Amanda Nechesa is sucker for the fictional world, she always has been. She finds joy in creating little worlds with her fictional charact
The day had finally come. Scott could feel it in his bones, and in his soul and even deeper in his heart. And if these 'feelings' were not enough, the words from his doctor two months ago had confirmed what he already knew. H
was dying. He had been dying for a few years now.
The morning did not seem any different from all other mornings when he woke up. The sun, as if unaware of his coming death, shone brighter than usual. The birds, he felt , chriped louder, cheerier. The sky was bluer than he ever saw it.
How could it be such a beautiful day? He wanted to scream, to shout at the world. He felt betrayed. Surely, he at least deserved some remorse from the planet he has been living in for four and a half decades. He deserved some tears from the sun, some frowns from the trees, some gloomy skies. He deserved the ground to shake uncontrallably in sobs, feeling the pain of losing him.
He was a good man. Had been a good man.
But would Sandra say that? Will his wife stand in front of the thousands of mourners(he expected a huge number), while he lay in the golden coloured coffin he had ordered a few weeks ago, and say her husband was a good man? Will she cry her loud cry ? Or will she cry a soft one in the vicinity of no one?
Scott looked at her, sleeping next to him so peacefully in their large white-sheets covered, six-pillowed matrimonial bed. Her image, so beautifully spread out in the bed, reminded him of the first time he saw her.
It was a social event, a Safaricom showcasing of some sort. He had not wanted to go, being a non-social person that he was, but Brian, a friend of his who had long passed in a car accident had insisted.
I need a wing man, he had said. It would be fun, you might even finally get laid, God Knows how long it has been , he had added and Scott was on the hook.
He actually did meet someone, and he actually did get laid. Just not by Sandra. It was a friend of hers, and the next morning as he tried to stealthily 'run' away from the prying hands of Gina(the friend), Sandra had come in. He had not noticed her the previous night, and then, in his attempt to fly away from the messy small one bedroom in Kitengela that morning, he did.
He wanted her. Needed her. And so the pursuit began. He walked on fire, defeated Mohammed Ali on a boxing ring, travelled to hell and back; he did everything imaginable and unimaginable to have her, but her loyalty to the whiny Gina was pretty strong.
Two years is what it took, two years of foolishly loving a woman he had never kissed, two years of feeling like a sad litlle kid whose candy had been taken away whenever he saw her out with another man, two years of being called 'friend' by her.
But she finally said Yes and when she did, Scott had been elated. And so the dating began, and then marriage and then the kids. Thinking back to those two years semed like thinking of different people. There was no trace of the Unattainable Sandra in that bed and neither was there any trace of him loving her with such passion.
The two people in that large bed were more like study mates. Partners in making sure their kids grew up to be great adults. Partners in choosing the most appropriate painting for their expensively furnished living room. Partners even in making love(which they rarely did anyway).
Was Sandra even the woman he wanted to remember as he breathed his last breathe?
"Baba Steve, ni nini mbaya? Mbona unakaa uko na thoughts nyingi hivyo sana?"
Her soft soprano voice shook him from his thoughts.He used to like that voice. And whatever had happened to Babe and Baby and that one time Darling Husband?
Whatever had happened even to just Scott? He was now just Baba Steve, or Baba Saida, or Mzee to her.
"Hakuna." he replied, annoyed that he had been interrupted.
Didn't she understand that it was his last day breathing, thinking, eating? But then again, how could she? It was not like Scott had told her anything when he got back from the doctor's visit three years ago. He had gone there because he was feeling sick, and had come back feeling sicker.
He had told her it was malaria and preffered to suffer the reality alone. He had a rare blood disease, the doctor had told him. He forgot it's name as soon as he heard how many years he had, and the dawning of his death had begun.
The years had flown by so fast. It did not help that he rarely felt sick, and at times he deceived himself, believing the doctor had been wrong. He would live a long life. He was going to.
Only this morning, the reality hit him again. It was coming sooner than he expected.
The bedroom door flew open and in ran Steve.
For the first time in a long time, Scott felt tears swelling up at the corner of his eyes. Here was a person he would regret leaving behind.
"Baba, si leo umeamka mapema. Unajua leo ni Satuday. Hakuna shule." Scott teased his son, lifting his six year old body to the bed next to him.
"Aaaaaiiii, si Saida ameniambia ati kuna shule. Alafu ati nisipoenda nitachapwa hiviiii na mwalimu."
Steve was saying as he slapped his arm slighlty. Scott laughed. A genuine deep laugh. Unconscioulsy, he glanced at Sandra and found that she was already looking at him. There was laughter in her eyes.
This, this he will miss.
"Haya basi enda kwa dining nakuja kupika breakfast. Umebrush meno?" came Sandra's overprotective loving mothery voice.
And with that, Steve was out of their bedroom. Scott and Sandra did not speak of it, and as she went downstairs to cook breakfast for her family, Scott decided to take a shower.
He had done right by everyone, he was thinking as the warm water spiralled down his back. He had been a good person, a good husband and a great father. He had been a mentor to many. He had accomplished anything a man could hope for. He was ready, he thought.
Twenty minutes later, Sandra who had been calling him for breakfast, went in to check on him. And there in the cold white-tiled floor of their bathroom, with the shower still running, and the sun still shining so brightly outside , and the laughter from their children playing downstairs, Sandra found her husband. U