Chapter 6
450 Words
The door bell rang, and when she opened the door, he understood in a flash why Jei did what he did. She eyed the man, sure that she had seen this face before. One could tell she was tired and searching, if one looked into those brown eyes deep enough.
“From Jei,” he started, then swallowed. “He, uhhh, wanted you to have these before he…” he decided against saying anything further and pushed them into her arms. He turned and started to limp away, when she called out to him:
“Na true? Say him be terrorist?” He stopped.
“I don’t know much you knew the man that loved you, but if you’re Nigerian like the rest of us, then you know, that he was the necessary evil. He did it because he believed in something bigger than himself. Him bin just want make everybody dey alright. He believed the common man deserved it.” He said still backing her. She nodded as only people trying to comprehend things can. He walked away, swallowed into a lake of impatient honking and the colorful mix of yellow and green kekes. If one listened close enough, one could almost hear it in all those people through the jobs they did. Hope.
She shut the door behind her. She sat down, opened the box, and pulled out a shirt, his brown shirt. She took in his cologne and tears lined her eyes. She sniffed and looked into the box to see the letter. To my Beautiful and Damned, was written on envelope. Even in death, he was still sending her letters like they were in the ‘80s, like emails weren’t a thing anymore. She rubbed on the bump her stomach had become, took a deep sigh and she opened it:
Dear M,
Leaving has many names. Leaving takes two. Death is leaving, exits are, a breakup is, travelling too. And I’m sorry because I don’t know the kind that ours is called. I’m sorry too that when we fell in love, we moved into the same house. I should’ve known better, I should’ve loved you from the window. That way, I’d always be on the outside, and when I leave it won’t hurt so much. There’d be no portraits that framed stinging nostalgia, there’d be no rooms, empty as shells in our house. I’m sorry that when we fell in love, I loved you from the same house, and not just from the window pane. You’re my miracle, Ameenah. And I hate that for my dreams to realize, I had to wake up from my sleep, and that sleep, was you. But even when oceans die,…
- Writer
