His Scandalous Bride

18: Letter 6

December 12th, 2006

I know. You won't read my letter. I know but still, I can't help myself. Do you remember the day we met for the first time? Lately, that memory keeps me company; the memory of our first day together.

Full disclosure: that day, I sincerely thought you were a crazy person. Don't laugh. But seriously, who comes to a party to sleep? Yet there you were, sleeping comfortably in the seat at the far end of the hall completely unperturbed by the loudness of the music or the shrieks and shrills of people attending the dinner party. I keep wondering about the fate which had made me notice you that late September night.

Was it because you were breathtaking in your white kaftan and Black embroidered cap with those shades covering your eyes and your hands crossed like a model? Or was it because you hadn't reacted after I had made sure to be seen by you knowing full well you, like all the men I've met so far would likely find me irresistible? We both know I was absolutely gorgeous those days and I wouldn't shut up about it.

You didn't react. I had walked in front in all my glory; black perfectly fitted gown in a 36-24-35 body with a 5'9"height coupled with a red stiletto in the same shade as my lips, and you didn't react. I was a beauty. I know. Every knows. Everyone agrees. Except you. Why? I was giving you all the green lights and you hadn't reacted. The truth of that had bite me to my very core. You were the first man I had ever shown interest in my twenty-two years of existence and you hadn't even cared. I couldn't just let it go. I was rather pissed. And that was why I had sat across from you and strike a conversation. I was sure it was because you were shy or something that was why you couldn't take my hint. Why else would you have shades on in a hall lighten only by neon lights? It doesn't make sense.

My voice had done nothing either to make you give up those stupid, despite beautiful Rayburn shades and feeling a little insecure for the very first time in my life, I stood and was about to leave when you shifted a little and the shades fall off and just like that, a stupid revelation. You were asleep all that time. It was quite the conundrum you had put me in as I stood there deciding whether to wake you or not while wondering what kind of a person would come to a party to sleep.

Not much had changed ever since that night. You made me curious. And I loved that about you. I love that you were simple yet complicated. I love that you were humble yet arrogant. I love that you were smart yet oblivious. I love that you are a perfect contradiction

What did you say to me that night?

"I'm sorry. Do we know each other?" That was the first words you said to me as soon as your eyes opened and fell on me but just as soon, they began to flicker like a lightbulb obviously still laden with the honey dew of sleep and just like in a dream, you went on, "I'm sorry but can you please leave? I haven't slept for days. You can leave a note on my phone on whatever it was you wanted to tell me and I promise I will get back to you as soon as possible. The password is 234600. Thank you!" And the end. Nothing.

I didn't know what to make of you that night. There were a lot of emotions that passed through me as I sat there watching you sleep but the most vivid one was an ache. To possess. To protect. You were sleeping in a party and had just shared your password to a very expensive phone lying carelessly on the table with a stranger and I couldn't leave. I felt undeniably jealous. What if another woman was sitting there and not me? What if another woman occupied the space if I left? And that was how I spent that night with you despite protest from friends and admirers alike. I couldn't leave you alone. I just couldn't. Not until he showed up. . .

The man in the pictures in your gallery.

Mamman Shehu.

"He is my favorite person in the world," You had introduced him, "and she's the woman I am going to marry," you had finished, smiling after moments, which had felt like forever as I waited, and waited, and waited, to hear how it is you saw me.

I am the woman you are going to marry.

That day. Those words. That look. Those were the best times of my life. It ended too soon.

Yours,
J.Adam