~~Makena~~
It has been five and a half days since Daniel and I spent the weekend together, and since then he has not called or texted me back.
On the first day, I thought maybe he was busy or at the doctor’s appointment or sleeping because some of the medication made him drowsy.
I made many excuses for him, but he still does not pick my calls on the second day. The blue ticks on my WhatsApp let me know that he’s seen my texts but chooses not to reply.
I don’t tell anyone about it. Not even Wanja or Ayara.
This is too embarrassing and predictable. I hear about it many times and read about it. Mother’s favourite Philippine soap operas are centred around it also.
A naïve girl falls for the charming bad boy, he does everything to win her heart and trust and then after they sleep together, the boy disappears into thin air.
I am the naïve girl, and Daniel already got what he wants from me.
By Friday, my mind is in such turmoil I barely hear anything the lecturers say.
I still see Daniel’s Cayenne in the parking lot, but we never run into each other while at school.
The worst part is everything reminds me of him. I am in this same school because of him, the apartment, the city, the air itself. I am going crazy. I am losing it.
When Ayara suggests that we go out for drinks at a club, Risqué owned by Fay and her brother, I want to say no, I want to stay in and hide and die of embarrassment. But she shows up at my house to pick me up.
She helps me pick my outfit, a bright orange skater dress, and nude wedges. I bought them at a roadside market a week ago.
The shoes felt foreign on my feet, I wear rubber shoes most of the time.
Ayara ignores my protests and helps me with my hair and makeup. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself.
My hair is down, and I am wearing pink lipstick. My eyes are lined with eye pencil making them pop. I like it. Maybe I should try it more often. The most I did on regular days was lip-gloss.
“You look like a superstar,” Ayara says, admiring her handiwork.
“Thanks.”
I don’t speak much once we leave my house.
“Are you okay?” She asks as we drive through traffic.
“I’m fine. I miss home a little.”
I did miss home, and I wish I was still living in Iregi as a Kindergarten teacher. That I never went to Mombasa and never met Daniel, then none of this would have happened.
Maybe I am too naïve in this big city.
“Oh, I’m sorry, hun,” Ayara said. “A night out with your girls will help.”
We arrived at Club Risqué at around nine.
The ambience is lust and recklessness. People cuddled into groups all around the red couches—sharing beers and flirting, delicate dances, putting out cigars in ashtrays, biting red lips—exchanging sultry gazes over whiskey glasses.
Some people are on the dance floor. Sweaty bodies cling to each other, intoxicated with the music and drunk with the liquor.
Fay is in the bar area. She is with one of the bartenders, a tall, slender chocolate-skinned man, and deep in conversation.
She sees us, waves, and comes over.
“You look super gorgeous,” Fay tells me over the loud Afropop music playing on the enormous speakers. We hug before we sit down.
“Ayara helped.” I smiled.
“How are you? How is school?”
“School is okay.” I’m glad that the lighting in this place is dim and mysterious. I don’t want the spotlight on my face right now.
“Hi, ladies. What can I get you?” The bartender approaches us.
“Hi, Brian. Long time, no see.” Ayara waves.
“Madam is keeping us busy.” Brian smiles.
It is either me or the light because I see Fay blush.
“I see.” Ayara grins.
Brian goes for our orders. Ayara requests for shots.
“He hasn’t called you back yet?” Fay asks Ayara.
My heart almost stops. For a moment, I think she is talking to me, about Daniel.
“No.” Ayara shakes her head sadly.
Well, seems it isn’t just me with boy troubles. Ayara and her ‘friend’ are having some sort of scuffle. She assures me it is only business-related, but even a blind person can tell more is going on.
As for me, I just want to get myself drunk tonight and forget my troubles.
Brian comes back with the shots, and we drink up. Whoa, the stuff burns as it goes down my throat and I feel like my intestines will liquefy. But if this will make me forget everything, then I don’t care.
We are seated in the VIP Area, Fay reserved for us. I observe those killing it on the dance floor.
It is currently a skinny young man who looks like he doesn’t have a bone in his body. The boy looks like he is made of rubber, He is killing it with his MJ dance moves.
Brian brings another round of shots and another. After the third round, I feel warm, and the excitement in the room is catching up with me. The DJ is playing Davido’s Dami Duro, and I am bobbing my head along.
