Loneliness
FICTION
Loneliness
Okong’o sat on his three-seater sofa, the one with hard cushions that felt like they could last a century, and ate a slice of bread with peanut butter. The peanut butter was one of the few things his ex-girlfriend had left behind.
He felt a strange satisfaction as he spread it on the bread. At least I have this peanut to thank her for, he thought. Women only think they are the ones who deserve gifts and things. Selfish beings. Don’t they know we also love receiving gifts?
Outside, the light tropical rain fell steadily. Inside, the only light came from the blue glare of his smart TV. He navigated to YouTube, looking for a link from The Sun about the tactics Manchester United used to win against Aston Villa.
He felt sour. The thought that Ruben Amorim had failed to motivate a team that could challenge for the title irked him. Now Arsenal was running away with the league, a hard pill to swallow. If only I were in Europe, he thought, this Amorim guy would be in great trouble.
He picked up his phone and opened Facebook. He had a lot of messages from his flirts. He smirked. If only I could get even one of these women.
The first message was from Shamira: “You muted me after I asked for help with KES 300. It is okay. Just know that things will never be the same between us!”
Agitated, Okong’o replied: “I did not have that amount then. You cannot just ask for money out of the blue and expect to get it.”
The next message was from Atis: “When was your last kiss?”
Why would she ask about this? Okong’o wondered. He replied: “About a month or two ago.”
The next was from Deborah: “That is the question I was waiting for. I am married.”
I already knew you were married. Okong’o smirked and typed: “That’s great. Congrats. However, your status still does not hinder me from seeing the beautiful woman you are.”
The last message was from Grace: “How is your day, dear?”
He smiled. “It’s been busy. I supervised exams the whole morning and taught the whole afternoon.”
Just as Okong’o was about to check the friend suggestion section, Atis replied: “It seems you are in a relationship.”
“Why?” Okong’o asked bluntly.
“Since you kissed a month ago.”
“Does that even mean anything?”
“I have taken about five years without kissing. It seems there is something you are not telling me!”
Okong’o was not about to indulge in another female drama. There is nothing to explain to her.
“It seems you have a lot of insecurity issues. You find it hard to trust people,” he typed, quite agitated. She is married and acting up as if I am her prized possession. She gets to have fun with her hubby while expecting me not to have a partner. He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled sarcastically.
Then he asked her a question: “How do you make love to your hubby if you do not kiss? I believe kissing is a prerequisite to making love. How do you just start the act without kissing?”
“Sincerely, I have not kissed in the last five years,” Atis responded desperately.
“When did you last make love?” Okong’o inquired eagerly.
“About a month ago,” she responded.
“As for me, I do not think I can make love without kissing. I would consider sex without kissing, possibly, as rape. We express true affection with a kiss. When someone cannot kiss you, especially your partner, it raises a lot of questions.”
“I promise, when we meet, I will kiss you. I will do it for you,” Atis replied desperately. “I stopped kissing because my first love hurt me a lot. He left me after making me pregnant. That incident changed me. I stopped falling in love. But, as for you, I do love you.”
Okong’o stared, stunned. If she has not fallen in love in the past, then what type of marriage is she having? What makes her think that she loves me? Why would she love me if she has not loved her husband in the last five years, yet it seems her husband is the one who picked her up when her first love left?
Okong’o did like Atis. He enjoyed talking to her. She was a woman who always took the initiative. She would ask questions and give responses to keep the conversation alive.
However, a significant problem emerged a few days later when Okong’o casually befriended Atis’s sister on Facebook.
That afternoon, a message choked Okong’o’s phone: “You are now talking to my sister. I cannot engage in such a relationship. Have her.” He stared, unsure how to respond. What is she talking about?
Another message from Atis read: “Men! Haki Men.”
“What are you talking about?” Okong’o inquired politely.
“Are you sure you don’t know what I am talking about?” Atis asked, sounding agitated.
Okong’o responded assuredly: “I do not know what you are talking about. I am not God to know the things going on in your mind.”
“You are seducing my sister and me at the same time... have her... we will only be friends now. Nothing more!”
“Have you ever introduced me to your sister? I do not even know your sister.”
The conversation went quiet.
I am tired of this drama from women. Okong’o dropped his phone, leaned back into the hard cushions of his sofa, and turned his attention back to the TV. He loved Indian Romantic Dramas. This time, he chose Ponniyin Selvan.
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