BURNT OUT IX

“Aren’t you forgetting something though? Shouldn’t you add the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech to it? To make this scene a classic?” she was goading him and he knew it but still.

“Esther, do you mind? I’m going out now.” He said. Without another word, Esther turned, picked up her purse from where she had left it and walked out……………….

**************

“I heard that you’re settled down

That you found a girl and you’re married now.

I heard that your dreams came true.

Guess she gave you things I didn’t give to you.”

Esther heard the song faintly in the background. She couldn’t at once tell if she was dreaming or if this were reality. The pain the song invoked felt too real for it to be a dream and yet she had that floating feeling she usually gets with dreams.

“…….. I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it.

I had hoped you’d see my face and that you’d be reminded

That for me it isn’t over.

Chorus:

Never mind, I’ll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don’t forget me, I beg

I remember you said,

“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”,

“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”.”

                 

By the time Adele finished singing the chorus of her; “someone like you”, Esther was wide awake and her pillow was already soaking wet with her tears. The song seemed to be coming from the other room, Miriam’s room. ‘Damn it, damn it, damn it!!’ she muttered angrily to herself. Disappointed with herself as she always was when something like this happened. ‘It’s been four months for heaven’s sake! Get over it, Esther!’

She took out her phone from under her pillow to check the time. It was 4am. She also saw that she had two missed calls and wondered with irritation, who it was but she didn’t check to see. She knew it would be difficult for her to go back to sleep now. The song kept droning on in the background of her thoughts. She got up and went to Miriam’s room to find her sleeping peacefully. She went to tune the volume of her laptop down and then changed her mind and switched the damn thing off, altogether.

It was Friday and she had to go to work, plus she had a date this evening. A date she wished she could cancel. She hoped she could go back to sleep for at least an hour though. She had finally gotten a job as an administrative assistant for a start-up firm. Administrative assistant, a fancy term for secretary but it kept her occupied and the bills paid. It had been a month now since she started working and four months now since the fiasco with George. She had survived the first month without disintegrating and the other three months convincing people, especially Miriam, that she was over it and him. Only her pillow can contradict that if it could, but since it literally cannot talk, her secret was safe.

Today’s date was with some guy named Kwame Agyeman. Kwame gave Esther the impression that he was a bit of a ‘know it all’ the first time they met. He was head of the accounts department at her firm. He had fit her category of guys she planned on dating henceforth; guys she didn’t like. Guys she was in no danger of falling for. So far, she’d done pretty well in her own estimation. Miriam disagreed with her; called her logic, ‘twisted’, as she had reminded her yesterday. She could afford to say that, she wasn’t the one hurting.

Miriam thinks she should give Fiifi a try because, as she puts it, the two of them have chemistry. ‘Give Fiifi a try! She didn’t know men were dresses to be tried on and taken off.’ Miriam was right on one count though. She seemed to have some sort of chemistry with Fiifi and it was precisely because of that, that she didn’t want to ‘give him a try’. If she was going to be donning guys on and taking them off like she did her dresses, better it be guys there was no risk of her falling for. Getting emotionally attached to any guy presently was taboo for her.

She checked her missed calls and hoped it wasn’t George again, as he had made it a habit of calling her for the past two weeks now. It was Fiifi who had called. ‘What did he want at 2am?’ Fiifi, the guy she had met in the trotro months ago. He had called out of the blue about three months back and they had become friends. Quite good friends, one might say. He had helped her secure her current job.

“So what happened between you and your boyfriend?” Kwame asked.

‘Didn’t someone tell this guy that one of the dumbest things you can do is spend your first date talking about your date’s ex? What a way to sour up an evening.’

She just hated it when people think they know her and have got George’s number just because they’ve watched a few movies and read a few books.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He hurt you that bad, huh?”

Everyone seems to want her to get over George and move on, including herself. What baffles her though, is that, these same people keep bringing him up. And this guy is about to get the brunt of her irritation if he doesn’t drop the issue.

“No, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did you love him very much?” ‘Like seriously??’

“I thought this was supposed to be a friendly outing? I didn’t know it was an interview to help you win journalist of the year.” He raised his hands in mock surrender then.

“My bad. Didn’t mean to sound inquisitive. Sometimes I forget myself.” ‘Oh no, you don’t.’ But she kept her mouth clamped. The evening was already ruined.

Yes, George had hurt her. Yes, she is still hurting and yes, she’ll probably castrate the oaf if he pushes her far enough but that gives nobody, NOBODY the right to judge him much less in front of her. It is her business. People should just give the whole issue a rest already.

After thirty minutes of trying to redeem the evening by talking about other stuff, she saw the date wasn’t going well so she suggested they call it a night.

“All because I talked about your ex? Do you get angry at everything all the time?”

“No, I get angry at specific things at specific times. Can we go now?”

“No, I’m not quite done yet. If you are in such a hurry, you can go on ahead.”

In that moment, she had to watch herself not to overturn the contents of her glass on his head. All the thoughts and insults running through her head which she could heap on this guy. She calmed herself down, got up, took her purse which was hanging by her side on her chair and walked out of the restaurant. One of these days, someone was going to push her too far………………

BURNT OUT VII

 

 It was on one of these days that he had an unexpected call. When he picked the call, he realized it was from Pokua. 

