I had a simple task; tell Javans about this crush I’ve had on him. I could have, in fact, I should have but I cannot. I should have told my friends so, but between Javans saying he was partying all through the weekend with his girlfriend and inviting me to tag along, I could clearly see that he was taken with her. He did not deserve to be given options when he could make a choice and stick with it. I told Maggie just this.
Photo by: Carlos Quintero/ Unsplash.com
However, I should have known that Maggie is not one to be told “not” to do anything. She went and told Javans about the crush I have on him.
I have not answered his calls or replied his text messages.
Now, he’s looking for me and I am doing everything to stay away from him, because the truth is I need time. Now that he knows, I prefer being his friend and would not want him to pursue me. Is there any level of cowardice as great as this?
Javans was at the restaurant when I walked in. He was halfway through his drink, his tie loosened, his leg shaking- partly due to anxiety and partly due to his restlessness. The last text I’d received from him was “waiting, seated at the table by the corner.”
Maggie should be here.
I should not have asked her to come but she’s the only one who can rip away this bandage off my face without a shred of pity. Javans is also scared of her. She’s what he says “crazy with a capital C,” but the truth is Maggie is fearless to most but the few who know her, see through her fortress clearly. He stands to hug me as I get to the table. “I am sorry I kept you waiting. Traffic was insane,” I tell him.
“It’s okay. I’ve had two of these and now I think I should get something stronger.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Nothing serious, so tell me what’s wrong? Your friend, the one with red hair said that she was worried about you. What happened at work?”
“Uh?”
“Yes, you have a friend at work, the chic with very red hair and weird eyes. She came by our place of work and said something about listening to you without being ‘judgy’ those were her words.”
“Louisa is always a siren. You hear her before you see her, but don’t worry about it, today is a Friday and what are you up to? Do you have plans for the weekend?”
“Um…there’s this party we are going to.”
“Oh, so there’s a party this weekend or is it tonight?”
“Tonight actually, I’m picking Pat at around ten-ish, wait, why don’t you come? You know, it’ll be fun all of us hanging out, or are you meeting the crazy one and her loyal servants?”
“Yes! I am meeting them and by the look of things, it seems like they will be here soon enough, so why don’t you get ready and go meet Pat. You know the traffic is insane and you have to get to her on time.”
“Eish! It’s not yet that late, but don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re okay? You are doing the thing you do when you are nervous.”
“What?”
“You keep folding that serviette. It’s not an origami lesson Joyce, what gives?”
“Nothing.”
“Lie.”
“Nothing, really.”
“Lie.”
“Look, don’t worry about me, I’m fine, in fact I can’t wait for the girls to get here so we can catch up on the latest, hebu go! You’ll be late.”
Javans favorite color is blue. He is also a Blues fan, not that kind of blue, Chelsea. He’s a fan of Chelsea and I know this because the number of times I have been dragged to those games or had my eardrums filled with statistics outweighs the countless times Maggie has told me I am hopeless.
My favorite color is grey.
When I first told Javans of this, he laughed and shrugged then leaned forward and asked “how does someone like you have grey as their favorite color?”
“Why shouldn’t I ? You can like blue and I can like grey there is nothing wrong about that.”
“There is nothing wrong, but it still is weird. I was expecting something like red, pink, you know something that most chics kinda dig, and you had to go and surprise me, again?”
“Again? What else did I ever surprise you with?”
“Remember that time we were with some of your friends and you said that you always wanted to drive a matatu here in Nairobi?”
“Wait, that was a long time, and why did that surprise you?”
“No one really enjoys driving in Nairobi because of how crazy those mathree drivers are, but you…you said it like it was one those things you couldn’t wait to do, like it was an achievement or something. Didn’t you see the way we all turned and looked at you?”
I smile as I recall this, but a shadow falls upon my table and when I look up, Louisa is smiling down on me. She’s dyed her hair red. How she manages to change her hair at whim amazes me. “Hey, how are you sweetie?” she asks and leans in for a hug. I take a whiff of her vanilla perfume and nod adding that I have been better.
It’s almost noon and we agreed to sneak out for an early chat under the pretense of getting early lunch. Louisa is in marketing and events management maybe that’s why she can dye her hair at whim. I am more in hospitality, a face that you have to greet before you walk into the building, sometimes, a face that tells you the boss is not in when he is in but does not want to entertain any visitors. I am what my bosses call the face of the company, so I have to look the part, no extreme piercings or tattoos or worse off hairstyles that serve up “I’m a gossip, give me some juice!”
