I want to but I won’t. I can’t.
What am I supposed to do? I want to cry? Maybe if I do my anger will be no more. Maybe I will see reason. Maybe I will see the truth in the pain my heart is fabricating. How do other people manage such pain? How do they wake up and smile the next day? My smile is dead. My heart is cold. My brain is numb. I can’t explain the situation I’m in.
I need to cry. The pain is too much to bear.
I turn on the bed and look at the slightly open window. A cool breeze sips through giving me chills, I should close it if I am to feel warm tonight but strength I do not have. I feel weak. What am I supposed to do? Why is this happening to me? God why is this happening to me?
Something hits my back, something warm and something soft. Last night the said warm thing brought a smile to my face but now my smile has been replaced with confusion. Even without me turning around I know he’s fast asleep, dreaming of the day the world will bow at his feet because of the power he yields. Imaginary power to be honest. Gosh when did it all change? When did love turn into this? When did falling in love and opening up your heart become a new way to kill someone softly? I feel his hand on my back, making it’s way to my breast. That’s his favourite sleeping position, his front to my back with his arms around me. Romantic I know but tonight it’s not. I feel dead inside.
Why am I still in this bed?
Haunted by memories of the night I am actually impressed that I have not lost it yet. But I know I’m about to lose it and when I do it will not be pretty. I need sleep. It’s important I get it.
But how can I when his other woman is sleeping in the living room of the very same house I’m in.
His other woman.
The joke of the year is on me.
The foolish woman award goes to, drumroll, me for still staying in the same house.
I replay memories trying to find my mistake in all this. Did I care too much? Love too hard? Was I too nice? Was I not enough? Did I deserve the disrespect? Was I too cold? Did I need to learn a lesson? Because I have no idea why I am going through this today.
And his reason for all this? What a joke.
“To make you jealous.” A drunk him had said when I had asked him why he brought her over.
To make me jealous? The utter foolishness of the man! Surely he could have taken a picture and sent it to me instead. After all don’t they say a picture is worth a thousand words? Or is it picture lasts longer if not forever?
“Besides what can I do now? She’s staying till morning and she will leave.” He continued.
“Are there no cabs in this town at this time of night?”
“Oh please. What kind of a host would I be now? She’s better off here. It’s safer.”
Of course it is. So much safer and warmer to be here.
“What would have happened if I had not been here? Would she still be in the living room or on my side of the bed?” I asked.
His silence told me everything I needed to know. Men.
“You’re overreacting babe.” He said when the silence threatened to choke him
“Yes. I’m here with you now so she doesn’t matter.” He said.
The smile on his face that followed reminded me of a child used to getting his own way except this man child was a thirty-three year old with the view he would be the president.
“If I had done the same to you, what would you think?” I whispered
“Brought a man into this house. To sleep in the living room.”
“That’s cheating and you know it! But I am not cheating on you. I told you I brought her over to make you jealous. Stop overreacting. It’s not a good trait on you.”
Trait? Huh? His drunk self had taken over. Why was I still trying to talk sense into him? His lack of respect meant he didn’t care about me. So why bother?
“You’re such a difficult woman babe. Just fucking calm down.” He continued.
He grabbed the warm beddings that covered my almost nude body and pulled them aside.
“You look nice.” He said.
He grabbed my legs and pulled me towards the edge of the bed.
“Did you miss me? I missed you a lot.” He said
I kicked his hands away. Or at least tried to. He didn’t care. He wanted what he couldn’t get from her the other one. I moved away from him and he got onto the bed, his weight made the bed dip as I moved away. He reached out for me, grabbed my wrists and pinned me down to the bed. I was numb. I wanted to leave. I wanted him to leave. And maybe I switched off from the moment because he pulled my legs apart, his belt unbuckled with his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
“Are you ready babe?” He whispered.
“Don’t do this. Get off me.”
He leaned in and kissed me. Nothing wrong of the man I remembered loving. I turned my head to the side.
“Oh now you don’t want me? Should I go to her instead?”
“Go. Don’t touch me! Get the hell out of this room and go to her.”
“Come on. I missed you. I want you.”
Alcohol and reason? They never go hand in hand. He did not care. I felt it then. The tip at the opening. I felt it all. He would force it in. And I felt helpless. All because he wanted another woman in his house.
“Don’t do this. I will scream. Your neighbours will hear me and imagine what they will say when I tell them you tried to force yourself on me.”
