*Hello people, this is another ‘One Pic; a Thousand Stories’ post. Remember; you can send in your own interpretation of the picture to firstname.lastname@example.org*
‘I love you no matter what you do, but do you have to do so much of it?’
Those were the words James had scribbled in the card he thrust into my hand. I read them, rolled my eyes and said (exaggerating concern) ‘She cheated again?’
He nodded reluctantly and immediately burst into some long explanation and justification for Kaima’s incessant cheating. It sounded like; ‘It’s really not her fault, I’m always here at the office’, ‘You know she’s been hurt before; in her early days in France. This is just her unconsciously taking it out on me’, ’She loves me, I know she does. She says she does’, ‘She confessed to me herself. So she’s sorry’, ‘She’s been so hurt’.
I would love to say that I stood awkwardly as I watched and listened to the man that I have secretly liked for over two (2) years justify his harlot girlfriend’s undeserved behavior, but I can’t. I had gotten so used to these excuses that I could actually predict the next one he’d present.
I looked at him and said ‘James, are those excuses for me or for you to believe? I don’t think they are for me. And to be honest, I’m fed up of listening to you chant them if you won’t, in turn, listen to what I have to say to you.’
He looked at me and smiled sadly, ‘I know, I know. Break up with her. But how can I? She’s such a vulnerable little thing. One more damage to her heart and she’s as good as dead’. I gave him back the card, lifted my hands in surrender, and said ‘That’s it! I’m so done advising you. If you can actually spit out a sentence like the last one you just made, with a straight face, then you’re way beyond stupid. I don’t like stupid, I don’t talk to stupid and I don’t advise stupid. I only took in your case because you’re my friend. But that sentence of folly has drawn the line.’
He laughed like it was the funniest thing ever and I wondered to myself, *Idiot. Blind idiot. Stupid idiot. How can you not see that we’re perfect together?*
He then grabbed his jacket and said, ‘Wish me luck. I’m taking K to see a movie this night. And then after that…’ ‘You’ll tell her how much you love her but how much it hurts when she cheats like this and both of you would end up crying. I know the drill James. Have a nice crying date’, I interjected.
He smiled, winked at me and said, ‘When did you get so smart? I Haha-ed and watched him leave. Watched his gracious strides and sighed to myself while increasing the volume of the music playing on my laptop; the theme song of my life- ‘Unrequited Love’ by Lykke Li.
It was not up to three weeks later when James came into my office and said, ‘Tope, you want to do Cold Stone after work?’ I continued typing and said ‘Sure, Mr. Jedi Jedi. And yes, this particular Cold Stone rendezvous would be spared of any Kaima gist. Thank you’.
I looked up sharply when I heard a crack in his attempted laugh. There were tears in his eyes. I didn’t have to ask. I knew what had happened. He never cried. Even when our mutual best friend died. He was strong enough for myself and the whole office. I said, ‘Tell me’. I should probably not have said that, because when he broke down completely and began to tell me how he just found out that those ‘cheatings’ were not just mere cheatings, it was too much for me to take.
She had not only cheated on him with his step brother (and more than half of the men in his estate), she had been stealing from him. And no, she had not been confessing, he had been getting to find out from the men at his sports club. Oh, and whenever he confronted her, she’d go on and on and on about how her blood would be on his head if he broke up with her and treated her like those French men did.
What’s that saying? “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”? Oh yes I agree! I had been scorned alright. I had been offended severely by this French/Igbo prostitute who was making my (unrequited) love partner cry. That may not be the type of ‘scorned’ Mr Congreve meant, but how more scorned can a sista be? I comforted James, advised him to get back to work, and promised to discuss everything over ice-cream.
Immediately he was out of sight, I grabbed my bag and went down to his house (Did I forget to add that she was also homeless?). She opened the door and with a charming smile and said, ‘Oh hallo, from James office. Yes? I remember you. De bonnes personnes il travaille avec’. Then with a sudden concerned look she said, ‘Mon Dieu, I hope all is well. He’s not dead or anything. Yes?’
I smile and say ‘Oh, wouldn’t that make you very happy?’ Before she could compose herself from my shocking reply I say (with feigned French accent), ‘So you would listen very attentively to me mademoiselle Kaima. You would pack up your load (both yours and not-yours) and you’ll get out. Not only from this house, but from his life. You’re mauvais for him. And he deserves better. I wasn’t sent by him. I’m doing this on my own volition. You can contact him if you wish. But I advise that you don’t, because I promise to use everything I have to incite hardcore hatred for you in his heart. That is if he does not already hate you. He just needs somebody as strong as I am to break off this time-wasting thing you call a relationship. So, si vous etes intelligent, you would pack your load and aller...gerrout’
With her eyes wide open in disbelief and anger she began to shout,’Ordures! Merde! You cannot come into my house and be saying all this nonsense. Qui pensez-vous que vous etes? Aller au diable!’. I say calmly, ‘Eyys, shhh… I’m a lawyer. No. To be precise, a state prosecutor. Do you want me report your little ‘every Wednesday cocaine sniffing’? Ah… yes. James tells me everything. Even though I doubt you were telling him the truth about it being only on Wednesdays. Pack your load and have a nice ‘rest of your life’.
‘Til today, James does not know what I did. And Kaima would not dare tell him. All he knows is that God, gently and without having to break her heart, showed Kaima the way out of his life because He (God) knew that a better, more sophisticated and prettier woman was to be ushered into his (James) life.
James never misses the chance to tell me that Janet is the woman God really prepared for him.
*Picture gotten from madamenoire.com*