Hello. Hi. So I promised part two today and it’s here. I know I promised 5 parts in chapter 1 but I changed my mind – I’m so random. Chapter 1 will have 3 parts instead. Amazing right? More drama in each chapter. Well I hope you enjoy this part. Awesomeness.
Read the previous chapter here
31st December 2015
Where has the birthday lady disappeared off to I wonder. Sampa has been gone for some time now and I feel all alone standing near the cake I put my effort into creating. I look at the cake and smile, smile of pride for my good work done yet again. Being a chef has it’s moments and this cake is one of those moments. I knew picked the right colours; the black coating and gold stars had definitely been a good choice and I also know Sampa will love the red velvet cake taste within. I can’t wait wait for Sampa to come back and cut her cake. The birthday lady in search of her man.
I smile to myself shyly when I think of what Sampa and Sangu must be doing right now. Those two are insatiable. Sampa and Sangu, the it couple. Sangu is probably keeping her occupied for now somewhere around the venue. They deserve it. They amaze me. Sampa is so lucky that she found an amazing man like Sangu. Isn’t that what we all wish for, amazing men?
“I would love a piece of cake.”
I turn and my eyes meet the most green eyes I have ever seen. So green that they remind me of old mango leaves. The dark leaves that make me crave for the fruit. That green. I am fascinated with his eyes. A man so white with dark curly hair that lookes ruffled up as if someone had been playing with it, probably his fingers. The man smiles at me; I notice his white teeth, even teeth I surmise; his beard is as dark as his hair. Gosh. He is hot for a white man in my books. And like clockwork he lifts his hand and passes it through his hair, a simple gesture but it’s effect on me is instant. I am in awe.
“I would love a piece of that cake.” He says pointing at Sampa’s birthday cake.
I feel chills on my skin. His deep voice has me feeling things, things I can’t explain even if I want to.
“Cake.” He says slowly.
“Uhhh you can’t have it yet. Waiting on the birthday lady.” I respond
“Ahhh oh my. Can I have you instead then?”
I laugh a little too loud, blush too; a few heads turn in our direction. I was too loud . Yes. He is definitely hot. Too hot and all mine.
“Sure.” I respond “How about after the party? Cake, wine and then me.”
“You surely know how to entice a man. I’m looking forward to that. All that.”
He smiles at me and leans in, kissing my lips lightly. I can taste the traces of wine on his lips. I close my eyes savouring the moment. I feel the promise of more on his lips and I can’t wait for the party to end. Maybe if I find the birthday lady then maybe we can get this underway. I open my eyes and stare at the man.
“You better or else.” I say with a shy smile.
“Oh don’t worry.” He whispers. “I will not forget. I will remind you about this.”
He reaches out and wraps his arms around me. Ian Graham is in every way the perfect man. For me. An interracial relationship I never planned to ever enter into but it worked for me somehow. I truly have no idea how I ever managed with black men. Ian Graham changed my outlook on love in a great way.
Everyday I thank God for the day I met him – seven months ago today to be exact; an underground all white party, with me looking lost while he was the man so uncomfortable with the loud drinking crowd. Somehow we got to talking about events and the horrible hype around them. We laughed. We connected. He made my night bearable. But it was not love at first sight because of one reason, he was white. However at the end of that night we became fast friends and along the way, after all the calls and visits, we finally started dating and it has been an awesome trip so far.
Even through my fears.
I mean which relationship is perfect? Every relationship has it’s good moments and bad, fears and concerns and mine come in the form of where – if or when it happens – he would decide to call home. The issue of if he had to go back home, after his contract is done with International Development Fund stresses me out most nights than I would care to admit. What will happen to us? Will he stay in Zambia with me, for me or will he decide to go back home and suggest we try making long distance relationship work. Sometimes I think breaking up for good is our best option. It ruins my mood everytime the thought invades my mind. I choose not to think about it and I won’t do it now because it’s Sampa’s birthday and Sampa deserves all my attention.
“So where is the birthday lady?” Ian asks
I shrug and smile at him.
“No idea. She went to find her knight in shining armour. I think she found him taking into account she’s been gone for a while.”
“I totally understand. They are celebrating her birthday. Blowing off other candles.”
I laugh at him. He is always so funny.
“Ahh. Let me say this now, you guys did an awesome job with the party.”
“Uh huh. You like it?” I ask happy with his compliment.
“I love it. Perfection.”
“Thank you babe.”
“To be honest I think it is perfect for a number of things.”
“Hmmm really now. Like what?”
“Like anniversary night.” He says wistfully.
