Big Boys don’t cry.
They walk with swag, chest out, dark aviator
shades concealing the crimson lake; with waves which sang warm mocking
parables. They keep a tight lip to mask every micro expression, like a villain
who could have been on the American Fox show: LIE TO ME. Ironically…Brad lied to himself…
The story isn’t about Brad’s life; it would
be far off the tone. It is the story of Brad’s evolution, the events which
created the person to which Brad was. But the event marked the start of what
Brad came to know as an unfair joke to which life used to tease him. For he was
a few months away from graduating; he had always spent his life trying to prove
to his father that he was no disappointment; that he was the man his father had
hoped him to be. He felt he was robbed of the chance.
Scared for his mother and his siblings Brad
masked his emotions as much as possible. He had rage, there was no one to pour
it on, he had pain, and there was no one to console him. It was no one’s fault,
to his left were loved ones hurting, and to his right, the ignorant criticism
that was the ever present carcass called tradition. To his front extended
family reminding him of a plague he had failed to notice his family would have
to live with, his striking resemblance to his father; and behind him the exit,
o so sweet, o so tempting…
In that time when the compass of emotion that
was Brad failed to move in the right direction, he found her, not Rachael,
Rachael was not someone Brad would have dreamt to know yet. This time there was
Angel.
Angel was her name; he remembered meeting
Angel, hearing her name was like a joke. He acted like a standup comedian when
he met her, back then it was in tune with the nickname his “old friends” called
him and she mentioned her name was Angel over her illuminating smile; he was
almost convinced it was a ‘Blow off’ name. You know, the name girls gave to a
guy they never wanted to meet again, a name to get the guy to ‘Stop talking’.
There were no GSMs back then, no social media, so communication balled down to
good old fashion TOASTING. This was a
field Brad failed at woefully.
His friends at the time seem to flourish;
they talked to girls with ease. They told him the lines but any time he tried
to talk to a girl, he ended up mixing the words; like the cute geeks you see in
romantic movies. His first successful line to a girl he wanted to approach was
“Hello, I was wondering if I could get the name that matches the beauty before
me”. It worked, she told him her name, she was his first ever girlfriend. Her
name was Bimkpe.
Back to Angel, and though it was a gift she
was there, it was also a curse. For Brad and Angel always had the bad habit of
hooking up when they both had a significant other. That never stopped them, it
wouldn’t this time, especially as she was the one standing by his side, softly
and cautiously sliding her hand into Brad’s making sure it was the right time.
Brad smiled at her, tried to give a smart
quirky remark to make her know he welcomed her attempt at soothing his pain. They
had this chemistry which was like something out of a Hollywood movie. It was
too good to be true to Angel, it was the same for Brad. They were never going
to make it, they knew it, they just wanted the bad romance. They got it and oh!
It was so beautiful.
Her hands always found a way on his body, his
hands could never get off hers. Whenever they sat facing each other they
breathed so heavy it was contagious the chemistry between them. His childish friend
even mocked that he could have an orgasm staying around them. They were toxic,
something her sisters envied, something everyone envied.
Angel took Brad slowly away from his father’s
grave side. Brad almost forgot that the occasion had been over for hours. She
slowly gestured him to come with her, her eyes held this promise that she could
make it all go away. It couldn’t be
possible he thought, there was no way she could.
In the silence of the dark room they went
into their minds spoke a thousand words to each other. She apologized like it
were her fault his father was gone; he consoled her that it wasn’t her fault.
He searched for tears; they evaded him like he had leprosy in the early days of
Israel. He spoke, tried to explain, tried to bring the tears, they still
refused to heed his call.
She noticed his confusion, she noticed his
pain, leaned in and kissed him passionately. He felt guilt; not because she had
a boyfriend, that meant nothing to him at the moment, but because her soft
lips, melted the confusion away; her electrifying touch spoke words to his
heart, was more consoling than the hundreds of “eh ya” he had heard. She had
taken it away. Angel had dried up the Crimson Lake…
To Be
continued
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