SEPTEMBER:

I paged through the classified absent-mindedly.  Eleventh week jobless, and my monthly rent is almost due.
Bella, my new landlady, had been sweet enough last month to give me an extra month to pay the bill.  Now I am in two months rent arrears, I scratched my head as numbers started doing somersaults in my mind.
I had heard Danny, her drunkard of a boyfriend drive in last night - after three weeks of being away - with his techno music blaring so loudly it could have woken up the dead.  Double-parking his trailer as he always did.
He will cause a racket for sure when he starts looking for money to buy that dreadful cheap wine.
Bella was a gentle and sweet but yet very wild and free spirit.   Something, I had learnt after leaving there for weeks, that Danny loved and hated at the same time.  She used to invite me over to her place for lasagna every now and then, but it stopped after Danny nearly knocked all my teeth out when he found me in their kitchenette sharing a plate of beef lasagna and some cheap red wine with Bella.  It wasn’t the sharing from the same plate that had got him charging like a bull, but the hot pink shorts.
“Slut!!  How can you wear our special shorts?  You giving it to him now?”  He had bellowed like a beast.  I never understood what was so special about the shorts, but I never asked.  I left quickly and locked myself in my room.
In less than twelve weeks I had lost a job, a beautiful fiancée, I was thrown out of my beautiful apartment, my car was totally written off and I hadn’t been paying my insurance company for the last ten weeks.  “What will be next,” I laughed bitterly.
I had found a bed-sit above Bella and Danny’s workshop.  It was literally a match box with one tiny high level window and about enough room to just about stretch.  It was noisy from the machinery downstairs – and sometimes from Danny’s animal gruntings - and hot – but I never dared complain as it was all I could afford.
Absent-mindedly I reached for a blade from the grass that still had fresh morning dew and bit on it.
Looking around the park I saw three kids gaily throwing a Frisbee at each other, a couple reading to each other on a blanket, two ladies power-walking, a gentleman reading the morning paper – clearly waiting for someone, a young man playing with his dog – they all looked so happy I sighed as I threw the chewed blade.
My eyes went back to the classified as I reached for my dry sandwich.  I gazed at it as if it was the last that I will ever taste.
I wondered if our neighbourhood shopkeeper, Mr. Singh would let me buy on credit one last time.  When will Mrs. Singh come back from her sister’s, I wondered.  Women are usually a lot more compassionate – and she had taken quite a liking at me.  “The skinny Rasta boy,” affectionately she called me.  Suddenly I missed her curry dishes.

OCTOBER:

I sat on the bench staring at the call box willing it to ring.  After my cell phone got disconnected, the only form of communications I had left was the call box at the park.  All my job applications had the call the call box’s number listed under my contact details.
‘Hey!  Its time for your brunch,” her name was Tunu.  She was a cheerful, fun loving girl with an infectious laugh and a smile that never left face.  Having seen a lot of my perceived structure of the world crumble recently she was just what I needed to lift my spirits.
I had desperately needed some sunlight in my life for a change and suddenly there she was.  For the first time in weeks I smiled – thought still jobless.  She was the sun in my gray winter days, the stars in my gray moonless nights. 
I couldn’t believe for being befriended by such a beautiful girl in the financial and mental state I was in. 
I had met her a week ago after having finished my dry sandwich and sat there praying to God for a miracle.
She came to the park often to write, she had told me, it was a great therapy for her on cloudy gray days.
We talked and laughed as if we were old friends.  Everyday from that fateful day we met, she would pack enough sandwiches and smoothies for the two of us and we would talk until late afternoon, if I didn't have an job interviews that day.  I never tired of seeing her.  I looked forward to the day because of her.
She always had her hair braided with ash blonde and honey blonde hair extensions but she always had a few coloured strand – and everyday she would wear a different colour.
Looking at the pink strands she wore today, I smiled.  The colour of love, so they say.
“Why are you smiling?” she smiled back as she laid down a blanket on the grass.
“You are wearing the colour of love in your hair,” I replied as I moved from the bench to the blanket
She looked away in thoughts, then back at me sadly.  “You can’t fall in love with me,” she whispered seriously and almost in a warning tone.  “You shouldn’t. Please.”
She then started unpacking the picnic basket as if the strange conversation had never taken place.
“I made your favourite today – turkey sandwich with a hint and mustard on rye bread,” she smiled, “didn’t forget the pickles this time.”

