Category: Drama

Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Uncategorized

Imperfect 4

adewus4real31 Comments

Imperfect 4

#WhatTheHeckMan

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 Follow @adewus4real the writer on Twitter 

 ⟹ ⟹ ⟹ PLAY THE SONG BEFORE YOU START READING

Magic by Coldplay

 I stood there and she cried. I didn’t know what to say and I knew apologizing was not going to be the same. It wouldn’t have felt genuine and she hated half apologies. The only source of light still in the room was that which was coming out of my laptop. The light dimmed and then after a few minutes it went dark.

The traffic lights and the beams from the neighbouring buildings now lighted the room. We were both still sobbing but standing at opposite ends of the room. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was crying. I wasn’t sure if it was because she had stumbled on my diaries or if it’s because she had now seen the depths of my pain and it had to be addressed and that scared me. It left me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I had spent so many years building up a wall to protect me from a day like this where the pain would be visited. I couldn’t be seen as weak, I wouldn’t let anyone or any situation make me feel vulnerable again.

Her sobbing stopped briefly and I could feel her staring at me. My eyes had now adjusted to the darkness and I felt her eyes on my skin. I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation; I didn’t know what to say. I had never prepped for a situation like this and I didn’t know the right way to approach talking.

Then it happened and she started sobbing again. She got off her seat, bent down and picked up her phone and bag. She began walking towards her room door. She stopped in the middle of the living room, now she was more visible to the eye and she said amidst her sobs; 

“Efia, I get it. I really do. I just never knew it was that bad. The hate inside you is crippling. I’m not even sure how you bare to look at me.”

And then she walked into her room.

I just stood there and watched her walk away. After a few minutes, I headed to the couch. Sitting down, I ran my finger over the touchpad and the laptop lit up. I clicked on one of the first videos I made. It was during my identity crisis phase. I had nappy natural hair and I tried to desperately believe that I was Jamaican, listening to a whole lot of Bob Marley and co. I was so young and broken. I still was.

I watched a few more videos before I knocked out for the night on the couch.

.     .      .     .     .     .     .

My whole apartment had this empty feel about it. I could feel the silence around the room. The hallways carried this empty feel in the walls. I slowly sat up and stretched out my arms in the air as I woke up the rest of my body.

I looked around the room and the headache I had reminded me of the night before. I let out a deep sigh. Scanning myself, I noticed my makeup smeared all over my arm I slept on and the couch. I got up and patted my hair down. I headed for my mom’s room.

She was religiously always awake before everyone else was and praying. Today, there were no voices coming out of the room.

I came close and leaned my ear into the door; nothing. I knocked and heard nothing so I opened the door.

The room was neat and tidy. The bed made, the tables dusted and all her stuff gone. There was a note on the table and it indicated that she was leaving to stay at a hotel and was fine with being left alone.

I was sad that she left but I was more irritated that my dad had called me a few times. I just wanted to avoid the situation like I had done majority of the time.

I decided to shelve it and put it in the back of my mind. I had other things to worry about. I walked into my kitchen and I sat there on the island of the kitchen with a concerned look on my face. I had a decision to make. Would I be able to move on from Damien or was I going to be stuck and lose a good man in Lovell?

It had been one hell of a rollercoaster ride of emotions and I just wanted stability. Damien had showed me how important he was to me by being able to stay away but in the same breath, he scared the crap out of me because of how important he was to me. Lovell seemed like the safe bet.

He was local and was proving himself to me as the days went by. I picked up my phone and dialled Lovell’s number and asked him to come over.

If we were ever going to become something, I needed to be upfront with him.

He arrived at my place about 30 minutes later. And I explained the night before and my leaving. I told him about Damien and how much I cared about him. I let him in on some of the difficulties with my mom. He just listened. And then when I was done. He sighed deeply.

He got up from where he was sitting on the couch away from me and then he sat down next to me. He held my hand and looked at my face. He said,

 “Efia, you know how much I care about you. You have captivated me and I have wanted you for myself the whole time. I understand that there are things you might have experienced before I came into the picture but I arrived wanting to be everything to you. The sad thing is I was once in a similar situation where I gave myself to someone else when I was still madly in love with another and I was stuck for many years while I wanted to be with someone else. Many of us think we can replace the one we love with a good enough replica. It might work for a while but after, the heart wants what it wants. I would be fighting a lost cause if I asked you to pick me over him when you’re not ready yet. You have to make that decision by yourself. Besides from what I have seen and how he made you feel before you returned from Sydney; nobody can love you like he can. And in regards to your mom, forgive her Efia, you’ve both been through way too much already.”

