I was 27 when I asked her out. She was so witty, she could give comedians a run for their money. With her wavy black hair that never seemed to end, her passion for people around her was deep and i was lucky to be the one she chose to date. On my way back from work, I would drive through her shop, and she would burst out clutching her pink beaded purse and entered the car, blessing me with her soft smile and the feminine vanilla fragrance she carried with her.
“How was work today”, she’d ask in her tiny voice.
“It was just there”, I’d reply with a smile.
She would give me full details on how her day went (it was mostly filled with humor) and we would stop at our spot right behind Funkiz Bistro, to have dinner (usually something light).
People thought of us as the perfect couple.
We spent most of our weekends together, my aunt was always giving us invitation to her club parties and other owanbe in town. Amaka loved the parties, most especially the matching outfits. On Sundays, we would go to the church together and hang out with one or two of our friends. Amaka was my peace and joy. She wasn’t like most girls in the neighborhood that was after already made men. Her plan was to save up from her small business, and pursue her masters in information technology. I knew she was the one for me and I just needed to make more money, so I could support her dreams financially and marry her.
I got promoted at work which meant an increase in my salary. I remember how her voice echoed through the empty dark street, when i informed her about my promotion. She was overjoyed and immediately asked us to give a prayer of thanksgiving, right in the middle of the street.
I’d manage to save enough money to support her for her masters degree in Canada but I waited for Val’s day to make it more special, then I gave her the cheque as my val present. I remember the way Amaka held me close and cried into my arms, I didn’t mind the stain on my shirt or her smeared make up. I just wanted to see my baby smile. She adjusted her make up and we had a cool Val date.
She started acting distant few weeks to her departure. On some days she would bless me with the silent treatment, but I didn’t read meaning to it, knowing she was with me, and we were going to work things out no matter what.
I wanted to engage her before she traveled, but I didn’t want to rush her. Traveling outside the continent was a major life move for her and I didn’t want her to feel pressured, so I chose to wait for her to finish her masters before we move to the next stage of our relationship.
We used to engage in foreplay, but we never made love in two years of our relationship. It was the night before Amaka’s departure that we finally made love. I’d organized a little get together with our loved ones, it was an emotional night. We all agreed that we would miss Amaka because of her sense of humor and loving nature. I left the gathering and went into my room to cry when Amaka walked in wearing that red, cut out dress. She held me close and kissed my lips ever so softly. Her lips felt sweet and the smell of her cologne never failed to turn me on. I couldn’t hold myself any longer. I kissed her back. Nice, wet, and strong. My grip on her tightened, I pinned her against the wall and kissed her with the same intensity. Oh it had so long been since I had felt anybody against mine like this. Her body craved mine while she slipped her hand inside my shirt. I took off her dress, then her lace bra. That night I made love to Amaka like never before. It was quick but the best, most pleasurable sex I ever had.
We dressed up and joined the rest of our loved ones till they left. We had our bath together, discussed our future and how we should always keep in touch till dawn. We both cried like babies and I couldn’t bring myself to drive her to the airport, so I ordered for a cab to drive her to the airport.
She disabled her social media accounts so I could only access her email. Every day, I’d write her emails which could see into my soul, capture my spirit and show her how much I was missing her. She would reply on some days and even call me whenever she needed money. I never complained for once, because I believed that school was taking most of her time, and it was best that I let her focus. Things were like that for over a year, and I began to feel an anxious emptiness creeping up. I considered quitting my job, and going over to Canada, but my friends advised me not to.
On my birthday, Amaka didn’t send the type of heart felt message she usually sent. I was sad. That evening after work, while nursing a bottle of Budweiser with Akin, my colleague. I let slip that I’d been trying to communicate with Amaka, but she acts different. His eyes grew wide, startled.
“That’s sad”, he said, his right hand holding the glass of beer paused in mid air.
“It’s almost two years, you should move on”.
“I can’t” , I mumbled.
“By the way did you hear what instablog posted about the hotel demolition by Wike?”
I asked, effectively changing the subject of our discussion.
That night, I thought about what Akin said and was just going through a church member’s post when I saw a comment with the name “AmyGold”. I didn’t know what prompted me to click on the profile, when I saw my Amaka. She had pictures of the places she’d visited with a taut looking Caucasian on her page. Their wine tasting trip in Hawke’s bay New Zealand, Spaghetti crawl in Rome and Beaching it up in Santorini. I was stunned. I lost count in the times she turned down my plea to open a social media account. I cried and cried. I called my parents and didn’t believe they could ever be supportive. My mom was my closest friend and my dad became my closest guide. I never felt so close with them. I reached out to Amaka, but I was slapped with unanswered calls, unreturned mails (she even blocked me on her AmyGold page), and more pain. I cried a million tears but it didn’t make my love stay. Moving on is not easy, but I wished her well, and then I stayed away.
I tried writing a lot, reading books, listening to music and basically, doing all I could to make myself occupied, but still the thoughts flood my mind. This night, I tuned in to the Pillow Talk show on Soft FM and while other people called in to make their song requests and throw shout outs, the voice of the presenter flooded my ear. On impulse, I grabbed my phone and dialed the hotline.
“Hello oh, thanks for calling Soft FM, what’s your name and where are you calling from?”
“I’m Oba, calling from Badore”, I replied.
“Welcome Oba, is this your first time calling?”
“Yes” I replied.
She rang a bell like she does for first timers. “What song do you want me to play for you?”
I closed my eyes and tried to think of a song, opened my eyes and asked
“can I request for two songs?
“Sure, you can” she replied
So, I asked her to play me “Amaka Disappoint Me by 2face and Nothing Breaks Like a Heart by Mark Ronson”.
“Who are you dedicating it to?” she asked.
“My ex” I replied.
She wanted to ask further questions, but I cut the call and stared into space. I could hear the sound of siren from a distance (trying to figure out what the person in the ambulance’s life was like before the emergency) my mind slipped into the blank.