I ONLY HAVE A WEEK

To break off the silence. I have decided to post the first short story I have ever completed. It was my project for my Creative Writing class a year back. Oh, and I passed btw 😏 And having gotten a good grade from Mr Kefa aka Ras Mengesha (LOOK HIM UP!!) was SUCH an honour.

Anyway I'm done with my tribute speech 😂😂 And here it is....

It’s so easy to die.

That is the only thing I have to say about this. I know it doesn’t answer your question; it doesn’t answer any question for that matter. It just felt like the right thing to say at the moment, this very awkward moment. In fact, I’m only here because my best maid thinks I need this. I’m getting married in a week; she says it’s important to clear out any unwarranted baggage from the past. I don’t really have time for this. But maybe I need to just get it over and done with and I’m here aren’t I? Advise me. Or do what you do and change my life.

You look over at your notebook and ask me why I came. Again. I know why I’m here.

I was twenty. It feels like it was so many years ago, I suddenly feel old. Anyway, I was twenty. You nudge me to go on and I can feel you ease into a comfortable sitting position, the leather chair betrays you. You’re really enjoying this; I might as well get you a cup of tea and some crackers. I look around at your seemingly dull office. It reminds of that day in June. A cold day it was. Coldest day of my life. I don’t want to go back there ever again. That state of mind I mean. I sigh. Loudly. I hope you notice how uneasy I am and I desperately hope you’ll tell me it is okay and I don’t have to do this and I still look like I have it all together…

I was at a function. A farewell party actually. A friend of a friend. I knew only one person there, but there was drinks and food, I managed to make some acquaintances at the table. He was tall. Maybe that’s all there was now that I think about it. Needless to say, he did sweep me off my feet and that was the beginning of my fall. I wasn’t necessarily upright then, I was young. His aura was a darkness that I found appealing and dangerous. And real. But that day is quite irrelevant in this story.

You want to know about him. You say it will be important in understanding why I view him as baggage. I don’t think it will make a difference. You insist. You’re almost as stubborn as Charles, always thinking he’s right. Well he was most of the time; he was a lot smarter than I. He had money and ambition. Girls like that kind of thing. He was good to look at, if that’s what you mean by "tell me more". He was a sturdy man yet he was light on his feet, it was easy to tell in how he seemed to glide across the floor. It fascinated me. His brown eyes were deep and held a lot of secrets that I had the unlucky privilege of knowing. His laugh was hearty and loud and he was quite unashamed of what his ragged self presented to the world.

 He was not the type to take home. He was my secret. I was his getaway. We escaped to each other. Not many knew of our forbidden union, they didn’t need to anyway when you commit a crime you don’t announce it. It was a distraction for a while. Then it soon became a habit and an addiction and I soon couldn’t remember how I lived without him. It sounds over-dramatic but I kid you not, my life soon orbited his. It still does, even if he isn’t around he still controls some part of my decision-making process.

You want to know what happened between me and him. It’s complicated. It’s hard to find the words… 

It is hard to find words without contempt and bitterness as now that I remember him I can feel the possession begin again. The gullibility that I thought was sweet at the time. I was living for the moment. I glance straight past you to the mantelpiece and you have only one picture. Of a dog. Yours I presume. You must be lonely. I think I understand - although I have never been a fan of animals; or children. I have a phobia of babies; paedophobia they call it. Maybe more now coupled with haunting memories of a long night.

Charles had just arrived in town from a business trip. So he said. It was not a concern then, I basically ate up everything. He’d told me he had something to tell me and to wait for him at a popular coffee place, I was nervous. We didn’t do appearances, but I trusted him. And I had news for him too. So I waited, and waited. It had been three hours, I was impatient and I had other things to do. I was really just going to go home and sleep so I sent the “I’ve left” message and waited some more. The force behind this kind of tolerance is a mystery to me because I can hardly wait for my nails to dry. He showed up just as I picked my bag, with a friend behind and a drink beside him. I’m sure that wasn’t allowed here but he didn’t care much for rules. Also he was drunk. I had never seen him like this. I wanted to run. I should’ve run. But I hadn’t seen him in so long and when his smile beckoned me out the restaurant, I saw no other choice.

It was a rainy night and we had barely made it to his house in one piece. The car had swerved so many times but he had insisted on driving because he had to drop his friend at a party. I made some coffee and got him a blanket. I hadn’t realized how fast I was beginning to show affection and care. He’d said he had a surprise for me from The Emirates but the state he was in, I thought it wise not to bring it up.

“Claire… Claire..?” I reached out for the remote and put the movie I was engrossed in on mute.  I didn’t know he was awake. I turned to face him and he was already up, and staring. He stayed quiet for a while and I just sat there taking it all in. Silence with him was never disconcerting; in fact, they were the moments I looked forward to. It was a rare thing.

 “Claire, what if I told you that I am running away?”

I admit that I was caught off guard. I didn’t understand what he meant and soon after noticed that he was not waiting on a response, he was gathering his thoughts. He paused for a while then mumbled up something in his drunken state. 