“What else?” I ask.
“Hmmmm mostly anniversary night. And friends night, you know, themed nights. And maybe….”
“I know those all too well.” I laugh.
“I can’t wait to go home.”
“I know how you feel. I want to go home too but I have a feeling I might stay here longer than I need to.”
“You know… Ladies time and all.”
“Gossip and nkani.” We say in unison.
“Well if that’s the case then…”
He lets go of my hands and reaches into his jeans pocket.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Ian flashes me a smile.
“Well talking about anniversary nights…”
“Awww baby you got me a gift?” I ask
Ian clears his throat and slowly gets down onto one knee in front of me. Oh my gosh. It hits me then, what he wants to do.
No. No. No.
This is not the right moment. It’s Sampa’s birthday party. Ian opens his palm and in the middle sits a silver diamond ring. The clear stone sparkles in the middle of his palm. Oh my gosh. This is not happening today. Not today. No.
“Sonia.” He says
“No. Ian. No. Stand up.” I whisper. “Not today. It’s Sampa’s birthday party.”
“I don’t care.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I was going to do this later but since you won’t be home on time I have to do this right now. It can’t wait.”
The guests around us turn to face us as the music volume is lowered. We have everyone’s attention. This is what Ian wanted. An audience. His left hand reaches out and grabs my left hand.
“Sonia. Baby. Love of my life. I know it’s only been months but I am certain you are it. Meeting you was my miracle. You saw the best in me and loved me. I know I always say this but it’s true. You have made my life different. I wake up next to you and when I look at you I see forever. I want to wake up next to you everyday forever. This is it for us. We are set baby. You’re my family, my best friend, my lover, my everthing. I love you. Will you marry me?”
What am I supposed to say now?
I smile at him and cover my mouth with my hand. He is serious. Ian is serious. He wants to marry me. I shake my head. So soon? He’s so sure I am the one? The shocked look on my face must be all telling because I can see he looks worried. I can’t believe this is happening to me. Who would have guessed? Is this what it feels like to have the love of your life on one knee telling you he is the one you’ve been waiting for? Because If it is then it’s an awesome feeling. So unexpected. I had no idea he had been planning on doing this. No clue whatsoever. Best surprise yet.
“Am I going to have to wait forever for an answer or you’re in shock and you need to go to the hospital?” He asks nervously.
I smile. Who would ever no to this handsome green eyed man kneeling in front of me? I love him so much. This is our moment. My eyes well up with tears as he kisses my hand. I’m the luckiest woman tonight.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. I will marry you Ian Graham.” I cry.
Ian smiles at me and slips the ring on my finger. The perfect fit. He stands up and hugs me; a few of the guests standing close cheer us on. It’s a surreal moment for me. I still can’t believe he proposed. Where has he been all my life God? Why now? After all the men I have dated, the frogs I have kissed, why make me go through all that pain just for me to find happiness at the age of twenty-nine. Was this always your plan? Because if it is then I am ecstatic that you kept your promise. You’ve given me a husband. Thank you. Ian lets go of me and I lift my hand and stare at the ring, it is beautiful, and it is so me, simple; he knows me too well. The diamond shines bright on my finger, it is real. This is real. It’s happening! Where are my ladies. I turn and look around for them but I cannot see any of them around. They missed my most important day. I know I will have to tell them all about it later on.
Red wine and cake will be epic.
Oh my gosh I can’t wait. They will definitely be shocked.
I’m getting married. I kiss Ian as the crowd claps on. Tears of joy slide down my face.
“Oh by the way, I have one more piece of news.” Ian says against my lips.
“Can’t it wait till later? I don’t think I’m ready for more exciting news.” I laugh.
“It can’t. Sonia?”
“Hmmm.” I respond. “What is it? You have another ring in your pocket?”
I am in bliss land, nothing else can faze me now. Nothing could ruin my night. Nothing. I am too happy for words. I am too excited. Everything is absolutely perfect. God has made it so. I have to tell Aunt Leah what just happened. She will be happy with this news. So much to do. The wedding, the kitchen party…
Nothing can ruin this moment. Zero.
“Uhh so my parents are coming to Zambia next week. They want to meet you.”
And just like that I feel my mood change from excitement to sad and stressed real quick.
“They want to meet the woman who has my heart. The woman I call home.”
Ian smiles at me.
“Oh my, they’ll hate me.” I say aloud
He is not coming.
He seriously is not coming here tonight.
I hate him.