He laughed. He was amused by my reaction. But I got to him. His reputation mattered more than anything. The image of Mr Sensible and smart was his blessing to the world. He needed the world to know his good side only.
“Fine. We don’t want you screaming rape tonight.”
He pulled away from me as I watched him. I couldn’t move. He smiled and walked out of the bedroom. Minutes ticked by as I slept on my side my knees to my chest. After what seemed like eternity he walked back onto the bedroom.
“Now I’m tired.” He continued. “I’m going to sleep. You can stay angry all night but you will not talk to her or see her. Period.”
And with that he quickly undressed and got into bed. A quick kiss on my shoulder and he was snoring his way into dream land minutes later while I wondered why I was stuck thinking about what my next move would be.
I watched him sleep. My anger ready to destroy everything around me. To think that was his final view on his actions made me sick. What happened to hiding your crimes? Even better what happened to respect? What happened to fear of STI and HIV/AIDS? It went down the drain. That’s the only logical explanation. He did see any wrong with his actions. Nothing. To him he made no mistakes. He was the perfect boyfriend with a childlike brain sitting in an aging body. A drunk with so many excuses as to why his life was the way it was. And I? I was the foolish woman who trusted him and his words. All lies.
Two options lie before me.
To see her and risk me losing my temper, getting into a fight and being arrested tomorrow or to not see her and beat the man beside me instead. Even better walking away from everything, the pain and almost happiness.
I wonder what she looks like. Is she slim or chubby? Dark skinned or light? Does she connect with him better than me or not? Who is she this accept-to-sleep-in-the-living-room-type-of-woman?
I wonder what new excuse he will give me in the morning. What story he will fabricate thinking I will believe it.
Talk about heartbreak on level hundred.
I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy and he just made me one.
Sleep never comes fast when you’re miserable. It’s slow like a woman going to meet her lover. But in the end it does come, slow and all at once I’m in dreamland.
Sam said this would be easy. All I had to do was show up with a girl to the house. He swore it worked. I should’ve asked him how exactly it worked. But we were drinking. Sam was talking a lot. He always talks a lot. Somewhere in between football and real estate he mentioned a ménage. Asked if I’d had one. I didn’t even answer. Didn’t need to. He started laughing, must’ve been how I held my head low. To be honest I haven’t really thought that much about it. I love my girl. She’s enough. God knows she’s enough. Her whole damn self is a threesome.
So when this pretty young thing in red heels, black jeans and corset top walked to our table I should’ve sent her away. Sam would’ve been mad but he’d get over it. When she said she liked my blue suede blazer I shouldn’t have smiled. When she touched my arm I should’ve excused myself. Should’ve told her about the girlfriend I have at home. But no. I smiled. Called the waitress over and got her three of what she was having. Whisky. Neat. We laughed a lot. She was funny. Is? Or maybe I was just drunk; enjoying the pints and her attention. She knew how to stroke an ego. At one point she joked that I was trying to get her drunk. Drunk enough to take advantage of her. I laughed and promised her. Said I’d never. After all I am a gentleman. She smiled. Coy. And between a sip said she wouldn’t mind it. Sam gave me the look. Got up and left.
The thing with flirting is there are no lines.
You just say and do things to get a reaction, you don’t really think it through. I hadn’t flirted in a long time. That phase of my relationship was long gone. We had settled into routine. Just the good morning. Hey. How was work? And sometimes steamy sex before we cuddled into the morning.
It was okay. Not perfect but okay.
As soon as Sam left she moved closer. Crossed her legs over each other and leaned in towards me. Her lips painted in crimson glimmered under the lights. Her slender fingers folded into a soft fist supported her chin. They taste better than they look she said. She meant her lips. I knew she meant her lips. Okay I didn’t; but the kiss that followed proved it. A kiss I returned. They were soft; her lips.
We paused. A few seconds. She then let out the sex sigh. You know it? That deep exhale a woman gives when she’s ready for you. When her heart is beating too fast and her minds too occupied to come up with a sentence. So she just let’s out air. Let’s out the doubts she might have. That deep exhale that leaves with her inhibitions and any perceived guilt. Probably the sigh right before taken the go damn apple in Eden. Women. Woman. This one. Asked me to take her home. Home where my girlfriend would be. This pretty young thing in my house. I liked the idea. Plus what if I could test out Sam’s theory? But I couldn’t. She’d kill me. She would kill me. So I told her. That I have a girlfriend.
