Orange And Purple

Sequence 1

Perhaps the kind of mountain I should have climbed with him was one with no peak in view, perhaps even a peakless mountain, just going on and on nonstop. But I chose the one whose peak I had envisioned deep within my breast, the one from whose beginning I had seen its end and perhaps again that may have been the best. But as I sat across Femi at the restaurant, I couldn't help feeling guilty. Guilty of abandoning the man I had walked down the aisle with, amidst besotting smiles written across our faces and promises of eternal love and happiness. Orange and purple were my favourite colours and the sun complimented my day by painting the sky with them; just like it did the day I met him.
Our meeting was one of a kind. I was really late for work that morning and my car engine had started to act up; today of all days. My boss had called twice and on each occasion, barked loudly into the phone that I barely heard what he said. I wondered why a big boss like him can't have two assistants, not that I've thought about it until now.
I was bent over the open bonnet doing God-knows-what. The only things I knew about my car were refuel, change the engine oil and give to car washer to do his job. As I was bent over it, I was convinced that I was doing more damage than good.
I took out my handbag to get my phone and place a call to a friend and forgot it on top of the car. That instant, a man came out from the hotel opposite my house clutching a brown paper bag. He looked at me with an expression that said 'what on earth is she trying to do?' "Do you need any help? He asked. No. because I'm sweating my guts out over this damned vehicle for nothing, I said in my mind. "Yes please", I managed to say in a voice as calm as possible. "Let me". I watched him stare at it for a second, then bend down and push and knock something and asked me to start the car. I did and it choked back to life. With a sigh of relief and another frantic call from my boss, I hurriedly said my thanks, closed the bonnet and veered off to work. I didn't notice when the handbag fell with a soft thump on the ground. At the office I almost went nuts when I discovered I had lost it. Needless to say I just sulked at the computer screen all day.
Sequence 2
A knock on my door that evening met me cursing and swearing at it. I was already seething with anger. My tap water simply went on a break without warning and as I was out fixing it, my food got badly burnt. Out of frustration I pulled it out with my bare hands and got rewarded with scalds. As if the devil was out for me that day, mom called, again, to complain about dad's deteriorating-despair-turned illness. Saying she needs more money to keep him in the hospital. Am I the one that killed Wale? Or is dad the only one grieving for the loss of a loved son? Why are you taking it out on me? He was my only brother, remember? I barked into the phone.
I was just filled with an unreasonable anger at everything and nothing. These past few days have been series of bugs here and there. Queries at the office, mishaps at home. Maybe God has set the devil on me like he did Job in the bible (surprising I remembered that story). Nonsense, my mind retorted, God doesn't need the devil to prove how horrible a sinner you are; it was crystal clear. And I was just about to prove to this intruder disturbing the peace.
I yanked the door open and shouted "what?" between clenched teeth. "Hi", he said. "Yes, and I said what?" "I think you forgot your handbag when you were rushing off to wherever you going to this morning", he said with a little smile. "Oh yes. Thank you". He was about to say something when I took it and slammed the door shut. In that instant, a wave of guilt swept through me. What has this man done to you, queried my mind. I opened the door and called after him. "I'm sorry about my attitude, I wasn't myself". "It's alright", he replied, smiling. "And I hope you don't mind, I had to look into the bag to find where you lived because...you know...I'm not supposed to do that". "It's equally okay with me", I replied now smiling and relaxed. "And I also stumbled on your write-up regarding the travails of single mothers in a country like ours", he said gesturing with his hands. "I think it's nice and I'd like to see it published". Wow! My boss of all people said it was trash and that it would never see the light of the day, I thought aloud, and here was a man who thought it was great to be published. "I'm also an activist of some kind myself", he continued, I volunteer every weekend to help rape victims get through the psychological and emotional trauma they go through". "I will like to..." I was just staring at him. His spoken English was sweet, and his dressing; he certainly has a flair for fashion. Look at the chest..."maybe we can talk about that then", he was still talking. "Oh yes, we will", I said with complete innocence and understanding. "Well then, I'll come by tomorrow at four if that's okay with you". I held my breath. Did I just say yes to a date with a man I barely knew? Yes stupid, my mind snapped. "And pardon me, I'm Jimi by the way. I already know yours... from the ID card I found inside the bag. See you tomorrow then". With that, he entered his car and left. Kemi! What just happened? You just got yourself a date, my mind retorted.
