Against Reason Page 5

  The other person simply replies with whatever comeback that comes to mind. Hmm, the perks of online dating. People should do this more often.

  You mean the lingerie and dresses that you refused to accept?

  I think I am ready to accept gifts.

  Ha-ha, yes. Although, how would you know my taste and size? That's what I was worried about.

  I could show your picture to the sales lady?

  What if she recommends the wrong size because she can't believe how lucky I am?

  I don't hesitate to type my details after he suggests that I visit the mall myself. I can count on Shirley to be in a mood for a shopping spree after my trip to Western Union tomorrow.

  I am smiling like a Cheshire cat as I push the gate open. I make eye contact with a guy unbuckling his seatbelt in his Subaru. He pauses to give me a weird look. He must be wondering if I am high or something.

  I ignore him and head to Shirley's door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Shopping alone is never a good idea. It never is, especially if you are physically unfit like me. I can’t believe that just a few hours ago, I was jumping up and down with excitement as I stared at the thirty thousand shillings that Christian sent. Well, to be fair, none of my contacts has ever bribed me with a cent just for replying to their flirtatious texts. Oh, Bradshaw, where have you been all my life?

  Ouch. What in the world is that sound? It does not feel like a muscle pull. I hope it is not the horrifying sound of my leg breaking or something. This must be the first effects of walking three hours nonstop in heeled boots.

  I am currently exiting the Uber after paying the driver whose attention is still on my shopping bags. They are about ten of them but he need not know that it’s the furry trench coats that demanded the extra space. They are not even from WoollWorth, he needs to mind his own business and stop gawking like a hawk.

  My main agenda of the day was to buy cute outfits for my date with Oliver but I did not mention that to Shirley. It’s not exactly a date but where an ex is concerned, a girl gotta be all confident and impeccable. Always.

  My best friend must have concluded that my sudden interest in shopping was to do with the thrill of a girl treating herself without spending a dime from her bank account. I still haven’t told her that my ex made plans.

  I have already established that the less she knows about any chances of us getting back together, the better the odds of me actually moving on. A little encouragement from Shirley and I would send Oliver a text begging him to take me back.

  Shirley couldn’t accompany me to the stores this afternoon. Apparently she had an impromptu meeting with a client in Parklands. It’s an undeniable fact that out of the three of us, Jess has the classiest taste and would have made the ideal shopping partner. However, Jess is well, Jess.

  She would effortlessly make the chilly Tuesday afternoon worse by interrogating me about anything and everything including the guy I seem to be replying to his texts every three seconds. It was not much of a choice really so I took an educative tour of Nairobi town.

  Every twenty minutes, I sent Shirley pictures I took in the fitting rooms and she approved my choice a rather stunning sea green pencil dress that I once saw on Mimi Online.

  There is the remotest possibility that I look funny carrying loads of bags on my thin arms and limping in my knee boots as I climb the stairs. What I don’t understand is why when I bump into the bitch who lives on first floor, she stops laughing at a joke her new boyfriend just told her and stares at me.

  Even the light skinned boy, possibly in his mid twenties studies me. I roll my eyes not bothering to say hi and continue with my torturous journey to my floor.

  "Losers,” I murmur under my breath.

  The rest of the week passes by rather quickly which is strange. Finding something more meaningful to focus on does have its benefits and you barely notice an occasional misty morning slowly progress to a balmy evening.

  I have a found an interesting routine that begins with me going for a jog at 6.30 am and coming back just in time to make myself an actual meal. During the day, I work on my blog. I have not told anyone yet so don’t blab.

  I started a blog where I review books and write articles on any topic centered on lifestyle. To prove that this is something I actually enjoy and not just a distraction from my boring life, I have repaired my laptop and written a couple of articles. It is not exactly a picnic as I have to do research and sometimes read other blogs to lessen the chances of duplicating someone’s work.In between breaks, I smoke and my intake has significantly reduced to four sticks in a day.

  Sometimes I watch cooking shows and write down the simple recipes that I can get around to gathering all ingredients without much trouble.

  On Friday evening, I decide to make a trip to the salon. In the past few days my kinky hair has developed an unattractive texture because I prefer not to wear a cap when I run and neither do I remember to pack an umbrella.

  Earlier today, Shirley gave me her hairdresser’s number and since I have never been one to accurately master directions, I am now lost. What’s worse is that I can’t for the life of me, recall the name of the damn salon.

  My enormous ego doesn’t allow me to call the stylist. What was her name again? Stella? Sheila? I pop in the nearest salon and get my hair blow-dried. This will make do if I exercise enough self discipline and shield my head appropriately in the shower.

  On my way back, I check my phone and it is a few minutes past seven. I am unable to fight the urge to go through my phone to check for any messages or missed calls from Oliver. No way in hell am I going to dial his number to confirm if we are still on for tomorrow.

  He of all people should know that I don’t follow up on plans I did not initiate myself. I would rather wear my new dress to bed.

  Mr. Responsible Guy would have contacted me by now. I have known Ollie to have an affinity to meet deadlines way before they are due and making last minute cancellations is not one of his many talents.

