The Person Who Makes My Days Brighter

CHAPTER 8: CAUGHT BETWEEN LOVE AND A HARD PLACE

"We need to talk Marilyn," I said.

"I know." She replied. "I'll be in Nkana city getting my hair done so how about I see you after then?" "That's OK with me," I said.

"OK then. I love you."

"—I love you too. See you soon." And I hung up.

I got up off my bed and went to take a shower. I had to get a bunch of old towels and place them on the floor, up against the door, to prevent the water from getting under the door and flowing into the corridor. The absence of a shower curtain makes doing this task compulsory lest I want to add a needless chore on my plate. I have never been very good with a mop in my hands anyway so luckily for me, I don't get do chores so often here, and when I do—it's nothing extreme or over the top.

After I had gotten dressed, I went looking for my sister to let her know I'd be gone for a little while but that I would be back before supper.

"Where are you headed now?" She enquired. "Campus to see my friends and then the mall after."

My sister isn't always in my business. She likes to know what I'm up to, and I appreciate her always trying to do that. I've been living with her for a few weeks now. I'm starting to think it's something I could get used to. After I put my shoes on, I head out the door. The walk to campus takes just over 30 minutes. It would be a lot shorter if the route there was straighter but instead, you work with what you have. I don't drive a car like most of the other boys my age. It doesn't bother me, because, for one; I'm not big on driving and not that I don't see myself driving someday in the future, I mean, I have a favourite car, 'which is a 1967 Camaro SS'— but right now, I don't mind taking the bus to get from city to city or taking a long walk to get from point A to point B, and also my favourite car is an unrealistic target right now.

My girlfriend certainly doesn't mind either, she's never been one for life's finer things and neither have I. I let myself entertain this particular thought, the thought of how good my girlfriend is to me and how good it feels to realise all these things about her that make her who she is. I enjoy it despite knowing, I might not be able to think it after today... Today—everything might just change and turn sour, and I don't know how I feel about that—or anything else...

If I can be completely honest with you about what I'm about to do, I'd be lying. If I could tell you exactly how I feel, I'd be lying about that too.

You see, I don't know what I'm about to do and what effect it will have on my life. I have decided to have a conversation with my girlfriend and I don't know if it is the right call or if I'm sure about what I really want. I have spoken to the people close to me about it. They haven't been much help. They have probably gotten me a lot more confused than I was before.

I get on campus. I'm supposed to meet up with my friends. I have to wait for some of them to be done with their lectures. "You look quite uneasy today, is everything OK?" Sarah asked. I didn't feel it was necessary to answer the question in detail so I didn't. "I'm good, don't worry about it." I stuck around there for a little while before my phone rang. Marilyn called and I had to go. I had wasted enough daylight already. So I took a cab to get to the mall. She told me she was standing in front of the food court.

"It's almost been an hour." That's the first thing she says to me. I can tell she's irritated but happy to see me.

"I know—I'm sorry I'm late," I asked her if she wanted anything from the mall but she said she was fine. We talked a little as we walked up the exit road of the mall to catch a cab. The exit road is quite steep, making us walk slow but the small talk seemed to be running out of gas. Even as we sat in the backseat of the cab. The words we exchanged were very little. "So you said you wanted us to talk." She said. I nodded in agreement and suddenly the space in my throat grew tighter. I didn't know what my next words would be or if I'd be able to say them. So in- turn I said, "I'd like to know what you think about everything first before I say what I have to say." We had just gotten off the cab and paid our fares. Marilyn mentioned that she had left her sweater at the salon so we had to go and collect first, before we went to the bus terminal. As we walked, she shared with me what she was feeling and what she had been thinking about all of what was going on and ultimately that left me with more question marks than certainty—which made everything a lot harder for me.

"Wait here, I'll go in quickly and grab my sweater." She disappeared into the masses of people ahead of us. So as I stood there waiting I began to think about the year that had just passed, and everything that happened, and everything that was going to happen after today...

"What team do you play for?", My thoughts interrupted by a group of men who were sitting around drinking alcohol. "I don't," I responded. "Well, you look like a football player. You probably play football don't you?" One of them asked. He certainly looked like the most far gone out of the lot. "Yes, I do. A little." And just as one of the other men began to explain his rise and fall from greatness, Marilyn came back and it was time to leave because dusk was approaching, we didn't want her to miss the bus.

"Who were you talking to back there?"

"Just some drunk men. They said I look like a football player." I wasn't stalling. Just breaking the very thick ice.

"You do sometimes." She said. "Maybe one day, who knows." We both laughed at that thought and it was a good distraction. The kind of distraction you appreciate when there's an elephant in the room.

Two weeks ago I traveled to Nkana. I live in a neighbouring city about forty kilometres away. I had planned this all out in my head because Marilyn was finally coming home. She had been away for a while and I wanted to make sure I was there because then I'd be closer to her town, which is also just over forty kilometres from Nkana.

Many months before when all of this first came up, it seemed impossible to think that it would go badly—but finally she was home after a long time, and I had gone to see her.

I knew I still loved her and she loved me, so why did everything feel different? Could we have been that much out of sync? Or did something change and did I not let myself see it because I didn't want to believe that it did. I guess I'll never know for sure.

Why didn't you run into my arms at first sight of me?

Most breakups happen because of a lot of things. Some reasons are more common than others, like lying, cheating, the realisation that you aren't really in love with your partner anymore, or perhaps you never had been from the jump, I've seen that happen a lot. In fact—I saw it in my parents growing up. On my 7th birthday, during the party that my mother and her friends had thrown for me, my parents were arguing. They didn't always argue but this time... it was as though everything they had been holding back from each other, had finally broken through the cracks. They separated a few months after that and are now both re-married. I'd like to think that they had each been learning curves for one another, because now, they are very good friends and no one expected that. I certainly didn't.

But none of those reasons are my own. We never fought each other or anything of the sort. So when we did eventually break up, in the backseat of some cab driver's car; as he went to get changed notes, the underlying question came in... "What now?" She asked.

I answered that question in my head. We just sit here and let our hearts break. And that was the ambience for a while. After she got on her bus I waited with her until it was departure time. We talked a lot more as we waited. It almost began to feel like it did a long time ago. And just as the bus was beginning to drive off she told me that she loved me, and I said it back because I meant it. Soon she was out of sight and shortly after I was home. I spoke to my sister about everything that had happened. She reminded me of a time when I was younger, she was going through a similar ordeal. She had asked me what I thought about it and being a 10year-old who didn't know much about relationships or anything really. I told her that her intuition was all the guidance she needed. "You were such a wise kid, and I know it doesn't feel right—right now but it will get better. You will get better. Look at me."

I told her that I won't but maybe she's right. Maybe it would get better. But at that moment, it felt like I had been holding my breath for a very long time. I walked back to my room, thinking about how to make it all go away, the thoughts, the void in my chest, all of it. My eyes were done being a dam for my emotional bandwidth. The tears came running down, heavy and fast, and the stream leading down both sides of my face felt endless...