Amanda Nechesa is sucker for the fictional world, she always has been. She finds joy in creating little worlds with her fictional charact
My ears are going to bleed out if I keep listening to this guy talk for another second. Is this what my life has been reduced to? Random strangers? Random parties? Random drinks?
Not that I necessarily hate it. In fact, if I would be totally honest with myself, I would admit that I love this kind of life.
The idea of joining your 'crew' every Friday night for the cheap thrills. The buying of a bottle of whisky with less than enough money that everyone has to contribute. The idea of hanging around the liquor store, bumping into other 'friends' with other 'crews'. The drinking of the whisky from the bottle, and pasing it to the next crew member, your face contorted with the bitterness of the drink, your head getting hazy, your body starting to live for the first time in a week.
The thought of meeting new people, drinking with new people, having fun with new people.
Except new people tend to get old very fast, and in my case that was what was exactly happening. Greg was his name when he first introduced himself to me ten minutes ago, but since then random people have been coming to greet him, calling him all sorts of names. There was a Jemo, then a Stevo, then a Boss, then a mkubwa somewhere. At some point there was even a Baby from a very curvy lightskin chic.
If only I was actually interested in talking to this guy of many names, then I would know why he goes by so many of them.
But I am not.
All I want is to get my ass drunk, gossip with Asha, make fun of random people with Asha's boyfriend, flirt a little with Derrick, maybe meet a new person who won't get old very fast. Generally have a normal Friday night with my friends.
But here is Greg, or Jemo, or Stevo; with his black Bomber jacket that he wears with such pride, as if owning it somehow makes him look more appealing . It does actually. It was the first thing I noticed about him anyway as he approached our small group huddled in the corner of this big bedsitter house. He looked so tall, and his slightly muscular body wore that jacket like a prized possession. I remember thinking how I would love to bury my face in that jacket, imagining it to smell so manly.
The reality however came with the smell of unwashed clothes, and the laughter that actually resembled that of evil villains in movies (I actually wondered if that was his real laugh or just something he invented to even get less attractive), and the talking. Oh God! The talking. This guy could talk! We have been 'talking' for the past ten minutes and I have only been able to say my name and random Mmmms.
There was something about how Uhuru has been a bad president, then there was talk about how the government should increase HELB loans, then a brief family history, then a joke about his caretaker(he laughed his evil villain laugh then, surpased to say, i didn't crack a smile) then a theory of how universities are actually not teaching us anything at all ; all very interesting topics if only he let me contribute!
How I resented myself for smiling my broad smile at him as he extended his dark hands for me to shake.
Anyway, this story is not about the attractive-not-so-attractive guy I met at a one of Liza's parties.
It's about something more. Something I thought I would never experience. And it all starts with this Greg character, because before every storm there is a calm right?
So, there I am, sitting on a stool 'Greg' insisted to bring for me because "I was too pretty to be standing in a corner" (That was kind of a good line though. The only one of his . It made me continue smiling my broad smile at him for ten more seconds.)
So there I am, paying no attention whatsoever to what he's on about right now, trying as hard as I can to listen in on whatever Asha and Derrick and Frank(Asha's boyfriend) are laughing about, downing my third dry whisky shot, hoping for this guy to finally take notice of my bored state and just leave me alone, or for Asha or just anyone to come save me, because for me, well I am not the type of princess who slays her own dragons; when the door opens and in she comes.
She had a name, and a body and a face. But it was like everything and nothing I have seen and heard before.
The first time my eyes landed on her, they were looking for something to focus on, and they landed on the opening door, and then on the slim girl removing her shoes, and then on her friend who followed behind, and they stopped.
They found something more than focus.
They found the begginning, and they found the end, only I didn't know what was the begginning of, or the ending for that matter.
All I knew was there, in that big crowded bedsitter room, and over loud music and 'Greg's' talking, I saw her and I found her.