  Heck, he would finish his essays on Thursday evening back in college and even got elected as the academic affairs secretary. This is how I know that my Samsung has a reception problem.

  It is the most likely explanation here. To be fair, last week at Shirley’s house, mom called her claiming that she could not reach me. For good measure, we used Shirley’s phone and we got a similar error message; that the subscriber could not be reached.

  I had then contacted the customer care and the polite gentleman on the other end instructed me to restart my phone and I felt stupid because it worked.

  I switch off my phone for three seconds and switch it back on when I am in my apartment. I type the pass code and frantically scroll for any voice mails, messages or notifications that someone tried to reach me. To my utter disappointment, not a single person has called me in the past two hours. Not a single one.

  It is an obvious fact that the phone works just fine. More importantly, Oliver was just asking me for coffee to be polite. He was not really counting on me to free my schedule and meet him. I have never felt so humiliated in my entire life.

  Like the loser I am, I unpack the take away fries I bought on my way back, warm them and make myself comfortable on the couch. I do not have the energy to peel the white onions to make Pilau like I planned earlier. Instead, I search for Gossip Girl on Netflix because I need Blair Wadorlf’s savage attitude to get me through the next two days.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Any sane person would understand that Saturday is the one day that people reward themselves for working their asses off during the week and sleep in. But not Annie. I suppose I should have gotten over that fact by now but I somehow expect her to at least make her first phone call at seven.

  I stare at the phone debating whether she would stop calling if I reject the call. I had no plans to go for my run so a phone call at six fucking a.m is an unwelcome distraction.

  I sit up and pull the duvet over my freezing shoulders. I should never have slept on
the couch in my jeans. It’s seriously uncomfortable not to mention the belt is leaving unattractive marks on my skin.

  At this rate, I would never wear a bikini again.

  “Please tell me you fucking have something important worth disrupting my sleep for other than your ideas for my bridesmaid dress,” I answer finally.

  “You are my favorite sister I can call anytime I want,” Annie singsongs.

  “That's it. I am hanging up,” I say meaning every word of it.

  “Fiiiine,”she says in a defeated tone. “I have a question for you. What are you doing today?”

  “I am not sure. Why do you ask?”I ask and pull a hoodie over my head. I get up and head to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. I am thirsty which is strange considering I am not nursing a hangover.

  It must be the fries I ate last night.

  “Just answer the damn question. I want to make plans to spend the day with you. Like I said, you are my favorite sister.”

  I have a feeling I will not like her idea of an outing so I don't take the bait. Annie could be dragging me for wedding dress shopping for all I know.

  Okay, I admit Oliver is part of the reason why I am not thrilled with this but still.

  “Annabelle, what exactly do you mean by spending the day with me? Don't think I have not noticed how you like to refer to me as your favorite sister when you want a huge favor. Spill.”

  “For a psychologist you are awfully cynical .Give me some credit.” In the background, I can hear the sound of a tap running and cutlery drop in the sink. She must be up preparing breakfast this early. This Justin guy is one lucky man.

  “For a bride to be you seem to have so much time to spare.” I take a huge gulp of the water and hope I will not get an infection from drinking tap water.

  “Ha-ha. I do, I mean we finally settled for March. Its six months away. But that's not what I am calling about. Justin's old friends and cousins are coming over for lunch. You need to meet Ezra, his college best friend. I have interacted with him on very few occasions but he is charming, sexy and confident. You know what's better? He is single. Ezra is so totally your type. What do you say about lending me a hand in the kitchen and then well, I'll see that you get properly introduced to one another?”

  I stop to obsess about her statement for a moment. I would love to meet this Ezra guy. I mean he sounds nice and but at the same time the description fits that of a bad boy. But couldn't this wait for another day? Say, next month? Or even better, Annie could arrange for a blind date.

  I am so not ready to be in a room with strangers . As the host’s younger sister, it’s my obligation to be on the guest’s beck and call and make endless trips to the kitchen to get them refreshments. What's worse is that I have to make small talk with the ladies and pretend to know why applying gel on your baby hair is bad form.

  “How do I know if this is not your wicked plan to get me to slave in your kitchen just for the guy to take my number out of politeness and never call?” I can't resist teasing her to buy more time.

  “I am not the selfish one, you brat. Seriously Katie, you need to have fun. You are single for crying out loud. Unless you are telling me that you got back together with Oliver, then I am not taking no for an answer,” Annie says with as much determination she can summon.

  She knows I have no real reason to be indoors on a Saturday. Shirley is visiting her relatives in upcountry so I can't use her as excuse. She could post pictures on social media and I will never hear the end of it.

  “What time do I need to be there?”

  I end the call after promising to be there before eleven. It's just to humor her and get her off my hair. I try to close my eyes but unfortunately my big sister made sure that I am not getting any sleep past six a.m today.

  I hand wash a couple of hoodies and socks before brewing a pot of coffee. I then settle with my cup on the couch and turn on mobile data.

  As usual, I have texts from Christian which I reply and proceed to scroll through my Pinterest feed. His reply comes in a few seconds later and I abandon any pretense of acting busy.

