I never expected Ronin to call back. He did not. I went back home with my douche and obviously on that fateful night we broke up. I had one question for him though, since he owned shares in that club from how much he frequented; did he happen to know a guy who walked around with an Asian friend? Of course, the liar would not possess the knowledge of anything important except of how to light up a shisha pot and curl his curly hair. Did I mention that sex with him was a dream? It was hard to remember.
I was deep into my routine of classes and back to my room, my mind giving up on any chance that I would ever see Ronin again. Douche kept calling and when he got tired of dialing the same number, he shifted to my friend’s.
Then one night, in my lifeless routine of studies, due assignments, SATs, toxic friends and bugged hostel rooms, (I mean the bed ones), life happened. To date, I can never recall what the conversation was about but it was not far from books, art, writing and why he took too long to call. (one week had gone by)
Minutes into the conversation, I was interrupted by a beep from my phone notifying me that the battery was almost out and so I did the necessary as I listened to my Ronin. If only you could hear his diction, you too would be hooked on his magic. Two hours had passed. Safaricom failed us and Airtel was game. I had to change my line. No trouble there. It was not as if the world would miss me. I was home.
He was always first to call and he did. We still talked about how we did not meet each other sooner; I could hear his thoughts through the phone just as much as he completed mine. I wished he was with me and then I did not really.
I just turned on the bed and imagined he was. I could see his every feature.
His dark eyes that had regarded me in a not so innocent way, big, deep and as light tricked as smoke from a wildfire. An oval chiseled face that belonged to an archangel from the shadows, his skin latte and minty because that’s how I imagined he tasted, the cool and sulky mouth and the aquiline profile which had muddled my thinking that entire night in that club.
His body… oh I hadn’t gotten enough time to finish taking a good look at him because just in time douche had finished his vulturistic endeavors and I guess he figured it was time he brought me a drink. So he had come back to the table where I sat just as Ronin had stood up and with the crowd coming in, I had lost sight of him.
The weekend could not take its sweet time to declare its official place on the calendar.
Ronin was coming to the university to visit me sticking to plan as we had agreed on that 4-hour phone call. This marked our first date. I could’ve taken the whole day to prepare myself. No outfit befit the occasion. The elation, sweaty palms, overthinking mind, and well thanks to it, I went upstairs to borrow my friend her woofer so that I could set the mood for when my Ronin arrived. Not at all what you think. However, just know one thing led to another. After I came back with the woofer, the afro music sounded so beat I started dancing. I had sweat patches on my under arms, a sweaty face and a weave that made my scalp itch from the heat I felt.
The knock came.
His presence was transcending. He hugged me firmly, placed the chicken wings he had with on the table, (well more like a plank, which is where we placed our items, hostels smh), and I told him to take a bed.
That was the only place one could be comfortable in a hostel room. Chairs were made of metal and for the life of me; Ronin wasn’t going to sit on a metal chair, cold while I entertained modesty and ill placed sense of chastity. He was all I wanted and I was ready to be the one he talked about in all his stories. How long could he wait to kiss me after hours of endless conversations, chicken wings, the sound of his laughter and me as the muse in that tiny room? Not long enough. The sparks between us could not either and he leaned in for a kiss. A kiss that branded my palms on his nape and from then on his heart.
From that moment onward, I only had one question for him, “Can I be her?” marking how our flight on the wings of love had taken off.
Have you read; Love in a hopeless place?