Memoirs of an Immigrant

Memoirs of an Immigrant

The first day I met her was at a friend’s birthday party. She had blonde hair, brown eyes with an average height  you would barely notice because of the high heels she wore. We danced with each other and had  a few drinks together that night. I was not going to push my hopes because I learnt white girls were very sensitive. Later that night while the party went on, we went to my house.

I lived in the penthouse of an ancient Victorian house located close to South-sea in Hampshire – a South-eastern county in England. The view from there was lovely as my window faced a beautiful garden. The garden was opposite my house separated by the road. It was not the garden that made me enjoy the view actually. It was the fact that I could always watch lovebirds sit together while they talked, laughed or kissed in the garden. Various bright colored flowers decorated the garden. The garden had four benches .One was placed at the center of the garden under what seems to me as quite an old tree. The tree had a massive trunk and so many thick branches  covered with broad leaves. Because the tree neatly hid the bench placed under it, it was usually the spot you would find lovebirds doing their thing especially at night. The other benches were placed at the North, South west and South east corners of the garden. Although I have seen so many other beautiful gardens in England, this particular one was my favorite. Perhaps, it was because I lived close to it.

 

We did not talk very much that night when she came to my house because I had one of my friends around. I rolled a joint and we passed it round. Honestly I was scared that night considering how much I was warned about this lifestyle before I left Nigeria to study in England. The joint we had that night was not just the regular stuff you got from the street. This was “high grade”. First-timers were not allowed to have it. It was for experienced users. Katherine was however not an experienced user therefore the results that followed after we left my house were not surprising. When we got back to the party, she puked several times and could not dance again. She kept complaining she felt sick.”Take some milk and you will feel better”  I simply told her. I was not around to know how it ended with her  that night because I left the party soon after.

 

Katherine and I did not see or talk to each other after that night for three weeks. I was actually avoiding getting into any troubles based on my last experience with her. My phone rang one Saturday night and it was Katherine. She said she was coming over to my place with her friend to have some drinks. After that night we kept in touch more often. Video calling was our best way of communicating when we were away from each other.  I started to develop feelings for her as time went by and she also felt the same way but kept saying she wanted to take things slow. I was not bothered because it was never going to get  serious-so I thought. After all I had a girlfriend in Nigeria.

 

After a party we attended together one night, as usual I left early to get back home and clear my head from excess booze I had had at the party and was not expecting anybody. Two hours later Katherine called that she was on her way to my house. The rain outside when she called was quite heavy that I stood in front of my house with an umbrella waiting for her. I made her a cup of  tea when she got inside. She undressed and lay on my bed covering herself with my massive duvet. I told her I had a smaller duvet which I preferred to use but she insisted we stayed under the same duvet. We made out that night which got me thinking she had finally fallen for me.

When I woke up , Katherine was gone! .She left with all the money in my drawer which was £1500 ,my wallet that had all my bank cards , my student ID card , my gold rolex wrist watch and my phone. There was not even any way I could call her to ask why she did this to me. I have never been to her house before and to make matters worse none of my friends knew her very well. As I wondered what went wrong and how I allowed myself to be fooled by an “oyinbo” I sat on my bed to recover myself . Suddenly I felt a warm palm touch my cheeks. What?!! . I opened my eyes  It was a dream. Katherine kissed me and said good morning.



5 thoughts on “Memoirs of an Immigrant” by Uzoma Umekwe (@uzomaumekwe)

  1. Lmaoo tha k God it was a dream..you beta safe guard that money

  2. @schatzlein…lol..if it was not a dream only God for help person..Thanks for reading.

  3. Nice, could have been edited and written better.

  4. @jaywriter thanks for the comment. However, if you had specifically indicated what part of the story needed editing or given any idea on how this piece could have been written better that would have got me really thinking about re-writing the story. Thanks all the same.

  5. Hmmm… Nice twist to the end; I’m a sucker for poetic appeal in story telling & this was quite bare of any; but that’s just my opinion :)… Nice

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