I like it when Saturday morning gets me in bed fully possessed by the ghosts of sleep. It’s easy for one to conclude that I like it that way because the previous night is a Friday night. That I was a patron among patrons, filling our bellies with booze and laughter about anything and everything – from national politics to international politics, to church politics to house politics. Hey I’m not that old. You know elderly men are the ones who would sit in the bar to just talk. For my generation, we’d go to the club and when the clock strikes a particular time, then the Dj honors the hour with our song, we will cause an earthquake with the dance floor being the seismic focus. At that time, no woman is your woman.
But not this weekend. I was meeting someone very special. “We barely have time for each other in the middle of the week. So can we be spending the entire Saturday together? It’s the only time we have.” I remember her say as she held my hand tightly as if she was trying to transfer her emotions to me. The ordinary weakness of a man was right before me, puppy dog eyes, the touch of her soft skin and oh the voice that hypnotises me every time I hear it. I had to say yes. But that was after picturing how lonely my bed would be in the only day she can give me her best. Anything for the love of your life, they say.
“Can I have a cappuccino please?” I said to the waitress standing before me, eager to take her first order for the day. She had a wide smile that went up to her ears. I wish I could smile like that. Even when someone upsets me like the way I was already upset about someone who was late, I could stretch my mouth a bit and he/she would think I’m still happy – because I’m smiling. Little will they know I haven’t even smiled half of how I normally smile.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No. For now.”
“Okay thank you.”
Did she just say thank you? I felt terrible because I’m the one supposed to say that. Anyway, she was just doing her job. I looked at my watch. It was 10.02am. She was two minutes late. I could feel the juices of impatience starting to boil in my stomach. We had talked about being late but she never listens.
“Babe it’s only been 20 minutes. In fact I have tried.”
“Then you’re not trying enough. In fact stop trying and do come on time.”
Okay she does listen because she loves it when I speak. I’ve just never understood what happens in between. Or is it bad to try to separate a woman from her own nature, because she is not the first one I have seen with a problem with time. Probably I will ask my dad how he handled it. Maybe I was just impatient. How I wish patience was like internet bundles. I would load myself with them immediately I wake up on Saturday. I hoped the cappuccino would calm me down. I even stripped my watch off and put it in my pocket.
“Let a woman be a woman,” I told myself while taking very deep breaths.
“Give her time she will be here.” The waitress said as she slowly bent to place the steamy beverage before me.
“Why are you reading my thoughts? That’s invasion of privacy you know.” I said to her while peering into her eyes to show her I was not in the mood for that. She kept on smiling and further, she giggled, as if I had told a joke. Had I?
I brushed the air with my hand as if to say never mind. She understood that and took an about turn. I still didn’t get what she was all excited about. I lowered my head to partake of my only capable consolation.
I looked at the beverage before me. It had microforms. Damn I forgot to say that it should have a dry form. Now who was going to drink that? Now I wished more than ever that my intended was here. She is the one that does all the orders, even for me. She knows what I like at certain times and the right specifications for them. I like her for that. One time we went to a Chinese restaurant and I ordered a dish that had pork in it. I am allergic to pork. Ever since that day, she cannot stand seeing me look like a mummy, a sneeze away from death.
“Never order anything until I get there okay?”
“What if I’m hungry? I’m sure you know I am more allergic to hunger than anything else.”
“You will call me I talk to the waiter or the waitress.”
“What if…”
“Ah! Shush! Not another word, you hear me?”
Sometimes she can get tough until I almost pee my pants. Whenever that happens I convince myself that I will be lucky to be having a warrior in the house.
I stared at the cappuccino in regrets as it became colder. I won’t enjoy it in that state if I decided to partake of it. Neither did I want even to take a sip, because I would eventually hate it and be obliged to order another one and still pay for it. I didn’t want to call the smiley waitress either. Maybe I’d defile her jovial mood and smile if I told her that that was not the way I wanted my cappuccino. I could tell she was still happy to have served me as her first customer of the day. Wait, was I her first customer on the job? Yes, probably, since I’ve been in that café a number of times and I couldn’t recall seeing her any of those times. How sweet that must be. Me, her first customer on the job? I didn’t want to ruin that.
So I sat that there gazing around, almost starting to count the number of people in the café. Even the TV in there was not helping my situation. My back was facing the entrance. Every time a shadow of someone entering was cast, I’d quickly turn to see whether she was the one. My neck got tired of that. A number of times I’d forget that I had taken off my watch. I found myself looking at an empty wrist and I’d just rub it to cover the embarrassment. Maybe someone was watching me you know. Funny enough, when that happens I’d spot someone seated in a position they could see me – laughing. I couldn’t help but think I was the subject of their sense of humour that day.
Moments later, a shadow was cast across the café from the entrance. It didn’t move. It looked like a girl’s shadow. Was it her? She must be standing there trying to spot me from among the eaters. I wanted to believe so, but the curiosity was killing me. I fought the urge to look back for a second and then I gave in.
Oh crap! I almost shouted that because my patience was on the loose now like an angry elephant. You bet for one moment I felt strong a raging like that elephant. I felt like a rogue, who would have held hostage people in that café until they have the police pick my intended from wherever and bring her to me in a chopper. When she is brought to me, she’d slap me as hard as her feminine hand can and I’d say, “Thank you, I missed you too.”