Sorry, I am having a rough day. I learned from Javans that things have been going great with Patricia and the conversation we had yesterday night about wanting to settle down served me some bile in my mouth.
Louisa is plunging her fork into the chips on her plate. The soda beside her is untouched, but I know she will only take one sip and slip the bottle in her handbag and walk out like she’s had a meal at The Sarova Stanley.
“Joyce, have you broke the news to Javans?”
“No.”
“What are you waiting for? The Messiah or should we ring a bell for you to know that class is in session?”
“Ehe! You can join the bandwagon and put all the pressure on me, no one is pushing you to get married to your baby daddy?”
“Correct! He is my baby daddy, not my husband! There are lanes Joyce, but here’s the thing, I heard from a friend of a friend. She happens to be close to the inflammable weave girl that Javans follows around and word is that they are getting serious and he was asking about making their relationship legit, so if you do not tell Javans tonight by seven o’clock. I will. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Nan asked me “why haven’t you ever told Javans about this crush you have on him? I mean, everyone who sees you around him for ten minutes can tell that you clearly have a thing for him.”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, you know…you definitely know or should I call Maggie and make her ask you because then you might finally speak your truth? Look, I’ve got work tomorrow but for whatever reason, you two cannot become JJ unless you are straight with yourself.”
“Thanks.”
I waited until she’d left the restaurant before pulling out my diary from my bag. No one carries around pages of their innermost thoughts but since my friends dared me to reveal my feelings to Javans, I have been going back to every entry I made about Javans.
Like the first time we met on campus and he joined the group by flipping the chair backwards so he could rest his arms on the backrest. It’s the first reason why I was drawn to him and now that I look back on it, there was an essence to him, a certain warmth where he loved talking to people, getting known something that’s dimmed over the years.
If Maggie were here, she’d tell me to stop being sentimental unless I was on screen and getting paid for it. Louisa would tell me to catch a breath because Nairobi is not here for my emotions. Nan would laugh, but she’d stay back long after they’ve gone and give me a tight hug.
I have had a crush on Javans for six years. If you think this is a long time, then Maggie says it better “that’s long enough for someone to get a degree and a masters, na kama ameenda Europe hiyo miaka mbili imetosha Masters na PhD.”
Maggie has no speedometer. She also knows how to spin a lie so effectively you will never know it was a lie, like how she convinced us that she’s Maggie yet on graduation day she responded to Maria-Magretta Auma. I cannot call her Maria or Auma or Magretta because I value one, my ears and two, my forehead. Maggie is the reason why we’ve been banned from five clubs in Westlands because she knows how to strategically render you useless by merging her knuckles with the slight depression that distinguishes your nose from your forehead.
The year is coming to an end and my friends have decided that each one of us has to fulfill their resolutions, or in my case, die of shame trying.
Maggie, Nan, Akinyi and Louisa all voted on me coming clean and telling Javans that I have had the longest crush on him.
Nan said “Walk up to him and say ‘hey, I have had a crush on you from the first semester in campus,’ and smile.”
“Haiya! You do not jump out of the friendzone without a signal. Wait, is he still the girl with the inflammable weave?”
“Patricia? Yes, I think so.”
“You think so or you know for a fact that they are dating?”
“I don’t know, it’s not like I have ever asked him if they are steady or something like that.”
“Nan, you see how hopeless this one is? Sweetheart, listen, walk up to Javans and tell him you’ve liked him for six years and now 2018 is almost ending and your stupid friends bet that you’d not snag him.”
“Why should she tell him the truth?”
“Look, shut up all of you, who has dated most guys here? Right, me! Look, guys like attention and if she spins a tale about trying to win a bet? He’ll be game! In those few days she’ll get to spend time with him and if she likes him, we win! Besides, this one here…is just a mess, she needs this lie to get her going, trust me!”
And just like that, I had ten days to snag Javans! You’d think it was as easy as walking into a supermarket and picking something off the shelf.
“I can’t do this Mark. I am not like you and you cannot expect me to turn a blind eye to all this, what I mean is that, a part of me will always be weary of your actions. I’ll be the kind of girlfriend who listens in on your conversations when I know it will do nothing but hurt me, and I am not for that, why hurt myself when I can ease myself of the pain?”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Get another job or something…anything but what you do.”
“I have worked on this for five years, created contacts, partnerships with hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, it is not an investment I can walk away from just like that.”
“Well, I guess that’s that then.”
“It is I guess and as much as I try, I have always known that I cannot have it all. Christine, let’s get you home. Thank you for taking the time to think this through.”
