As the door flipped open, thrusting the handle behind the stranger’s shoulders, I looked in fear to see who it was and quickly snapped at the strange man who had been vigorously pressing himself against my back, rubbing and touching as gently as he possibly could, trying earnestly to turn me on into getting into bed with him, but we were at a party. I knew this quite well. All my relatives were at the party too. Though not sure who exactly it was that was having the party, all my aunts and uncles were present, not really sure if my parents were there too, but it was a sort of party where you were sure to find almost everyone you ever knew or ever heard of in the family. I am not sure I know exactly who this strange man who had come to grab me from behind was, but his touch was mild, romantic and very relaxing. It got me off the stress and agony of all the chores I have had to help them with even to the very last bit when he came stroking my back. I was completely swept off, in the smoke of his touch that I could not stop this uncontrollable euphoria until my Uncle came into the kitchen, where I was preparing the rest of the salad. His sight stunned me, almost putting me to shame. I repeatedly shouted at the man to leave me alone and go away, it looked as if he was harassing me, though I was not sure what those emotions really depicted. I was only pretending so that my Uncle will never have the faintest idea that I had been secretly flirting with another man even though I had seen him barely an hour ago.
It was the strangest thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life, having a complete stranger kick me off my pride for an undue but unflinching ecstasy .I have never experienced such before and to make it worse I instantly was trying to find a way to go away with this man and enjoy more of his soothing touch. Honestly this was something I craved for before the abrupt interruption of my uncle’s entrance into the kitchen, which marred it all, making me lose him, not for then but forever. Suddenly, I woke up. It had been a dream after all, but one so intense, the shades of reality it cast on my pass was too much to be overcome. The comfort I knew having this strange man behind me was so overwhelming, it brought back sweet memories of the very first time I truly and deeply fell in love with a man. I cramped myself into thoughts of how so very invaluable, my feelings of love, hope and indulgence in my girlish innocence was wasted and thwarted away by a man I was ready to give it all to.
Talab was my dream husband, the only man with whom I had shared, shown and bestowed all the love, the Lord God had endowed me with. He was my daily sunshine, I thought of him a pride in my future. I dreamed far and wide of a life we could both share together, but unfortunately with him I missed it, I wasted time, my entire settings was ruined and my heart broken forever, so shattered maybe only my children would be able to mend it. Now, I know it so well that I had learnt my own love lessons in a rather harsh way, sewing up all pores of possible retributions of subtle love inclines.
My insensitivity and inability to fall in love again seems to be the driving force behind the strong determination that I was going to make this marriage work, no matter what it takes, even though I’m only living on the fact that my husband loves me and he is good enough for my tolerance compared to the lots I had met before finally accepting his proposals. But this determination was not strong enough to conceal the truth that getting married to someone you love carries an inimitable sweetness which I miss now.
The realness of the scene was so unbelievable that when I woke up, I remembered very vividly, that I’d met a man in my dream, whose touch was so extraordinary, the kind of touch that will always get you jolty any time you remember a true love.
Although I confined myself to rebuking such illicit acts in my life once I was married, I questioned why I would have had such a dream, but in me, I knew that I was missing something, something I have lost forever. Just because I gave my love out at seventeen, too soon than I was ripe enough, only for the better part of me to be smashed and crushed forever.
I went back to believing that true love was real even though very rear. It made me go back to my days, when I knew I had truly been in love with one man, who will never be my husband but will remain the bane of my unsettled brittle mind.
As I reflected more on the dream that had woken me up and left me so lonesome, I agreed I had been wrong not to be bold enough to say no to the marriage proposals that got me married to a man, whom I never imagined I could have ended up being his wife, I knew I had been a coward, bowing to the pressures of my mum to get married at the age of twenty eight, believing if I didn’t I will greatly be subjected to mockery from members of the clan and the entire society..
Maybe I made a mistake of not following my dream in ensuring that whoever I married was someone I had been friends with for a longer period, someone I could sincerely call a friend, and someone I was truly in love and highly compatible with. As Things are I still cling on my determination to be dutiful, loyal and faithful to my husband even if it means struggling on to survive in this marriage. I have given up on having any luxuries that sex can bring in a marriage, I would rather give it up, try as much as possible to make my husband have the best of the things he desires in the marriage than have him desert my kids for another woman’s children.
As much as I care less about the string of love that exist between us, I had said to myself, that I was going to do everything I could to ensure that my children enjoy the love and life of children brought up by two caring parents. My husband truly cares for his kids; it’s just unfortunate that I had been shattered before he met me.
Culled from My short Story Series -‘Arike’-unpublished