My thoughts run wild, lose and free. I curse through my teeth while I smile at a nearby waiter. He was supposed to be here with me right now and yet I am alone with a glass of whiskey in my hand. Number four, or is it five, maybe six I ask myself with no response. So this is what misery looks like, a lady sitting on a comfy sofa lonely with a glass of strong stuff in her hand. And to think I dressed all up for him in this green wrap dress and his favourite black heels and now he won’t be able to see a thing. Maybe I should have worn my old jeans and a t-shirt. My mind is on a roll. I pick up my phone from the table and read the message for the umpteenth time.
Sorry I won’t be able to make it.
Work pressures. Wish Sampa a happy birthday for me.
I will see you at home.
Don’t wait up for me.
I curse again. We had made plans. He had promised he would be here with me. Fuck that man is trying to take me to an early grave. It’s always work this, work that with him. I wonder when I will be able to spend time with him. When if ever he will make time for me. I am at a loss of words. When will the excuses ever end – initially it was “baby one day things will be better, we will have all the time in the world. One day we shall enjoy the finer things without stressing about them.” One day. And when that one day arrived years ago, we started dancing to a different tune of “I’ll be home soon.” When? When he retires? Will I be alive for that or will I die before he ever lays his hands on me passionately again. Even backstreet boys are better at keeping promises than him. What happened to our vows? To make it on time. If ever. I sigh. He promised he would make the time, I reminded him countless times about the event, he knew it was important to me but no, it didn’t matter to him and now I am here alone.
I gulp more than a sip of my drink and look through the glass doors on to the garden outside. What a beautiful party, the ladies and I did a great job. The guests seem to be having fun. Shit. I missed singing Sampa’s birthday song but in my defense I sang the song in my heart, it’s the gesture that counts or was it the thought. I know the ladies will understand with whatever is happening with me whenever I decide to tell them. It’s always the same story. That man.
I hate you Chinyama Kalunga and what you think you’re doing to me. I need attention too. I want love too. Why did we even get married if all he wanted to do was work? Even if marriage was the plan because he needed someone to cook, clean and wash for him, he would have gotten a maid and paid her extra for hidden bedroom services. But no…
Chinyama wanted a wife, a quiet never ask questions kind of wife, literally; one that he would leave at home or wherever, to represent him when he was missing at social events. He wanted a woman who would mother all his children.
I hate him sometimes but I can’t place the blame on him alone. It’s my fault too. Agreeing to get married so young has it’s bad sides. I know I am not allowed to wallow in self-pity just because my good for nothing husband won’t make time for me. I know I shouldn’t be miserable after all he works hard for our children and I. I should be looking sexy every day, I should be smiling and spending time with my friends, until the day he decides I am important. If he ever realises that. One of these days he will learn a lesson. Oh well. I have to smile and join the world.
I put my phone into my handbag and stand up from the sofa. Might as well join the party and mingle. My handbag strap snaps and my bag falls to the floor spilling all it’s contents. Of all the days for this to happen, I groan. I bend to pick it up quickly. I instantly regret my decision as a wave of nausea comes over me.
“I should not have done that. Oh no, oh no.” I tell myself.
I stand upright a little too fast and I feel myself sway forward, I am going to fall flat on my face and this will hurt. This will probably be the most embarrassing thing ever; I reach blindly for anything stable enough to balance myself to no avail.
“Oh no, oh no.”
Something warm grabs my elbow, stops me from swaying and falling to my shame. I smile to myself relieved, yes I am officially drunk. This is what I get for drinking those glasses of whiskey without having something to eat all day. It’s his fault. I should remember to eat next time I have whiskey. Besides where the hell is my glass, ahh on the table. I look at the table and reach out for the whiskey. The thing holding my elbow holds onto it strong.
“I don’t think that glass of whiskey wants you either.” A voice says beside me.
“Huh? When has whiskey ever been picky?” I ask as I turn around to face the person beside me.
“Always has been. I hear it has class, that you take it slow, savoring the taste on your tongue as it goes down your throat. A lot like a love affair.”
“You mean an acquired taste right?”
“No.” He laughs. “Love at first sight.”
“But I’m attractive so it’s fine.”
“That…. You are.” He smiles.
