MAGICAL MONDAYS WITH KREATE
At a near-shadowy corner, some guy, who looked wobbly on his feet, was kissing a girl and squeezing her bottom through her skimpy-short red dress.
I requested a glass of red wine. Getting wasted wasn’t in my agenda. ‘Time to get the party started!’ Sri called, and hit the dance floor.
I knew it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t hold it any more. I exploded into hysterical
laughter. Two tall, muscular security guards appeared, picked her up effortlessly and led her away. And then something connected with the right side of my face: moist, stinging and shocking. I jumped on my feet, fists clenched. I turned in the direction of my assailant. Her sight caused me to groan and my fists relaxed, dropping weakly to my side. It was Sumbo.
A drop of tear slid down my cheeks and I wiped it off with an arm. I nodded, and went after Tubosun. He was the last on a queue waiting to be served by a line of taxis. My pace slowed as I closed in. He was slouched, his face hidden from sight. I could tell he was still miserable. It tore my heart to know I was responsible for this.
Now, I saw the correlation between the news of Akin’s accident and the way he had responded. Again, a pang of guilt hit home for my behavior in the club. I told myself I’d try to remedy his situation. ‘I’m sorry to hear about the death of your friend.’ I paused. This was delicate ground and I had to choose my words wisely. ‘I can see how you feel responsible for her death. But the responsibility wasn’t all yours.
Now from what you’ve told me, it is safe to conclude that she was an adult, capable of making rational decisions. The fact that she didn’t consider it necessary to see a doctor after the incident suggests it was an honest mistake – one that
could have been made by anyone.’ I allowed this to sink in for effect. His head was bowed, and I wanted to hold him in my arms and kiss his sorrow away. ‘We all make mistakes, Tubosun. And I know this particular one might appear too heavy to let go, but you have to. Let it go. From what you’ve told me about her, she wouldn’t want you to lead your life this way. She would want you to move on.’
a jolt of ecstasy. I opened my eyes as his lips found mine. My body was trembling now, as the rhythms of our heart synchronized in magnetic oneness. Suddenly, I didn’t want foreplay anymore. I couldn’t wait.
‘Take me,’ I whispered. ‘Please.’
Kreate is a budding Nigerian writer with a flair for fiction. Writing for him began sometime in secondary school where he dabbled in poetry and plays. He has authored two self-published short novels.
He is a banker and lives in Surulere. Read more interesting pieces at KREATEATALE