I clutched his hand tighter as I fought back tears. He was such a good man with a good heart. But he was right, my heart belonged to someone else and I had to wake up to that realization.

I gave him a long hug and a peck on the cheek and sent him on his way. He asked us to be friends and I knew we’d become great friends but I had to save some relationships first.

.     .      .      .     .

 I was standing in front of my mirror in my bathroom, I was thinking of everything that happened from Damien to Lovell to my mother. I needed calm in my life. I was constantly in this heightened state and it was weighing heavy on my heart. I was replaying what Lovell said about Damien and my mother. I knew he was the one. I had known it since Sydney but I tried to down play it and now here I was, wanting this man that I knew was the piece I was missing but too stubborn to fight for him.

Who cared what he had seen at dinner?

I might have been wrong but wrong on whose account?

He had been gone for months and I was supposed to not do anything with my life. It wasn’t fair.

But playing the blame game wasn’t going to help anyone. I looked over to my right on my bathroom sink and stretched for my cell phone. I picked it up and dialled *67 before dealing his number to hide my number.

It worked and he picked up.

I stayed silent for a short minute before I started talking,

“Damien, how much longer are you going to punish me for?”

I started with. He sighed because he knew I had gotten him by blocking my number. I continued,

“It’s been months and then you just show up?! And then you hide from me. You know what I’ve been through and putting me through all this is just not fair.  Why are you doing this to me?”

He gathered himself and prepared his response;

“Efia, the main reason I have stayed away is for both our benefits. You are still hurt and holding on to a lot of pain from what happened years ago. I’m not saying it’s not justified but it’s hindering you from loving me the way you should. You might be fine for a while and then it creeps in again. You’re so guarded that you can’t let anyone in and you’re so hurt that you don’t see when you’re now the one hurting people you love because you’re trying to not be hurt again. Efia, I love you and I’m scheduled to leave in 2days…”

My heart melted as he said that but then he continued,

“…but I will not agree to start a serious life with you, if you haven’t at least addressed the topic with your mother. I will not allow the cycle of hurt to go into my family. It ends here. Bye Efia”

I heard the phone click. He had hung up. I hated being hung up on with a passion but this was an exception.

That was how he got when he became really emotional. I dropped the phone and looked into the mirror at myself. Something had to give.

.     .      .      .      .

I was up all night thinking about Damien and the things he said. I was battling with his ultimatum. I hated ultimatums and being asked to do things I felt I wasn’t ready to do but when was I ever going to be ready?

All night, I gathered all the letters and notes I had written about the feelings of betrayal, hurt and pain I had felt growing up and hating my mother. It took me the whole day to realize it but I knew I had to do something. I gathered all the items and put them in a box. I was taking charge of the situation for the first time.

I texted my mother the address and asked her very nicely to join me. It was late and I didn’t expect her to show up but I also felt if she was awake, she would.

I was standing on the sand around a little campfire I had made. Next to me was a box of papers and big empty bottles.

The fire was burning high and my mother arrived next to me. We didn’t exchange pleasantries. I just started talking,

“to say I was hurt by what happened years ago would be an understatement. The feelings of betrayal and pain, defined my life and relationships. I did things. I hated myself and I hated you. I experimented with my body from men to women. I searched for something to fill that void. I searched for love. I pushed people away that got too close and I broke hearts because I could. I became engrained and accustomed to being one with hurt and it consumed me. But I am tired. I need to let this go…”

I started to cry

“I need to let this all go. So here we are…”

My tears now hindering my clear communication;

“You are going to help me put all these letters and items inside these glass bottles and together we will smash them on the rocks in the fire and let them burn. I want to let go once and for all. “

My mother and I took letter after letter, I had written way too many over the years and I stuffed them inside the jars. At the end we took a safe position like 10 ft away and began to throw the jars into the fire. It would hit the rocks and spark. And the papers would catch fire and burn. It was a significant therapeutic process.

I just needed her there with me to let go of all the hurt and pain. After the last jar, I turned awkwardly to leave not knowing what to say next. My mother quickly moved next to me and held me.

I said,

“I forgive you mama”

She rubbed my back and said

“I know baby. I know.

You are beautiful, brave and already a better woman than I ever was. I love you Efia. Thank you taking charge of your future. I wish I did.”                                                                    

We stood there for a while and just listened to the waves as they hit the rocks. It was great to be there with her. I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders.

 .     .     .      .     .     .

