Swift Scribbles: By The Way…Again.
I never get tired of telling her how beautiful she is.
I won’t lie – sometimes I look at her; I look at her and the images of the past pain come rushing up. Sometimes it gets so violent, I have to close my eyes and hold back the hurt. It’s almost physical at times. Like holding back vomit.
I am so afraid. I feel like; I feel like – how do I know history won’t repeat itself?
How do I know things will work out with her?
I guess that’s why I kept her waiting for so long – why I kept resisting her advances. I was – am afraid.
These are the thoughts I am battling with as I take her hand and help her down from the cab that took us to my eating spot – but I still do not forget to tell her, how beautiful I think she is.
She averts her eyes; imagine a thirty-something year old woman acting shy!
But she smiles and says ‘thank you’.
I feel proud as I walk beside her, beside myself with some emotion rising like the evening tide – except this particular tide is in my chest and is threatening to choke me. My fears are still so present – but I look at her; and I know I want nothing else. Not now.
“Oga ——————, how na? Long time! You no even – ”
I hear her voice – but I am caught up in staring at my companion’s lips and general face. When I do turn to salute the woman, I am surprised.
She is looking at us; at my companion, with such joy in her eyes I am taken aback. You know; it is the kind of look an expectant mother has in her eyes when she sees her child happy. The kind of look that says “Papilo, I knew you would make us proud!”
Or something like that.
Anyways, she looks at my companion with something really close to pride and says, “Is this her?”
I’m not sure what ‘her’ means – but I nod. “Yes, it is.”
She rushes forward – and then halts. “I want to hug you, but my clothes have oil and smoke – ”
And then my companion steals my heart forever – by simply hugging this madam.
Oil, smoke and all.