“Did you know that I have no family?” he whispered in an attempt to sound discreet. There was sadness in his tone as he went on about his father whom he claimed hated him and was out to make his life a living hell. 

“You know… I’m here but I’m going.”

“Going? Going where Charles?”

“Me… I’m leaving this house. He’ll catch me. He’s a bad man Claire. He took my business... he took my business he wants to kill me…” He frantically tried to find the words to express what I could only assume was anger and hurt.

“Claire he’s a bad man I tell you I have to move. Tomorrow, tomorrow even.” 

He attempted to get up and he picked up a pillow I imagined he thought was his bag. I sat him back and told him he had to calm down and that we would talk tomorrow. I thought he was intoxicated but the more he rumbled on the more I was skeptical he was strangely aware of his actions. 

 “Even my mother and brothers can’t… no one can… He…” then he broke out into a still cry.

I shift in my seat as I recall that night. I had never witnessed a man weep and it truly was everything it was said to be, melancholic. I was too young to experience such great sentiment from a man I was not sure was mine and I did not know how to react. 

You look deep into my eyes with such empathy and I hate what this monologue has become. That night is so lucid and for the first time I saw Charles for who he was, a young frightened boy and it ached my heart, however naïve it was. That night we talked- rather he talked- about a broken family I hardly knew existed. About a mother who couldn’t defend her children from a man who terrorized the very core of her being. A powerful yet useless man. And a son who was trying to make a life for himself, one who hadn’t had time to grow up, one who didn’t enjoy his childhood like most boys did. Defending his family from one of his own was a painful reminder that there was no God.

I also had a surprise for him on that night. It’s why I had waited that long for him to arrive because I needed to talk to him. I needed him to know about JJ. I had just found out a few days before and hadn’t told anyone yet. I was not excited or anxious; I just knew he would help me solve it. You ask who JJ is. I find that offensive. I don’t see why I have to explain that. 

I haven’t thought about JJ in a long time and I want to take a bathroom break. But it might be psychological, it’s all in my head you try to convince me. I get shifty every time he comes up, even as a thought; it’s a reflex I’ve not been able to recover from.

What really happened?  Well that night was emotional and I learnt a lot more than I should have; and then we made love and then he broke down again and I did too because I knew deep down this was the last time I was going to be with him. Because he was not ready to be a father and I didn’t need that to be spelled out. And I left the next morning never to return again. He called and I ignored and we continued the dance until he got the message. The message I so desperately hoped he would disregard because I was alone and I had made a life-changing, no, a life-ending decision.

I remember being in that white room, a little too much for my liking. It was all plain and intimidating. I lay there, face up, waiting on the nurse and contemplating my misguided miscalculations of how I had presumed this would turn out. This wasn’t an option before but I was not ready to go through parenthood on my own. Then I thought, what would mother say? She raised an innocent girl as far as she was concerned and what about father? He would disown me if he was to ever find out about this, his baby girl about to be a statistic. What would future me do? Would she handle it? I got up off the creaking bed covered shoddily in off-white sheets, changed quickly and walked out. I met the nurse at the door and she didn’t even stop me. I think they had met a lot of these cases before, she was not really alarmed. She just made it abundantly clear that it was non-refundable. I didn’t care about the money.

One Thursday, I woke up unusually early and it had been two months of avoiding Charles and pretending that I didn't need him. And as I sat on the cold toilet seat in my seemingly dazed state, the uneasiness and discomfort and eventual nerve-wrecking pain assured me that this was it. After deciding to hold on and having finally come to terms with my fate, I was still losing him. JJ I mean. That I did and I suffered one long month of both physical and psychological agony not having started my grieving process yet. The depression went on for months on end and when my birthday arrived, I had nothing to celebrate. I was thin and weary and alarmingly in need of love and food. I had no appetite for both and I was inconsolable.

If you’re wondering what happened to Charles, I wish I knew too. He probably ran and ran forever. I’m old now and I’m getting married and I cannot think about what was and what would have been. How I did I survive? I eventually got over everything . Charles that is. But you’re not asking about Charles are you? I dealt with it either way and read the bible, once or twice. I ate and got fat and lost weight and other drastic things happened like dropping out of college. 

My parents prayed and prayed and their God answered their prayers. I met a man who was ready to help me get on my feet again. I met him in a conference - mother had insisted I attend because it was full of 'good Christian men' - and he talked me into going back to school and working on my dreams again. And he checked up on me. And he had a functional family, one that laughed together. He’s the one I’m going to marry. He’s the one that stayed. He’s the one that didn’t run.

Does my mother know? Do my friends know? Does the man I’m about to commit to for eternity know about JJ? Well that’s what I’m here for. What do you think? I think I’m fine. You’re the one supposed to listen to me and tell me whether I should break down all this information in a week. I haven’t talked to anyone about this before and it’s not as refreshing as many think. I hope I didn’t waste my time. 

You close your notebook and fold your arms. I cross my legs and wait and watch you wrap your mind around all this information. I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night and I only have a week.