OFF THE PRIMROSE PATH

Its Friday 18th August.

Date two.

I quietly scroll through my phone on the escalator. I hate lifts. They’re quiet and boring and have a thick warmth I dislike. I like it better here, in between the hustle and bustle of strangers in a hurry, couples in love holding hands, with stars in their eyes, and people with no hurry in their feet of which today, i am among. It is in such beautiful chaos that I catch the regularities of life that sneak out of people’s conversations and into my prying ears…

How Aunt Shadya just got pregnant for the sixth time… How Judy cannot believe that Harvey left her for his ex… That thot. How Kourtney is the most annoying Kardashian (the truest thing ever… Don’t argue with me. I am single.)… How Kate is back with her shitty ex for the seventh time… And oh… There’s a party on Friday night at Dave’s tho, and Tina cannot miss it for anything… “And there’s free weed,…” She repeats twice. In case Kelly didn’t hear her the first two times.

Anyway. Such conversations are the reason i walk along the corridors with one earphone down. To keep my ear open for any juicy details that may drop out of the corridor gossip. And honestly, even though I rarely know who’s being talked about, it’s exciting to listen to. And perhaps, laugh to myself if need be. Because there’s nothing as persistent as need.

There he is.

His coal black hair soft and shiny, like polished glass. His back is to me but i can still recognize him. He’s scrolling through his phone, white earphones spilling music into his ears. Slowly, the shyness I’d been holding down envelopes me… Grips me with both hands. I want to run, —away, —but not from him.

I’m staring at my phone again as we wait for pizza when I feel him kick my shoe.I smile.

He winks.

I’m wearing black jeans today. I was about to wear a dress though. I had even picked it out. The whole week I was busy safely storing the courage to wear it, but then today, I didn’t find it where i had kept it, perhaps I used it to ask my parents for money. Anyway, I eventually ended up wearing my black jeans with a black long sleeved jersey.

I bend down to pinch his leg… Then… I notice his shoes…

“What’s your shoe size?” I have to ask.

He chuckles. “8. Why?”

“They’re big.” I defend myself.

“And hot… right?” He winks. Again.

Heat splashes all over my face at that single wink. He is so so cute. Like a mixture of Bobby and Luke but with a lot more sauce and sass. And bone on his jaw.

Is it just me or have anyone else ever noticed that if he’s cute, he’s a size eight…? Seriously. And yes, I always ask. But sometimes they’re a size 9 or 10.

No. Ten is a skateboard. Not a shoe size.

Beyond the glass… The CK wheel catches my eye. My eyes follow one gondola. One minute it’s up… And in about four minutes it’s at the bottom… And it hits me as the reality of life. Today you’re happy, and your spirits are as high as the skies can go… Then tomorrow… Gravity seems to have pulled your spirits to the floor… And The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars becomes your anthem. Someone can walk into your life… And make you feel like you’re on top of the world… Then drop you like you’re hot after a few moments, which seem more like minutes. Just because when you met you were their favorite cup of tea, but today, they decided they only drink champagne.

Mais C’est la vie, ouai?

A piercing scream keeps emanating from that gondola… Like a bird being strangled. Though I’ve never heard a bird being strangled either. And in retrospect… The scream reminds me of baby me. My mind rolls back specifically to the first day my mother took me to Luna park…

I was 7 if not 6 at the time. I saw the Dragon boat. It looked scary, of course. But it still looked just as fun. Because fear, brings thrill in its train. N’est-ce pas?

Remember that time when you first saw him? Tall, dark, slim, handsome… and all the other right adjectives… And like steam emanates from a boiling pot, danger seemed to emanate from his every being… Even his smile… Striking… Scintillating… Seed to have warning signs in between his gleaming teeth. But of course you were in for the thrill… The adventure… You could see the fire in his very being… And you knew it would warm your heart… Set your senses ablaze… Then burn you to ashes in the end.

A picture primrose path.

And of course I was down for it. Just like you were down for him. So my mum paid and in minutes I was up in the sky. Just like you went for him… Cuffed him… Even though you clearly knew he was like a rabid dog… Feisty, —and immune to cuffs.

Then… There went the fear. The thrill. And, The screams. And the screams intensified as I went higher and higher. Remember how wild the ride was? And how you felt when he took you there… When he took you higher and higher…To heights you never knew you could reach… And the deeper the strokes went… The louder the moans rent… Even the walls can testify.

