Your Decision Lost The Ring – S02/E01 – FAUZIA
The pursuit for love makes a pronounced story, so is the loss of it – put the blame on Shakespeare
(Recap previous episode of Fauzia HERE)
On my way to the Marina Mall, I receive a text from Kessie that was rather alarming. It’s as if he senses my vulnerability every darn time. It reads, “I’m praying my senses are wrong today, because for some reason, I already feel heartbroken. I’ll just keep nurturing DENIAL until you confirm it”
There, I knew my work would be easier, but that’ll be insensitive on my part.
Within 9years of our ‘luscious business’, I finally learned a thing or two about standing close to the line: I couldn’t stay there forever. It’s either I back way up or take a step to any direction at all. The tension in our sexual love matter was too intense to just do nothing, so I decided to risk placing my foot on the other side. I opted for believable denial of some sort. If he took offense at what I said, I wanted to be able to claim innocence with my vulnerability – he did.
In his defense, “we’ve been here too many times to know when we’re taking that step for real”
“We weren’t careful this time. Ntelabi knows”
“What has that got to do with us? Wait… you were dating him?”
As I said, I’m a one man kind of girl, and it was safer one didn’t know about the other. Oh wow! I sound like a player. It would’ve jeopardized my ‘relationship’ with Kessie. He would’ve been green-eyed and too careful with me; I didn’t want that.
Messed up, right?
Perhaps passion has a way of shoving guilt aside.
In all my life, I’ve never seen a man so frustrated, fuming, in pain and upset at the same time. It was believable – it was in his eyes, and he couldn’t hide it. I was ashamed. I lied to him. I lied to myself. I lied so well for years that I lived the lie like it was true.
Now here we are, standing together on the other side of the line. I had some elusive sense of the impending experience – strangers… friends… best friends… lovers… strangers again, only that this looming consequence ends right where it started not to repeat itself.
I took a U-turn at the Airport Junction with the intention to avoid meeting with him. Jammed in traffic at the Tetteh- Quarshie roundabout, I edited the text message for the 5th time. A WhatsApp message wouldn’t have communicated my message in its intensity so I opted for SMS and hit the ENTER button.
He kept calling back, and my heart skipped innumerable beats and yet the phone was on SILENCE. I felt miserable. I could think of no other way.
On my way to Ntelabi’s, I met his sister who joined the ride since she was on her to visit him too.
“I’m definitely stealing this dress. Call me when you can’t find it in your closet”, she humorously commented.
She’s always had an uncooked sense of humor, and her sanguine nature wasn’t a ward off, at least.
“Thank you, Fauzia. You’re such a blessing to us”
“Doing this for my brother. Our parents can’t show enough gratitude, it’s priceless”
“Girl to girl… I know he’s my blood and everything, but in our part of the world these days, women pride in that ‘social status’ and the trail of pregnancy and childbirth. I am expecting”
“Wow! Congrats. But what exactly is the question?”
“You know, his thingy…”
“Thingy? What thingy?”
“Okay! Are you going to adopt or you’re actually okay with his feebleness”
“Feebleness? What are you talking… ah! Wait! What?!!”
It is fair to conclude that in some sense, love is just like living in such a heightened state that accuracy and awareness are vital.
Should I return Kessie’s calls?