His mistaken Identity

Chapter 9

Three years ago.

Jane fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, as though the ground under her cheap sneakers was suddenly too hot. She self-consciously checked that her t-shirt covered the broken zipper on her jeans one more time. Her fingers held on to the hem of the cotton shirt, stretching the fabric that was already dangerously thin and would probably tear if she wasn’t more careful.

She almost regretted coming to the party Dorcus had insisted she attends. Her friend meant well in her own way. That was one of the reasons she had agreed despite all the excuses she could have given and probably should have given the state she was in now. But Jane really hadn’t wanted to offend the only person she called a friend and who often bailed her out of sleeping on an empty stomach.

Unfortunately, though, Dorcus’ kind of crowd was not the average Joe. Jane looked around at the packed garden and poolside. The crowd gathered were all products of wealthy homes. Some looked like Trust fund babies. People who didn’t know the ache of an empty stomach and the itch of unmoisturized skin. They all wore expensive clothes and shoes and none of them knew the pain of earning the coins that paid for them.

That was Dorcus’ type of scene. She played with the rich and privileged. Not that the young woman came from money herself. No, far from it. Dorcus was pure ghetto blood, but had a rich test which she satisfied by entertaining a few sugar daddies with deep pockets.

Jane didn’t judge, especially not when she often called on her friend to share the gifts from those deep pockets. But what she didn’t do was to join her friend in that easy way of gaining a living. Jane was broke and desperate three-quarters of the time, but she had dignity and a little pride. She would sooner die of starvation than sell her body to a portly old man for a meal. Her skin crawled like a thousand spiders covered her body just thinking about it.

Of course, her decision didn’t please Dorcus much, who thought she was stupid and stubborn for nothing. However, the girl still tried, and inviting her to a party was Dorcus’ way of trying. Although, very few occupants fit the sugar daddy criteria. The majority of the crowd was around her age.

The mood in the place was jovial. People chatted as they enjoyed a variety of alcohol and food. That was the other reason she had come. Good food and free-flowing alcohol. A day to just forget her rent was due, and she barely had two coins to rub together.

Jane shook the thought away with determination. She pulled on the hem of her shirt again and walked over to where the alcohol was being served. If she was going to relax and at least enjoy herself, she needed to get some alcohol into her stomach.

Five bottles later, and she was finally feeling pretty good. She still kept a hand on the hem of her shirt, but she didn’t really care if someone saw she had a busted zipper anymore. Besides, it was getting dark, and she had found herself in a corner that was dark and away from most of the madness that had started to characterize the party.

Jane shook her head, chuckling to herself, as she saw one girl remove a pair of expensive heels and just toss them away on the grass, not caring where they landed and she didn’t give the impression she would be looking for them anytime soon. Money, Jane thought to herself. The people at the party had parents with lots of money. All she had was herself, a cheap one-roomed apartment almost bare to the bone, a small pile of second-hand clothes she bought more than a year ago and was on their last leg, and half a loaf of bread waiting for her when she got home.

She also had a mother, that was if the woman was still alive. Jane wouldn’t know. She hadn’t seen the woman or heard from her in five years, not since she had run away from home at the age of fifteen.

Remembering her pathetic circumstances brought a bitter taste to her mouth, which she quickly neutralized by bringing the bottle back to her lips and gulping down the alcohol until she was almost choking.

“Are you trying to replace the blood in your veins with that alcohol?” a smooth, deep voice asked out of nowhere.

Startled, Jane lowered the bottle, cleared her throat after a few coughs, and searched with glossy eyes her immediate surroundings for the source of the voice.

Although she was well on her way to getting drunk, Jane still blinked and stared when she finally saw who had spoken to her.

There wasn’t much light around, but she could still make out most of his features. He was tall. That was the first thing she noticed about the stranger. The man leaned against the wall, casually watching her. His skin was a warm caramel, just a shade darker than her own. He was handsome and, unlike the rest of the people at the party; he didn’t dress as though he was advertising designer clothes in a fashion magazine.

“Are you still sober enough to hold a conversation? Or did that ship already sail?” he asked with a teasing smile.

Jane straightened her back and placed the almost empty bottle on the floor next to her chair. “I am not drunk.”

He chuckled. His shoulders trembled and his head shook like he was really amused. The sound was like warm milk, soothing, and definitely got her attention. “The famous words of every drunk person.”

Defiantly, Jane lifted her chin. “I can still count my fingers.”

“Good to know.” He pushed away from the wall and came closer. “I wouldn’t want to hold a conversation with someone who would forget me tomorrow morning. Especially if we have a good time.”

“I am not like that,” she immediately said with anger.

The man’s brows rose, then furrowed. “Not like what, exactly? I feel like you have flipped channels on me and we are no longer speaking the same language.”

An uncomfortable expression passed over her face before she responded, almost reluctantly, as though wishing she could backpedal and keep her mouth shut. “I don’t just sleep around.”

His forehead cleared immediately, and he shook his head again, still clearly a little amused. “You misunderstood me. I didn’t mean to offend you or insinuate such a thing. I just want to talk and maybe take you out for coffee tomorrow to kill the hangover I am quite sure you will have.” He then extended his hand toward her with a smile. “My name is Enock.”

As it turned out, they did talk and Enock did take her for coffee the next day. And she had a massive hangover, but it didn’t factor into their time together. Then there was lunch two days later. Before she knew it, she saw him every day, and soon enough, they were a couple living together.

Enock wasn’t rich, but he made enough to keep them both fed and sheltered. And a little extra for essentials like clothes and a few other things. He always talked of making it big, but Jane didn’t care. She was just glad to be with him. She loved him, and he loved her. What more could she have asked for?

Jane had never imagined what her life would have been like if she had never met Enock at that party. And she never wanted to imagine what she would do if he suddenly vanished from her life.

But that was the reality she was forced to face when her phone rang late at night after more than two years of being together.

Jane had barely heard a word the caller said after they had informed her that there had been an accident and Enock was dead.

Dead. The love of her life was dead. Jane’s mind failed to wrap around that detail. It was too much to bear. Too ugly a reality to accept. The man that had brought joy into her life was gone. She felt as though ice-cold water had just been pumped into her veins. Then another reality hit her and she looked down at her swollen belly. She wasn’t the only one that had lost him. Their unborn child had also lost a father before he or she could even take their first breath.

The rest of that night and the days that followed were a haze to her. Jane couldn’t remember if she ate or even bothered to take a bath. Sleep had been impossible, even when she was too exhausted to stand. She had been totally lost and heartbroken.

Five months later.

Jane looked at Enock in his fancy expensive suit and felt her heart break all over again. He wasn’t dead; he had just abandoned her and their son so he could restart his life without them.