“Guys let me attend to some matters. I’ll join you shortly,” Fay says and walks to the back room.
Ayara and I down shot after shot and cheer to life and friendship.
She reveals to me that she had been a party girl while on campus. She went to every party she was invited to and had a million friends. Her parents didn’t think she would ever make something good with her life.
“You, Ayara Azani?” I ask.
I just can’t picture it. She is so prim.
“Same one. Can you believe it?”
She says it was a phase, but she outgrew it.
Then we are up and dancing again, and I let loose on the dance floor. For a moment, I forget why I was sad in the first place.
A couple of guys want to dance with us, but we say no. We want to have fun on our own terms.
Fay joins us, and we dance in a circle, just girls having fun. When Ayara thinks we were sobering up, she orders more shots. We down the drinks and go back to dancing.
Ayara soon gets tired and sits down, and Fay disappears to the backroom again, so it is just me on the dance floor showing off my best moves. I have either gotten smoother at it, or the alcohol is lying to me, and I am wobbling on the dance floor.
From the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face. Is that Ahmed, Daniel’s bodyguard? I squint. My vision is probably 5/20.
A guy approaches me wanting to dance, and Ahmed shoos him off. Another one tries the same and Ahmed tells him to leave. What is he doing?
Is Daniel with him? A guy tries touching me, and Ahmed shoves him away like he is a piece of paper.
Alright, that’s it. I have had it.
I stagger towards him and wiggle my finger at him. “You.”
I take his hand and lead him to our table, although it feels like he is the one steadying me.
“He is following me,” I tell Ayara.
“Is Danny here?” Ayara asks.
“No, madam,” Ahmed replies.
“Did he send you? He is not replying my calls, and now he sent you?” I ask. If I lay my hands on him, I will punch his teeth out.
“Danny is not replying your calls? What happened?” Fay asks as she joins us.
“I slept with him, okay.” I come clean with my friends. “I slept with him, and now he is not taking my calls.”
I shrug.
“You know what? Take me to him, Ahmed. Take me to him right now”. I take his hand and start scanning for the exit.
“I’ll make sure she arrives home safe, Miss Ayara,” he promises.
***
“Faster Ahmed…faster,” I say.
Daniel will hear it from me. First, he avoids me, and now he sends Ahmed to spy on me?
When we get to his apartment, I jump out of the car door and drop my black purse. Ahmed picks it and gives it to me. He helps me to the elevator and presses ‘5’.
When I get to the top floor, I ring the doorbell twice and then again. I bang at the apartment door consistently. Daniel finally opens, and I storm in.
The room looked like a mess, and it smells like damp. Daniel is holding a bottle of brandy in one hand, and his eyes were red-rimmed.
“Why are you avoiding me, Daniel?” I ask. He says nothing but drinks more and stares at me. It brings out the bite in me.
“And why did you send Ahmed after me?” I ask.
“Why?” I just need to know why. “Talk to me.”
I punch him on the shoulder, but he does not respond.
“You had what you wanted is that it? Tell me I can take it? You got what you wanted, and now you are done with me.”
I start crying. Why did he have to pick me for his stupid games? He could have played this game with someone else. Within the limited period, we knew each other I fell for him. I even believed that he loved me and cared for me. This emotionless person I am talking to is entirely different from the Daniel I know. He does not care at all that he hurt me. I am just another of his conquests.
“Say something,” I beg. I am desperate to know.
He just stands there, staring at me.
It’s no use talking to him. I leave him standing there and wobble out of the room. He is done with me, I feel it. He does not want me anymore.
I walk towards the gate.
Ahmed gets into the car and follows me.
“Please let me take you home miss, Makena.” He drives beside me in the gated estate as I stagger along the walkway.
I stand under one streetlight and slide down the pole. I sit there and cry. “Leave me alone, Ahmed.”
He stops the car right there. He gets out and gives me his handkerchief.
He helps me up and opens the door for me. As we drive, I looked at the fuzzy streetlights with half-closed tearful eyes. Sorrow weighs down my broken heart.
Ahmed helps me to my apartment and onto the couch. He goes to the kitchen and brings me a glass of water.
He’s so good at this. I suspect he has done it before. I bet he’s cared for too many of Daniel’s hysterical scorned women before.