Like I Can by Sam Smith

The whole next day, I was physically tired from all the emotions from the weekend but more still had to be done. I had to get Damien back.

He wasn’t answering his phone again. He must have thought I was trying to convince him to stay without talking to my mother.

I knew I had to go and get him. I figured his favourite hotel, the Hilton, was where he was staying. Thankfully his hotel was not too far away; only a 17-minute drive. I got into my car and drove down there.

I walked into the lobby and told them my name. I asked the lady if he was staying there. She knew who he was;

“Ma’am, he just checked out about an hour ago. He said he had a flight to catch”

she told me.

“Shit!”

I muttered under my breath.

I stepped outside the hotel and felt the heat slap me in the face again. It was really hot.

I looked down at my Google maps to see the directions loading up. Then I glanced at the corner of my phone screen; 17% battery life.

It was the mid-afternoon and rush hour traffic was building up. I knew I had to stop and buy gas but also rush down to the airport.

45 miles away with 17% battery during rush hour, I knew I needed a miracle. There was no way that phone was going to last that long. I began driving and then I hit the freeway and the curse of the road hit; traffic.

Damien had to return his car at 5pm, and catch his flight at 7pm. And I was stuck in traffic 38 miles away with an hour plus to drive. It was 4:30pm. I was all kinds of screwed.

I tried to remember the name directions off the top of my head but it was hard, too many new roads I had never taken before. I continued to drive as I dimmed the lights on my phone and closed all the unused apps. I had been driving for about 10mins now and even without touching the phone, the battery was down to 8%.

Now I was panicking. I didn’t know where the car rental place was nor did I know what gate he was flying out of. I didn’t know how to get to the airport to begin with!

I saw a gas station over the right side of the freeway, so I exited. I ran inside the shop mart and asked out loud,

“Do you guys have any car chargers for Android phones?”

IPhone users be quiet please. Thank you.

The guy looked at me in my pensive state and pointed at the rack with all the chargers on it.

I furiously combed through them and pulled the one I needed out. I headed to the counter and threw it down. The man looked at me like I was crazy.

“Is that it?”

he asked. I nodded back.

“Debit or credit?”

he followed up. Stupid question I thought to myself.

“It doesn’t matter.”

I snapped back slightly irritated. I rushed to my car, which also needed gas. I pulled up next to the pump. I was about to get out of the car when I noticed that there was a message on the button for regular gas that said,

“Out of regular gas”

Who the fuck was ever out of regular gas?!!!

I jumped into my car and tried to find another pump. Same message on the next one, I was beginning to feel cursed. The next pump had the same message. Every fucking pump was out of regular gas!

Argh!!!

I hopped in the car and looked at my phone, 5% battery. I was truly scared now. I could not lose Damien for good. I just needed him. I knew it.

There was no man to love me the way he loved me. I just had to let him know that I was ready to let him in the way I should have this whole time.

As I stopped at the traffic light right before the ramp onto the freeway, I opened up the charger I just bought and plugged it in. Dead.

It didn’t work!

I just paid $7.99 for this freaking charger and it didn’t work?!

I knew I was cursed. I guess I wasn’t meant to meet up with Damien.

I was not sure about what I suppose to do. I wanted to get there as fast I could. I was weaving in and out of traffic and then I noticed another gas station further down the side of the free. I exited and bolted in.

There was a guy standing in line and just chatting up the attendant. I gave him this dirty look and then he moved out of my way.

I bought the charger and got into the car. I wasn’t sure why my battery life was going so fast but it was now down to 4%. I was now scared and ready to lose it. I opened the second charger I had bought and plugged it in. My phone buzzed to acknowledge the boost of power but then it didn’t charge. Fuck!

I got back on the road and got stuck in traffic. I was on the brink. I kept thinking about Damien. His touch, his smile, his voice, the way he walked, I kept thinking about the way he snored and denied it when he was awake or left his mouth open when he slept. I was in love with that man and I had to get him back.

The battery was at 3% when I pulled into the third gas station. Another charger bought, same effect. I guess something was wrong with the phone. But I had bought three different brands of chargers and not a single one had worked. I was losing all hope. It was now 4:52pm. There was no way; I was going to make it in time I thought.

In a brief moment of clarity, I thought to ask the attendant inside the gas station for verbal directions in case my phone finally died. In hindsight, I probably should have just written out the Google directions but who really thinks about that under pressure?