“Mark…”
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He smiled at me, got me to my feet and we walked out of the restaurant hand in hand. Each step I took felt lighter, but when I got to the car, I could not bring myself to breathe.
My love had me and let me go like I was the wind.
What would he say for himself? Was he not going to ask me to re-evaluate my decision, or maybe at least beg? Six months of emotions and he was going to step back and watch me walk away, just like that? Why was I even at odds about it? I was the one who chose to step back from my love, why was I perplexed that he was not fighting for me? How was he to fight for something that wanted to be free of him?
But, it was not just something, it was me.
This was my love.
This was him and I…two people, two souls, one who lived in an alternate reality, who wanted the gifts, love, caresses and protection but not funded them. Oh my…my love was nothing like the riot act I knew about…my love wanted Mark under my terms and conditions and if they did not apply, then my love wanted out.
Had he made any ultimatums on his love?
As the driver made his way to my apartment, all I remembered were the times when we’d be at a party, at an event, anywhere in public and I’d catch him staring at me. His eyes, his body shifting ever so slightly to acknowledge my presence.
“You are quiet Christine, what is going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing, I am just tired.”
“Don’t worry, we are almost there. I’m sorry I kept you up so late.”
“It’s okay, I am off tomorrow so I am not worried about getting sleep.”
“Sure.”
He did not utter a word until the driver pulled up right outside the flat where I stayed. Mark had been here thrice. He stepped out of the car and held the door for me and walked me to the stairs.
“So, you’d better go in and get some rest Christine, okay?”
“Mark, are you not angry or disappointed?”
“You made your decision Christine and I promised that I would respect it, I guess I’ll think about it when it finally sinks in, but for tonight I am more concerned about your well being.”
“Forget it Mark, what well being? How can you be so calm? Why won’t you fight for me or for us? Are you just going to let me go like that? Like I never meant anything…”
“Christine…sit down, just sit for a second and breathe.”
“Why should I breathe?”
“You’ll die if you don’t.”
“This is not funny Mark.”
“No, it’s not, but I change my mind. You are not a single rose in the dark, you are more the thorns that serve to protect the bud but often get in the way and hurt the petals while they’re in bloom. You put yourself down when you are conflicted Christine, now, let’s get you inside your apartment and you’ll sleep on this and wake up feeling refreshed tomorrow.”
“You are crazy.”
“You love me for it Christine and for the record, I never said I gave up.”
“Good, because here’s the deal, you do what you have to do, just don’t tell me about it, because I know from time to time my mind will come up with all these negative outcomes. But, I want you Mark and I want us to work.”
“We’ve been working Christine, haven’t you been around?”
“Shut up and stop being so charming!”
“Hey, at least I am charming. Goodnight love.”
“Goodnight love.”
I locked the door once he’d stepped back and walked to my bedroom, the radio was still one just like I’d left it and with a slow hum, it hit me. I had this love and I chose to keep it after knowing what it felt like to want to throw it away. My love had never left, it had only been undergoing an evaluation, but I was too invested, too optimistic to want out and Mark…he had his love.
It is for this sole purpose that when he pushed back his chair and reached out for my hand, I knew right there and then, that everything would be like the smoke. It was and was not there. It stung my nostrils, watered my eyes but even then, it only existed when I called it to the present moment.
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“Christine, do you love roses?”
“Yes, who does not love roses?”
“Well, a lot of people believe that they are too cliche, but you remind me of a single rose, standing out in the dark. Do you know what I mean?”
“No, I am sorry I do subscribe to your philosophy, look, we need to talk, Mark.”
“We are talking. We have been since you got here.”
“It’s not that…look, can you stop playing with my hair…look, Mark, stop all that…sit down!”
“As you wish…let’s sit.”
“Look, Mark…this is just so difficult for me, how can we be together when what you do could harm your life or worse off, what would people say?”
“I am a Pharmaceutical Investor, what more would people say?”
“Mark, you told me that you deal in acquisition of organs, and we are talking about human beings, like do you simply receive a call for someone asking if they can get a kidney or say some blood and you make another call and voila, it’s done? It’s a crime, it’s wrong!”
“When you have a child who needs a blood transfusion but the hospital tells you that the blood bank cannot give it to him or her because they do not have it, what do you do? Do you sit back and watch your child die or do you post it on facebook, call other hospitals and keep asking until one person or two show up to save your child’s life?”
“It’s not the same Mark and you know it!”
