Everything

6:00 o’clock.

He found his way home at 6:00 o’clock in the morning. He went straight to the bathroom, turned on the shower and stayed there until he heard the front door being shut.

It was the eighth time he’d done just that.

She was not counting, but who knew that every time he did it, her heart broke, a dimming of a light that wanted to shine bright. She would get to work, put on her smile and attend to clients all day. He would text once or call sometime towards the evening, “I’ll be working late.”

She would ask herself, “Working on who?” but would simply text back or answer “It’s okay love.”

Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.

She said it for every time he came home late…she would say it to herself, not to him, he did not deserve to see her break.

When she asked her friends for advice, some shook their head and then continued chatting on their phones and taking selfies. Some friends pitied her while others told her to hang in there. He was going through something and if she butted in, he would not resolve it. “If your man wants space, give it to him, or else you’ll lose him.”

So, she sat on her desk, called the florist outside their office building and asked him to wrap two roses…in brown wrapping and deliver them to his office…

One last time.

roses

A Rose for Every Season

When a woman gets to her breaking point, two things are certain; vengeance or surrender.

If anyone told you that Helen chose neither vengeance nor surrender, you would react the same way I did. You would shake your head, laugh and walk away.

If you embody certain Kenyan mannerisms you’d throw in the phrase Ghai! Wacha jokes! 

There is something beautiful about betrayal, a certain unveiling of character and actions that make life worth living. It is like watching two bulls lock horns and even though you are guaranteed the show of a lifetime, you know that at any moment the tables could be turned on you…and lastly there’s blood. Of all the magnificent colors in the world, why did blood have to be red and not silver?

So, there I was laughing when it hit me, that what Helen did is something that took not her courage, but her resolution…she did what I would never do, and that is why her story is worth telling.

PS: It’s just began, a process that I had to endure, the frustrations and pace in writing. I am pleased it’s being edited 🙂 

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