Hello. So I decided to have a random post on The Dear Black Men series. I would love to know your views on this situation… Comment section is always open. 😁
“Have I ever told you I love your scar?”
“Why do you love it?” I ask.
His thumb traces the ugly bit of raised skin that marks my scar from my right hip down my thigh to the spot just near my knee. It’s ugly but he makes me feel as if it’s the most beautiful part of my body. He makes me feel beautiful. That’s why I love him. Isn’t that it? Love.
“I love it because it makes you human.” He whispers.
“You’re the perfect woman. You have everything. The body. Mind. You’re smart. You’re creative. People fall at your feet. You’re tough. You’re gorgeous. And this scar breaks that and makes you human.”
“You’re too perfect. This scar shows me otherwise.”
His thumb rubs over the scar slowly. A car accident caused my scar. So many years ago when I was much younger and unaware of death being a constant companion. I should have died in the accident. The sound of metal hitting metal still haunts my dreams today. Somehow death did not want me, I don’t know how I survived. All I know is I was pulled out from a badly damaged car that had been hit by a truck. The driver, my aunt, had not made it as her side of the car had taken most of the impact. I woke up in the hospital with bruises all over my body and the longest scar on my leg.
I push my thoughts away and sigh. This is not the time to think about such things. I’m with the man I love. Other things can wait.
“What would you do if I got married to someone else?” He asks.
I laugh. Such a random question. Where is it coming from?
“I don’t know. What you do if I got married to someone else?” I ask.
“I would be jealous. I would get angry.”
“Would cheat on your husband?” He asks
“Yes with me.”
“Would you cheat on your wife with me?”
He doesn’t respond immediately. He hand rubs the scar gently as he traces it down my thigh.
“I would… I would cheat on my wife with you.” He says.
“Then what’s the use of getting married if you’re going to cheat on someone?”
“Because you know out there is a person you love more than your wife.”
“That’s a stupid reason.”
“Count on you to call me out on my bullshit.”
“Why did you bring it up?” I ask.
“I thought about it.”
His hand slides to my stomach as he snuggles closer to me. He kisses the back of my neck and I giggle.
“You smell so nice.”
“I missed the way you laugh.” He says.
“It’s such a hearty laugh. You don’t pretend when you laugh. Your laugh is so loud and it makes me laugh.”
“I missed everything about you.”
“That’s the truth. I’ve known you for ten years, I miss so much about you.”
Ten years. That’s how long I’ve known him. A decade of memories. I met Trevor six months after my accident, at a physio centre. I was a patient trying to get my legs to work in sync and he was one of the physiotherapists at the centre helping people like me. He kept me company sometimes as I waited for my appointment. Trevor made me laugh, he made me accept what had happened, he made me accept my inability to walk straight even when I thought the world was laughing at me behind my back.
He would always say “one day you will walk straight again. You’ll see. Just keep at it and it will all work out fine.”
And I believed him.
I worked hard at getting my leg in order. He helped. And at the end of six months it worked, I could walk but with a limp because of the pain. Trevor told me it would heal and the limp would be gone. I just needed to keep the faith. And the faith I kept. Trevor called me everyday. We would talk and laugh about everything and anything. He made my months of physio the best months of my life. And by the time I was through with my physio – just in time for me to go to university – I knew I was in love with the man.
He didn’t stop calling. He wanted to see me everyday. Our friendship flourished. And when we finally started dating, we were so in love with each other I couldn’t believe how something bad had to happen to bring us together. It was sign. I had met the man I was meant to be with. I was so certain of it, I was certain the future was on our side.
We didn’t last for six months. It was the cheating that got to me. It was always about some other woman, his inability to be faithful or to use the word no. Four months into our relationship I found out there were more women in his life than I cared to count.
He called. He apologised. He promised change and I went back like the love struck girl I was.
We didn’t last six months again. The cheating never stopped. He just got better at trying to hide it. The heart break that followed was enough to make me shut out everyone.
He called. Or I called. He apologised. He promised change and I went back.
The cycle continued while my love for him never faded all through out university and after. Trevor was the love of my life. I would never be far away from him. There was something about him that just made me stay in love with the man. Even after all the things I went through with him, I still stayed in his corner waiting for the day he would realise he couldn’t live without me.
Maybe this was it. This moment is it.
Look at us now, back to square one for the umpteenth time. I should be angry with him for calling me earlier in the evening after four months of silence. But he said he missed me and he wanted to talk. He needed to talk to me. He pleaded and I caved. I couldn’t say no to him, I couldn’t start today. He needed me. We didn’t get to talk when he came to my house. My eyes met his and the next thing I was in his arms, his lips on mine like old times.
It’s always been like that for us. Passion with a touch a love and need. It brought all the memories of our past back. Like none of the bad ever happened and my love for him swelled again.
It was lips and the way they licked, sucked and bit my skin. It was hands and the way they squeezed and caressed my body into submission. It was his voice and his whispers that made me scream those three words I kept just for him. This is like clockwork. The same cycle starting all over again. I know it’s only a matter of time before we find ourselves back in our “as always take me back relationship.” Maybe this time we will work.
“I love you.” I whisper.
I know he’s smiling. He always loved hearing those three words. His finger touches my navel and he slides it around in circles over and over again.
“I love you too. I will always love you.”
He kisses the back of my head and I sigh in the darkness.
“What happened to us?” I ask him
“I guess time had to show us what was really important.”
“Why are we still doing this?”
“Because we are in love. No matter what happens in our lives we always find each other.”
“So what happens now?”
His hand stops and he groans.
“I need to talk to you.” He says.
I turn around slowly and face him in the darkness. I lift my hand and touch his face. I have mastered his face over the years, I don’t need the light to know that something is bothering him. I feel the scar on his cheek, the only scar he has on his smooth skin. It suits him I guess.
“Talk to me.” I whisper. “You know I love to listen.”
He laughs. “You’re beautiful.”
“Promise you won’t get angry.” He says.
“Why should I?” I laugh. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
His hand travels up my arm and touches my cheek. The bed shifts beneath him and I feel his lips on my forehead.
“I love you so much.” He whispers. “I don’t know what to do.”
I place my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently. He knows he can trust me with his problems. I’m always here to help. Even if we are not together anymore, he knows I’m here for him.
“I love you Tatenda.” He whispers. “I love you so much.”
“I’m engaged. I wanted to tell you earlier.”
I freeze as his hands grab my hands. Engaged? My Trevor is engaged. And he’s here. In my bed? Is this a joke?
“That’s what I came to tell you but this happened.” He continues. “I saw you, I kissed you. Fuck I made love to you and I’m confused right now.”
“I’m meeting her family tomorrow, taking the tumbale (plates) and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. What do you think I should do? I love you. For the first time I’m having doubts about the whole thing. What do you think I should do Tatenda?”
I’m grateful for the darkness. He won’t see my tears. He won’t see my red rimmed eyes. He won’t see my rage either. I slowly bend my leg at the knee and move it back a little.
He knew what he was doing. Why is he here? What does he want from me? Couldn’t he let me be. Alone. What is wrong with men?
I quickly move my knee forward right into his abdomen.
I am certain the sound of him howling in pain will be heard by the neighbours. I don’t care.
He deserves it.