That was her answer. She didn’t seem to care. She can keep you. I just want you for a few hours. I’m sure that’s something we can work on right? She won’t even have to know. I can be very quiet. I’ll let my eyes do the talking. She was persistent. I’ll give her that.
So we got onto a cab. Gosh not having a car in Lusaka would be the death of me. The driver drove us home. He knew me well and didn’t mind the situation unfolding in the back seat of his car. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe I am just a dumb fuck. Dumb because it was never too late to abort the mission. Dumb because I’d get away with fucking her in the back seat. I didn’t have to take her home. Rub her in the face of my girlfriend. Or maybe I can get away with saying she’s a cousin? No. Won’t work. She knows my people. I should’ve dropped her at her place. If she even has a place. Or left her at the club. But here we were. Her hands on my thighs. Working things up. Working me up.
We stumble into the house, she giggles like some child. Let’s her bag hit the floor then she kisses me. In the fucking house. With the lights off. With my girl in a different room. Fuck. At some point she hears us. Then I sober up. I can’t do this. I can’t deal. So I head to the room. Tell pretty young thing to call a cab. She refuses and offers to crash on the couch. I agree. I walk into the room and force words out of my mouth. Words that tasted like bad lies. And her lips. God her lips. I tell my girl I wanted to make her jealous. I roll my eyes at my own lie. Then I forbid her from seeing the girl. It’s enough there’s a girl here already. But a girl that’s in every essence of the word prettier than my girl? There’d be problems. I listen to her rant. But I shut her up and shut the door. I need sleep. Maybe get a wild love making first. My arms around her, so warm. Just perfect. We do this all the time and usually I grab me some boobs.
But tonight it’s different.
Oh, I’ll definitely cup a boob but I also don’t want her sneaking out.
But God why does she smell so nice? She always smells this nice before bed time. Even after all that time she still makes the effort. I have never had to complain really. Her skin stays soft and moisturized, the shampoo she uses for her hair is refreshing. The perfect woman for the perfect man. She did all this for me, prepared for me as always. Even with this mess I know what to do to get her wanting me; my hands touching her back, planting kisses on her shoulder and neck, throw in touching one of her breasts before I turn her over. This should be fun. After all she has to have bought that jealousy story. She is still right here next to me.
In our bed.
Not going anywhere.
Any other girl would be seething right now and there would be a few broken glasses, damaged electronics and I would be bleeding. But this is all me. I am the woman tamer. I have this charming nature about me. Maybe it is the smile or the eyes. Guys in Lusaka talk about how women are giving them trouble. I don’t get that. They all want a piece of this. Sexy is an understatement. So you bet that is all I have to do right now; remind her why she is in bed with me. Let her worship at the feet of the sex god that is I. Maybe even her feistiness will make the whole thing explosive; you know women and mad angry sex? She might just want to fuck the infidelity out of me.
She sleeps nude. All I had to do was get the covers off her body. A body that belongs to me. Only me. A body I was ready for ever since I walked into the house pushing my tongue down what’s her name’s throat. All I had to do was let her see me. Feel me. Normally it is enough. Pin her down and kiss her. Maybe let her nip my lip in pretend defiance.
And I was right.
She was feisty. She tried to resist me. As if that is ever possible. Me? Please. She was begging for it. She needed me inside her. She just did not know it yet. I had to show her what she was missing. Then for some reason; she forced me off. Said she would scream. Get the neighbours involved. Rape she called it. Rape. I am her boyfriend. Boyfriends do not rape. It was just going to be a little rough love making. Yeah that’s it, love making.
I swear this is why men cheat. She should be happy I’m home with her right now. Gosh talk about selfish.
I am a man.
But she forgets who I am. There’s more than one pussy in this house tonight. One that is more than willing. You know what? That’s it. I will just give her something to be really jealous about.
As I leave her alone on the bed, I’ll let her think about her actions. Maybe when I come back spent she’ll have mellowed out. Maybe I can give her sloppy seconds. Or maybe I will just sleep. Wake up hangovered, have a glass of water. Maybe scramble some eggs. Then apologize. It won’t mean shit but ladies love it when you do. Wait. They love it when I do. Throw in a little bit of that killer smile. Show some distant remorse in my eyes. Not too much to look insincere but just enough to sell it and we will be banging the morning away.
She sleeps on her side when I head back to the bedroom. My sexy girlfriend. I need rest. Under the covers I feel her warmth, kiss her shoulder and let sleep take over.
Tomorrow is another day.
I can fix this mess.
I always do.