WEEK 1:

“I--I’m so sorry,” beautiful big brown eyes looked at me apologetically, “I don’t know how I can be so clumsy.“

“It’s okay,” I smiled, reaching out for a serviette from the servery, “accidents do happen.  Besides it’ll wash off”
“Let me then go get you another glass of juice ... please … was it mango, litchi?”  We were standing in the VIP lounge of Dar es Salaam International Airport.  We had the little accident, as I was turning with my glass of half orange, half mango juice and she with a cup of coffee. 
My pastel yellow linen shirt had stained a little.  Opening a can of soda water, I drizzled some a bit on another serviette and drabbed it on the stain, ending up with a big wet spot.
“Ooh, my God, I’m so sorry!” she kept on apologizing.
“Its okay I will change in something else.  Don’t worry,” I said patting her arm, as I headed back to where I was seated I got my overnight bag and headed to the washroom while she stood at the counter.
“Much better.  At least I don’t look like I had been breast feeding,” I joked when I got back, trying to put her at ease.  I had changed in a sky blue long sleeved linen shirt with a V-neck – complimenting my jeans well.
“I’m Tiana, by the way. Tiana Tagao,” she said extending a well-manicured hand, with a clutter of silver bangles.
“Malcolm Lotee,” I shook her hand.  Something about those eyes.  But at that moment I just couldn’t place it.  I had seen her – at least her profile as she was seated pounding away at her laptop computer.
“Mmh, cheesecake,” she murmured, “my favourite!  Should I get you a slice or two?”
I wasn’t really in the eating mood but how can you say no to such a beautiful woman. “Yes please.  Just one.”
“Do you mind if I come sit with you?  I’ve been sitting alone – attempting to write for an hour but I have only managed a page.  I need a breather - if I sit quiet for another hour, my mouth will grow cobwebs, I promise you!”
I had to laugh; she was striking beautiful, with a sense of humour and such an easy nature.  A combination that was rare.  She was indeed beautiful.  She looked as if she had been molded to life.  She stood tall at 1.7metres, a perfect apple shape, caramel complexion, those mesmerizing brown eyes and a smile with a moon shaped dimple that could wake the dead.
The lounge was getting quieter as more people boarded their respective planes.  There were mostly business people – judging from their attires, bulky folders and laptops.  Most were engrossed in newspapers and a few in novels.  
“So are you a writer?” I asked curious, studying her look – dreadlocks, lots of ethnic jewellery and that black attire.  Yap, definitely an artist, I mused.
“Not really,” she replied as she placed the cheesecake plates on the table between us, “I write for fun and therapy.”
“Doctor’s orders?”  I asked, amused at her latter comment.
“No, my muse’s orders. Southern Comfort,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes as she sipped her coffee.
 “I would love to have such a muse,” I commented as I took a bite of the cheesecake.  “So what do you write about?”
“This and that – poems, short stories,” she replied, “maybe one day a blind publisher will offer to publish them out of pity.”
“I’m sure they are good.  So apart from writing what else do you do?  Where are you heading to?” This striking gorgeous creature seemed to interest me suddenly.
“Hmm, I’m into anything creative.  I’m trying out two ventures at the moment.  I’m going to Cape Town to source some artifacts.” 
“I’m going to Cape Town too.”
“Then I’ll buy you that coffee after all,” she flashed a lottery-winner smile.

The plane was rather empty.  The first class, where we sat only had an armful of passengers.  This time I asked if I could sit with her.  She took the window seat, happily taking pictures of the sunny outside.  Pictures she never develops, just downloads them in her laptop, she confided with a toothy grin. 
“I love nature and sight seeing, so much,” she continued, “I just can’t resist taking a memory of what I see and store it.”
The two hour plus flight was a pleasant one.  Instead of napping and attempting to read as I always did on flights – I spoke to Tiana throughout the whole flight.  I learnt quite a lot about her – a designer by profession – has degrees in fashion design, product design and interior design.
“You have degrees, in all that?”  I had asked, quite surprised and impressed at the same time.
“You won’t believe it but I love school,” she laughed, curling up her leg, “and since my passion is art, I can’t study anything else.  I think next I’ll try project management – to be a better manger of my projects.”
“I’m putting everything I love under one roof,” she flashed her Colgate smile, “the arts, creating and entertaining. I hope it will work.”
I saw it working.  Infact it was a brilliant idea, I thought.
We spoke throughout the whole flight.  Laughing away and joking.  It felt like old friends meeting after a long while and catching up on lost time..

I entered the terminal and my eyes scanned for Tiana.  Damn, I have lost her, I cursed.  I kept searching for her until I saw a dread locked head bopping.  My heart beat out of control and I raced towards her.
“Hey,” I had started but stopped on my tracks as I saw her wrapped in an embrace.
“Oh Malcolm, I thought you had left already” she smiled gleefully at me, “this is Reuben.  Reuben, this is Malcolm – thanks to him my mouth doesn’t stink.”
“Hi Malcolm.  Hope you had a great trip,” he smiled flashing the whitest teeth I have ever seen, while extending his right hand while his left arm was still possessively around Tiana’s shoulder.  “Yeah, she can’t seem to ever keep quiet, she believes the world will stop revolving the day she does keep quiet.”
I felt a pang of jealousy as I shook the tall, bold mocha-brown stranger’s hand – his grip as strong as steel. 
 

 Copyright Sandra A. Mushi . All rights Reserved