The night I first saw him will forever be etched in memory. It was raining sheets and I was
soaked to the bone. And there he was. Dancing in the rain; without a care in the world. You
may have seen a lot of things but trust me on this, there is nothing as mesmerizing as a 6’5 man dancing messily, entirely uncoordinated and laughing shamelessly in the middle of nowhere.
There was no tripod or camera in sight so this had to be just a man happy to be alive. I
wondered how it felt to be so carefree and happy. Meanwhile, I had just received an email from my boss regarding my conduct in the office. Apparently, my refusal to serve my colleagues and a few higher ups tea during our department’s meeting was not as polite as I had thought it was. The tone of the email subtly implied that I needed to learn my place.
A sort of numbness had settled over me after I read the email. I didn’t recall stepping
out of the office building. I must have forgotten my umbrella back at my cubicle hence my sorry predicament; me drenched, watching a jolly man having the time of his life while I felt sorry for myself. I debated going into the café across the street to continue staring at this manifestation of pure joy but ended up deciding against it. You see, I figured I couldn’t be both a creep and a complete ass-hat at the same time. I am sure if they could, the workers at the café would thank me for not flooding their floors. I am kind that way, if only my boss could see.
I sat on the park bench and pretended to be one with the man, after all, we were both getting
rained on. As I watched, my mind drifted back to the office meeting. Of the fifteen people in
attendance, there were only two women, myself and my boss, Mrs. Siobunya. One of my male colleagues while looking at me had commented on how chilly it was becoming and wouldn’t be nice if we had tea as we went on. I had said yes it would and went back to perusing my file. Mr. Kalesi - a junior who I supervised and often wondered how he’d passed his O’ levels due to his inability to read social cues - had cleared his throat, given me a serious look and asked if I could ‘kindly’ get the tea for everyone and would 'please' put four teaspoons of sugar in his cup?
By some miracle I had managed to stop myself from gritting my teeth. With the
restraint of the saints (which I wasn’t), I smiled, all teeth, and said "No, perhaps it would be more efficient if you went around the corner to the tea station and grabbed a cup for
yourself?" I had figured I had been specifically selected because I was the ‘junior female employee’ in the room never mind that I supervised at least half of the attendees. As I went through the events in my head, I didn’t see anything that warranted a follow up email on my office etiquette or lack thereof.
An ‘Excuse me, Ms' startled me from my reminiscing and I looked up to see the most beautiful honey-coloured eyes staring into mine. The lashes- god the lashes!!! Tiny droplets of water were stuck on his magnificent eyelashes reflecting the orange-yellow hue of the street and security lights around us. When did the rain stop? I must have stared too long at him because his next words were ‘are you okay?’ I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and said yes. His lips slowly turned up and his smile…those luscious lips…If I could, I would have swooned. Beautiful man. He handed me an Art Caffe cup of coffee. ‘To warm you up’ he said and smiled again.
The second time I saw him was at my cousin’s pre-wedding, from the large kitchen window. He was playing football with some of my male cousins and their friends in the backyard. His thighs in those cargo shorts were muscular, defined sculpted art. Drool worthy. As if by divine
intervention he turned and his eyebrows momentarily rose in surprise then a slow smile tugged on his lips.
My heart skipped a beat and I felt a flutter in my tummy. I was about to give him a
completely dorky handwave when my mother called me. ‘Nyasani! Nyasani! I groaned inwardly as I turned to face her. I was 24 years old for goodness’s sake! Did she have to sermon me like I was a naughty 5-year-old. She proceeded to pull me away from listening ears. “How many times have I told that when you visit a home you should tie a leso around your waist and got to the kitchen and help out? Mmh? Hautaniabisha wewe,’ she scolded me in a tone that bore no argument.
I was a guest, who puts guest to work?
Why did I have to help when all my male cousins and relatives were exempted?
I felt the injustice of it all but couldn’t say a thing. As she loved reminding me, I was still a kid to her and she could still “straighten” me out. Later that day he sought me out. He said his name was Jace and said, ‘Do me a favor beautiful, may I please have your number so I can call you mine?’ he asked with a cheeky grin…totally cheesy and I fell for it. Gladly.
I can’t tell the third time I saw him. The flurry of events, dates, picnics and road trips that
followed seem to have muddled my mind. Sometimes they stun me into dreamy trances of joy which I have to be shaken out of more often than not. But not today, not on moments like this when I have to pick up after Jace. He's sitting on the couch, yoga style, playing his newest video game as I pick the two pair of socks he left on the living room floor, the half full cup of tea he left on TV stand and a hundred other things he didn’t remember to return to their rightful place. Later I will clean the utensils, do the laundry and cook for us because ‘you do it better baby’ or ‘…but mum never taught me how to cook’. I now know how the love of my life manages to be so happy and carefree. Maybe I am too complacent, his mother was too, and so was society.
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story and does not represent any real places or people. Non of the ideas or sentiments expressed here represent the opinions or values of HERLink members and employees.
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