She cheats on me.That am sure. Almost everynight she refuses to come to bed. Not even after I have showered and brushed my teeth. Not even when am wearing my best pair of boxers. Not even when it’s cold. She makes me desparate. She goes out with her friends or goes to screw some lucky guys. Am sure they do not even pay her. She stays out late but eventually comes home. Thats how am sure she loves me. When she is away, I lie in bed miserable and pray that she comes home safe when she decides to. Other times I watch television or listen to a late night radio show as I read or write. Mostly I write. When she returns am not angry at her. We embrace passionately. We make love on the bed or the couch. Not once have we done it on the floor. We were meant to be together. I hope she discovers faithfulness. Not even Karma can teach her a lesson. Am sure she doesn’t know what that is. She better change or she will go to hell. Maybe she is already there. Salma is her name.
Together we go to a different world. A world I barely remember at times. A world where most things are weird. But we love it there. I hate it when we get back. Being with Salma is bitter-sweet. When am with her for so long I feel like am a loser. Like am doing wrong. Like the world is leaving me behind. When I do not spend quality time with her am desperate. I feel like I will lose my mind. I cannot work. I can barely concentrate. My mind will drift to her. She gets me to my knees without saying ‘please’.
If I dare cheat on her I always know I will pay for it dearly. Salma doesn’t forgive. Never. Its unfair because I always forgive her. But thats common in relationships. Compromise and unfairness.Whenever am having a good time, Salma gets jelous. She insists on taking me to bed. She kind of makes me her bitch.
Occasionally when she is out with her friends or whoring herself to other people, I silently open the door that leads to the balcony. I put on a trench coat to ensure that when Salma gets back I won’t be cold.(see how loyal I am). With a hot coffee cup in hand I lean on the cold metal rail on the balcony. I silently sip coffee in the dark. I watch the beauty of the stars. If the moon is out , the stars are ignored. I prefer watching the stars to counting stars. Counting stars gets me no-where.
At that moment the moon seems to be there for me only. It shines in moderation. Not too bright not too dull. Just the way I like it. At times it teases and come out in pieces. I hate it when I does not show up. Feels like everyone is cheating on me.
Sipping the coffee, I listen to the sounds of the night and isolate them. There are cars driving by, dogs howling, the purr of the wind, a baby crying at a distance,crickets and the watchman snoring downstairs. The only sounds I do not get to hear is people moaning and panting. Thank God. Ussualy the night is peaceful and calm. It is usually at around 2am.
From where I stand I get to see little red lights which I register as sattelite masts for phone operators. Somehow even when Kenya power pull a fast one, the red lights still glow. From where I stand I get to see windows with lights on. The curtains are ussually closed. Either the owner is afraid of ghosts and slept with the lights on, or is working late. Either way Kenya Power won’t give a rats ass when sending the bill..
From where I stand I get to see people driving at night. I can not tell the make of the cars though. Some were working late, some were out with friends,others are going to work. Whatever they were doing, they were building the nation. Kenyatta would be proud.
From where I stand I occassionaly hear a siren or alarm. Mostly I don’t see it. Its probably someone with unwanted visitors at an odd time of the night. Its probably a pregnant mother who can not wait for sunrise. Or it could be nothing just an alarm that felt lonely. Whatever it is I ussually hope it will be fine.
From where I stand I imagine that somewhere out there is my Salma. I imagine that out there are those who spill blood:muggers, robbers and murderers. Karma will teach them a lesson. Hopefully their day will come soon. I imagine that out of this endless darkness, the sun will somehow come in the morning. No matter how dark it is. No matter the number of stars out. They won’t put up a fight. They won’t struggle, they will easily give way to the sun. The sun will come in a dress or a nightgown, either way she will come. Even if I do not see her.
Nature works effortlessly. The sun doesn’t struggle or rehearse to rise or set. The moon and the stars too. They just take it easy. Its never that serious. They take their time. I wish I was that way too. But I always tell myself that am neither the sun nor the moon. I do not have forever. I want whats mine . I want it now. Even if it means staying up late. Burning the midnight oil. (they should change that saying to: using the midnight power.) Probably thats why Salma cheats on me. Am too disturbed to spend quality time with her. A lady like her requires attention. I mistreat her too. I drive her away unknowingly. So she goes out to look for better company. I hope she never finds it because I will be miserable without her.
I should take nature’s example, the sun knows what she wants, she wants to rise and shine. So she come out every morning an goes for it. She goes hard. At times she succeeds at times she doesn’t, but at-least she always tries. Even if for a short time. She doesn’t give up when she doesn’t do her best. She lives to fight another day.
She also knows when to stay home and rest (night time.) Hit the sack. She probably sleeps in an old T-shirt and a stocking. She goes hard but takes it easy. Thats how I should be. Thats how we should be.
By now my coffee cup is usually empty and cold. I slowly creep back in and wait for Salma with a promise to allocate her enough time. Take it easy.
Oh Salma is my sleep..
Sound track; Florence and the machine- never let me go