His smile is bright, boasting white teeth even though one of front teeth is chipped. Either way it is a beautiful smile. I smile back at him, do I still look alright? Why is it when the alcohol hits you, one stops caring about their appearance? Hmm. But I care right now. The elbow holding man is making me care right now! Why is he looking at me as if he wants me? Undressing me. I am a married woman. When was the last time a man looked at me and saw everything. When was the last time a man undressed me with his eyes, come to think of it when the eye undressing happens do the eyes imagine thongs or frenchies? Why am I thinking about this now? Elbow man stands at the same height as me – well my heels are that nice, one good thing my husband has done so far. Elbow man must be dark skinned if his face is anything to go by, strong jaw shaped by his dark beard; his brown eyes look at me as if searching for something, see he is undressing me right now. I am losing it. My eyes stray to the top of his head and I laugh, well his hair cut makes his head look weird; too long. Something about him had to be unattractive. Maybe it suits him or maybe he should have gone with a bald cut, he would have been perfect even in his dark suit, whatever colour it is. Bald like my husband. Bald like the way it works perfectly for Chinyama. I am turning a stranger into Chinyama already. How disappointing.
“You need to sit down.” Elbow man says.
Ahh elbow man is caring. How sweet. I like sweets. I love chocolates too.
“Hold onto my shoulder.” He says as he places my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t fall.”
“What are you doing?”
He squats and makes a quick work of picking up my handbag and it’s spilled contents in seconds.
“Thank you.” I tell him when he hands me my bag.
He takes my hand off his shoulder.
“You’re welcome. Now let’s sit.” He says.
“No.” I argue. “I need to go out there.”
I point to the clear doors. He looks in the same direction and laughs.
“Are you serious? In this state. No way. You need someone to hold onto you all night.”
“Well there is no one. I will be fine Sir. Believe me I have….”
“Done this plenty of times? That’s what you were going to say right? And in those heels too?”
“No. I have not done this plenty of times. I have my friends there. They will hold on me all night.”
“Where have they been all this time?”
“With their better halves of course. It’s my best friend’s birthday.”
“Ahh you’re the odd one out huh?”
“If by odd one out you mean my husband is not here because he is working late or probably screwing some woman at the office then yes. I am the odd one out.”
Shit. Why did I say that about my husband to a stranger? My running mouth! He looks at me, his eyes blank, no words coming out of his mouth now. He is probably trying to figure out how to leave me now that I am a married woman. I just ruined it. Why did I even tell him all that? So unnecesary. Blubber mouth. I hate myself.
“Well… Your husband should be beaten then.” He responds finally. “But before that happens you need to stop drinking, take a seat and have some water.”
I smile at him. He really is sweet. How many men are willing to help a strange drunk woman. Not many. But he is still here.
“What about if you join me in the whiskey fest?” I ask.
“Ahh now you calling it a fest?” He asks
“Well then it was just me so it was like drinking alone but you’re here soooo…”
“Hmmm sounds enticing however I do not drink.”
‘What? What’s your vice then?”
“Why did I have an idea that you would ask that?” He laughs.
“My vice is saving beautiful women from unprofitable affairs.”
“Ah!” I laugh. “You’re missing out then.”
“On what exactly. Come sit down.”
“No. Let’s take a walk. Let’s go outside. I want to feel cool air. I will not seat till I go outside. The secret to dealing with drunks is doing what they want..”
He shakes his head and places my hand in the crook of his arm and he leads me outside to the gardens. However we do not walk to where the guests are, we walk in the direction of the main gate. I am grateful for this, no one has to see me drunk. Not even the ladies or they would be disappointed that I let alcohol get the best of me.
“So you said I am missing out on something in relation to alcohol.” He says. “Tell me. I’m in need of a new friend.”
We walk through the open gates and we turn to the left on an empty road but with lots of cars parked on the side. Probably the guests for the birthday.
“Hmm yes. You are missing out.” I say aloud.
“Uhmm.. Random one night stands. Random kisses. Random madness. Random moments.”
“It’s all about the randomness?” He asks.
“Then I am not missing much sadly. I don’t think I need any of that.” He responds. “Too much randomness.”
I laugh and he joins me.
“I swear it’s super fun. Alcohol is beautiful.”
“Hmmm so beautiful it makes a beautify lady hold onto a random man. Shit. Randomness is already here.”
I laugh again. He is funny. I wonder what would have happened if Chinyama had been here. He would not have held my hand to help me out. No. He probably would have left me to fend myself. Selfish prick. He has taken so much from me and yet I keep giving him more of me.
“Are you okay?”
I stop, elbow holding man stands beside me. He turns to face me, looking at my face, probably thinking I am a zombie. And maybe I am. Maybe I deserve this zombie version of me. To not feel, to be able to do anything, out of the ordinary. Random.
I lift my hands, place them on the sides of his face and pull his head towards me. I kiss him before my mind lays out the rules of faithfulness in a lost marriage.
Yes. Random is good.
Random is awesome.
Gosh. He has soft lips.
*Part Three will be out on Monday…..