Short Stories, Tale Africa

City of Love (3)

 

By Emmeline Bisiikwa, Uganda

I had always wanted to start interior designing and was just waiting for an opportunity. I had made a number of applications but hadn’t heard back yet. I was excited for my new relationship until the response I was dying for came in. I going to be an interior decorator!

I met with the company and then they told me the job would be in another town. My heart sank. How was I going to continue seeing Ricky? Our relationship had just started. Would he be ok with me moving away? What would happen to us?

I broached the subject with him.

I got a new job. I’m going to have leave town though.

How far is it?

Far enough, but close so you can visit when you want to.

When do you leave?

1 week. Do you still want to be with me Ricky? I know this isn’t what you signed up for.

I feel like I just met you Vickie. But I wouldn’t want to lose something I just found. You know I can’t stay away from you.

Does that mean you still want to be with me?

I meant what I said baby, I feel happy with you. I am crazy about you. Haven’t felt this way in a long time. We’ll make this work. I will miss seeing you whenever I want though.

You will come visit, right? I will text and call until you get tired. I promise.

Yeah. Like once a month. I think we’re going to have to keep the communication going so I won’t feel like you’re far away. Think I am going to break down and miss you when you are gone. I’ll just have to keep talking to you so I don’t feel like you are gone. I can’t get tired, want to talk to you all the time.

He gave me the sweetest kiss and held me close. I felt like maybe we could get through this. He had shown me time and again that he was committed and wanted this. I knew that whatever the future brought, so long as he was by my side we would get through it.

The days leading up to my departure were like bittersweet memories. We spent as much time together as we could. Ricky called, texted, and showed me I was special to him. I got so many kisses on my forehead and cheeks that I wished I could bottle them up because I would miss them.

His touches turned reverent and soft. His kisses longer and warm. His arms became my refugee because I knew he wouldn’t be there after a long day of work. His messages and words became even dearer because I knew they were all I had to hold onto in the long months ahead. I knew what we had was special. I just hoped distance would not change that.

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