Against Reason Read online

  A few seconds pass before Shirley gathers herself. "How do you do it? You stopped whinnying about Oliver and I am yet to see you send him a risky text."

  “Self discipline, Shirley. You need that to heal," I conclude our conversation. It's no use telling her that I almost sent him a text this morning. I am still thinking about it. Of course he will reply. He is not that mean. What truly nags me is that I am afraid if we start talking again, I will have to be honest and plainly admit that I have not made any progress.

  No woman wants her ex to know she is not fairing well after a break up. I mean, is n't that the point of posting inspirational quotes and pictures of you and your current crush on social media?

  I could worry about Oliver later .

  Right now, I need to cancel tomorrow’s interview and make a risky call to mom. I hope the deal she made with Alex still stands . I already know her response though, the deal she made was between her and Alex and where am I suddenly getting the inspiration to go back to school? But I could try, maybe she could have a change of heart.

  Or like how Jess likes to put it, you don't give up without trying. I know we don't know each other too well but wish me luck.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Sasa Mum,” I greet her in Swahili.

  (How are you?)

  “Poa sana Kate. How are doing?”

  (I am fine)

  In the background, I can hear Andrew, my step dad, asking if he should make a right turn. I would have preferred to talk to her privately. Or in other words, to have her yell at me without an audience.

  “I am doing great mum. I am calling about the interview.”

  “I thought Jessica said you just need to show up and Lucas will do his part? You are not like, freaking out, are you?” In a lower voice she adds, “Andrew , let's make a stop at Naivas first. I need to pick something”

  I take a deep breath and stare at the phone debating whether it would be rude to hang up.

  “Hello? Kate, are you still there?”

  Well, I could hang up and take advantage of the poor reception that seems to be the issue in some areas in Narok.

  “Mom, actually that's not it. I am not showing up at Care International tomorrow afternoon.” I get straight to the point and surprise the both of us.

  There is a momentary pause and for a second I think she must not have heard me.

  “Why? You forgot to pick an outfit? I specifically told Jessica to take you out for shopping. For someone so young, you spend most of your time indoors.”

  How do I proceed?

  “Mom I don't want to be an assistant project advisor.”

  “You want to be the senior project advisor? We can make it happen. You just need to hang in there for a while.”

  This is ridiculous. She would rather twist my words than take no for an answer.

  “No, why would I want to be the senior project advisor? I just don't want to work there, that's what I am trying to tell you.”

  “You want to work for Rufus?”

  This conversation is heading nowhere.

  “Yes," I say halfheartedly . I would rather have her think I am taking up dad's offer than let her show up in my doorstep tomorrow morning ready to drive me personally to Nakuru.

  I will deal with dad later.

  “Oh, that's nice I guess. Does your dad know about this? I could swear Rufus mentioned something about an undergraduate course you want to sign up for.”

  I forgot about that. I replied his email after taking advice from Christian. The idiot that ghosted me.

  “I have been thinking about it .I could enroll for post graduate and work part time. I wanted to tell you first before calling Jess.”

  “Okay, say hi to Jess. She is such a sweetheart. I am at the entrance of the supermarket, talk you later honey.”

  “Alright, say hi to Andrew.”

  “I will, take care.”

  Pheew, that was one hell of a phone call.

  I send a quick text to Jess giving her the same excuse. I have a new message from an international number I don't recognize.

  Hey there. How have you been? I lost my phone and thought I lost your forever.

  It's Christian. I must have deleted his number or something. So he still wants to pursue me after all. I interpret this as permission to pry all I want.

  Ha-ha. Had too much to drink?

  He replies immediately.

  No. Turns out my little girl dropped it at the playground.

  It's time I knew about this young girl.

  Tell me about her

  She is the loveliest seven year old. Her name is Zoe. She is a talented singer and most of her time is spent either playing the piano or helping her daddy fix things around the house. Also, she has a crush on my neighbor's kid. A boy called Liam.

  She sounds like a nice kid. At her age , I fought with boys and at some point I had to face the school head.

  You must really love her. I don't suppose you approve of her choice in boys yet.

  She is the best thing that ever happened to me. Of course no boy will ever be good enough for my little girl.

  Whoa, double standards. I roll my eyes and type anyway.

  Ha-ha, wait till she turns fourteen. With that attitude, looks like you are gonna assign her a bodyguard.

  Or have her homeschooled. I missed you

  I can't help flirting back to keep the tone light.

  Of course you did, I am amazing. How did you survive the past four days without me to brighten your day?

  I cried myself to sleep.

  He sends another text before I have a chance to reply. I must confess that I admire the confidence. I rarely double text. I only send paragraphs to close friends and members of my family with the exception of Alex. He only replies to the message bearing the fewest number of sentences.

  Oops is that too much information?

  The third text:

  I suppose you don't mind. You must have experience counseling people who have worse problems than mine.

  He definitely has a weird sense of humor.

  No. I don't mind. In fact, here is a handkerchief, please continue honey. There is nothing you can't tell me. I won't judge. Our conversation is confidential.