NOVEMBER:

Tunu had invited me to her place that warm evening to celebrate four weeks of getting a job.  The job was certainly a great surprise.  A job recruitment that interviewed me about five years ago, out of the blue called me about a managerial position in the creative department for a graphic designing company.  The pay was more than I could have ever imagined, and the perks were Christmas coming early.  Since then I had moved to a more up-market and posh apartment.
Everything seemed to be going so well suddenly – “my hot lucky star” I had taken to calling Tunu.  She listened to me, adviced me and was there for me tirelessly.
“You’re so lucky!  I was going to warm you a TV dinner, as I’m such a terrible cook,” she giggled, “but Mrs. Singh offered to make us some curry when I went to get some groceries.”
“Yummy,” I said as I playfully rubbed my tummy.
“What have you done to that old woman?” she teasingly threw me an oven mitten. 
 I picked up the mitten and started chasing her around her meekly but yet tastefully furnished lounge.  Tunu was one woman who was very humble and yet very sophisticated, chic and classy – a characteristic that was very rare in women as beautiful as she was.  With all the warning I got from Tunu about not falling for her, I couldn’t help but do just that.
As we fell on top of her plush friezé rug laughing, I found myself suddenly holding her towards me tightly.
“I love you,” I whispered as I nuzzled her, “I can’t help it.  Come what may but I love you, Tunu.”
She sat up suddenly.  Folding her knees she put her head between them, as she looked up her eyes had that serious look that I was beginning to get used to as chilly.
“I’m very jealous, sweetie,” she said seriously.
Instead of replying I just raised an eyebrow as to ask, “so? What’s the biggie?”
“I’m not very nice when I get jealous or hurt.”
“That’s it?”  I laughed heartedly, “What makes you think I would ever hurt you?  I love you, babes, I never would do anything to hurt you.”

DECEMBER/ SEPTEMBER?:

It was my birthday.  All I wanted to do was to rush home and be with Tunu.  But the department wanted to buy me a drink or maybe two.

“Come on, party pooper!  Just one drink!"  Willy, a colleague urged me.  Reluctantly I gave in.
I followed him down the street and he opened the door of a crowded karaoke bar.  Though still early the pub was already full of people.  We sat down at a table with a group of colleagues who had already had one too many and ordered two pints
The atmosphere was friendly and warm.  After each song sung another pint arrived.  I played a few more songs and my drunken colleagues sang along.
"You sang so well,” I heard behind me as I sat down, “ How about an early Christmas present?”
Turning around I find her.  Dreadlocked sex siren with brown piercing eyes.  As she bent down she revealed her cleavage, which looked like it wants to jump out.
“Hey,” Will nudges me clearly enjoying the drooling look on my face, “the lady is waiting for an answer!”
“Uum … erm … um … ” I stuttered.  I had a hard time between thinking clearly and forming an answer, while fighting off - courageously and with great determination - a giddiness that threatened to yank me right down into her seemingly bottomless cleavage.
I was thinking what excuse could I dream up to walk away from the pub and its temptresses and into the arms of my sweet, Tunu, when suddenly she sat on me and started a lap dance while everybody at my table cheered her on.
“Come, lets go,’ she hotly whispered in my ears as she necked me.
As if hypnotized I followed her into the still of the night.

