Short Stories, Tale Africa

Jacob and I (IV)

By Kathryn Yule Mweupe Kazibwe:

It took Jacob a week to remember me; seven long days during which I waited eagerly for his call. They don't say the first cut is the deepest for nothing! Even after his less-than-poetic treatment of me, I subconsciously held the hope that maybe there was some truth in those poems he wrote me. Yes, I still hoped I was his queen, and we were in love – together – and he was yet to hold me in his arms and soothe my hurt away. It amazes me to this day the way I went back and forth between despair and hope while I waited for the verdict; either I was wanted or rejected. It was distressing.

So when after all that expectation all I got was a message on Facebook saying, “hi, long time… I need a favor” I didn't know what to say, and so I said nothing. I expected a call, or at the very least, one of his sweet little texts with those words that were so good at turning me into royalty. Not this flippant message that did not come anywhere close to anything he'd ever sent me! So I kept my peace and waited for him to show a little more love.

 A few minutes later he sent me another message,“Hey, I need 400k for next semester…can u help? Thought I could use your laptop as security to borrow some, will give it back asap. Pliz get back to me.”

If I didn't know what to say before, I was absolutely dumbstruck this time. Was he really serious? A few weeks earlier if I didn't reply a message from him he'd act all concerned, even call me to find out if anything was wrong, now he just jumped on to the next subject without missing a beat. I guess I wasn't precious enough for his concern now, after having partaken of 'the fruit'. We clearly weren't on the same page, probably not even the same book!

So I had spent all that time whining and pining over him, and then had rejoiced when he finally got in touch, only to find out that the only reason he had contacted me was because he knew I would be more than happy to help him. In fact, if he could, I imagine he would simply call my laptop to come to his rescue without having to deal with me! This camel's back was officially broken. I realized that Jacob, my precious poet, my angel, was but a figment of my potent imagination. What had remained tangible was Jacob, the man who had served his purpose in my life.

It had taken me long enough, but I didn't need any more prompting to bury Jacob, Akin and all their minions right back where they belonged, labeled “lessons learned.”

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