I still remember his pure face and the curves of his lips; my first love. It has been months now yet vivid memories linger like the smell of freshly-baked muffins. We first met in Eldoret town one drowsy Saturday evening when the sun was setting and our love only breaking dawn.
He hated waiting he had told me, yet here I was arriving an hour late. From where I stood, his face was emotionless. He had not seen me yet. I took advantage of that to stand and take it all in. Also take those very recommended deep breathes because I was a load -some of nerves. I stared almost, him composedly sitted there outside the North Rift office with a bottle of sprite in one hand while the other toyed with his phone. The hustle and bustle of people walking around and traffic of hooting transit goods trailers and swerving matatus did not bother me at all. I had been waiting for this day more than any other; day-dreamt of it every waking moment, and now I was about to live the dream. D-day.
He was beautiful, perfect almost. Taller and darker than I had figured, just the way I like them. Suddenly he rose from his seat as if in exasperation, then our eyes locked from across the road. He waved and pointed at his almost empty bottle while signaling me to cross over, I knew what that meant instantly. Sprite was both our favorite drink.His humor that had slowly but surely drawn I to him was still on flick. I took one last deep breathe, so deep I could feel the interior of my lungs then mumbled a quick “Oh my God”. Well, God was clearly in my camp because at that instance this Mr. Right that is so much sought after was smiling at me.Such white teeth!
I was in an African print skirt and a black blazer that covered my otherwise luscious red top so officially. No make-up,no shiny accessories, no powder to hide my stubborn adolescent pimples that I now felt were bigger than usual. My shoes were not helping the situation either, being grey and flat at the same time. It’s like being poor and ugly, whack combination. I regretted that choice of wear. Would he think of me as too plain and tacky? Maybe a pair of tight jeans would have worked better, I thought. Draped my ample assets a little more nicely so that he could see what a gold mine he had landed on. I do not do cleavages, never liked them. In my head they are too low and I mean that in every sense of the word. That means my top was quite up there, so intimately closely to my neck they were having a conversation. Yes it was doing a good job at being red and loud, but under
the neatly buttoned blazer its effect was only suppressed.I could change none of that, I was at the stand and it was time for gavel to meet table.
I walked in his direction with half a smile. The other half had been robbed by my heart which was throbbing so loud inside I could hear it in my ears. I might have missed a
step or two but my head was held high. Composure is key, confidence is everything. Soon I was close enough, I stretched my hand and he wirily ignored it, taking me fully in
his arms and for a split second, I did not care that my shoes were grey or indigo.
“Maryanne…” he whispered my name with such ease it made my stomach knot.
His voice tasted like caramel, like a crisp new note, like stars dancing tango and heaven singing in unison.