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 VIII

***********

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……………………

Even Miriam had questions about the mysterious female in the picture on Facebook.

“Who is that girl with George in those pictures on Facebook?” she didn’t need to qualify ‘girl’ with beautiful; it was an unspoken truth.

“Her name is Pokua.” Esther answered without further explanations. She hoped Miriam would stop fishing and she did. After a few more futile tries from her to get more from Esther, she let the matter be. Esther’s thoughts wouldn’t let the issue rest though. She thought of all the possible reasons why it was harmless for there to be an alliance between George and Pokua and she found none. After finding no reasonable excuse for what she saw in the pictures, it was easy for her mind to create fillings for the hollow pie she’d been given and she filled the empty spaces up with her imagination. Her encounter with the man of God weeks back no longer seemed like a joke. Since she was supposedly not talking to George, she willed herself not to call him and ask for explanations.

It became a recurring nightmare she had anytime she slept; the lady behind George in the prophecy finally unveiled and she didn’t seem like one Esther could beat easily in any ongoing battle. Esther woke up each time scared that her worst fear was playing itself out right before her eyes and she didn’t have the power to stop it. Whether it was the prophecy coming true or just an unfortunate succession of events accidentally finding her address, she wasn’t sure. After two weeks of answering: “What gives you that idea?” to Miriam’s: “Did you guys have a fight or something?” she finally called George. She called his cell three times and he didn’t pick up on all counts, neither did he call back that afternoon, or evening or the next day. On the evening of the next day, she got a second shock, not unlike the one she got with the pictures on Facebook. Right there on her Linked-In notifications panel was the suggestion that she ‘congratulate George Oppong on his new job.’ She stared in awe at the news.

She saw how she could forgive, understand and explain away a picture of her boyfriend and another girl but how could she get past the hurt of having to find out such a relevant piece of his life from a social network? She, his girlfriend for years, and there she was thinking they had something special. Finding out this way, it didn’t really matter if in fact she was the last to find out or not. It hurt her either way. How did they get to where he wouldn’t share such an important event in his life with her? Could she blame everything on the infamous male ego this time too? She wouldn’t even get herself started on that small bit about him not returning her calls. All the fantasies she had for when one or either of them would get a job and how they might have celebrated the news. It seemed like such a long time ago.

For three more successive days, she continued calling George’s phone without anyone picking up and no one bothering to call back either. That hurt her pride and she started entertaining thoughts of getting back at him in the same manner he’d dealt to her. She soon discarded that idea and decided to pay him a visit instead. She couldn’t find him at home when she got there. After an hour’s wait, she got back home. She walked back home, imagining all she would say to him when she laid eyes on him.

It was a month later before she believed herself up to the task of going to his house again. This time, he was at home and as soon as he let her in, he put on a fresh shirt, sending her the message that he was getting ready to go out.

“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, eyeing him.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out?”

“Did you have plans of going out or did my presence here just precipitate that desire?”

“What do you want, Esther?”

“How about an explanation as to why you have refused to answer any of my calls?”

Her presence there was irritating him. He knew how to get rid of her and he’d probably need to use that knowledge but he wanted her to get angry enough and leave. Let the burden of their breakup be on her and not him.

“I was busy.” He answered. He looked at her. She was wearing flats as usual. She suddenly seemed so uninteresting compared to Pokua.

“Doing what?” she interrupted his musings. He knew how much she hated one worded answers and it seems today, for some reason he wanted her to get angry. She suspected what his reason was and she had no intention of making things easier for him.

“Working.”  He answered. She pretended not to know this. She started to congratulate him, just to keep up with the pretense but as soon as she opened her mouth to talk he interrupted her.

“Esther, we need to talk.” Well, isn’t that just original. ‘We need to talk’ like hell!!!

“This isn’t working.”

“What isn’t working, George?” oh God! This isn’t happening to her. She is not ‘that girl’ a guy says that to. Outwardly, the anger she was trying to hold in check was getting to be a bit too much than she expected. This wasn’t how she had thought things would work out but it seemed it was already too late to do much except go through the next few minutes without losing any more of her self esteem than she’d already lost.

George had been in a number of similar situations and somehow, the girls always ask who the other woman is. Right now, he felt very protective of Pokua and he hoped for Esther’s own sake that she doesn’t direct her anger at her. She might just find out how deep his feelings for Pokua really go if she asks the magic question: “who is she?”

“Our relationship isn’t working.” He answered.

“Our relationship isn’t working? Really? That is the best breakup line you could come up with?” she asked. And that made him angry. That condescending attitude of hers.

“Yes, Esther. It’s the best I could do. I’m seeing someone else.” His ego just overruled his need to protect Pokua and he threw that piece of info at her.

After he said that, tears quickly pooled in her eyes, threatening to fall but she would be damned if she let him see her cry, when he was the one in the wrong. She gathered anger around her like a cloak and shielded her face with an indifferent smile. She seemed to be saying: ‘this is as far as I let you come close’. He could see she had shut him out. He didn’t really care, he just wanted to be free of her.

“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……………….  

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! *************