The man was kind enough to give me directions

“….when you get to the Galleria exit, there will be 3 roads. One to the left 610 N, one to the right 610 S and then one curved road that goes under the ramp. Make sure you take that one and go for about 12 lights and then make a right on to Telephone road. It will lead you to the car rental place”

I thanked the man as I bolted out of the store as I heard him yell out,

“Drive safe!”

The phone was now at 2%. I was following his directions and marvelling at the craze all this had put me through. I was carefully watching my route and trying to not forget the directions the man had given me. I was now staring the Galleria exit in front of me. I remember him repeating that I not turn a certain way, I was trying to pay attention and I got closer and began to prepare to make that turn but I saw no one going down that road. There was also an airport sign, to the right. I had to make a split second decision, go with the man or the city planners that knew to put that sign there.

Like many, I ignored the great directions I had gotten so far and turned right. And turned straight onto the ramp. A large truck obstructed the view of the freeway and then the truck moved out of my way. I looked down the backed up freeway and right there, the tears began to flow. It was already 5:04pm.

I was never going to make it, I thought to myself. Damien was always on time. He always planned ahead. There was no way he was going to be late. And one of the traits that attracted me to me him initially was now something that was making me sad.

I was now crying hard. I pulled over to the side of the freeway and began to think. How could I get to the airport and at least try to stop him from leaving?

My mind was racing, my battery was dying and my friend Vicki wasn’t answering. I wanted to call Lovell but how would I call the man I was turning down to drive me to win the man I was leaving him for. It would be cruel.

And then, it clicked!

I knew someone staying in the area.

I dialled the number and it began to ring and I swear it felt like it was ringing forever. I was now thinking to myself I was sure I was never meant to see happiness. I just couldn’t explain it. The one place I had found happiness, I had managed to push away. My fears of loneliness and emptiness seemed to be actualizing. I just couldn’t catch a break and then I heard a voice,

“Hello”

I sat up and looked focused and said,

“Mummy”

She stopped. She sounded taken aback by what I had just called her. I had not called her that in a long time. Years even.

“Efia baby, what’s wrong?”

I could hear the concern in her. I would normally have played tough but I couldn’t. I just let it all out,

“Maa. I’ve lost him. I’ve lost the man I love because I couldn’t forgive. I couldn’t see the great benefits of the love he showed me because I was so blinded by the hate that consumed my heart. Now he is gone mom. He is gone. Damien is gone mother. I lost him. I tried to make it down to the airport but I couldn’t. He’s gone mom. He’s….”

I started sobbing as I heard the phone beep to remind me I had critically low battery.

“It’s okay my love, where are you now? Let me come and meet you” 

I told her where I was right before the phone disconnected. And then all I had to do was wait. Wait patiently while the man I loved was about to hop on a plane to the other end of the world. The thought of not seeing him gave me shivers.

It was just crazy how my mother was the only one to answer.

She showed up like 10 minutes later and I left my car on the side of the road and jumped into hers. I directed her to head for the airport. I couldn’t contain her driving. I just felt nobody except myself could go as fast as I wanted to.

My mother was driving really fast. Weaving through the now slowly moving traffic. It was now past six. I was worried he would go beyond security and that would be the end of it.

Funny how life works that my mother who I hated the most was now the one driving me to keep hold of the happiest thing in my life.

She got us there and it was 6:27pm.

I jumped out of the car and ran to the security checkpoint by the airline he was flying with. I scanned the lines and I couldn’t find him.

I couldn’t believe that I had gotten this close after everything; it truly wasn’t meant to be. And then I looked up one more time and there he was!

He had been taking off his shoes to go through the airport scanner.

My heart jumped!

“Damien! Damien!”

I yelled out loud.

He looked backwards as if he looked in my direction but I wasn’t tall enough and even if he was looking for the voice, my 5’5 frame would have made it impossible for him to see me through the crowd.

“Damien!”

I screamed.

He heard that one and stopped. Everyone in the line stopped and looked at me. I looked crazy but my brother always said, 

“Love would make people do irrational and illogical things for its sake.”

Here I was in the airport making a nuisance out of myself. I could see him now facing my direction with me still hidden.

“I let hate, pain and fear, consume me. It dictated my life for the longest time. I wanted to love but I didn’t know how. And then you came along and showed me what love was about. Patient when you needed to be firm when I need a strong hand. You are everything to me Damien Brown. I would not be here embarrassing myself in front of all these people if I didn’t think it was you that I wanted and needed. Please don’t get on that plane. I need you here with me.”