Sequence 3
Tomorrow saw me at a table in a posh eatery with Jimi. We had gone through the formalities and had drinks. And like it is said, first dates are interviews, we started. "Tell more about yourself that I don't already know from going through the handbag", he quizzed with glitz in his eyes. "Hold on! Did you rummage through my bag like inside and out under the pretext of looking for an address"? "Not really", he replied amused. "But it was like a jungle in there. I had to search everywhere to find something that said something about an address". "Okay, why don't you tell me what you know and I'll tell you what you don't know". "Fair enough. You know a lady's bag says a lot if not all about her. It's like you carry your world wherever you go", he said looking directly at me. "For instance, two photos evidenced your family of four; mom, dad, your brother and you. You are from Abeokuta, graduated from Chief Ajimobi Adesina University two years ago. You work at Global Resources Lagos and is single. You have writing as a hobby and a skill as well as swimming and travelling. You are 24 year old. Your bank with...", "okay I get it," I interjected. He beamed at me with an expression that said 'Yeah! I'm the man'. "You were really busy with that bag", I said hiding the feeling of slight alarm as to what was inside that bag that wasn't supposed to be privy to anyone else. "Well that's basically all about me unless you want to know more in which case I'll hand you my handbag to go through again". He laughed pleasantly showing off a set of not-so-white teeth. "What about you? I don't know anything aside your name". "Too bad I don't have a handbag for you to go through", he said smiling. I'm the Accountant at Ginex Bank here in Lagos. I already told you I volunteer every weekend at Victim Support Foundation. I graduated from London school of Business five years ago and have since been...my mind wandered off again. He was giving me a marvellous rendition of his life. I loved the way his Adam's apple moved slowly in and out, up and down as he spoke softly. I loved the way he carved his beard and moustache giving it a touch of finesse. His lips were full and the skin of his face bore no scars or acne. Was in falling in love with this man? No way! I told my mind. Stupid! You just love denying the truth even if it stares you in the face. Okay. For the sake of argu... "And here we are", I heard him say as he sipped his drink. "Oh yes, that was quite interesting. Are you married?" I asked and immediately felt stupid. "No. I just told you I was single". "Oh it must have slipped through my mind". Like hell it did, chirped my mind.
I sat there with him and we swept through a whole range of issues, but dwelt majorly on poems. He was also a poet. I also loved poems, especially love poems. It was like two close friends having a nice time together. We laughed and chucked and giggled like teenage girls. I was relaxed and very comfortable with him, a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time. Before I left that day, I was the one that asked for his phone number. All the way home my heart was as calm as ever. It had understood that something has changed about it. It was trying to share and connect its rhythmic beating with that of another not so close by. Our phone conservation that night was nothing short of heart-warming. My heart increased its beating immediately it recognized his voice. I slept that night and dreamt about Santa Claus.
The next few weeks saw us in different places in town having good times and sharing our lives and trust. My skin glowed with tint. A look on my face would revitalise the most miserable and disheartened soul. I heard D'banj's "I'm on top of the world" and I knew he was talking to me. I had found the one who would fill the emptiness within the cage of my ribs and play the strings of my heart. I felt this love would last forever, like the legendary "happy ever after". All my days became sunny with shades of orange and purple. I can bet the great heights bore the same colour the day he fashioned a black box from the air-he had told me that being with me made him a magician. I didn't doubt-opened it as he went on one knee "Kemi, will you marry me?" It felt like that glorious moment when it remained five seconds to the end of a basketball game and the player from the losing team sends the ball sailing and everyone is staring open-mouthed in perfect suspense and fervent anticipation of the outcome of that single throw when it sails gracefully into the womb of the opponent's basket and then there is this tumultuous uproar of joy and jubilation and then cries of loss-only in my case it was a cry of joy, of fulfilment. My mouth refused to form words to say yes. I just nodded as I sank into his arms and held him like it was my life I was hugging as I was silently listened to his heartbeat thumping softly against his chest and now against mine.
Sequence 4
It was a year later that he got promoted and transferred to another branch. I moved with him. I joined the editorial crew of a local newspaper and started living out my dreams, doing what I was happy doing in spite of the lucrative job he got for me; he supported me wholeheartedly. I was overflowing with his love. If love was food, I'd never go hungry as long as Jimi is alive. He loved me too much. I just loved him too. Fresh flowers never ceased to adorn my table and exude nature's fragrance.
But the feeling we shared or rather the love he gave was something else. We seldom argued, but when we did, I was the one howling and threatening fire and brimstone. He was always pacifying even when he doesn't know what he is pacifying me for. He gave in to everything I wanted without my as much as raising my voice or asking twice. He pets me like a baby and was never wanting in gifts. We went on holidays overseas at my mere request. When the food was just too salty or over spiced with pepper even to be given to the dogs, he would rant about how it was the best food he was eating since that week. When I deliberately decided not to cook, he said he understood how tired I must be.