***************

“Hi, my name is Pokua. Am I speaking with George, please?” said the female voice on the line.

As Pokua introduced herself on the line, only one image kept flashing through George’s mind; the image of an exuberant Pokua, hugging everyone in her path. Had he not met the girl and heard her speak in person, he might have mistaken her for an American for real.

“Hello, Pokua. Hope everything is cool?”

“Yeah, everything is just peachy. Thought I’d give you a call and thank you once again for my sister, you know.”

“Okay. No thanks necessary. How is your sister by the way?”

“She’s cool. I kinda have a confession to make though. I didn’t just call to say thanks.” Well why doesn’t that surprise me?

“I think I owe you lunch or dinner or whatever. Just thought I’d pay my dues.” There was so much wrong with that suggestion. The least of which is the fact that the girl has a car and he doesn’t, George thought to himself. With the current Esther situation however, he needed a diversion so he just played along.

“Pokua, you do realize Kasoa is at the other side of the world where Accra is concerned, don’t you? Needless to say it has its own traffic system?” he asked, a part of him wanting to discourage this new alliance before it even started.

“Oh, yeah. That would be a problem though, if I lived in Kasoa. I don’t. I’m at East Legon, presently.” The girl seemed cool enough. She looked like one who would be open-minded and he was sure he was not going to get bored with her around so what could be holding him back? With that reasoning, he agreed on an outing. They decided to meet in front of the Accra Mall and take it from there. After hanging up, he realized he hadn’t featured such an expense on his budget. Making such unplanned withdrawals from his account wasn’t a good idea but he had already agreed to the said outing so he decided to just wing it. They were supposed to meet in three days time and his new headache was how to keep up with such an obviously high maintenance girl.

A day to the date, he had the most amazing news he’d had in a long while. He was called back by a firm which had interviewed him earlier on in the month. He had a job. As a project coordinator, his job for the firm’s particular form of projects involved moving around a lot so he was entitled to a Toyota pick-up truck. He would have to wait about a month for the truck to be available since it was part of a consignment the company was expecting, he was told. He was to start work the following Monday.

So when George and Pokua finally met at the mall, he wasn’t as concerned with his dwindling accounts as he was three days back, for though there hasn’t been any deposits into the account lately, he expected that to soon change.

Pokua was a sight to behold. She had on skinny jeans with a sleeveless, low-cut, fitting top made from a material that looked like it was crocheted together. The blouse barely touched the waistline of her jeans, leaving a sliver of her skin showing around her midriff. For her hair, she had on braids. Very long and finely plaited braids held together to form three larger corn-roll-like tresses. As if she wasn’t satisfied with the male glances she was getting, she had on high heels which did nothing but draw attention to how long and slender her legs looked. As soon as George laid eyes on her, the only thing he said to himself was a reminder of what a bad idea this whole outing was.

When she made him walking towards her, she ran and gave him a hug as if they had been friends forever. The fragrance that wafted through his nostrils when she hugged him was one he would soon not forget.

She suggested they grab a bite before deciding on what to do next. They both had a sandwich and some kind of cocktail drink the restaurant was serving.

“So, I’m sorry for being so pushy about this whole thing and putting you on the spot like that. My boyfriends hate that about me. And that is over-sharing, sorry.” Pokua said. George reassured her that he didn’t mind. They talked about their lives and he got to know that Pokua was an understudy manager in her father’s hotel, which so happens to be a prestigious one too. She had two elder brothers and a younger sister, her accent was the result of the schools she’s attended, right there in Accra. She had travelled a bit but she had never really stayed away from Ghana for too long as her accent might lead some to believe. She claimed the longest she had stayed away from Ghana was nine months, straight. George shared the little about himself that he normally shares. He was an only child brought up by a single parent, in this case, his mom. When they finished with their lunch, there was struggle as to who should pay for the meal, with Pokua insisting she pay for lunch because it’s supposed to be her treat. Since George could not give any convincing reasons other than the fact that he was the ‘guy’, Pokua won, but only after she conceded that George paid for whatever they did next.

They discarded the idea of going inside the cinema to watch a movie after they’d both agreed there was nothing of interest on show. Pokua finally suggested that they go watch some horses, claiming she knew a friend who could make that happen, if George was interested. He agreed. They took a taxi and headed for the stables after Pokua had called the friend in question. She was without her car that day and said it was at the workshop but George doubted that was the reason.

 George paid for their fares when they got to the stables. They watched the horses as some grazed and some were ridden. The smell though was quite overpowering and George said so. As they enjoyed the sights and smells, they held hands, for Pokua would have it no other way. They took pictures of themselves; lots of pictures of themselves on their phones with Pokua taking about ninety percent of the pictures on hers.

The day ended with George accompanying Pokua to her father’s hotel where she lived, a goodbye hug, a kiss and him coming back to get a trotro from the roundabout, back to his house.

The first sight that greeted Esther as she logged in to her Facebook home page were the pictures of George and Pokua in which George was tagged…………………….  

  

    

      

      

 ************* Till next time! *************