It’s been hours and SHE still hasn’t responded to my text. My watch says it’s 3.01 pm. About an hour ago it read 2.59 pm. I’m I hallucinating or has time decided to take a break? My assistant walks in with a bunch of papers. “Here are the documents you requested,” she says. “Thanks Briana,” I respond. She then advances to make her way out of my office. Her hips sway from side to side making her bum do the dance entitled ‘Mombasa-Kisumu; Mombasa-Kisumu’ As soon as she closes the door behind her future, I reach out for my phone. Still no text. Was my request too direct? I then begin to go through the papers that have recently been placed on my desk. One, because they will help me pass time. Two, they might make me get HER out of my mind. As I go about the task, my mind drifts. Drifts back to a month ago when SHE and I started conversing.
It was on a Monday morning. My alarm went off at exactly 4.00 am. As usual, I turned it off with my eyes half-closed. Every inch of my body was begging me to go back to sleep just for two more minutes. Not five, just two. The heat generated by the blankets made my body feel weak. I mean, weak to the point of lacking the strength to get out of bed. As I was about to bury my head under the blankets, a thought struck me, “You didn’t reply THE texts” As if I had just heard the devil’s footsteps, I sprang out of bed and reached out for my phone. Focused. I re-opened HER text thread. This time with an aim to respond. But how- how should I respond? How should I tell HER that I enjoyed watching? How should I ask what HER name is? Should I even ask how SHE got my number? My fingers began to type but my response seemed dubious. Yaani, it made me look like a real hiti (fisi). Finally, I settled on a suitable response, ‘What do the initials A.M stand for?’ Without expecting an immediate feedback, I made my way to the shower. A few minutes after getting out of the shower, I heard a beep on my phone.
‘They stand for Adele Muthoni,’ the response read
‘Nice. I’m Kevin,’ I responded
‘Okay Kevin. Why are you up this early?’
‘I’d ask the same. Why are you up this early?
That was only the first day.
From then on, our chats slowly advanced allowing us to get to know each other. They then progressed to calls that would last for minutes and on several occasions, for more than an hour. Even so, every now and then I’d still watch HER via my window just to see how SHE smiled when I called HER. To stare at how HER beautiful skin glowed in the light. To watch HER put on HER clothes then counter-check if SHE looked great (If only SHE knew the number of times I wished to tell HER that even in pajamas SHE still looked like a queen) Other times I’d watch HER study and for an unknown reason, it always turned me on. I mean, beneath all that beauty SHE still valued books.
Again, I look at my watch. This time it reads 4.30 pm. There’s hope. Hope that in a few hours I’ll be glued to my window watching HER. Hope that I’ll get to see HER in just a hoodie or a t-shirt. ‘Beep,’ goes my phone. A certain feeling goes through me. You know, the feeling you get when bae texts you in the morning after you both had an argument the previous night and a part of you is nervous since you don’t know if she has dumped you or if she has listed the things she hates about you but concluded the text with ‘I still love you’. With my fingers crossed, I open HER text thread.
‘Sorry, I had classes since morning that’s why it took me ages to reply. Anyway, I’m in for tonight. I’ll be there at 8.00 pm,’ says HER text. Oh My God! The joy that goes through me is greater than that of a gay guy who just came clean to his parents and got the response, “We still love you despite your sexuality.”
With a smile on my face, I pick my briefcase and make my way out of the office. I mean, why waste another minute in a boring office instead of going home to get ready for my date?
It’s 7.40 pm. My hands are all sweaty and I’m extremely nervous. A part of me wonders if SHE’LL show up while another part wonders what will happen if SHE shows up. I do a final check-up. The house is tidy; no garbage lying around, dirty clothes are in the laundry basket, my bed is well made (just in case) and most of all, I look amazing (that’s what my mirror shows me). My alarm goes off. It’s 8.00 pm. I know what you’re wondering, ‘He even set an alarm?’ Yes I did. It’s called the art of preparation. Ding! Dong! Goes the door-bell. (Wow! Right on time). As I make my way to the door, two questions ring in my head, ‘Was asking HER to come by for dinner the best decision? You mean a girl can make me cleanup my house that fast?’
Heavens! Only Shakespeare can best describe the beauty standing before my eyes. HER face seems to have a glow. The glow that Juliet must have had the first time Romeo looked into her eyes. The lipstick on HER lips is both seductive and demanding (That is, demanding for attention). HER dress is designed in a way to show a part of HER beautiful perky breasts. HER hips are perfectly brought out by the blue dress she’s wearing. My-oh my, SHE has the shape of an hour glass. I guess HER shape is what was on Ed Sheeran’s mind when he composed ‘Shape of You’
“Are you going to invite me in or you’ll keep staring at me?”
“I prefer doing both. But please, do come in,” I respond
As she walks past me, the sweet scent of HER cologne makes my nostrils feel as if they’ve just had a chance to smell the air that Adam and Eve breathed while in the Garden of Eden.
“Your place looks great. Almost makes me feel as if I’m home,”
“Do make yourself comfortable. Besides, someday this maybe your home.”
SHE gives me a warm smile as SHE sits on the sofa. Modestly, I pour HER a glass of wine to keep HER occupied while I set the table.
“So, what do you study?” I ask from the kitchen.
“I’m in the final year of my degree in Communication,”
“Interesting. Your passion was in Communication or it was your parents’ choice?”
“Hmm, both. I fancied communication and my parents thought it was the best thing for me to study. What about you?”