But at the highest point… Where I could see the turning wheel… And the revving engine… And the boat almost did a 360° turn… The screams escaped faster from my throat… Louder… And with more pitch and fright. It wasn’t just thrill now, it was fear. That I’d fall. That I’d die. Remember when you’d scream at him and cry every night? When you’d complain and complain about why he doesn’t call, or call back. Why it takes him 13 hours to reply to one text? And eventually reply with a single word? Or with two emojis? As if to rub his disinterest in your face. And now you could feel the heat of the that flame was approaching… And the prick of the pain that would come... If it was not there yet.

Mais c’est toujours comme ça, non?

Everyone was looking at me now. Most with amusement, but some with sympathy. And remember your friends sympathising with you at that time? Advising you to jump off that painful ship? Did you listen tho?

The dark man in control stopped the whole thing and asked me if I wanted to get out. —But I said no. As absurd as it may sound. Remember all the times his deeds afforded you an undisputed exit from that trashy relationship? Mais non, you always chose to stay. He would eventually change and appreciate you, ouais? He’d ultimately realise how lucky he is to have you and love you back, right? If you love him enough you should stay, right? And you’d lock all your reasoning in a drawer and stay.— For him. Everything gets better with time right? So you were still down for the ride. Always. And even when the torture overwhelmed you… And you could no longer bear the thorns he keeps digging into your skin… the scratches, the cuts, and the blood that oozes from your heart every night… And you decide to leave… You still ran back each time. You can see the rue in his eyes… The sincerity in his apology… He’ll change right? —So your conscience goes.

The engine was revved and I was up in the sky again. With less screams this time. Most people had stopped staring at me now. But my mum still watched me. You got used to the relationship now right? It didn’t even hurt as bad as it used to. You’re somewhat numb to everything. You expected grey ticks when you texted him. You didn’t even expect him to remember your birthday, of course. Your friends already grew tired of advising you.

But like my mom, reason never left you.

So I continued on with my ride and after 13 more minutes, I was down. Then my African mum asked me, “Sasa iyo tu ndio ulikua unaogopa?”

For real though, remember when you finally listened to that resonant voice of reason? When you had had it up to your hairline with his trash. And you decided to finally leave. For good. Walking over to the other side, if not running, and burning the bridge behind you. “Sasa iyo tu ndio ulikua unaogopa?” Was it that hard? Sure. There were hard times. You drank yourself to sleep a few times… Remember when you watched Botched for six long hours with no volume on, —thinking of how much you were not thinking of him… It was hard not to send that lonely 3pm text. I know. And maybe JCole’s Crooked Smile hits harder than it should now… But it wasn’t as hard as you thought, n’est-ce pas? Holding on was definitely more painful. And today, you’re much much better. And perhaps on Friday you’ll get laid, and erase his strokes from your system.

“You’ll never find a cup of tea big enough, or a novel long enough to suit me.” ~C.S. Lewis.

Misplaced quote. I noticed. —But enough to get you out of your feelings.

Now back to the table.

He’s giving me an intense gaze. I wipe the sweat off my palms on my jeans.

“Kwani unataka kwenda kwa swings?” he asks.

seriously?

“Unataka kunipeleka?” I kick the ball back to his court.

I’m so full after the third piece of my pizza. But I’m still holding the fourth piece in my hand. And three more are smiling back at me from the box.

“Unataka?” I ask as i l push the box over to his side. Taking care not to spill his Malt.

“Of course…” But just before he picks a slice, “…uko sure hutaki? Juu ntazimaliza.”

“I swear.” And push the box over to him.

The slices magically disappear into his mouth. One. Two. Three bites and the first slice is gone. Then the second. Out of reflex, my right hand reaches out to take the third before his.

“Kumbe ulikua tu unaslay na unadai?” He teases. A chuckle escaping his throat.

I flush and bite the slice in half. Chewing down my laughter with the piece.

I swear I was full before you infected me with your appetite.

As we leave, he offers to buy me another Red Bull. And of course I take the offer. He chuckles again and gives me an amused look.

What? He thought I’d refuse? Ha-ha. He should have asked me if I wanted tea then.

Of which I would have still said yes.

Speaking of which, I’d better hurry home and take my milk, before my sister claims it.

And yes, sijashiba bado.