I summoned my fears, gathered courage then stretched my arm and knocked on the black gate. Sooner than I had expected, a middle aged man opened it and stood there, in a manner that told me he never wanted to let me in.
“Who are you and what do you want?” He asked in a gruff voice. He held a cigarette with his right hand which he smoked all through as I explained myself. Smoke curled up, covering his face. I was soon done with the explanation but he still seemed focused on smoking, unaware of the little coughs that I was making. He seemed disinterested that I was actually getting choked, so I took a few steps backwards.
“You want to see her? Well, she doesn’t want to see you”. After saying it to my face, he begun laughing in a low sound from deep inside his throat and then it grew into a maniacal laughter. I stood there, donned in pain. His laughter irritated, making me feel the urge to punch a blow or at the very least, give him a piece of my mind. I restrained myself after he’d stopped laughing and gave me a glance that I interpreted to be anger. I was astounded by how he had stopped the laughter just at once, as though he had been rehearsing all his life.
“Get lost man if you know what’s good for you, son of a gun!” he thundered, raising his arm positioned to descend on me. I acted brave and stood still, sending my eyes past him into the huge compound with well-manicured lawns.
“What part of get lost didn’t you understand?” He sprayed saliva on my head as he shouted. The look on his face was a scary one and I figured out that it was the end of the road for me. I had no choice but to follow his command. My fragile body left me with no choice really.
Five minutes later and I was walking home, kicking stones that were on the road. I was hurt that she didn’t want to see me and had gone to the extent of giving strict rules to the gate man not to let me in. It felt as though a razor was being carried by my blood, cutting me from the inside. I gave out a sigh hoping that it would bring to an end the feeling that I had; the feeling of a wild black flower spreading its petals in my throat, choking me. I stopped, looked up to the skies and whispered, “I’m sorry Jane. I never meant to hurt you.” I then closed my eyes and yet again there she was, standing in the darkness behind my eyelids.
Jane had been my girlfriend for three months now. The promises that we had made to each other lingered fresh in my mind. Getting married, building a home together, raising our kids… We’d even gone ahead and given names to our first born child, depending with the gender. Prince Rian if it were to be a boy. Prince, because the mother is a queen and Rian because the father is Brian. Princess Rose would perfectly fit, were it to be a girl. Princess because the dad is a king, and Rose because the mother is indeed a rose. Now, with Jane ignoring me and even giving instructions to their rude gate man not to let me in, I tumbled to the reality that she was indeed a rose. Roses are beautiful, but they have thorns. The pain I was going through for being ignored was as a result of a prick from her thorn.
Jane had more than once warned me against Sylvia and asked me to stay away from her. She had always said that she couldn’t stomach seeing Sylvia anywhere close to me. Out of the sincere love I felt for my sweetheart, I had enclosed myself inside a shell that I was sure Sylvia, Jane’s number one rival, couldn’t break through. This had gone on until one fateful day. A day that had robbed of me the beauty of being in touch with Jane, the lady I so much loved.
I had been walking towards Jane’s home, carrying a flower to present as a symbol of my love for her. When I was just a few blocks from her place, I had met Sylvia and believe you me, she wasn’t the normal Sylvia that I had been used to. She was soaked in tears and her hair was disheveled after a terrible ‘meet and greet’ with some robbers. You see where love for money has gotten us? Robbers in broad day light! Being a gentleman, I had to forget the part where she had always been a cunning fabricator of falsehood, scheming to bring my relationship with Jane to a dead end.
Seeing her in such a terrible condition had made me shove my promise of staying away from her. At that moment, the promise was just a story around the camping fire. After finding out what had happened to her, I had hugged her tightly, in an effort to comfort her. She had enjoyed the pleasure of leaning on my shoulder. Little had I known that it was a dark day for me! Jane was driving to their home when she saw “Romeo and Juliet” beside the road, embracing. The beautiful flower that I had intended to surprise her with played a perfect role in making sure that things appeared worse. She lowered her car window, brought her head out and called me a traitor, with a voice that relayed bitterness. She lurched her gas pedal and sped away- away from my life.
As I was remembering that fateful day that had led to a loss- losing the girl of my dreams, it begun raining. Drizzling at first and then minutes later the drizzles graduated to a heavy downpour. I never cared running to seek a place to shelter. No. I just shuffled my feet along the road, hoping that maybe the rain would wash away my tears.
Written by Brian Lesalon Kasaine (He blogs at www.pendancingonpaper.wordpress.com)
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