  It reads: Morning Princess. Is n’t it a bit too early to be up at this hour considering it is a Saturday?

  How he manages go keep up with the time difference is beyond me.

  I have long given up on the standard greetings of good morning, good afternoon or even good evening. Every other time he has to politely remind me that he is seven hours ahead. It is therefore a no brainer why I scored a miserable D in college level Calculus.

  It’s not if your sister’s idea of a perfect weekend is to manipulate you to be her unpaid caterer for the day

  I don't know why I add the laughing emoji but it must be Christian's tendency to overuse them that is rubbing on me.

  I am so glad not to be in your shoes right now. What's the occasion?

  A small get together. Don't even know the guests hence my enthusiasm

  Ha-ha. Must you be there though?

  Let’s see. I could say I have a broken arm. How is that?

  Perfect. You put too much pressure on your right elbow sending texts for five hours straight last night. Doc recommends two days of bed rest

  You clever old man. I bet you are a comedian real life. Or a radio presenter. Fifty year old architects don't appreciate sarcasm. Any adult above the age of thirty seven does not have a sense of humor. Period.

  Why the assumption that I am right handed?

  The angle at which you take your selfies, genius.

  This reminds me that I am yet to convince him to share more pictures. So far, I only have one of his and three others of Zoe and their pet.

  Actually, I have a better idea. He will not see this coming in a million years. I run my hands through my hair and adjust the ponytail. I then apply some lip gloss, mute the TV and open the curtains to let in more light. I need this video call to be perfect.

  Why I hadn't thought about this before is because I only accept Whats App calls from Alex. My ego doesn't allow me to accept such calls from international numbers when they could just recharge and communicate the old fashioned way.

  Let's see how Christian gets himself out of this one. I am still giggling uncontrollably when I tap on the call icon.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  This is desperate alright. Even for me. But if I disconnect right now, he would not buy my excuse that it was a butt dial. Okay, how about I just wait and see what happens. I mean that was master plan all along.

  Twenty seconds twenty five twenty nine

  Why in God’s name would anyone just stare at their fucking phone ring and not pick at all? This is rude and seriously unacceptable.

  Thirty three thirty six thirty eight

  The call ends and I don’t bother to wait for his text. I somehow need to accept that anonymity is part is part of the package and move on.

  ***

  I show up at Annie’s at exactly two thirty. I am probably the last guest to arrive. I had not anticipated too much traffic at Mombasa Road being a weekend but much to my chagrin, the president was sort of attending a launch in the area and his convoy was responsible for the crazy line up.

  “Oh my God! Look who finally graces us with her presence,” Annie says as she holds the gate open and takes in my outfit. “Wow, don’t you look so fabulous. Where did you get this dress? Makes me feel so underdressed”.

  “Nonsense, those floral pants look good on you,” I say admiring the pearl earrings. Annie is clad in pants and a white crop top that shows off her abs. Her long hair is gathered in a complicated up do that surprisingly makes her look younger than the twenty seven year old she is.

  “So are you gonna give me a hug at some point or what? I’m famished. Please tell me you have left over food in your fridge because soda and cookies won’t do.” As if to prove a point, my stomach growls.

  “Haha. This is why I love having you around. Bossing me around in my own home. Come here, silly,” she laughs and gives me a hug.

  “Technically this is Justin’s house,” I retort and un
tie my sandals. Now that I inspect my toenails more closely, the nail polish looks worse than it was this morning when I applied. It’s a dull shade of green.

  “So how many of your guests showed up?” Judging from the fleet of cars parked at their driveway, they have to be more than seven. I suddenly feel self-conscious, a clear indication that I should go out with Jess more and get used to making small talk with strangers. I wonder if my lack of confidence is to do with the recent events in my life.

  “They are mostly men and two ladies who accompanied their husbands. They are all under thirty three, your type of crowd. Move your tiny feet, I need to introduce my hot sister to the eligible bachelors in my living room.”

  Annie lets us in through the main door to their three bedroom house and the deep laughter coming from the other side of the room subsides. I say hello to Justin first who gives me a big hug and introduces me to everyone. From the way some of the men’s attention keeps diverting treacherously back to the TV, they must have been cheering a football match.

  Annie leaves the room probably to get me lunch. I shake hands with everyone and take a seat at wondering how long it would take my sister to serve me lunch. I only took white coffee in the morning and ate an apple on my way out. I have developed a low grade headache and my lipstick has dried. I am still listening to Justin introduce his friends and cousins and I am only waiting for the part where he finally mentions Ezra. I also have to act like I am happy to meet everyone and my cheeks already hurt from smiling too much.

  “This is Ezra, the guy who is solely responsible for how I turned out in college,” Justin says pointing at a very good looking male who removes his cap and winks at me. Justin’s comment earns laughter from the guests and I fake laugh along with them to avoid saying hi first.

  “Hello, I am glad to finally put a face to a name that I have heard on several occasions. You and Sophie really look alike. I know you must hear that a lot,” he says and gives me a genuine smile.