Was he God? Is this how love is supposed to be or have I been eating the sweetening agent on top of cake forgetting about the cake? It was like I had reached the peak of the mountain and was slowly descending it, heads down. His 'love' increased day by day while mine decreased at the same pace. The flowers suddenly started wilting overnight, exuding the smell of a dying soul. His kisses began to feel cold and clammy. I no longer looked forward to those nights when I'll take off my undies and throw at him in his study and he'll pounce on me like a hungry lion, devouring every inch of me. He continued to play the strings of my heart but my soul wasn't dancing anymore. Suddenly I discovered the sky no longer flashed the orange and purple colours for me. It had just turned grey and blue. That was when I met Femi.
He was a delivery man for Sial Express. The first thing I noted about him was his confident and calculated gait and handsomeness. He was about the same age as Jimi. I felt the temptation to follow him as he left my small office after I took delivery of a parcel from my boss who was on vacation in Greece; but my mind won't hear of it. What about Jimi, it queried. Are you that gullible and cheap? Oh Jimi! Where has the essence of our souls sipped to? Why has the rhythm of your heartbeat gone out of concord with mine? Why has the milk and honey in the fertile lands of our hearts stopped flowing? Why has your fingers become unable to play the melodious tunes I once danced to? What has blocked the sunshine of our love under whose orange and purple rays we basked in? I know your love, like a hot knife slicing through butter searches for my soul, to be in resonance once more with it, but like a man clad in an invisibility cloak, I seem to be elusive, even against my will.
Sequence 5
Within two months of first meeting Femi, the chemistry between us was fizzing. He was very romantic and full of surprises, just like Femi. But he was a man who knew how to love like a man, like a human being. I went out of my way to keep our relationship as discreet as possible. Femi wasn't married. He was a divorcee of three years. So when he wasn't working, we were together. My estranged husband was as loving as ever; but lately he seems to be moody and broody. My house looked gloomy like a huge thick blanket of despair covered it, blocking out the sunlight. He still does everything he did in the beginning: flowers, gifts, clothes and all, daily. He even started bringing me breakfast on the bed. But he didn't look like he was still alive. On my own part, I was bubbling with energy which I didn't care to share with him. Was I that wicked? I once vowed to die beside this man if need be. Why and how has the table been turned so sudden? I know I'm in love with someone else, but does that mean Jimi has got to go to hell?
He was sitting up on the bed when I got home from yet another date with Femi. He looked like a ghost of himself. I stared at him. He stared back with eyes that had sunken back into their sockets. "Who is he?" he asked, barely moving his lips. "What do you mean?" I asked, surprised at the calm tone of my voice. "The man you have been seeing", he said still barely moving his lips. My mouth just popped open. "You know I love you", he said, this time more lively. "And I'll never leave you. Does he love you as much as I do?" I remained rooted to the spot like my feet was forcefully adhered to the ground and surprisingly without any feeling of remorse. He came forward and kissed me and was asleep in bed in seconds.
This was more than mere love and he was more than a mere man. Why does relationships have to be this way? We hurt those who love us and love those hurt us and endure it and call it love. Or is it one of the mysteries that the Man Upstairs has put into the world to lead mortal men astray?
Jimi woke up later than usual. He stared at me with sunken eyes as I stood in front of the full length mirror adorning my face with extreme scrupulousness. He stared for a few minutes and then got up and took me in his arms squeezing dear breath out of me. I could still perceive the familiar smell of his skin. He released me, staring into my eyes. He looked like a camp fire that was dying slowly as the fire woods are removed one after the other. I was the remover and I know I was just being too inconsiderate and unfair to him, but the will to turn back has eluded me. We were both on the road to happiness and fulfilment together. I had abandoned him and a taken a different path, but like a railway track built across the road, I had put him in jeopardy. "Would you be gone for long?" he asked with a voice devoid of any warmth and confidence. "Not too long" I said avoiding his eyes and wondering why he will ask such an obvious question. He knew where I was about to go and he was completely cool about it; or was he? I had long since disconnected from him to know how he felt. We were twin nuts living in the same house but do not touch each other. We had gone miles apart. My heart had flown to Femi who had my wings broken so I can't fly away.
I'm afraid he might die if I leave him completely. But that would be better and less torturous than watching his thread of days thin down to nothingness. I think that's what I'll do. I don't see any hope for us, because like a single candle light burning at the hour just before dawn, his soul searches for me, but I had become one with the darkness. I left him that morning. The sun was blazing when I left, and it was rich in orange and purple colours.