The movie night was not successful. He cancelled at the last minute and said he was caught up with lots of workload, due in two days time. I insisted I could head over to his just mustering an ounce of the courage I had suppressed two years ago. Took me an hour of walking, Google maps and constantly asking boda boda guys if they knew where ‘Vision Arts’ was. This was where his studio shop was located.
The time was half past 6 pm when I begun walking from Bishop Magua Center in Kilimani. Google’s navigation as my guide, I meandered through the streets, each tick from my clock bringing me closer to the darkness that encroached and further away from people who decreased with each tock.
55 minutes on foot looking for where he claimed his studio shop was and the thought of despair kicked in. Looking back from where I stood, there was no one on the lane I had taken. I had been busy following the directions from my phone that I hadn’t realized I was alone in a dark lane. I was lost, I presumed.
Regret hovered and I had began to question the whole audacious front I put up of going after him, when I saw a black car approaching. I shifted hurriedly into the sidewalk and as the car drove swiftly past me, I saw a reflection of light ahead.
It seemed to originate from a torch. I increased my pace walking towards the light and luckily I caught the source; a guard who was busy closing the gates behind the black car, which had just passed by me a few seconds before. I felt relieved and with my last ray of hope I put forth my question. “Would you happen to know where vision Arts Studio is?” He looked at me confused.
In my mind I was hoping that he didn’t say my destination was a few walks from where I stood, because the last guard had said so and looking at the time 30 minutes had gone by. With a sneering expression he moved towards me leaving the gate ne’er closed and pointed “Iko nyuma yako madam.” ( It’s right there behind you).
It was dark and I was a bit irritated from the long walk but not as much as I was delighted, knowing I would see Ronin again. And as I motioned towards my destination, my heart leapt.
I arrived the premises some minutes to 8 p. m.
When Ronin saw me approach, he stood up to clear the clutter that was on his busy art table and moved towards me receiving me with a restraint hug. (Know I’m the type that hugs as if the other person is draining my oxygen tank; I cannot wait to disconnect), but standing there with him in my arms, memories from when I savoured the act of holding him came back flowing in a rush. The hug took me two years back reminding me of how I liked the thought of him before me. Not to mean I wasn’t selfish. For more than the care and attention I was okay giving, I did not hide my thoughts on how parting from his arms made me feel.
So having completed his College education one year before me, Ronin didn’t worry about studying but more of how he could break into the art industry which is what his heart held captive. He had worked as a freelancer taking up multiple jobs that would more often than not render him too busy for my own liking. Classic is how he still managed to take me to the clouds and back to earth. With him, love was not toxic, nor obsessive. No anxiety, no pressure, but the constant feeling that I might not have been enough…
Part 2 CONTINUES!!!