  I can't believe after all this long I still have the counseling script in my head. This is further proof that the human brain can lead to believe that you have the memory of a spider by erasing the most important concepts and still surprise you facts about totally irrelevant and random topics.

  Christian sends two laughing emojis followed by:

  In as much as I would love to trouble you with episodes from my not so interesting life,I am sleep deprived

  Oh the time difference. It must be really late there because it's six p.m according to the dusty clock hanging on the wall above the dining table.

  I wish him a goodnight and proceed with the agenda that brought me to this particular platform. I am about to send my ex a text.

  Yes, you read that correctly. No, I am not drunk or under any influence of any drug whatsoever. You don't think it shouldn't be such a big deal? Try texting your ex and when his sorry ass leaves you on read, it will be our little joke.

  Oliver is currently offline. His last seen reads yesterday at 2 pm. You think it's a sign I shouldn't bother him or you know, embarrass myself further, right? Hmm, I choose to go with the option that scares me the most.

  Hi Oliver.

  It sounds lame but better than adding ‘I miss you’ at the end. Don't you think?

  CHAPTER TEN

  You are entitled to be stupid, once in a while. I mean come on, life would be boring if we were all perfect.

  But there is an exception. In fact, this should be made a law. If I ever make it a mission to get my priorities right and become one of those influential women who vie for positions in the government, I would pass it as a bill on the first chance I get.

  It will be drafted as follows;

  The law forbids a woman under the age of twenty nine to send a text message or call an ex
lover within the first twenty months of separation.

  The law does not recognize the following circumstances as emergencies that warrant communication between the estranged couple:

  The woman runs into the gentleman's pet in a different part of town, possibly lost.

  The woman is lurking in the gentleman's neighborhood clad in her black hoodie trying to observe him undetected, and finds that his apartment is on fire...

  I should send my resume for the post of a screenwriter for legal drama shows. It could save me from making worse decisions, because it is apparent that I am capable of doing everything in my power to embarrass myself.

  I know you are dying to know what happened. I will not keep you guessing, I am dying to share as well. Oliver was not even supposed to reply to that text in the first place. I mean I sent it in a fleeting moment of insanity and now we are chatting like a manager and his secretary. Too formal for my liking.

  He finally got around to replying my message three days later. I had already come back to my senses and accepted my fate but I couldn't resist digging the grave further.

  For instance, this morning I asked him what he has been upto in the past few months and his reply is neutral.

  Work as usual. How have you been?

  He did not even mention that he missed me. It's humiliating. Actually, I will just leave him on read.

  No need to embarrass myself further. I will just focus on this Bradshaw guy till my soul mate comes knocking on my door and professes his undying love for me. Or I could go out more.

  Start with a jog in the evening. I should definitely do that.

  Speaking of Christian, I have been replying his texts more frequently. In fact this morning I gave in and finally sent him three photos of me.

  Of course he replied with adjectives like stunning, gorgeous, pretty, sexy...but it did nothing to my self esteem. Honestly, I feel a little stupid, seeking validation from a fifty year old man. Not to mention that I have grilled him shamelessly about his wife; how they met, how she died etc.

  Here is the fun bit. He was willing to talk about his dead wife, such a personal matter but very uncooperative when I asked him to send a picture of him. It's common courtesy to send photos of yourself when someone sends you their entirely gallery. Even if it is just a blurry selfie.

  Maybe he did not want me to see his wrinkles. That has to be it. And they say women have image issues. The irony!

  Anyway, moving forward. So this is what I gathered. His wife, Lucille, died when Zoe was three. She was a victim in a road accident that cost many lives. The couple had been married since Christian was thirty six and Lucille was thirty.

  They had been trying for a baby for a long time and when Zoe was born, it was like a miracle. They had been to countless fertility clinics and were finally looking up adoption agencies when Lucille got pregnant and was confirmed to be healthy.

  The conversation got a bit awkward from there because I was not expecting a sob story. I only wanted to find out why his wife died and why they had a child so late into their marriage, if they married at early thirties like most people.

  I suppose that's what I get for being nosy. I quickly backtracked, apologized for asking personal stuff and went offline like the adult I am. I almost messed with my Whats App settings frantically trying to exit in time before his reply gets delivered on my end.

  Like I said before, replying texts with the speed of lightning is Christian's specialty.

  Tera Nova is a nice show by the way. I finished watching the final episode at noon and my back hurts a little. Time to go for a walk, then a jog tomorrow and finally progress to long runs early in the morning. I hope I don't get bored too soon.

  I change out of my pajama shorts and put on a tank, leggings and a beanie over my braids because I am too lazy to tie them neatly.

  Climbing down the stairs from my fifth floor apartment is equivalent to a full body work out. I am breathless by the time I reach the final step and buy a bottle of cold water from the shop nearby. I plug in my earphones and start walking in a general direction before settling for a wide murram road that heads south from my block.