She was Beautiful, as is every girl in any love story about them. But I knew, or felt, it was't really about her beauty. It was somethng more. Something unravelling. The thing that makes your heart ache and your blood boil. It was that thing when I first saw her.
She was there. Standing on the doorway. Her eyes searching the crowd, her long braided hair covering part of her chocolate face, her black tights showing off a body, and an ass and legs; her multicoloured crop top leaving much to imagination.
And I was there. Trying to breath. Feeling something I did not want to feel, something I thought I could not feel. Trying to process the fact that other than a few dare kisses at parties, I have never considered myself a lady-lover. Never thought of any girl in that way. Never properly kissed a girl.
And yet there we were. Her with her searching eyes, me with my eyes focused on this new creature who I knew would definitely never get old, and even if she did, I knew it was the kind of old I could put up with.
As it turned out, 'new creature of my heart' knew Greg, only she knew him as Ray. The mystery continues. Not the kind of mystery I wanted to solve though. The mystrey I wanted was heading for me and 'Greg', her eyes smiling but her face not, her hands pulling her slim friend with her, her mouth shouting "Raaaaaayy!!!" with a voice that I was pretty sure would be visiting my dreams.
I imagine Greg/Ray is smiling at her and with his boring lecturer-voice, he says,
And I hear it again in my mind. Tessa. And it whirls in my head. Tessa. Tessa. And it does a little dance in my brain. Tessa. Tessa. Tessa. And it's now jumping on a trampoline. Tessa. Tessa. Tessa. Tessa.
She and her slim friend and 'Greg' are talking about something, and they are laughing, and I don't even know what it is they are saying.
My head is filled with her everywhere.
"And who is your friend here Ray? Introduce us. How many times should I teach you how to be a gentelman?"
I somehow manage to hear her slim friend say. Or maybe it's the only thing I wanted to hear from their conversation.
That's when she turns. And her searching eyes are on me. They are chocolate-brown, like her unsmiling face. They are the kind of eyes I want to keep staring at, the kind that makes you drown, the kind I want to keep to myself.
"Yeah Ray, who is this pretty young thing?" she adds with that voice of hers, and I want to live and die.
She called me pretty. And her unsmiling face is smiling!
"Jessica," I hear my voice saying.
My right hand is streching towards hers, my heart beating so loudly am afraid everyone can hear it.
She gives me a look and before I can process what the look means, she's lifting me from my stool and hugging me.
All the air in the room is gone. Everyone is gone. My heart is gone. If I would die right now, I would die a very happy girl.
The hug lasts for eternity and it lasts for a second. We are interrupted when someone calls her name and I swear I have never felt like killing someone as much as I did then.
Liza is the owner of the voice, and as much as I would love to kill her right now, there are too many witnesses around. And besides, she would only take her for a few minutes and then I would have her back in my arms. Hopefully.
But I don't get her back. After Liza there is Ferry, the fashion queen, and they chat forever, and after there is Hazel, then John then Fred then Yasmin; the people never seem to stop. She gives all of them hugs, and the special feeling of her hug and the effect of her intoxicating perfume start to wear off.
Dejected, I return to my friends. Asha is telling me how slutty Caren has already slept with two guys on the balcony, Frank is making fun of me and Greg and how I looked bored to death, Derrick is telling me how I smell nice today. I hear them. And I respond to them.
Only I am not here. My head is still filled with Tessa.
Tessa in bed. Tessa in church. Tessa saying my name. Tessa saying her own name. Tessa holding me. Me holding Tessa.
It's all her in there.
The party is over sooner than I expect, and before we realise it, it's six, and the hangovered twenty-something's start leaving.
Asha, Frank, Derrick and me are walking out the door when I hear my name being shouted by that voice.
We all turn around and there she is, floating towards me with a beautiful smile on her kissable lips. And I float towards her. We meet in the middle of the room.
"Aren't you going to ask for my number?" she says.