Orgasmic waves rolled thunderously throughout my delighted body,  and I wanted to cry out but for the deep penetrating tongue that ravaged my throat.
Suddenly the tongue made its way down past mt tonsils inside me.  My insides seemed to be on fire.  I started gagging as I couldn’t breathe.
Throwing my arms around helplessly and gasping like a fish I tried to scream as I was short of air. 
My eyes were now watering. Leaking like faulty faucets.  Even with the candles that were lit to create an ambience I couldn’t see properly.
Voice … Definitely voices.  Hundreds of them.  Men and women.  Mostly men.  Terrified helpless men.  I thought I could hear despairing wail, pleas for help, anguished groans – as though it was echoing across a vast abyss - deep from somewhere hallow and dark.  The voices were creepy.  The room was cold, smelly and damp.
Suddenly there was someone else.  Someone who sounded infinitely strange, imposing and demanding.  It was a low wet voice that didn’t sound human.  Spitting undecipherable words.
“You couldn’t resist, could you? I knew you were too good to be true !  I should have known, you are all from the same seed!  The same pathetic cheating seed!,” the low wet voice was now the most hideous booming thunder.
I tried hard to strain my gaze so as to make out what was happening before me, but the stench choked me.  The air changed.  The air was thick with the smell of decay.
I tried to get up but couldn’t.  Something seemed to be holding me down.  “You couldn’t stay faithful, could you?’ the voice was now a glass shattering shriek.  “Why?  Why?”  It seemed to beg for an answer.
“I loved you, I really did,” I now heard Tunu’s sweet voice, “I thought you’d be the one.  You have hurt me but I can’t hurt you …  I do love you … Hurting you would hurt me more … I just wanted to rest … but you’ll never forget me … ….”

 
From a dead sleep I was aroused. My heart pumped. What a nightmare!!  I sighed a sigh of relief.  Perspiration surged through every pore.  No, something had happened. Fear suddenly scraped my bones.  Creak. Silence. Scratch. Silence. I sat up, straining my ears.  Scratch.  Squeak.
Mice, I thought, impossible!  Not at my apartment!  It was fumigated before I moved in, I mused.  Moving about my bed, the mattress suddenly felt lumpy and uncomfortable.  Something was definately different.
My eyes strained as the darkness poured over the room. Nothingness frightened me even more.  I was in the match box.  I was back at Danny and Bella’ bed-sit.
“How?  What’s happening?”  I screamed.  “Where is she?  Where is Tunu?  How did I get here?”
Frantically I got up and lit the only light in the cramped box.  Looking at the watch, I gasped, “my God, eight thirty, late for work!”  I looked around for my new expensive wardrobe, but instead I only found what I had on as the only clothes in the room and under the bed were my worn out old shoes.  No time to shower, I rushed out.
As I was running outside, I bumped into Danny draining a bottle of cheap wine, “where is my money, jackass?  You don’t pay me tomorrow I’ll squash you like the little bug that you are!” 
With that he threw the empty bottle at me, luckily he missed in his drunken rage.

“This is a sick prank!” I screamed, standing at the House of Design Building reception lobby.  My name wasn’t on the staff pigeonholes at the lobby.

"Oh come on you guys, don't you have anything better to do/" I screamed nervously to nobody in particular.  "We are too old to be pulling such childish pranks, man!"

“Hey Joe,” I called the security at the reception desk pointing at the pigeon holes, “who removed my name tag?”
He looked at me strangely, “Sir, I would ask you to leave.  If you need food please go to the nearest shelter.”
“Joe, its me! Come on now, cut out the prank!  Where is my mail?” 
Joe didn’t answer instead he quietly led me outside.  As Joe was escorting me outside I noticed the Coca Cola billboard that worn me recognition and respect in the design industry not being on the opposite tower.
“Who took down the billboard?  Why?”  I was now feeling dizzy with confusion.  “What’s happening?”
The party!  I remembered!  It should still be in the papers!  I ran back to the reception and grabbed a daily that
Joe always had with him.  Frantically I paged through it.  Then suddenly the date struck me – September 2005.

“The house?” Tunu?  What happened to her?  What did you do to her?  Where is she?”  I screamed.
“Calm down, boy,” an old man tending the graveyard walked towards me.
“It - she – it was here - everyday - it was - just yesterday,” I shouted in between spouts of hysteria.
“So you are her latest victim,” he chuckled as he examined me.  "How long did you last?" he asked as he patted me on the back as if this was the most normal occurrence in his life.
I looked at the grave stone - where Tunu’s house stood - and read it again “In Love You Died,” it was carved.
“She died twenty years ago, boy,” he said gently, “she had caught her fiancé cheating.  The fiancé she had supported unconditionally for years.  She couldn’t handle the pain so she took her own life.  The myth is the only way she can rest in peace is to find a love that is honest and true .  So every October of a leap year she appears hoping to find true love.”

 

 

 Copyright Sandra A. Mushi . All rights Reserved