Silent Love Ch. 01byKaya_Shulia©
Silent Love: Part One
Note to reader: The words that are in italic are either the thoughts of the characters in the story or non-English words. This is an interracial romance, and is my first story so constructive criticism is much appreciated. I don't have an editor yet, anyone interested? The story has a slow start be advised, but I promise it will get spicier soon. Enjoy!!!
She could not believe she made it. She was really a Callaway student. Fear and excitement that has been building up since she got her acceptance letter kicked in to the maximum as she ran, with a map in one hand and coffee on the other, toward her first class.
Coming in as a transfer student from a two year community college, she knew little of some of the happening that go on in college life and was excited about getting a chance to experience all the opportunities a four year college has to offer. Coming from poverty and working her way to one of the best schools in the country she had only one fear. The fear that she will not fit in with the rich and privileged students that come from all over the country and around the world to attend Callaway. She knew she was as intelligent as the rest of the student body and that she will do well academic wise, but the fear of not fitting in socially and the possibility of being titled the "Poor African Girl" hanged over her head since she got her acceptance letter in May.
Over the summer she had worked her butt off to make enough money to buy new cloths, fix up her car, and by a decent looking phone so she won't stand out with her new class mates. At her two-year college nobody cared about who they impressed, because there was nobody to impress, but Zoya knew Callaway was going to be different.
As she ran inside her 10 a.m. political theory class, 10 minutes late, she bumped into an older Asian gentleman as she rushed to get through the door of room 350 White Hall. She assumed he was her professor, the well-known political theorist Dr. Bao-Zhi Fu.
"Oh I am so sorry," She statured as she juggled with her books and coffee.
"You must be Ms. Khan. The only person out of 30 students who thinks my class is not important enough to appear on time," Dr. Fu said looking up from what looks like a class roaster and staring down at Zoya with judging eyes.
"Oh not at all. My alarm did not go off on time and there was a really bad traffic. I am sorry it won't happen again."
"Let us hope not," Dr. Fu said with an uptight accent. Zoya blushed, looked down, and moved toward the first empty sit her eyes fell on, saying excuses as she moved toward the middle of the class. Great, just my luck to embarrass myself in front of probable half of the poli sci majors in the school, she thought as she sit down, placed her bag on the floor, and got her books out. She looked around her, trying to not look so obvious, collecting characteristics data of her classmates. The class was made of mostly Caucasians and Asians, there were five black people in the class and that included Zoya. It consisted of about 15 girls and the rest young men that look to be in their early and late twenties. To her left sat an Asian girl with circular glasses. She seems to be so focused on what went on in the front of the class Zoya took a second to look back at Dr. Fu. Finding nothing interesting in Dr. Fu writing his name and title on the white board, Zoya looked to her far right.
Looking like he could have been doing thousands of things better than sitting at a political theory class was one of the cutest guys Zoya has ever set her eyes on. Shoot he is looking at me. Pretend like your listening and start writing. Sensing him gaze away from her after a few minutes Zoya looked up and sneaked a look at him. Normally she tried to stay away from white guys. Correction: Normally she tried to not to have anything other than pure friendship with guys, and even than she kept them at a distant hand. The drama and issues that go with dating a guy, especially someone slightly different from you, was something she did not want to deal with. But there was something about this guy that pulled Zoya to him. Physically she can tell he was taller than her, because of the way his body was positioned on his chair and the desk he was leaning on. He had a natural brown chestnut hair that a girl would love to comb her hands through, and from a brief view she got of his face he possessed laughing grey eyes.
"This is not a political science class," said Dr. Fu as he turns from the white board. "This class will be taught like a philosophy class. I am the philosopher King," there were a few giggles in response to this that quickly died down as Fu stared down at the class. "I expect all of you to follow my rules and expectations as outlined on my webpage, which I expect all of you to visit every day for assignments and such."
As Dr. Fu spoke Zoya tried to stop staring at "He-who-is-off-thy-limit" and focus on what he was saying. Ok girl rein it in. It is not like you never seen a hot guy. Well maybe not as hot as him and maybe not so close, but I have to focus. Good grades got you here and you better remember that. Why am I talking to myself?! Ok focus, focus. I am focusing. Is he staring at me?! Oh no Dr. Fu.
"Oh sorry Sir, can you repeat that please?" Oh God, everybody is looking at me now. Smile and act like everything is cool.
"Since this is a philosophy class Ms. Khan I expect you to know what is included in the field and the history of philosophy Ms. Khan. I can see you will be the first person whose name I will remember Ms. Khan, it seems it is always the ones that are not disciplined and have no sense of the world are whose names I remember. Now Ms. Khan please tell us the four main areas in philosophy and what interest philosophers in those areas."
"um..." Okay it is all good. Focus you know this. Is the hot guy looking at me like I am an idiot? Of course he is, everyone is. Why he got to say Ms. Khan like that. Fuck maybe I should change my last name. Focus!! You know this.
"Any time right now would be good Ms. Khan."
