I met my ex wife when I was 18, she was 16 at the time. We were both going to the same college, same class. She was the cutest and youngest girl in class, probably the whole school in that she was always being sought after by everything with a working pecker. Except yours truly of course. I was the bad boy of the joint, a typical cliché so to speak, introverted, always on my discman thumping D12, bone thugs , the clan. Man those were the days rap made sense, not these contemporary garbage they call music now. I couldn’t wait to get out of class every day and was always not shy about correcting the lecturers when they were wrong. Let’s just say I was the center of attention with the girls most of whom were too scared to even say hi anyway and the dudes always looked for an excuse to hangout.
One afternoon in class, for references sakes I’ll call my ex Jane, Jane’s mother, crazy ass woman, burst into class looking for her… “What is wrong with you, I’ve been out there honking my horn like a mad woman! Don’t you think I have other things to do!? Get out!” I could see how humiliated Jane was as she roughly shoved her books in her bag, head down in embarrassment. I empathized being somewhat used to such exaggerated reactions from my father. So a few days later as I left class earlier as usual I saw her mom parked outside, I went back and said to her “hey your mom’s parked outside.” She looked up at me, right in my eyes smiled that sickening cute smile she had turned shyly away and said “thanks.” And that was the beginning of what would eventually culminate as being the most eventful decade of my life.
We started off with just small talk in class and in days ended up inseparable. We’d sit together, have lunch together, talk for hours… About any and everything, she even told me about her imaginary friend who protects her, which I didn’t believe after all she was the kind of girl that played with doll houses and such. But she was cute physically and psychologically, that’s all I cared about. I started sneaking into her house which was a dangerous thing to do, not cause of the dogs, those I could deal with, dogs always liked me for some reason, it was cause of her step dad. Gun trotting rich nut job who was never shy about pointing that thing at people. Even once I had to hide in the top section of her wardrobe where you keep suitcases and stuff for almost a couple of hours to avoid getting caught by her nanny cause that would have probably gotten me shot or worse, but I was stricken by cupid and nothing would stand in the way of spring.
One day my dad showed up home and told me there was this new course that he wanted me to study which meant I had to move towns. But that wasn’t going to come between us, I’d go back home every month just to spend time with her and even once stayed in her room for a whole month when her parents were on vacay. To kill the time I’d go hangout with her at the college we used to go to and that is when I met carol(not her real name) who was a new lecturer there. She was great to look at, melons, tiny waist, yellow yellow half Maasai half something else… For the first time my focus was slightly altered. I started going over to her office when Jane was indisposed to just hang, innocent at first, after all they were close, I think, but then carol started to get weird. She’d for no reason change every time Jane showed up after class and give some excuse to leave. Jane and I started to notice these not so subtle cues she was giving off and stopped hanging out with her. Then the stalking or what I assumed it was began, carol would call and text me asking me what I had done to her and accusing me of being a devil worshiper telling me I’ve unleashed something on her that was terrorizing her and her boyfriend. Sometimes begging me to make it stop other times saying things like “Jesus is more powerful than you and your demons…” I honestly thought she was nuts. I told Jane about it even showed her the barrage of sms’s from carol insulting, cursing, begging me to make it stop. Jane all through come to think of it never had an opinion about it, she only asked me to change my number. Eventually Jane told me carol quit that job with no notice and was never heard from again. I forgot about it and life went on as usual.
Jane cleared college got a local job for a couple of years, we still were doing the spring dance all through until the day her mother found out about us. It was hell for my paella, she would be insulted, called a whore by both her folks, a degenerate for dating a filthy negro and such. It got so bad one day she called me and told me she’d had enough and had to leave that hell hole of a house. So that folks is how I married the love of my life.