“I’m currently working while doing my masters in Architecture,”
“Architecture was your passion or it was your parents’ choice?”
“Aha. You just re-directed my question. Anyway, I’d say both since I always enjoyed watching my dad work. He’s a great architecture and the founder of the company I work for. Plus he also wanted me to continue with his business so I was obliged to study Architecture,”
“When you say work for yet it’s your dad’s company, does that mean you’re the CEO or the manager?”
“Maybe one of the above. (I respond as I walk into the sitting room) The food is ready. Do follow me.”
We both take our places on the dining table, say Grace then begin to eat. Dining with HER makes me feel like a king whose queen is seated directly opposite him. The talks are however minimized by the presence of food. As soon as SHE is done or rather when SHE gets to a point and says SHE’S full, SHE stands up and takes HER plate to the sink. SHE then progresses to the sitting room and sits in front of the TV. For someone who has never been here, SHE can easily make HERSELF comfortable.
“If I may ask, how did you get my number?”
“Simple. I approached your neighbor. Pretended to be your cousin who had lost your number and I was in dire need of your help. I almost cried to make the story believable,”
“I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried that you maybe a serial killer. But why go through all that trouble? ”
“Naah, I’m none of that. Well, I was getting tired of you watching me. I also figured you’d never come knocking on my door,”
“How did you know I was watching you?”
“Well, there’s always a space on your curtains every time you draw them to peep,”
At this point, I’m really impressed by HER sharpness for it’s not every day you get to meet a lady who’s both beautiful and intelligent. HER face has an inviting smile that makes me seat next to HER. The movie playing seems to take us to a whole new dimension (The emotions dimension). Silence reigns in the house as the two lovers on the screen begin expressing their emotions to each other. However, my mind seems to be revolving around HER and for once, I’m beginning to feel confused. Why so? Because when I invited HER over, I mainly wanted to see if I had a chance to bang HER. But now- now I just feel like I should first get to know HER and let things fall into place.
“Why did you watch me getting intimate with some other guy?” she asks
“I couldn’t get myself to stop watching. Plus I never knew that live porn could be so much fun,”
“Did you enjoy it?”
(At this point I’m getting uncomfortable) “Yes and No. Why?”
HER face has a look of dissatisfaction. Did she expect me to say that watching HER having sex turned me on? Was I supposed to tell HER that SHE was the cause of my subsequent wet dreams? Slowly, SHE rises up and walks towards THE window. THE window which I watch HER from every single day. I’m tempted to ask what fascinates HER about the window but my mind is more concentrated on the shape of HER bum. Gracious! What’s with my butt obsession? “I wish it were you pinning me to my study table,” she says. Is it the wine that’s getting to HER head or I’m losing it? SHE then turns to face me. Wonder and curiosity are written all over HER face. My eyes turn to look at the watch. It’s almost half past 11. On turning back to look at HER, I find HER walking towards me. HER steps seem calculated while HER focus seemed indestructible.
Finally, SHE sits next to me but a little bit closer than before. HER eyes meet mine. This time the gaze is deeper. It’s as if we’re looking into each others' souls. SHE then places HER hand on mine. Some adrenaline rises within me. I can’t help but notice the sexy curves on HER lips since they look more like the curves on Rihanna’s lips. Neither can I help but notice that HER breaths have become deeper. The silence is getting awkward. I mean, the silence in the room is the only type of silence that occurs in romance movies. Should I or shouldn’t I kiss HER? Should I or shouldn’t I? Maybe I should…Before I even make my move, she leans in. I draw my lips towards HER expecting to get a kiss. Instead, SHE moves HER lips towards my left ear and whispers, “Maybe next time.”
With no further ado, SHE picks up her jacket and makes HER way to the door.
“You’re just gonna leave like that?”
“Yes, Kevin. Thanks for the meal and for tonight,”
“I thought you’d stay for the night. I mean, don’t you feel the connection?”
“Maybe I do feel it but...”
“But what Adele. But what?”
SHE puts on HER shoes and opens the door. A part of me is still waiting for HER to drop HER keys and come running into my arms. But no, SHE does none of that. Instead, SHE halts for a moment, looks at me and gives me a smile that seems to say, ‘Take charge or I’ll leave you craving for me.’ See, I’m a firm believer that my mom didn’t raise a quitter. I take slow but sure steps towards HER. I’m waiting for HER to walk away since it’ll mean SHE doesn’t want me at all. However, SHE maintains HER position waiting for me to get to where SHE is. HER height is perfect- perfect enough to make me see HER boobies when I stand before HER.
“I can’t let you leave like that,” I say
“Why can’t you?”
“You know why?”
“Show me why.”
I take one step closer and lean in. This time SHE doesn’t move away. Instead, SHE closes HER eyes waiting for me to kiss HER. (These are the moments your head screams ‘Niko ndani, ndani, ndani kabisa) HER lips taste like cherries mixed with strawberries. My hands slowly grab HER waist pulling HER closer to me (It feels like holding a Grammy trophy). My lips feel as if they are enjoying life’s greatest sweetness. My mind is even doing the math of how our babies would look. All of a sudden SHE pulls away. The expression on HER face is confusing. As in, I can’t tell if SHE liked the kiss or not.
With nothing else to be said, SHE walks away. HER bum tempts me to run and convince HER to stay. Even so, I can’t get myself to run after her. For starters, I am not prince charming. Slowly, I watch till she gets swallowed by the darkness. SHE’S gone.