if this spark ended up igniting me, I would keep fanning the flame.
Patient, River’s hands were patient and reciprocated my touch, sweeping into the arch of my back as I leaned into him. His gaze shifted to my lips, and a shiver spun down my spine. Mercy, I needed all the gods to have mercy on me; For the same lips I used to pray to them, I was about to use for all the darkest sins.
‘I want this..’ I whispered my breath just as heavy as his, my voice merely a plea- I was almost begging him. And I could tell by the look in his eyes that he liked it.
And then my lips were feverishly on his. Soft, daring, forbidden. I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me back, but he did. He really did. Pleasure spread from my lower belly making my legs weaken as lips opened against his, and I slid my tongue into his mouth. A low grunt escaped him when I did so. I didn’t expect a boy like River Kennedy, with his impenetrable exterior, to be so very soft, so very delicious. He tucked a curl of my hair behind my ear, and I devoured him with the very desperation and hunger I felt for him. Our breaths were heavy and wanting by the time I pulled away. His eyes were still shut when I opened my eyes. It seemed like a while before he finally opened them and said in the coldest tone,
‘I cannot give you that.’
My heart sank, and I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the tears of betrayal begin to fall down my cheeks. I was trembling with anger and disappointment. I wouldn’t let him embarrass me like this, no— I wouldn’t dare allow it. I grabbed my bag and got out of there before I completely fell apart.
I left as soon as I could and wasted no more time trying to convince him that I was worth it because I was, damn it, and no one on this earth could ever convince me otherwise. I was exhausted from running around in circles with a ghost who was barely alive, barely feeling. I couldn’t stop crying regardless. I was hurt and humiliated.
Once I’d arrived on campus and made my way towards the dorms, I was interested in nothing but taking a long hot shower and going to sleep, but I knew there was little to no chance of that once I saw her freckled skin and strawberry blonde curls.
‘You look like hell.’ She criticized,
‘For once, just let me be Geneviève!’ I fumed, and she was taken aback by my forwardness.
‘Uh, what’s got your panties in a twist-‘ she began but I shoved past her and made my way up the long staircase to my room, where Keomi was knitting something in her beanbag chair, and Fabian was curled up in a book.
Keomi and Fabian shot each other a confused look, and just then, she stood up and opened her arms. I broke and leapt forward, reaching into her hug. I sobbed into her shoulder, and she ran her hands through my curls, rubbing my back.
‘Shhh, it’s okay. What happened?’ She asked, and we sat down together on her bed.
‘It’s River he…I-‘ I began, and Fabian closed his book shut,
‘Oh no, what happened this time?’ She tisked,
‘Nothing I didn’t set myself up for; once again, I offered myself to up him on a silver platter, and he pushed me away.’ I cried. I had never let myself be this vulnerable in front of anybody like this before.
‘You’ve got to let him go, Armani. River doesn’t know how to be anything other than his emotionally unavailable self.’ Keomi cooed, ‘Tu brises ton cœur.’ You’re breaking your own heart.
‘I’m leaving.’ Fabian huffed before heading out the door, ‘River tends to ruin good things, and he’s sure as hell going to ruin you.’
Keomi and I talked for what felt like hours before I was ready to take a shower and curl myself up into bed. I stared up into the darkness at the ceiling. Perhaps there must be something very wrong with me because, despite the way River was towards me, no matter what he said or did, the only thing I could think about is what it’d be like to taste him again.
Perhaps this is why mama and papa had insisted I stay away from boys during my stay here. Perhaps they were right…I didn’t want them to be right. Protect your heart, mama, would always tell Jaadi and me, for it is the strongest yet weakest part of you.