She showed up on a Wednesday evening, tonnes of luggage. I picked her up from the stage and our life began. I was 23 she was 21. Six maybe more years passed, life was the stereotypical norm of any young married couple, I’d go out drinking once in a while with my mates, come home to a screaming wife, then take her out the following day, maybe a trip and makeup. She settled in quite well, my family loved her, except for my dad, he had heard of her folks infamy and thought it was beneath us to be related to such a family. Typical African reservations. Her family however never accepted our union, once even her mother had called the landline and absent minded I chose to answer. That turned into what was an hour long conversation of being told to leave her, I’m not good enough, to name my price to walk away. She even offered me three million bob which in 2006 was a pretty penny to dump my muffin but I was never going to even consider it, not even for the Rothschild fortune. Once she texted me quote “you son of bitch nigger leave my daughter alone.”
Now my troubles began the day I went out on a bender with one of my closest mates. He was always quite the charmer with women, I mean if he wanted he’d get laid every day by different chicks he’d pick up in a matter of minutes. This guy was my hero man. So this particular night we had been to some club called mercury, don’t know if it’s still there, nauko sides of waiyaki way, where dude hooked up with some chick carrying a rose. Since we were using my car he was gonna drop me home, take his chick wherever and bring me the car later that day. Jane was on the graveyard shift that night. So my boy n his kunguru came in for a summary drink and on leaving she left behind the rose she had with her. I never noticed it. When Jane got home there it was, right where the ratchet left it. Her face turned red, “what is this?!” She stormed into the bedroom demanding. Still half drunk I lifted my ten kilogram head to see what she was on about. I shit you not I sobered up in an instant. “Baby I know how this sounds but john and his chick were here, that’s who has the car, she forgot it here.” Maybe I should have lied and went “happy something day!”, but I didn’t. She lost it, started packing her stuff saying she was leaving. I begged her, swearing on my life what I said was the truth, for what seemed like hours until she eventually calmed down. I guess she never really believed me cause everything changed after that cause I was paying for a sin I didn’t commit, basically it was all downhill from there. Then I met this cute little Ethiopian girl. She was intoxicating to look at, and her skin, dark glossy and smooth… I just couldn’t help myself, a failure on my person but it was something I craved, missed, the touch and feel of my own kind. She felt good, very good that something broke inside me. Man she could shag. It was like i was discovering sex for the first time. Then one day as we were committing our weekly indiscretion, she started to bleed. Grossed out I asked “what the shit femme you’re on your period?” “Of course not I was done last week remember?” She answered. We stopped and left the lojo, she said she’d go to the gynos the day after. She never did, she stopped bleeding before then. Then it started happening, every time we’d get into it she’d bleed. Every so often that we couldn’t do any more than shot moja. Then the nausea crept in, she’d get so sick when we were together we’d end up not doing anything. Eventually it was pointless to keep up our association cause it meant paying for rooms we never used. But I was infected with an addiction to indulgence, I couldn’t stop. But every time the same thing would happen over and over again to different people. Then one day, as I was doing my matrimonial duty, Jane started to bleed. Panicky I began to think maybe I had picked up something along the way that was causing it. We went to the gynos got a bunch of tests done but nothing. Then the ultrasound came, her ‘factory’ was all weird. Doc said he’d never seen anything like it. Her tubes and ovaries were backwards, like looking at them through an inverted mirror. It technically meant we were probably never gonna have kids. At the back of my mind I knew this was my fault I just didn’t know how or why. This put a strain on our marriage, we started fighting more, anything from a misplaced sock to a damp towel on the bed would trigger the worst of fights. Then one day out of the blue she told me to take her to her cousins place for ramadhan. Finally a break! She packed up a go bag and I dropped her off. Was finally free to purge all the negativity and guilt inside.
I had it all figured out, I’d start with my not blood cousin I had met at a family get together a year earlier. She was hot, smart, could even speak Latin I shit you not, had a sense of humor for miles and the best of all, could hold her liquor better than half me mates combined. It felt like it was fated cause the chemistry between us was incredible. I reached out on fb and we hit it off. In no time even condoms were forgot. We’d actually do even five or six laps a night. Then one bastardized morning she called, “hey dude I need forty gs from you there’s something I need to do.” I knew what she meant but chose to act the fool and went “nah femme all spent. Maybe some other time.” And that was that, she went quiet.