“My dear, it is how you choose to see it and our healthcare system is plagued with so many ills. I worked as a Doctor for a year to realize this, but there is nothing as bad as knowing the system or the institution you belong to failed to achieve it’s mandate. People do not go to hospitals for a check-up, only to be wheeled to the morgue. Look, I am glad we are talking about this, and you are still reeling from it all, so tell me, what’s bugging you?”
“I don’t know, it’s just odd Mark. I mean, I never expected this and it’s just, I can’t explain what I feel.”
“Come here.”
Yes, I leaned into his embrace and he held me as the night grew into her own. I had questions and I expected a sense of rage to overwhelm me, but every fire that burned in me was put out by Mark.
A charm for every doubt, my mother would call it, but even so, was this what I envisioned?
So, my love was with me, but so was every doubt, every fear and what threatened my love was not giving in to it, but giving in without giving caution a hearing.
When you meet love, before they consume you, kindly send them my way…I’ll be the girl in black braids waiting with a five liter jerican of kerosene and fingers ablaze.
Xuan Nguyen/Unsplash.com
Mark had me when he bumped into me in that grocery store. I wonder, was it easy like this for anyone? To live for the one your heart calls out to. To wait for their call, to look for them in a crowded bus stop, to see their faces in song, to hear their voice on the radio and to yearn for time to stand still so you can cherish a few more seconds with them.
I wore a short black dress. Mark does not care much for black dresses, but his love for burgundy is evident by the number of dresses in that color that are hanging in my closet.
His driver arrived fifteen minutes early and waited for me to get ready before we took off for the restaurant.
Mark was waiting at the lounge for me such that when the driver opened the door, I saw him coming down the stairs, his eyes fixed on me, taking up every inch of me the way they traveled from my heels to my eyes. He smiled and stretched out his hand and I took it.
It was his for the giving and mine for more the support than the taking.
How did we end up here? One the prey, the other…the one who hunted the hunter?
“Thank you for coming Christine. You are beautiful.”
“You mean, I look beautiful? Wow, thanks.”
“No, you are beautiful. Looks are fleeting, but you my dear, are beautiful through and through and I am honored that you chose to have dinner with me.”
“You always have a choice. You made yours and I know I made it seem like you had no choice, but that’s what pressure does to people, doesn’t it? Anyway, thank you for being here. I look forward to dining with you.”
“You do?”
“You are nervous.”
“Nervous?”
“You repeat what I say or say odd things when you are nervous. Right now, your right eye brow is raised and you are about to slap my arm…see, there, so you are nervous. Don’t be, in fact, we do not have to talk about anything that you are not willing to explore, promise me that you’ll just relax and enjoy your time with me.”
“That sounds fair.”
“It does and you my dear are breathtaking!”
“Eish, stop with the compliments you’ll take all my bonga points!”
“You can never have enough bonga points.”
As we sat down to dinner, it dawned on me that he’d pulled the Mark charm on me again and I had fallen for it.
Love is bliss. It torments the one whom it engulfs leaving the other swirling in a sea of ignorance. How could he sit through a meal, compliment me, feast his eyes on me and yet not want to lose his breath over the sole reason for the ultimatum he gave me? If I asked that he let me be, would he do it?
These thoughts pitched tents in my mind throughout dinner. As he asked for dessert, this little stream of awareness struck me, Mark had not carried his phone. He’d gone for an hour without any calls, texts, reminders or simply reaching out for his phone.
Was this the kind of love I envisioned? If you come across love, tell your love that my love is looking for it.
I also heard that two’s great but three’s a crowd. It’s the final day and Mark promised he would send someone to pick me up. “I do not believe that people should argue in a car, the number of accidents caused because of the anger and arguments are already high, I do not want us to be that statistic.”
“Mark…”
“No, I know you have your decision to make and I will accept it, but do not make me come pick you up only to drive in silence or argue. I will send you a driver. He will come for you at seven and we can sit down and talk things through, please.”
“Okay, sure.”
“Thank you and take good care of your self Christine.”
“Yeah, well…thanks.”
Marcus Cramer/ Unsplash.com
I know it is too much to ask of you, the one who is reading this, unaware of what I look like, who I truly am or what purpose I serve, but have you ever been disillusioned by love? Have you ever bought into a kind of love that shredded your heart?
For the past two days, my mind has gone through every possible situation, it has challenged me to a Russian Roulette and I have won. No, my heart has won.
Is it fair to think or not to think?
Is it fair to feel or not to feel?
Is it fair to wonder or not to wonder?
Mark told me that he was a Pharmaceutical Investor the first time we met.
For six months, I believed that he dealt with hospitals and supplied medicine, but what would you do if, like me, you discovered that he also knows how to get a kidney or can provide blood faster than any blood bank in your country?