I was crying and I bowed my head as I finished talking. Everyone seemed to turn and now look at him. It was like they were telling him to make his move. He took off his jewellery and placed it in the bin and he did the craziest thing. He walked through the scanner, got scanned and put all his items on! And just like that, he disappeared towards the gates for the flights.

I was so confused. I was broken.

Why would he leave?

How could he leave me?

I came here for him. I came to get him. After all I went through to get here. He still left?!

I was for sure crushed.

I turned around and headed towards the waiting arms of my mother. It had taken over a decade to arrive here but she was here. I needed her and she was right here.

I could not have believed she would be the one to hold me now. I slumped into her arms and began sobbing. She was tearing up too.

She held me close and ran her hand down the back of my head and neck.  It was soothing and it was what I needed as people thought we were a mother and daughter weeping the departure of a loved one.

She was holding me close and then her crying began to stop. I could feel a change in her hold on me.

And she slowly let me go… I didn’t want to be let go off.

She pulled back and I looked at her with confusion. I was about to speak when I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I didn’t turn around,

“The power of forgiveness and newness can never be quantified. You let go of hurt and pain. You faced your fear and conquered it. Will there be days when those feelings will come back? Yes.

But you are one tough cookie and I know you’ll be strong. You are brave, beautiful and you have a good heart. I am sorry for leaving. I should have stayed and held your hand but I am here now and I want you to know I love you and I want to be with you. You truly deserve all the love and happiness this world can give.”

Damien’s voice closed out. I turned around and looked up to his eyes. I smacked on his chest as he pulled me closer. He held me tight. This man was the one I loved. He saw me when I was weak and broken. He stood for me.

“You came back Damien”

I said.

He responded,

“Leaving would have been my greatest regret ever.  I promise to never leave again”

I looked at my mom now standing to my side. She nodded. I smiled.

He squeezed me tighter. It felt right.

It was perfect.

“We go through various emotions in life. Some leave glowing impacts on our lives and some cut deep and scar badly. The stories are different. Our methods are different. The pain is different but our end goal should be the same; forgiveness and peace. Even though I created this story from head to toe, there are relatable lessons I hope people picked up. You might be in a cycle of hurt right now; hurting others for the way others hurt you. Break the cycle and aim for peace.

You might know someone who is broken and recovering from hurt, if you love them, never rush them. You can never quantify their pain. Just love as hard as you can and be patient. Let your unconditional love do the talking.

You might have that one call or text you need to send. DO IT!

You deserve to be happy, to be free. You deserve peace. Take the wheel on your feelings. Control your own cycle of emotions. Don’t remain a victim to hurt and hate.

Stay Up.”

                                                                             – @adewus4real

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The End

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Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

Lookout for New Series starting next week.

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan

 

 

Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Uncategorized

Imperfect 3

adewus4real16 Comments

Imperfect 3

#WhatTheHeckMan

Embedded image permalink

 Follow @adewus4real the writer on Twitter 

 ⟹ ⟹ ⟹ PLAY THE SONG BEFORE YOU READING.

Lay Me Down by Sam Smith

I smacked my lips together. I circled back my thoughts and kept my eyes closed.

The hand was firm but the touch was gentle. It was a man’s hand. I wanted so badly for it to be Damien. How romantic would it be I thought to myself.

My heart was now in my stomach doing jumping jacks and pushups; nerve wrecking and then I slowly opened my eyes.

I turned my head to the left from my aisle seat to look up at the person. The pants were tailored and freshly pressed; I lifted my eyes and scanned upwards. Making contact with his smile as he grinned at me, I smiled back.

It was the flight attendant.

He politely asked me to put my seatbelt on. I looked down and noticed my unbuckled seat belt. I tried to force a smile.

My heart sunk further as he walked away and I clicked my seatbelt into the buckle. I looked down the aisle once more and realized it.

Damien was gone.

.    .     .    .     .

It was great being back stateside. As much as I loved Australia, there was no place like home.

Going back to work felt better too. But I was badly missing Damien and being home with my mother daily was just making me crazy.

My arrival was welcomed at the company and I was given a promotion when I returned and a new office. I even physically moved up one floor in the building.

I was feeling very good about it all.  Work was now my source of joy.

My relationships and my health were bleeding at the time but I was holding on.

One particular evening, I came home to my mother. Usually, I would get off work and take the train getting off at the exit where my gym was located. I would work out and then run home which was about 2 miles away.

This evening, I had a long day at work and I wasn’t feeling up for a workout, so I headed home straight from the office. I could feel something coming over me like I was going to explode if I was even spoken to in the wrong tone.