It would have been like so had it not been for the sight of the lady at the entrance in streams of tears. A part of me died and the compassionate man in me resurrected. Nobody else was concerned about her. They even didn’t notice she was crying and motionless at the entrance. Nothing breaks me than seeing a girl crying because when a girl cries, it has to be as a result of a man’s actions towards her. Now who was this man – man enough to make this pretty one cry? And for what reason? I resigned however. I couldn’t help her. Especially because I knew someone of mine was coming. Maybe it was a temptation. I was not ready to pick up a fight that would have me as a casualty in the end. No weight of explanation in this world would stand in my defence at such a time if would get caught. Just before I could turn in utter despair, my eyes locked with hers. No let me be clear, it was her eyes locked with mine. I stopped in shock then finished the turning process.
I felt as if my heart was hanging on a thread and swinging like a pendulum. An army of confusion broke into the door of my mind. I crossed my fingers, even the fingers of my toes if I could. I hoped beyond hope that she would not come to sit at my table. I prepared myself for the worst though, since I had triggered her attention unintentionally. She might have thought I’m into her or I could help her club her offender or be her crying pillow or something. All I knew, she would come where I was because I looked available, like I was waiting for someone like her – that’s why I looked at her in a ‘suggestive’ way. I think I should work on how I look at ladies. Now see I was just about to buy this one a coffee, a cappuccino like mine that I could not drink. Perhaps I could give her my cappuccino. But it was cold already. She would interpret is a cold reaction towards her. Then she’d continue to cry saying men are just savage mjangos.
I could see her shadow approaching. I gave in. She is coming here, I thought. I had already began sitting upright and composing a regret speech of just why I couldn’t let her seat at my table. She was now right next to my table. Oh damn here we go. Surprisingly, she turned and sat at the table next to mine.
I laughed at myself. In the middle of my own amusement, I turned to look at her one more time because I couldn’t believe I had stressed myself for nothing.
Oh no! It was not for nothing. My laughter was cut short. She was sobbing. He head was buried in her palms. I could see rapid up and down movements of her upper body, which showed that she was pumping out tears.
Ah damn I couldn’t help it. I braced myself to go over to her table and rub her on the back and say, “Just let it out dear. It’s gonna be okay. We can talk about it over a cappuccino. Ah no, not cappuccino.” Then she’d reply within one of her sobbing breaks, “Just coffee would do.”
As I call the smiley waitress, she’d say, “You seem like a good guy.”
After a slight giggle, “Nah I’m just a man.”
“If all men were like you.”
Convinced that nothing could go wrong and my intended was nowhere close to showing up, I turned and charged for that table with my cold cappuccino in my hand. I felt like a superhero going to rescue a girl in a burning building.
Right there and then, in the middle of the one Godzilla step I had taken towards the targeted table, the table of tears – I saw some feminine feet first in white pedicure – standing in the middle of the aisle that separated my table from the table of tears. In my conscience, I was arguing that I knew the owner of those feet. I wanted to doubt, but I had every memorable reason not to. I love beautiful feet. My intended had such feet and that’s why I knew them so well.
So was it a good thing or a bad thing? It was a good thing because she was finally here and it was a bad thing because she had just walked into an impending scandalous scenario. There was enough evidence to show where I was headed. I slowly lifted my head to look at her and maybe say, “Here is my neck darling. I am a sinner, cut my throat out – now or never.”
Of course I met her face looking back at me.
“Babe, I can explain.” I begun while slowly withdrawing my mighty step out of the way.
“No let me start, I know you’re so mad at me right now for being late. I’m so sorry. It is a long story but no useful excuse. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me? For the last time. I will do anything to make it up.”
“So you’re not going scold…” Wait! That was when I fully processed what she had just said. She was apologising for being late even after she caught me almost trading our date? My guardian angel must have received his pay cheque that day. Was I going to sell myself out?
“No darling it’s okay. You have a seat.”
After seating, “You sure it’s okay? I know you well.” She said while holding my hand.
“Yes it is, but just for today. Keeping me waiting is very…” I was almost saying tempting, but again, my guardian angel.
“Very what?” She asked while holding my hand tighter.
“Very hurting.” I wasn’t sure that was correct English. It saved me however.
“Thank you dear. By the way where were you going?”
I froze. “Me? Going?”
“Yes. I found you half way standing up? You were tired of waiting for me huh?”
The look in her eyes as she said that suggested she knew something. I wanted to faint, but I’m not a fainter. I looked down, almost telling her the truth, then I saw my cappuccino. I looked up quickly.
“I was going to complain about this cappuccino.”
“What about it?” She asked while taking hold of it.
“And why did you order this before I came? I thought we talked about this.”
I was dry of words. She inspected it. Her face frowned immediately.
“You know what, forget it. Babe who brought you this?”
“That waitress with the big smile.”
“Wait for me here.” She took off with the cappuccino. I just sat there like a good boy. Happy to be safe. I pitied the smiley waitress. She was going to have a bad first day at work after all. I didn’t want to watch how her big smile would fade away. I was tempted to look the next table, the table of tears. The girl was still there, yes. But she wasn’t crying anymore. In fact she was laughing with some mjango. A masculine mjango. More masculine than me.


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6 years ago


6 years ago

Aaaaaw… Sweet.
N still soooooo funny ?

6 years ago


4 years ago

[…] that wasn’t Archives. I chose Kenkom stage. I would have walked into a joint and ordered a soda while I waited. But I think I was in the mood for something different on that day. I took time and watched mjangos […]