What would you do when he gets a call and you unexpectedly walk into the room to hear him say that he will be there with a kidney in time for the operation?
I remember inhaling as much air as I could but still feeling choked and him standing there, in the middle of his living room, looking at me and then walking slowly towards me to help me into a seat. He handed me a glass of water and then said “take deep breaths Christine, you have questions and I’ll answer them, but only when you are ready to hear me out.”
Was this my love?
Was this the one person I told my sisters was “my happy place”? Who traded in body organs? Who made and received calls regarding supply of kidneys like they were placing an order for a pizza delivery?
Was this my love? Could this have been my love all along?
Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not spiteful or vengeful or demanding.
What do you do when the one you love is far from the love you envision?
I did not choose love. It did not choose me, but some part of me believes that I agreed to stay here long enough to feel like a choice, to look like a choice so that my beloved would finally look into my eyes and tell me “I love you.”
Three words. Eight letters. Four vowels. Three consonants.
Evelyn Bertrand/ Unsplash.com
I met Mark in a mall. Yes, I was making my way to a grocery store just like him, but one of us bumped into the other and it resulted into a conversation about which fruits to buy and how to make perfect smoothies. It was during the time I was having an “MCP”, a Middle-Class Phase, where I believed that making smoothies would surely propel me into healthy living, but I failed to work on my peace of mind. I was working long hours at a call center needing the healthy fix.
He had the Colgate smile, the kind that could start an estrogen war within a person and the universe at that moment had picked on me to be the bearer of this war. I remember thinking that ‘if he asks for my number, I will be sure to give him my email address too,’ and right there and then, he asked if we could sit down at a cafe within the mall and chat.
It was a Saturday. My laundry was done and I had no plans other than following a smoothie recipe and making one, successfully. We walked out of the grocery store and headed straight to the cafe.
He pulled out a seat for me, let me order first and before I could say another ‘thank you,’ he smiled at me again and said ‘Is it okay if I ask to know your name?”
“Oh, sure, sorry, I’m Christine but my friends call me Chrissy.”
“Christine is a beautiful name, well, it seems mine is not as far away from your name, since I was named after one of the people who followed the man you may or may not be named after.”
“And that name would be?”
“Mark.”
“Four letter name…that’s easy to remember.”
“Yes, well, my parents made sure that I knew and read all about him, because he was a disciple of Christ.”
“So, you grew up in a Christian family?”
“Well, I don’t know if we are a Christian family but the old man was a Bishop and his wife, well, she did know a thing or two about the Bible.”
“Wow, that must have been something.”
“It was. Forget all that, tell me about you, other than bumping into strangers in grocery stores, what do you do?”
“I see where you are going with this, but I did not bump into you, ‘Mr. I am texting as I walk,’ so, I work in Customer service. You may have probably called in once in a while complaining about bundles or your airtime vanishing into air and called me a thief.”
“True, I may have. There’s nothing as bad as buying bundles and running out of them unexpectedly. Well, I am in the field of Medicine.”
“Wait, are you Doctor?”
“No, not a doctor but more along the lines of Pharmaceutical Investor.”
“What does that entail?”
“It’s more about ensuring that those who need urgent medical care get it, be it in form of connecting pharmaceutical companies to hospitals or simply making deals that prolong lives, so I am what you would call a modern day consultant, but not a doctor.”
“Okay, what did you study in campus?”
“I did Medicine and then went ahead and took up a Masters in Business Administration with focus on Finance. How about you? What did you study?”
“I studied Education and now I am a Customer Care Agent, talk of falling far from the tree.”
“You do what you can and it beats taking to the streets every two or so years demanding for what’s due to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.”
Well, that’s as far as my mind can go in recollecting that first time we met. I remember wondering just how he could speak with such ease, ooze all that confidence and not worry about being turned down by me. It baffled me, but more than that, my reaction to him shook me.
I was not the kind of person who talked to strangers. I was also not the kind of person to talk of my life to someone who was not a close friend or family, so much so that my sisters and brothers often called me a ‘rock.’ They labeled me the girl who had no feelings. The one who was so focused that it was either her way or no way. It got me where I was but having Mark unravel a softer side of me shook me, not because I did not encourage him, but because I wanted to be softer and more vulnerable around him.
And when those feelings kept unraveling, a part of me shut down, and when I needed it the most, it eluded me.
I wonder, was this just a game to him? Was I simply prey and once he caught me, he couldn’t help but play with me for a few seconds before tearing me apart?
nilichoandika 