She is coming to see me today. I still have not decided what to do. She had sent me a BBM message that she was longing to see me. We saw each other two days ago. I am afraid to probe further into what that ‘longing’ meant. Would today be the day I drop my convictions at the door? Maybe I have been prudish…maybe a little kissing, just a little sign of affection might not be as bad as it seems. All too soon, there is a knock on the door. I take a look at myself and I see my top shirt button hanging open. I quickly fasten it before opening the door.
“Hey,” she says cheerily, giving me a once over. She is dressed in a top and skirt. Harmless enough, I thought.
“Hi,” I mumble. “How was your day?” I ask as she sits down beside me on the couch.
“It’s getting better,” she says smiling at me. Instinctively, my eyes go to her lips. They are fuller than I ever noticed before. The room begins to feel a little hot so I stand up to open the windows.
“How was yours?” she asked me.
“It was good. I was able to get a lot of my reports done today.”
“That’s good o. I’m glad all my BBM messages did not distract you from your work,” she says. I do not respond.
“You know, you look so serious. You are doing that thing to me again,” she says edging closer to me.
“What thing?” I ask, my heart thumping in my chest.
“This,” she says as she puts her mouth close to my face. I know what she is about to do. But I don’t know what to do. I want her to do it, and I don’t want her to. Should I push her away and risk hurting her deeply? Or just allow for one short small meeting of the lips?
If it starts now, where will it end? Why do I feel so trapped and yet unable to run away?
“I missed my period”, Sandy says, bluntly. She fixes her gaze on me. A menacing, cold stare. She is doubtless daring me to say anything inappropriate. Anything that would be be deserving of the full force of feminine fury. She brushes aside some itinerant strands of artificial hair from the side of her face.
I wince and stare back. My jaw drops. A wave of intense heat flows through my whole body and I shudder. I force my teeth together to avoid clattering.
“Are you dumb?” Sandy shouts, “You lost your voice eh?”
“Why are you shouting?” I murmur, still confused.
She sits down. Panting. I can see she is ready for a fist-fight.
I feel like Samson right now. I guess bearing his name is one of the factors complicating my life. I look into Sandy’s eyes and I see Delilah there.
“Good, it is well”, I say in a husky voice.
“It is well?” Sandy seems confused.
She flashes a pregnancy test strip in my face. The lines rub salt into my injury.
“I guess it’s time we meet your parents and tell them what has happened. I’ll tell my people too.”
Sandy is jittery. She starts crying.
I sit on the floor, scratching and rubbing my head. The corners of the room seemed to be dissolving and subliming and I hold my head in both hands as if that would prevent an imminent explosion.
I know she’s only acting out, pretending to be devastated. This was her plan all along. I feel like a porcupine in the hands of its captor. I wish for a moment I could just curl up into a ball and disappear.
She’s got me. Cold. Exactly where she wanted me to be.
I try to take some responsibility. Obviously, it takes two to tango. I remember all the yells, the complaints, the unsolicited touches. I remember my part in all that went down. My part was silence.
I did not resist her wiles. I kept quiet. I realize now that if one keeps silent in the face of deception, one soon becomes a part of it.
She is pregnant. I know I will never be party to the murder of an innocent soul. That is not negotiable. Perhaps from now on, I will stand by what I believe in without wavering.
However, the pregnancy milk has been split. And I am at a loss what to do. Where do we go from here?
To be continued.