WEEK 5:

My to and fro trip to Cape Town – Dar es Salaam and Arusha continued.  And life went on.  Every now and then I would have a tennis game with Aimeé, who always insisted on being home by twelve.  She never explained why, but I guessed there must be a jealous lover somewhere trying to keep tabs.  I always laughed at the thought – as Aimeé was as resourceful as they could get and unless you kept an electronic bracelet on her there was no way one could keep tabs on her.  I enjoyed her company and I guess she did enjoy something about me too as she always called.  I was careful not to get into anything deep as I sensed what Aimeé really wanted was financial security and not necessarily companionship.

I had promised Aimeé a nice home cooked Italian meal and my pantry was rather empty – to be honest the only Italian meal I could make was lasagna, but it doesn’t hurt to blow one’s trumpet out of proportion every now and then, does it? 

What else to get?  A few more bottles of red wine, some basil, thyme, and cream cheese – I tried to remember as I strolled down the supermarket’s aisles.

 “I’m so sorry, I must be the clumsiest …”

“Tiana?” I exclaimed as trying to position my shopping trolley properly after a heads on collision with Tiana’s trolley.   I was so excited to see her, I felt like hugging her and twirling her in the air.

“Oh my, not again!” she laughed, “you have such bad luck with me!  We can’t always meet like this!”

“Next time I hope you won’t be in a car,” I joked.  Trying to keep a calm and collect look, I knelt down to pick the vegetables that had scattered on the floor from the trolley after the collision.

“Let me help,” she knelt down to join me.

I quickly stole a glance.  She looked radiant in her black designer jeans and black top.

As she stretched to reach for a head of lettuce that was near me our head bumped, causing the dark glasses she was wearing to tumble over.  That was when I noticed the black eye.

“Oh my God, what happened?  Who did this to you?”

“Nobody,” her reply was surprisingly icy, “I had an accident.”  She quickly put back the glasses and went on picking the vegetables quickly.

‘You should have it looked at,” I remarked concerned.

“Have what looked at?” I heard a familiar voice booming behind me.

“Hi baby,” Tiana jumped, I could swear her caramel complexion turned white against her black top,  ”you remember erm …”

“Malcolm,” I helped, “Malcolm Modise”.

“I flew with him from Dar the other time,” she said quickly and nervously.

“Ooh yes.  Hi Malcolm,” he looked at me suspiciously then shook my hand – too hard, I must add.

“Hi,” I murmured, wanting to shake off the grip but he held on for a good minute – trying to prove a point, I presumed, a warning maybe.  His grip was very strong.

“Come on, baby,” he smirked at me as he pulled Tiana closer to him, his eyes never leaving mine, “I got the game to hurry to.  You got everything?”

“Yes, I do baby,” Tiana replied quietly.

I stared at the rather interesting couple as they made there way to the checkout counter.  Him, commanding and over-powering presence, bold, standing tall, sporting pounds of solid masculinity, standing tall and broad like a Zulu warrior.  Her, with a humble, joyous and warm presence, a smile that would melt Mount Kilimanjaro.  Though quite tall, next to him she seemed short. 

He released her and walked to the magazine stands.  My eyes left him and went to Tiana who looked helpless and scared.  I wondered why.  She reached into her bag, with her intently eyes on him, and she took out a card on which she quickly scribbled something on and then handed it to the attendant.  He then walked back with a few magazines.  As if he could feel my eyes on him, he turned, sneering and gave me a thumbs up, as he put his big arms around Tiana.

I sighed and went back to my shopping.  What an up-turn, I thought.  My mood changed from happy and cheerful to gloomy and down.  I didn’t feel like that homemade lasagna anymore.  Infact I didn’t even feel like company anymore.  I’ll take out if I remember to place the order, I thought as I eyed the eyed aisles packed with goodies. 

The trolley felt heavy just like heart did.  My legs felt like stone as I pushed the trolley to the checkout counter.  What kind of hold does she have on me and I hardly know her, I wondered.  The freckled attendant smiled and said something but my mind was too far away to acknowledge her.  As I was paying her I could see her lips moving as if saying something but my ears just refused to hear anything.

“Excuse me,” I felt someone grabbing me as I was making my way out with my shopping bags.  I turned to find the freckled attendant. 

“Damn man! I said the lady left this for you,” impatiently she jammed a card into my hand, popping a gum she was chewing as walked back to her workstation as, “weirdo!”

Quickly I put down my bags and studied the card.  It was a contact card.  Hand-written under the printed address was, “6h30, park two blocks down, near the big baobab tree - I will come. T.”

Copyright Sandra A. Mushi . All rights Reserved