"Ethics, logic, epistemology, and metaphysics are the four main branches. Ethics is the study of morality, logic is the study of arguments, epistemology is the study of the "unknown", and metaphysics is the study of the natural physical world."
Before she could go on to explain how wide the field of philosophy is she looked around and saw everyone was looking at her, but this time unlike the first time when she could not answer they looked at her with surprise. Yeah bitches I know what I am talking about. Ok look at Fu and smile. I am the most awesome person in the world; I don't care if you are looking at me like I am a bug on your shoe. You are not the first to do so. It did not kill me before it is not going to now.
"Thank you Ms. Khan, very good," Fu said as he cleared his throat.
"Oh no problem," Zoya said with a cheery voice. I am going to kill him with kindness. With every Ms. Khan he says I am going to be that nicer. I don't know what his problem is, but by the time I finish this class I will be his favorite student.
As the clock ticked and the last few minutes of class passed, Zoya and her classmates started to pack while taking last minute notes as Fu rattled off like the class was not nearing its end. Fu spoke five minutes after the class was scheduled to be over and then let them off with a list of homework due the next time they meet. As soon as Fu dismissed them Zoya tried to rush out the door, but as usual she was not so lucky to do it so elegantly. She crashed into the grey eyed guy as they both tried to get out the door at the same time.
"Oh sorry, go ahead," she said as she looked up into his eyes forcing out a nervous smile. He looked down at her for a few minutes with a set face and then walked out without saying anything. What is his problem, the least he could say excuse me. It takes two to collide. Chivalry is definitely dead for this guy. Oh well, 30 more minutes until next class long enough for me to chill and get more coffee.
Zoya thanked God there were no more incidents or bad attention on her for the rest of the day.When her last classes ended at 4p.m. she rushed back to the apartment she shared with her brother Shahid to get ready for work. After her mother passed away three years ago Zoya had taken up the responsibility of her brother, who was just fifteen at the time. After bringing her children to the "land of dreams and opportunities" and struggling as a single mother for so long Zoya's mother, Fatima, had passed away due to an unexpected heart failure.
Fatima had married their father at the young age of sixteen, and after having two children together their father had divorced her without a warning. Living in an Islamic country Fatima had no other option than to accept her ex-husband decision to divorce her. She saw America as a chance of a life time, and the only way she can get away from the pain of seeing her former husband with his new wife and children. But most of all it was an opportunity for her fatherless children to do something worthy with their lives.
Looking back now Zoya thanked God that she had just turned eighteen when it happened, for she could not imagined what would have happened to her and her brother. The possibility of living with a foster family or being separated from her only blood relative in the States kept her awake for weeks after her mother's death. With government aids like food stamp and low-income assistance, that they received every month, she and her brother were able to support themselves with what little they made at her part-time jobs and enough to send a few bucks to their grandmother back home. Life was not bad, and could always be worst, so why linger on the bad when one can focus on the good and the possibility of a happy future.
"Welcome back Sir. How was everything in Budapest?" A man with a thick Russian accent asked as he came into the large office with several men, who look like they stepped out of a Wall Street magazine, rushing in behind him. After a few minutes of shuffling everything hushed down, and the only sound in the room came from the typing a man sitting at the desk was doing. He did not take his eyes from the computer to look at the men, and from the looks of it it seems as if he did not even know they were there, but they all knew better. Dmitry Bazin was always aware of what goes on around him. After a few more minutes of silence the man at the computer spoke without looking up.
"Leave, Boris stay." The men, except the one called Boris, walked back out with an orderly fashion that might appear peculiar to those who did not work for or knew of Dmitry Bazin's work ethics. Boris waited without speaking until the door was closed behind the men, and then he slowly walked up to the desk where Bazin sat and took a chair facing him.
"Any updates while I was gone?" Bazin asked in Russian as he got up from his desk and moved toward the window behind him. As he looked out the window and saw nothing of interest in the hectic Atlanta streets he leaned on the window casually and looked back at Boris who had not spoken since the men left the two alone.
"Nothing of great importance," Boris answered as he adjusted his position on the chair he was sitting on. "Everything in the States is as good as we can expect. Alexander has called a few times. I have instructed everyone here at the headquarters to say you are out on business, and that you will call him as soon as you return. Erik seems to be adjusting to school here and even seems to have made new friends."
"hmm..." Bazin nodded his head as Boris spoke. "Make sure there is a report from each executive member on my desk by this afternoon. Call for an executive meeting on Thursday...No make that Friday, to give all those coming from out of the state enough time to get here. I expect all of them to be here, even the managers from the smallest of our businesses."
"Is everything good Sir?" Boris asked Bazin, keeping the conversation in their mother tongue. He was one of the few people that worked for Bazin that had the courage to question him and expect an answer from him. Many of his workers, outside of his somewhat trusted group of managers to his variety of businesses that he calls his executive team, were too scared to question him and his decisions.
"Da, everything is good. I want an update from each executive member personally. I also have a few changes that I want to share with them all."
