Previously on: Belle-2-The-Reception
Central Business District,
I have been pacing back and forth in the sitting area for a couple of minutes. I’m supposed to be relaxed but I’m not. I have Rosemary’s business card on my hand, wondering whether I should call or not. The room I booked offered a magnificent view of the city. The air conditioner unit hummed silently as I got lost in my thoughts. Belle just got married to some guy who looked good. What baffled me though was Rosemary. I have to come to terms with Belle’s loss. Tonight she would be in the arms of that other guy who married her. I’m supposed to be happy for her, right? After all didn’t I attend and gift her? Whatever I had was history, but why is Rosemary hell-bent on trying to swing me towards her direction?
A couple of times back when I used to live in Port Harcourt she would flirt if Belle was not around. They were besties, sisters, and a lot more than that. I am still reeling from the shock that Belle’s husband is her best friend’s ex-fiancé. It is no open lie that Rosemary would use any means to get what she wants. I had successfully rejected many of her advances. I truly love Belle. I still do, even if she got married. But there is just something about Rosemary. A voice deep within whispers into my ears, “Jonathan abi, stay away from that girl. She is fire. You dey go burn real bad.”
Her card read that she came from the Asokoro area. Asokoro is one of the major districts in Abuja and it happens to be in Phase 1. Asokoro is the top heaven for government officials and other top influential people. One needs to have deep pockets in order to live in such an exclusive area. Even comfortable Nigerians do not live in this place unless you are a tycoon carrying bags full of money. What work does Rosemary do that it enables her to live in such a prime area? And why me? Surely my salary and side businesses combined could not afford to pay her rent.
Federal Central District,
The pure black of the night has always been my comfort for the longest time. The blanket of the generous velvet that has always kept me safe from cupid’s shenanigans. It is the pure black that makes the moon so beautiful. It always makes a stage for her to stand upon. This pure black night gives the stars their beauty. And in my heart, my soul was safe and serene, until Jonathan decided to show up for the wedding. I made peace that my ex-fiancé Ifuoma married my best friend Belle.
When I met you, Jonathan, I’d already lost my entire world. I was jealous of Belle in some type of way. How could I hang on to something so incomprehensible? Why would I pour my love into an endless abyss? But then there you were. There was something in those grey eyes of yours which had a tinge of black that was beautiful, dangerous but warm and comforting at the same time. With just a single look Jonathan; I was home. I tried to reach out and make a connection but you always brushed me off. I wondered what wrong I did to offend God, that he could not allow me to have a sensible conversation with you.
The first day we talked, just the two of us, Belle had gone to the market and was caught up in traffic gridlock. I still recall the conversation Jonah, the feeling you gave. You do not know it, but that day you saved me. I was supposed to go to my ex-boyfriend before I met Ifuoma. But Jonah you talked sense into me. That day I walked out of an abusive relationship. We became good friends through Belle, we were inseparable. We would go for football matches, and even if I knew that nothing would come forth I still had hope, Jonah. Maybe someday you would look at my direction.
From that day I was one with you in my heart. I know it is foolish to say so, but don’t the years take their toll, my love? Earlier this evening, I managed to have a taste of those lips Jonathan. It was a statement as per se; me marking my territory and also in the same time tasting waters. You never know how deep the pool is unless you keep your feet in.
“Jonathan, haven’t the years taken their toll, my love?” Don’t you think it is time? Maybe this modern life we work for, strive for, embrace it while it destroys us. We work to find a good partner, sent from God, raise a family, and to love our children without bounds. But I do not want to look at you with tired eyes and empty limbs. I’m much in love with you as I ever was, perhaps even more so, but I will be tired of chasing a ghost if you do not make a move soon.
I was hurt when you changed towns. You went back to Lagos after your father died. Since Belle cut ties with you, your affection towards us turned into poison. I always thought of you. My mind cycled through emotions faster than a kid flipping television channels. I have gone from level to rocky, to psycho, and back to the calm headed Rosemary. Each fights a mixture of competing emotions. Each wants to dominate. After I retire to my bed, I’m always calm looking forward. I think of dawn, of what possibilities the next day would bring. I get my jobs done by mid-day, connect with friends for lunch, and enjoy nature by going for hikes. Yet this coping is a thin veil over trauma, breakup, and even the smallest of setbacks would change my emotional landscape.
By evening the sadness wells up, uncertainty rushing to the fore, then I would know it would be time for me to sleep. I have crazy dreams that stitch my head back together if I have no clue of what is happening to my emotions. I’m trying to hold my breath Jonathan, phone in hand hoping that you would call. All this seems wrong, but I don’t think this would be enough to stop me from loving you.