A week passed then thoughts of my paella started creeping back, I missed her. It had been about two weeks since we’d so much as even texted. I had to call her, I had to get her back. So I called her that random evening. She wasn’t at all enthused that I’d called, “shoni please come back I miss you, I promise I’ll be better” I begged. “Hmm… sometime next week after the month is up” she’d keep on saying. Till one day raging I drove over there and demanded my wife back. Reluctantly she got her things and as she got in the car, on the terrace stood this boy, looked like those fucking actors you see on those stupid Bollywood films. He looked angry. She said she’d forgotten something, went back into the house and on coming out hugged him. Not a casual ‘later cousin’ hug, those sensual compassionate types. Jealousy. Raging throbbing jealousy was radiating through my entire being. I wanted to take out my tyre iron from the trunk and pound it into pretty boys face, I wanted to pound his skull in till the white showed. “Who’s he?” I asked her calmly as she got in. “A cousin visiting from Yemen” she replied casually. Rage. Brutal untamable rage I felt coursing through my body. I had to do something, I had to hurt something, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I just sat there. Just as I was about to scream, to let my voice purge this feeling I had, nothing. I felt nothing. Started the car and drove us home. That night felt off, like there was no wind, no trees, just a still dead space. Even the sex that night was awful, I remember thinking to myself I’d had more gratifying nduthi sessions than that. As we were doing it, that moment I was about to erupt, she looked me straight in the eyes and said, “SDAPB kissed me.” It felt like my heart would explode, the pounding in there felt like my chest would burst open. My head started hurting, my skin felt cold, the feeling I had in the car was back. For a moment that felt like eternity even my vision changed, I’d imagine that’s what bruce banner feels right before he changes. And then just like that, nothing. I felt nothing. I finished, got off and rolled over to sleep.
The next morning she got up and made breakfast, I don’t remember what it was. All I remember was the insecurity, the constant replay of the fact that it had taken me six months to kiss her and this twatt had done it in weeks. I was boiling hot with jealousy but nothing to do about it, she knew me well, she knew how I dealt with cognitive dissonance and she knew if she’d say it in the most compromising situation possible I’d be unable to process it and just shove it down the pits of my subconscious. She left for work a bit late that day, I just wanted her gone so I didn’t even try to make conversation. That evening she texted me she’d be staying over there again cause she was running late and her cousins was closer. She was gone again for two weeks. This time I’d had it, it was time to rip the band aid off and get it over with. I called her told her I wanted to break up. She said no, that she had nowhere to go, but I didn’t care. I would force it on her. Either she’d leave willingly or I’d throw her out. She said no again. I think I cracked up that day, I started packing her shīt from like 1500, took hours, got done at around 2100. Got a friend of mine to loan me his Land Rover and packed it all in there and drove the shit to her cousins. There he was, the SDAPB, looking very smug about it the twatt. This encounter at some point ended up becoming a dick measuring contest with our who can move the most luggage competition. I hated that cunt. I hated his pretty face, I hated his pretty fucking hair, even his fucking name made my teeth grit. We got done inside 20 minutes with the neighborhood guards standing there watching wondering wtf was happening. Got in the truck and drove home. Slept horribly that night, got up in the morning, half zombified tried to do some work and ended up saying fuck it. I was feeling a mix of depression and anger after the previous night, my mind creating narratives of her and him in the same house doing who knows what. I got a joint, some food, a couple of movies and series and sat back to try and forget. I Was a few episodes in of true blood that day when I got sleepy, pressed pause on the machine and turned over on the couch to take a nap. Not sure how long I napped, but I dreamt my paella was spooning me from behind her breath softly brushing the back of my neck. Half waking up I was beginning to get optimistic, she was right there breathing down my neck, I turned to embrace her and tell her that I loved her but there was no one there. I was all alone.