“Do not love me my friend
For as dew melt in presence of sun
So shall my love melt in days to come
Do not love me my friend
For as the moon gives way to dawn
So shall my heart give space to treachery…”
The strings of friendship broke with the clasp of her brassiere broken by the demanding hands that drew invincible map on body urging to press totally into mine, two decades of friendship drown in sweat that bathed us in the full air conditioned room. Restless hands ripped expensive pants she got me for my last birthday.
“Jimi” Ominira’s voice produced sonorous songs into my ear. “Say something…I love you” her declarations of love almost pour cold water on the burning pleasure.
Right there! In the middle of it, with my best friend half naked and sensuously drunk in my arms I wanted to quit and run. To give her back her torn blouse and ripped belt and whispered the sacred “No”.
No! Don’t make love to me.
No! Stay as my friend.
No! Don’t love me.
Just stay as that beautiful queen who has been my friend for two decades; that one lady that rebuffed and embraced me at the same time; that one woman who can walk into my home any moment without fear or sanction; that one woman who is different from the others.
“Ominira, I don’t think we should…” I began half-heartedly
How I wished her kiss didn’t stop my weak excuse. How I wished she had picked my weak excuse and turned it to the strength she needed to walk away before the cherry was popped and the milk was irrevocably spilt.
But why can’t I love her? Why do my mind scream refusal to such delicious meal, when I have been known to have never refused any meal that come served in the picture of the fairer sex!
But the reason was clear, clearer than the sky in summer. It was clear seven years ago, that dull rainy morning when our first kiss set giant birds into motion in my hungry belly. I knew then and I know now, she was never the one for me. She was a padlock created for a single key, I’m a master key meant for many locks. She was a cage. I was, am and will always be a free bird.
So I enjoyed what was offered; a breach of friendship; a sprinkle of seasoned bile she called love on a plain broth that needs no seasoning. I blocked my mind to the nagging ‘no’ trying to fight its way out of my mouth like a hooked fish fights fruitlessly with a hook. But even as quiet moan turns into feverish groan and hungry cries turns into satisfied sighs, I knew I couldn’t offer her much, maybe nothing more than nights of lusts. I’m not the type that stays and nurture a plant; I am the donkey that grazes and move on to greener pastures. I bathe in pools of tears that flow from broken hearts, and kissed jarred lips patent for cigarette and cheap fiery red gloss. She is that woman that remains unbent even when she carries rock, she has a long map ahead of her, and I have no bearing. But something tells me, that for me, she will cry privately if I hurt her, she will curse quietly if I leave; she will pine for me every cold night, then she will bend to suite me, she was every man’s dream, every man, not a monster like me!
When morning peeped from behind the dark sky like a shy bride peeps from flowery veil, I picked my phone and called Eva, no ‘good morning’ no ‘how was your night?’ Eva was my type of woman and my type of woman doesn’t need that. I just give the command, a wink, a spank, a whistle, a ‘get over here’ phone call and they show up and yes, Eva appeared like Santa clause on Christmas few minutes after my call, trapped in a gown one-size too small for her size 8. She sashayed into my room and her fake contact pupils shot daggers at the sleeping Ominira, lying innocently on blue sheets smelling of after love.
“Wake her” I ordered Eva
A tug at her miraculously long-yet-African-rich hair brought her back from dream land. A faint scowl slowly replacing the morning-after-sex glow on her cute face.
“What is it, Jimi? She asked, glancing from Eva to me.
She was no longer the temptress of the previous night. She was a mid-twenty woman who had trusted me all her life, and made the only mistake of loving me.
“You have to go Ominira; I have an important matter to attend to.” I threw an arm round Eva’s waist and drew her to my side.
“Excuse me” behind those softly spoken two words were shock and anger trying to overcome calm.
“What?” I spread my hand nonchalantly. “You threw yourself at me, I didn’t beg you, and yes I enjoyed it, thanks for the show but it’s time to go home.”
She looked at me with hatred hot enough to burn through my pyjamas to my playboy soul. “Don’t hate the player, dear” I winked “just hate the game.”
With the grace of a peacock, she stood naked in all glory and stepped from the bed, her beauty sharp enough to blind eyes. Even deprived of her clothes, she is still royal in all demeanors as she walked gracefully to the adjacent bathroom and returned dressed up. I saw tears and the will to keep them at bay. I saw her raised her head up, shoulders high, neck unbent, pride, dignity and virtue wafted through the room as she left; those auras that differentiated her from others. I smiled then, because I knew I’d rather not know what being with her will court, than gamble and take away those special auras. I watched as she left the room without a glance at me or a spare backward, and I knew she would never come back. Maybe if she had, she would have seen the heroic smile mixed with tears on my unshaven face.
I hope someday she understands that I couldn’t give her forever, because I’m neither a believer nor a lover, but I have given her something else worthwhile, something powerful, like her name; Ominira.
I gave her freedom.
“Goodbye Mon Amie” my soul whispered as Eva tangle like a web all over me, giving me sloppy kisses that reminds me of a puppy’s saliva.