Short Stories

Always tell the truth – Kabi’s diary

Part one here

***

“I have my big sister’s baby shower can’t make it” I blurted out without much thought.

He went silent, probably thinking of a plan B

“Oh babe, no, don’t be like that, I know Njoki’s baby shower is on the 26th hun, I saw the poster on IG, next weekend is the 19th. Come on Jaber, I need you there, we can talk and have a great weekend.

-(major cringe) Why did I say that! I rub my temples to relax, ‘always tell the truth’ I could hear mum say and what does he mean need?

“Look Odera, you’re a nice guy and we aren’t exclusive so you can do and be with who you want…”

“ Then let me come up and explain, I am at the parking lot, don’t freak out, Shiru sent me the info…”

“What do you mean you’re down stairs, she did what?!”

“sweetie just lemme come up for five minutes and we can talk”

He hang up and my brain went moot, I dialed Shiru’s number,

“WHAT DID YOU DO!”

“aiii babe mbona unashout, what have I done?’

“You gave Odera my address?”

“Yes I did you kept saying you missed him jana when you were lit, we had to stop you from calling him. You even used my phone to dial his number”

“Oh” (ooooppppsss)

“He called this morning asking who I was and I got clever saying you should work it out and gave him your address.”

“But babe…”

“ah ah by the way wacha hizo, you need this and you will thank me later”

Note to self, get new friends who don’t give my address to strangers who could be pathological emotional manipulators who I may spend years in therapy getting out of my system!

Ding dong

“HE’S HERE”

“Go get him! And remember to smile and don’t slouch it makes you look timid and you’ve been doing it since you know who went with another mami! Ride that stallion babe!”

“Ride? Are you Mad!”

Ding dong

***

My house is a mess, my purse is on my shoe rack, its contents spilled over, living room cushions are on the floor. There’s no light in the room emphasizing how tiny it is and there’s no time to draw the curtains. I rushed over to get my gown and then headed for the door, thank God I had taken off my makeup and attempted to moisturize hopefully I don’t look like I had mixed several gallons of a brew I couldn’t remember, because I felt like it.

Ding Dong 

“Hi” I said grabbing the door open attempting to smile.

“Hi, bad time” Came the all too familiar voice

“Yeah I wasn’t expecting anyone here, ever”    

Fidgeting with my gown, I noticed how beautiful he was; handsome the tall and dark kind but also beautiful in a disorienting way, his soft smile, his upright posture, his awkwardly long hands and well-manicured finger nails (there has to be a woman responsible for this). There was something new every time I saw him and I constantly had to stop myself from staring. A polo shirt a size too small hugged his buff chest and big guns, some beige corduroy pants that looked like they were from a 90’s music video, an unbearably golden and over decorated Rolex watch and sneakers that could pay fees for a poor child rode his gigantic feet. He smelt spoilt and arrogant, if I knew better he was wearing the Ambre Nuit By Christian Dior a show off to mark his place in a capitalist society.

“I brought coffee” He said revealing a java bag from behind “Shiru said it’s the only way you’ll let me in”

“Did she now… come in.”

“No interrogation of why I am here?”

“You can leave and save us both the misery instead”

chukles “well I didn’t expect you to jump with joy”

I grabbed the bag and released the door holding my robe. He walked in towering over me filling the tiny apartment with himself without some semblance of modesty. I suddenly felt very  violated.

“I’ll get this to the kitchen and bring some plates”

I squealed diving into the kitchen and it suddenly hit me that a man was in my house. Something that had not happened since my ‘boys are bad lesson’ at 13. How could I have someone who admitted he’s seeing other women while taking me to dates and calling me Jaber! I mean how many are we? Maybe he’s here to make a move then dump me and move on to the next! Or I’ll be one of those widows who fights for something when he is dead alongside his clan of wives. Why would Shiru do this to me when she knows I have another situation at work?

“Are you okay?” He was standing at the pantry just next to my kitchen with my head hung towards the window.

“Yes I am,” I stood up straight

“Shiru mentioned you had a long night, there’s some mara moja in there it might help”

“Thanks, you don’t have to stand here I’ll be out with some plates and cups, the coffee is labelled right?”

“a double latte for you and a cappuccino for me written on the lid”

“Great I’ll warm it and I’ll be out in a sec..”

“Okay beautiful,”

Serving coffee for a man in my house was weird, it felt invasive sharing the space, it was my house but he had already found the remote and switched to a sports channel I didn’t know existed watching a rugby game from a while back. I awkwardly handed him his coffee and placed the slice of cake at the table, it looked spectacular and I hated the idea of having to share it. Then I settled on my reading sit and watched him blow his cup and sip his coffee setting my ovaries dauntingly a blaze.

-Focus woman!

“Kabi, did you take the pain killers?” He asked bringing me back to reality.

“I will, you have five minutes to explain”

“haha, yes you have a cozy space here.”

He said sitting up and muting the television, he rested his mug on his knee looking at me.

“What Freddie said wasn’t wrong but the delivery wasn’t right either. We had only been out on 6 dates and hadn’t really had the conversation. It didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in pursuing this further, I just..”

“And what was the right delivery? I did ask if you were single.”

“Being single doesn’t mean I don’t have women to meet my needs”

“Your needs?”

“Yes I don’t need to be in a relationship to get some action, it’s an understood arrangement”

I wasn’t surprised, being timid didn’t prevent the reality of Nairobi. I still didn’t know why I was offended but I was. He felt dishonest in his honesty

“I’m just being honest…”

“Considering I heard this “wrong delivery” from your friend a month into the kalongo we were playing I don’t think the meaning of the word is quite right you can keep you options open as you head out” I said walking to the kitchen, untouched coffee in my hand. For all I know it could be drugged to add me to that list of options.

She was mad at him, and he loved it. Made him want her more, she looked beautiful with her natural hair twist outs and make up free skin, he liked her this way, with no makeup or no wig on just as the African ancestors wanted their women. She was the kind of lady men thoughtlessly went to war for, her glistening skin made him ache to hold her, her satin gown did a lot for her body, he couldn’t bear to see her in the kitchen when she leaned over. Her brown eyes oozed of kindness, something he didn’t see often.

“Jaber, I didn’t mean to hurt you with my options open, it’s just, I didn’t think I was this into you after a few dates and was looking to see where this goes. Give me another change mrembo, we can make this work”

Should Kabi give him a chance? Can he stay without his options? Let me know what you think on my socials: Instagram here like Facebook Page here or comment below. Don’t forget to subscribe to my YouTube channel here. For inquiries info@glynismaina.co.ke Featured image by Dom Aguiar on Unsplash

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