Under the Bali Moon

Just two weeks ago, Zena was in Washington, DC, for Zola’s law school graduation at Howard. Though Zola originally planned to move to New York City to pursue her dream of being a fashion critic after undergrad, with much prodding and planning and some strings pulled by Zena, Zola attended her big sister’s law school alma mater, graduated with decent marks, and now it was just a matter of getting Zola to pass the Georgia Bar Exam before she’d be the newest addition to Z. Shaw Law, soon to be Z. and Z. Shaw Law.

“Um...it’s going fine,” Zola let out with a marked zip in her zeal. “Okay, I guess... It’s cool—”

Zena cut in, ready to inspire, ready to employ the swift hand of big sister judgment that had already decided that Zola wasn’t living up to her potential. She needed to let Zola know this slacking was dangerous. She needed to inspire Zola to do better. And this was the way things had always been between the sisters.

“You don’t sound like it’s ‘cool.’ Come on, Zola. Don’t drop the ball now. You can do this. I’m paying your bills, so you don’t have to work. All you have to do every day is study. You know how many people wish they had that privilege? I know I did.”

Sounding diminished, Zola started, “I know. I know—but—”

Zena cut her off again, though. “Look, you’re smart. You can do this. You have to focus. Focus and don’t accept mediocrity. I keep telling you that.”

“I know I can do it, Zena, but that’s what I’m calling to talk to you about—I don’t think I want to do it right now.”

“What? What do you mean ‘want’?” Zena’s face contorted into something that looked like an angered question mark. She looked at the phone as if Zola could see her cold stare. As she had all of those times in the past, Zena felt she just needed to find the right words of encouragement to entice Zola to change her view. Should she be stern or sensitive? What would work best at such a crossroads just shy of eight weeks before the July Georgia Bar Exam?

“This isn’t about your clock, Zola. It’s not about whether now is the time for you. Now is the only time. You have to take the Bar. You have to take it this summer.”

There was silence then—the kind that signifies that there’s more information coming.

“Wait, didn’t your text say you had news?” Zena recalled. “Is that what this is about? What’s going on?” Images depicting a reel of disaster rolled through Zena’s mind—Zola had already run off to New York to dance in hip-hop music videos; she’d used all the money Zena had been giving her for rent to pay for a secret drug habit; she hadn’t even started studying; she was preg— “Are you preg—?”

Zola stopped her sister’s stream of dark thoughts with a soft and mousy revelation: “Alton asked me to elope. That’s what I’ve been trying to get out. That’s why I’ve been calling you all day. We decided to just do it—to just get married. Now.” Zola was referring to her recent status as the fiancée of Alton Douglass, her childhood sweetheart and long-term boyfriend, who’d just popped the question at Zola’s graduation in DC. While Zena wasn’t exactly hip to the idea of Alton and Zola getting married right when Zola was about to really start her career, as she watched her baby sister cry when Alton slid the stoneless silver ring he’d called “antique” onto Zola’s finger, Zena was reconciled knowing that it would be at least one year before there was even a discussion about a wedding. By then, Zola would be back in Atlanta, have passed the Bar Exam and be a practicing attorney.

“Zena? Zena? You there?” Zola called after a long pause.

“Yes. I am.” Zena’s words were void of emotion but somehow also overly laden with something else.

“So?” Zola paused awkwardly. “What do you think? No big wedding. We’re just going to do it. Get married and start living our lives. It’s a smart decision—right?”

Though there was the common glee in Zola’s tone, there was a stiffness there now, too—a covering used to veil her joy in some way. To protect it.

Zena could sense all of this.

Zena began pacing in small circles, subconsciously reaffirming the existence of her environment as she prepared to quiz Zola. She felt as if she was being sucked away. As if the smoking couple had returned and lit up new cigarettes to steal her air.

She looked back up at the oversize plastic margarita glass hovering over her. It was glowy and amber. Happy. This was her happy place.

She wished Malak was outside Margarita Town standing beside her to hear this. She’d put Zola on speaker and have her best friend there to share her disbelief, confirm this horrible mistake Zola was about to make. A mistake Zena would have to clean up. The thing was, Zena had been protecting her baby sister for so long, there was no way she would let anything like that happen. She loved Zola so much, and she’d gotten her so far. They were almost there—almost at the finish line.

“Well did you tell Mommy and Daddy? What did they say about this?” Zena asked.

“Daddy’s too busy with whatever up in New York. And Mommy loves Alton, of course. Who doesn’t love Alton?” The adoration in Zola’s voice was so absolute Zena imagined that Alton must be standing right beside her, listening in and probably laughing at Zena’s reaction. Maybe Zena was the one on speakerphone.

“Of course ev

eryone loves Alton,” Zena said with years of knowing and, yes, loving sweet and kind Alton, Zola’s spiritual twin, laced in her words. While Zena, at fifteen, was nearly in love with the mere vision of Alton’s older brother, Adan, Alton was actually like a little brother to Zena.

“All of this seems so sudden. Like, who’s going to pay for all of this?”

“Really, Z? I can’t believe you asked me that. I say I’m getting married and you ask who’s paying?”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable question. I’ve been supporting you, and Alton isn’t exactly rolling in the dough.”

“He’s a singer. That’s just how it goes when you’re just starting out. But he is getting money for his songwriting. And he’s about to sign a deal with a major label. We just have to hold out.”

“Sure, ‘hold out,’” Zena shot nastily, though she hadn’t intended on sounding so awful.

“Z, I knew you wouldn’t take this well—especially since I’m supposed to be preparing and everything. But I at least thought you’d be excited. Like happy for me,” Zola said.