My baby so romantic.. You make me feel good Mr. Romantic. Show dem, nobody really knows you you… nobody really knows and I want the world to know…
She swings her waist side to side, her dreadlocks swinging slowly. She lifts her hands up, her bangles jiggle down. Nothing exists anymore. It’s just her and the song.
He watches her from a distance. It’s the third time this week and for the love of God, he doesn’t know what to do with her. She stares at him when they go out for date night then blinks away as he continues talking, is she really shy? Other times when they go to a club, she’ll stand in the middle of his monologue and take to the dance floor.
He thought it was kinky the first time. Maybe she wanted to rub-a-dum on him whatever that is. So he put his phone in his pocket and made his way to the dance floor. You never know what jackass will grab your phone while you’re out sweating hormones. He’s wonderfully blessed with two left feet but that didn’t stop him from going behind Daisy’s back and try to keep up with her rhythm.
She didn’t notice it at first until he placed his rough hands, that hadn’t seen Vaseline in years, on her waist. She turned and her dreadlocks slapped him before she did.
“Unafanya nini Kim?” She asked.
Like any other man in a similar situation, he wondered if there was ever an answer to this question. What do women even mean when they ask that? What’s was he supposed to answer anyway?
“Si nadance. Kwani ngori iko wapi?”
She stared at him, sighed then left him on the dance floor off into the breezy Nairobi night.
This time he doesn’t dare, the look she gave him was enough to let her be so he waits until she’s done then asks if she wants to go home. She nods. No words exchanged here. As he pays the bill, she makes her way to the door and waits for him outside, am her ride anyway, he thinks.
The car ride is silent as they manoeuvre through the streets of Nairobi heading towards Nairobi West. It’s so silent he wonders if this relationship will work out anymore. Isn’t a relationship supposed to be big on communication after all? He wonders.
They finally get to her apartment; at the gate she unbuckles her seatbelt and leaves. No goodbye kiss. No hug.
These lyrics by Dappy began to make sense to him now “Why is the silence so loud, have i thrown it away Lemme know lemme know, tell me is that what happens just for having good intention, tension ooh ooh”
30 minutes later, he texts her “I love you Daisy but I can’t do this anymore. I think it’s best if we part and not lead each other on”
She doesn’t reply for a while. At 11.30 pm, she finally texts “Okay, I wish you all the best”
Wait, what? What does she mean she wishes him all the best? Is she seriously letting him go that easily? Is he that forgettable? He can’t believe it. He picks his phone to call her but then stops. That had been her plan all along! Play with his feelings then leave him for the dead?
She had another man, he thinks. That must be the reason why she’s responded this way. No wonder she was so cold and distant towards him, no wonder she stopped him today on the dance floor, no wonder she was telling him storo’s of other men each and every time they went out for a date.
He feels duped. How could she? Was his love not good enough for her or was she a hoe all along? Why did she do this to him and why now?
He opens the kitchen cabinet and grabs rum and coke. It’s going to be a long night. Before switching off his phone he calls Simo over. He isn’t ready to face Daisy and explain to hey why he sent unreadable texts.
His homeboy comes through and finds him halfway through a bottle of Johnny Walker done with rum and coke.
“Eeeiiish budah! Leo umeamua? Kwani wife amekuacha nini?” Simo asks
“Aaaaargh Siiiimooo.. bosssss… ekaaa glass” he stammers.
“Heeh yenyewe amekuacha. Usijali budah, yeye si dame moja Nairobi”
He takes one shot, one more and another but blackout along the way, he regains consciousness 10 hours later. His head hurts but his heart is even worse. Is this what heartbreak feels like? Drowning in a room full of oxygen?
Simo is lying on the couch anyway, snoring loudly as if the house is his. He walks to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee. Okay, this is doable.
Simo wakes up minutes later and makes himself a cup of coffee too.
“Eeeiiish mahn, Jana ulikuwa on fire! Ungedhani Johnny walker ni babako. Kwani mlifanyana nini na Daisy?”
He tells him the whole story. When narrating the story he thinks to himself that the incidents that happened in the relationship should’ve opened up his eyes a long time ago.
“Lakini budah, acha nikuulize. Si sista ya uyo dame ndio ulimakeout na yeye kwa ile bash ya Collo?”
“Mgani? Kwani Daisy anakuanga na sista mwingine apart from Diana?”
“Aaaaii si ni uyo Diana. Ata wewe, unatupanisha wanawake aje?”
He tries to remember. It’s blurry. Blurry faces, a brown couch, a glass table, a dress- a red dress, black heels off. He’s holding someone. Someone in a red dress but who? Who is it?
The face appears. Dammit! Dammit no! No, no it’s Diana.
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Ps: This post was first published on Bullet SPU