"Khorosh, is there anything else Sir?" Boris asked as he prepares to leave. Even though he has known Bazin since their time in Russia, and Bazin has done for him and his family many things that he can never pay back, he never felt like he was close to the man. Boris believes himself to be one of Bazin's most trusted workers, but even he sometimes questions how well he knew the man. Bazin never speaks of his personal life to anyone and never meet a man Bazin called a bosom friend. Sometime Boris wonders if there is a human being capable of feeling pain and weakness behind the image he presented to the world.
"Net. You can leave. Close the door," Bazin said quietly as he turned his back to Boris and looked out the window into the hot streets of Atlanta in August.
In Dmitry Bazin's world holding on to the past was not an option, and if one was stupid enough to get blinded with pains of the past then one should expect a harsh slap of reality that they might not ever recover from. For people like Boris holding on to the past brings joy and remembrance of beloved ones, for him it just made him think about things that he would rather lock away in a box and hid in the freezing soils of Siberia. His motto in life, in the words of Plato, "honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty," and so why be honest at all when he can gain so much by being dishonest. To Dmitry profitable is everything, if it means being dishonest with himself and those around him than so be it. One does not get to be successful in life by being nice, but rather going after what one wants and getting it by any means necessary. Life is a bitch and those who know how to play her the best are those that get to enjoy her.
As a sole proprietor of several businesses, in the States as well as his native country Russia, and being a partner in a variety of happenings in Eastern Europe and the Middle East, the ability to control what goes on with his businesses and the people who work for him was a top priority for Bazin. He knew ninety-five percent of his works and competitors feared him, but that is how he likes it. He was considered to be a genius and respected among some of the top names in the business world due to his ability to turn nothing into fortune. Some say he had the Midas touch. He credited his success to hard work, book and street smarts, and his knee ability of understanding people and what motivates them to action. As he realized at an early age that in life you are either used or you are a user. He had experience with both, and he would rather put a pistol to his head than ever be used by anyone ever again.
"I am sorry I am a little late Mrs. Adams, class ended later than I thought," Zoya said as she entered the two storage house located just outside of Atlanta, and moved toward the noise coming from the kitchen.
"Oh its ok dear. Come sit and have a cup of tea with me. Nothing like having a hot cup of tea as the earth cools down in this dreadful climate," Mrs. Adams said as she poured tea into her best china. Normally when Zoya arrived Mrs. Adams would have a list of things for her to do around the house or help her in her garden out back, but today it seemed she had something else in mind.
"Now dear, tell me how your first day of school was? I know you have been looking forward to it for a while." Zoya took a sit across Ms. Adams' in her great oak table, she never understood why the older woman had she a big table when she rarely had guest or her family over, and told her about her first day at Callaway. Mrs. Adams is the nicest person she knew. Zoya's mother use to work for her when she needed a second job to make ends meet, and after her death Mrs. Adams was kind enough to let Zoya help her and was very understanding of her hectic schedule. Not only was Zoya a full-time college student but she also did several odd jobs to be able to provide for her and her brother. She cleaned houses, babysit, and did almost anything she can get her hands on for cash. Other than her work study job at her previous school she did not hold any job that required paying taxes to the government. Her odd jobs allowed her to be flexible, and plus they paid well for her to pay the bills and allow enough spending money for her and her brother.
"I am happy everything went well for you dear. It was God's blessing you got a scholarship to go to such a good school," Mrs. Adams murmured as she took a sip of tea. Zoya agreed with a nod of her head.
"Well dear, this is unfortunate" Mrs. Adams said after a moment of silent. Zoya put her tea cup down now starting to feel a little nervous.
"um...what is unfortunate ma'am?" Zoya stuttered out. Mrs. Adams looked into her eyes for a moment before replying.
"You know my daughter Sandy and her husband Ben. They have moved into a bigger house in South Carolina and they want me to come live with them. I would miss my friends in Georgia and my son Henry, but it would be a joy to get to see my grandkids every day and to be close to Sandy again. Out of all of my children she has been always the one who is always closes to me. Being my oldest child she has always been more of a friend than daughter most of the time. I know this is all of a sudden but my son Henry who as you know works for a very outstanding company says he is willing to help you find something after I leave," Mrs. Adams said taking a few shallow breaths after her long speedy speech.
"Oh I am so happy for you Mrs. Adams. I know how hard it must have been for you to not see Sandy and the kids for so long. What is going to happen to your house if you are to leave?"
"Henry will be putting it up for sale. The home is after all where one heart is so it won't be so painful leaving this house, though I am going to miss it and my friends. I will be back to visit, God willing."
"Ok. What do you need me to do to help?"
"Oh I made a list...now where is that thing?" Mrs. Adam said looking around the table for a minute before facing Zoya with sheets of paper in her hand. "Here I have all the things we need to do before next week, which is when I am leaving. I know it is a lot but between the two of us and Henry helping when he has time I trust we can get it accomplished." Zoya zoned out as she took a look at the list Mrs. Adams handed her as she went on about what needed to be done. All she could think was: how much more cleaning or babysitting do I need to do to make up for the money I will be losing once Mrs. Adams leaves. Dang, I hope Henry can help me find something.