CHRISTMAS DATING
Episode 7
.
.
.
Music is sweet to the ears. It is scintillating sometimes. But the sweetness depends on the musician and his instrumentation.
Sweet Jojo was my musician by every standards. His way of loving and caring for his woman was his instrument. And it gave every sweet vibe that one can imagine.
You know that feeling when you’re so in love with someone that you become twins with them, so much so that you blend into each other? You become siblings. You forget your weaknesses and focus on the sweetness you both share in the present. That was how I still felt all the while.
Jojo was that kind of musician — the one who makes you float on the wings of love. He made the kind of music that tingled the ears and tickled your nerves, the one who knows when to pitch the high notes and when to whisper in sweet melodies.
So when you stand in the middle of a long bridge, on one end is everything that true love defines to you; your musician, on the other end is the decision to let go of this true love because of an uncertain act, what do you do?
Go back to your love begging for your forgiveness? Walk straight down without looking back?
I didn’t know which one to do. I wanted to make a decision, but I was weak, too brittle in heart to rush into conclusions that I didn’t want Jojo anymore.
How could I have forgotten in a brief while, moments when he would tiptoe into the kitchen, hold my waist loosely and let the hot breath from his nostrils warm my neck? How he would whisper softly “I love you a million times and more.” How he would tell me a short joke about cooking, and at the same time kiss me here, there and every other place he wished.
How would I have forgotten that it was this same guy who tickled me every single moment he passed by my side? Apart from playing with my hair, tickling me seemed to be his next best thing. That this sweetness in human structure played like an infant, and made you fall for it. Jojo was a playful man. A baby in manly body.
I didn’t want to imagine that I would let go of a man whose baby-boy voice I longed to hear every single day of my life. I couldn’t help the imagination of having my sweet Jojo sleeping in the arms of another woman. I knew I would fall sick and never recover.
As I watched him hug the pillow tightly on my bed that morning, I let my mind wander far away into all the memories we had shared together. How he would stop by at my office to joke about him looking for so and so lady — me of course — how he would buy me lots of rose flowers. How he preferred to pick me at the office after work. How he called me “Sugar” — like one who had lost his voice a long time ago.
I woke him up after I had made breakfast that morning. I still saw that guilt in his eyes. He couldn’t look into my face, just like a toddler who knew what he had done wrong. That was my Jojo. He was always truly sorry when he did something wrong.
Just then I remembered one time when he had cracked a joke about me being lazy because of a little work I did at the office. It made me upset. I didn’t like his use of words. And I told him straight to his face. He mellowed down. He was sorry. Truly sorry. That was how sorry he was now.
“Baby, you have to forgive yourself,” I said to him as I held his hand. I wanted to kiss him but he wouldn’t let me. Then I realized how much he wanted to talk. He wanted to say everything the way it was.
“I’m very hungry,” he said. “Can I have some food?” He was asking like one who had just visited his big uncle for the first time in his life.
“Go take a shower. Table is set. You can eat all you want after a shower.” I said that as if it didn’t matter.
He held my hand as I made for the door, and caressed it softly. I knew what he meant. I understood what he was saying to me at that moment. He was assuring me that he still loved me so much. That nothing could ever come in between us. I smiled and returned the gesture.
He told me everything; how he met Linda, the girl at his house the day I returned from Abuja. They used to be lovers. He had loved her with the same energy with which he loved me.
I enjoyed the moment when he told me his love story with Linda. I didn’t show it, tho’. I didn’t want him to feel safe and forgiven already, even though I knew I had forgiven him. I just wanted him to earn it.
Linda pretended to be in love with him. But she was not. All she wanted was his money. She began to act strangely towards him. She took him for granted. Always scolded him for the most ridiculous reasons, stayed out late at night. She suddenly became another woman.
Then he mentioned something that left me bewildered. I didn’t believe my ears when he said it. I tried to imagine it, but I couldn’t. And guess what?
They were engaged already. She slept over at his place that night. And in the middle of pleasure and desire, in bed, she said the words without giving it a second thought. . .“Joseph, I’m no longer in love with you.”
Jojo said his joystick immediately went numb. The desire and passion in his nerves melted. And he pulled out with a coldness hovering over his shoulders. He said he wished he had heard wrongly. But she was serious. She had fallen out of love with him.
Jojo was teary. His eyes were filled with tears. I felt for him deeply. I didn’t like to see him like that, but I wanted him to connect the dots. I wanted to know how Linda came back into his life.
He already walked out of the relationship one year and eight months before the birthday party where we first met. Linda came back wanting him again. She had something else in mind. She was up to something. That was what Jojo thought.
“But you were having fun together.” I snapped.
“I’m sorry. Please believe me. I was trying to save my face.”
“Your face?” I asked surprised. “Save your face? From what?”
“She has. . .” he held his breath. “She. . .” his breath paused again. Then I knew he needed his inhaler.
“Where is it?” I jumped from the sofa, pacing around while expecting him to point me in the direction of the inhaler.
I watched him take another long breath, so long I had thought it would be his last. I ran into my room. I was searching everywhere. I was breathing fast now. I prayed for God to help me find the inhaler. I searched and searched but the stuff wouldn’t just show up.
I ran out to the sitting room again. Jojo was gasping heavily. I was lost. I began to cry. I didn’t know whether to leave him to go get an inhaler or stay with him. But I ran out as fast as I could, to the pharmacy two streets away. I didn’t stop. I left my ATM card there. I ran back to the house as fast as I could.
Jojo was taking his last breath when I held the inhaler in his mouth. He sighed in relief when he had had enough to ease his breathing.
I slumped into the sofa, breathing like I had just finished a sprint. I went over and knelt by his side when I had regained enough strength.
Jojo was alive. In my arms. I was happy. I forgave him totally. I caressed his hair until he slept in my arms. It was just three of us; a musician, his music and his lover.
I covered him with a blanket when he had slept. No matter how you want to see it, I still loved my Jojo that much. I slept by his side and dreamt about him till the next morning. I wondered why a woman like myself would throw away true love when it was right within her reach.
To be continued. . .
— Michael Ituma