  Its two p.m and as if I woke on the right side of the bed, the sun is not as harsh. There is a cool breeze that makes me reach for my Vaseline to moist my suddenly chapped lips. I have never paid much attention to this side of town and I am glad to make out from a distance what might be Ngong Hills. It is many kilometers away but from where I’m, I can count three windmills.

  I figure it must be why the nights are cold regardless of the season. Sometimes during the day, it can be quite uncomfortable to lie on the couch without a blanket or a thick sweater.

  By the time I get back, it's two hours later. I am proud of myself for soaking in more vitamin D and remembering to buy groceries. Despite the fact that I did not make new friends (guy friends) today, it has not been a total waste.

  People kept throwing me curious glances though, probably wondering what business a mzungu like me has walking like she has a vast knowledge of the area and speaking fluent Swahili. They really should mind their own business.

  After a long shower, I fetch my phone from the laundry basket, briefly stopping to wonder why I thought it was a good idea to ditch it there. I draw the pattern, get one stick of cigar from the bedside drawer and make my way to the balcony.

  I stop on my tracks when I see that I have a missed call. It's from...Oliver.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  You got this. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? Oliver saying I stop bothering him? Well, on the brighter side it would help preserve whatever dignity that I have left. It would be better than if he just acts nicely playing the part of the mature ex and then laughing later at my desperate texts with his new girlfriend.

  Or I could choose not to ever contact him again. Okay, this is the most unlikely option, who am I kidding? It certainly is why I am still playing with my thumbs over the screen of my Samsung wanting to tap dial. It's two hours later and if I call him right now, it would appear I was busy earlier and could not pick his call.

  I whisper a little prayer and dial Oliver's number. It rings for exactly ten seconds (I am counting).

  “Hi Katie,” Up until this moment, I had no idea how much I missed his full toned, manly voice. I can feel a familiar ache in the pitch of my stomach and I hope my resolve to act detached does not crumble. I can do this. Really, I was not the chairperson of the debate club in high school for nothing.

  “Hi Oliver, how have you been? I just got your missed call, I must have been out of the house.”

  Oh my God, would you stop rambling. Also, you should have come up with a better excuse, say, I went for a run.

  “No problem. I have been great. How are you? You are taking good care of yourself, I hope?”

  He called me Katie, twice. How did I miss that? He must miss me too. He has to.

  “Yes, I am doing an awesome job. Nice of you to check in." I let out a nervous laugh.

  “I am glad to hear. Listen, what are doing next Saturday? I would love to catch up over coffee."

  Yaay,!!!

  “Sure, I don't think I have plans but I'll let you know in advance.” I somehow manage to find my own voice.

  He says that it's fine. He can see me at a future date if I am busy. We say our byes and because horrible habits die hard, I don't hang up immediately.

  The fifteen year old in me wants to find out if he is alone and what he has to say about me. There is silence for a few seconds and he adjusts the TV volume.

  Feeling ridiculous and knowing he is bound to go through his phone any second from now, I decide to end the call. I will never forgive myself if he finds that I have not disconnected and shamelessly spying on him.

  Just when I am moving the phone from my ear, I hear a female's voice address him, “Oliver, do you take your tea with sugar?”

  My heart literally misses a couple of beats and the phone falls from my hands to the sink. It lands on glass which breaks to pieces. My
phone is still intact though, thank heavens.

  Shit,shit,shit,shit!

  I knew it was stupid of me to text him in the first place. I even fell for his suggestion to meet him, thinking that there is some little part of him that misses me. Had I not eavesdropped, I would never have found out that he was seeing someone else.

  How naive can one be? Shouldn't there be some limit?

  ***

  The next morning, Shirley calls to let me know that she just arrived from her trip. Their firm was having team building activities and her department decided on a resort in Entebbe. It did not amuse her that she was travelling to Uganda for a week but I insisted that she needed the break.

  Her only excuse was that was not thrilled with the idea of traveling to a destination chosen by the boss's mistress, Amelia. From what I gather, Amelia is a bitch who still snitches on her colleagues in order to be on the good graces with her boss and every other departmental head. She specifically insisted that they fly to Entebbe when it was supposed to be a vote by everyone concerned.

  I do not buy the excuse myself.

  We are practically sisters so I know Shirley more than she knows herself. She wouldn't admit that she hated the idea of spending a week outside work with Jack, a guy who recently started noticing her.

  He has been asking her out for the past three weeks. Shirley however would give him all sorts of excuses. She used to have a serious crush on him a while ago but being bad boy, used to ladies hitting on him, he did not take her seriously. I am sure my best friend has lingering feelings for him and is afraid of acting on them.

  She is right to have second thoughts though, it's common knowledge that office romances never last. Not to mention they place your career at stake.

  I quickly brush my teeth and change my jacket. Shirley doesn't like it very much when I smoke. I head up towards her block occasionally stopping to reply Christian's texts.

  He says that he flies here in early November. It's mid August so that gives me ample time to dump him.

  I suppose you would bring with you the gifts you once promised then, right?

  I can't help but take note of the fact that flirting comes effortlessly with strangers. You don't get super nervous about that risky text you sent five minutes ago.