Pale foams of whims married the walls to the floor and I shrieked at the trifling cold that intensified its journey on my bare skin. Just last night, the world’s belching stomach camped in my abode. Covered with dappled white sheets the curtains waxed swiftly into some light chorus tempering with stroking wind that seemed to implore the flickering fluorescent bulb to concentrate and provide evidence.
She had been here.
My mind meandered aimlessly to yesterday when I bumped on her on the streets while she headed back to her campus, a second year Agricultural Economist student at the University of Nairobi. I was caught by her intensely curved body and to the gods of time, blood and saliva; I sang sonnets from the womb of my soul. Two years ago in the forest of memory, I recalled our first meeting in one social gathering of The Arts in a Sculpture Section. I was immensely drawn to certain sculpture that depicted the struggles and burden of being a woman deep in a typical dry village of Africa. As my mind escaped to a remote village in Mandera to have firsthand mental information and probably empathize with the woman and her ilk, a gush of Ambrosia May perfume most likely won by Victoria models shortchanged my mind into an evident turn of events. I felt cheated. What seemed to be eons of lush gardens, lilting butterflies and sun speckled flowers that breathed tones of fragrance – a sudden twinkle voice chirped into my ears.
“Hey, you’ve been stuck here for long” to which I stared blankly at the sculpture.
The voice continued “I like that you kinda connect with such a piece of art emotionally” I was bemused.
I turned to a beaming smile; I swear to have seen God hide in preparation of more boring sonnets from me. My jaws alighted from my cavities in appreciation of such an African queen.
“Hi, I finally managed to respond.”
As my thoughts rumbled back and forth, the moments that led us being together sprinted back into my mind. She predictably turned as I tiptoed to her. I cursed pheromones! She was strutting along Muindi Mbingu Street and the gods must have thundered to her “Turn Woman, the hopeless stickler of worms is behind you.” The gods loathed me I swore. I felt cheated in my own game of chess as jinxed pawn of the world while she rose as a queen. “Hi sugar, she chimed,” I responded by hugging her ravishingly tight. The adjacent Tuskys Supermarket’s Bakery annoyed me to my last intestines as it reminded my tortured stomach of the sounds it had been making.
“Brrrr! Brrrr! Brrrrrrrr!”
I tried to tighten the muscles of my stomach to no avail. She rolled on the floor and caught her ribs while preaching how I had a bad habit of skipping lunch to save the little cash I had. I hated her. “Well, a man gotta do what he’s gotta do to survive” I countered.
Lunch? Us alone? She agreed by adding how plot less she was as she was heading to the TV room of her hostel as her carnal roommate had exiled her into oblivion because of her stupid boyfriend. She spat.
I spiraled upwards to the moment she sat next to me on my right in a matatu. We were heading to my place in Wendani. She glanced outside the window with an occasional giggle. My breathing was slow; my anxiety tumbled towards the driver who had switched on some loud, weird and sweaty riddim songs. I was convinced he was the reason aliens laughed out our meager brains. I cursed him under my breath – bigot, nkt! He drove slowly as I usually take 25 minutes or less on weekends to my house. Thika Superhighway seemed to swirl in repetition. I couldn’t wait! My right hand wandered to her slightly exposed left thigh. She wore a light Fuchsia dress and a luminous white top. I splashed my hand to every inch of her exposed thigh. It was throbbing soft and my trousers bulged in admiration. I glanced at her; she only smiled and kept counting the vehicles on the road.
The door creaked open as I tumbled back and wrestled it to close. My bulging trousers limped in a revolting sequence of anticipation. I thought “this was it.” She watched me advance. As a raged beast, I stripped to my core while shuddering on the tingles of romancing. With the pounding rod upon a stung drum, my heart and knob layered hungrily towards the fountain of lust. She marinated my tongue with endearing lipids pastes of heavenly water as soon as our lips conjugated a duet in the wide tambourine of symphonic voices. Tearing through her coverings, the seal of my compacted desires, bolted out and I hanged desperately in the foul of time. It had taken me two years to reach this far and I wasn’t loosing anything. I indulged in her fortress with the servitude of a humble servant, oiled the clime of her ornamental jewel flower and probed her in my effortless sprinkle blessing. We made intense love four times through the night. Tired, satisfied and reeling she lay with her back turned towards me and what followed is my cloud of melancholia filled with shards of my heart covered in blood.
Bill, this will be our first and last night together”
(Surprised) Why baby?
“Don’t babe me, although we’ve been through a lot together you never tried enough nor did I ever love you as much as I have wanted to. But I have loved you in my own strange way.”
“What is it that I haven’t done? If I wasn’t party to your expectations I wouldn’t know. This is something we should’ve grown together and for my life I have loved you madly and jealously. If at all there are things I didn’t do that you expected I am ashamed of myself but I tried and … and … all this time I’ve waited for you.”
“I have a boyfriend Bill, I am sorry. And if that isn’t enough we messed up some few weeks ago and I am pregnant. I still don’t know how things will turn out.”
I left her sobbing on the bed and went to lie on my couch hoping sleep would rescue me. I couldn’t fathom just how moments ago, we ambled in the paths of stars. At exactly 6 am she emerged from the bedroom ready and leaving and her eyes were heavy and red. It pained me to see her that way but I wasn’t sure what was worse between that and the hurt she had caused me.
“Don’t leave Zyana, I begged”
She moved towards the door, opened it, turned slightly and whispered
“Goodbye Bill, this time it’s for good”
I knew it was all over and it broke me. I wept like a hungry child screaming for food while lying on the cold marble floor. On the couch amidst the tears, I swore that it wasn’t my fault. I mean, I fucking love her. I love her to my last bone.