I walked into the house and heard my mother talking on the phone. She must have been talking to a friend or something. I greeted her as was customary and walked into the kitchen. I was attempting to ignore her conversation that almost always consisted of her bad talking me or saying inaccurate things about my brother and I.

She was talking about my eating habits and how I was the reason my condition wasn’t getting better. She was making it seem to the lady on the phone, that I came home daily and neglected to eat. Neglecting the fact that I was working long hours and on a strict diet and workout routine. I was pissed.

Already amped up, she wasn’t discerning enough to register my anger. She kept talking and I kept getting heated. I threw my vegetables into the microwave and walked into the living room.

I stopped right in front of her and said,

“Mummy, I would appreciate if you stopped talking about me to your friend, especially because majority of it is not accurate. Thank you…”

She looked up at me from her seating position and proceeds to lie to my face,

“Efia, I’m not talking about you. You should stay out of my conversation”

I was now heated to the max. Why was she lying?

Every time she did something to me to piss me off, it opened the floodgates of hurt and betrayal. All those unprocessed emotions always seemed to fill me up and I wanted to reach for her and strangle her. But I couldn’t, many things wouldn’t let me.

This was becoming a regular occurrence and I was just tired of having her in my home. I turned around and headed to my room, I slumped onto my bed and picked up my phone.

Damien.

I started dialing his number; it began ringing as I heard the microwave beeping in the kitchen with the customary three beeps as the timer run out. My mother’s voice still echoed as she continued her conversation before Damien’s voice interrupted me. I got so excited and said “hello”

My ears welcomed the sound of his voice over his voicemail recording. I sighed.          

“This is Damien Brown, I am not able to receive your call at the moment…”

The recording went on. It was soothing to hear but I needed him. I needed his calming voice or the husk in his tone that made me feel secure when I was alone or down.

Why did he do this to me?

I started to play back the last argument we had in my head. There were things that I could have done differently.

But was I that horrible?

Did I really scare him away?

I hadn’t even recognized how much I loved the man until he was gone. I was so close to tears. I felt alone and powerless. My support was nowhere to be found.

I was still lying in bed with my face planted in the pillow while I continued to think, my heart was heavy and I wanted to scream. I could feel the heat from my own nostrils hit me on my cheeks as I continued to breathe into the pillow.

I was lost in some train of thought and about 30 minutes had passed when my phone buzzed.

I raised my head up and scanned the bed looking for my phone; I hoped it was Damien. I picked up my phone. Highly expectant, I punched in my unlock code and it opened up. The bright light from the screen slapping me in the face of all the darkness that covered the room, I opened my messages by pulling the notification tab down.

The message was from Lovell. He was an old friend and we had dated briefly for a few months and my trip to Australia interrupted the likelihood of anything happening.

It read,

“Hey Effy, I heard you’re back from down under from Lucia and I just wanted to say hi and check on you. We should catch up sometime soon, if you’re down. Hope you’re good”

 I wasn’t good. I wasn’t okay. I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to be with someone right now.

I contemplated exploring the night with him. I tried to convince myself not to by thinking about Damien but where was he when I needed him?

Where was he during my last appointment?

When I got my promotion?

He was gone. I looked at my phone and unlocked it again. My message read,

“There’s a late night diner down the street from my place. Get me pancakes?”

A few minutes later, I was in my sweats and ugs as I grabbed my car keys off my dining table and headed for the door. I noticed my mom look at me as I walked, I didn’t make eye contact. She didn’t deserve my words.

 .    .    .    .     .    .

Lovell was nice. I had forgotten about how much he made me laugh.

Since the night we had coffee, he had been a constant. It felt like meeting someone new all over again. The conversations were good to have and he was a true gentleman as always. I remember one night when we went out to a comedy show, somewhat informally. They had a two-drink minimum at the comedy club.

Let’s just say that I had more than two drinks and I was quite drunk that Friday night when the show was over. I had laughed so hard all night that I couldn’t even remember when I passed out.

I woke up the next morning in my bed fully clothed and slightly hung over.

I stumbled out of bed and headed for the kitchen to get some water to drink. It was about 11:30am in the morning, I opened my bedroom door and noticed my mother on the couch.

Sigh.

I so badly couldn’t wait for her to be gone. Waking up to her there was very aggravating for me.

I got to the refrigerator and placed my cup into the space and pressed the button for water. I was heading back to my room when my mom called out to me.

“Efia, come here please. I want to talk to you”

 Now?!

Was the first thought that went through my head. My head was throbbing and I wanted more sleep.

She just knew how to frustrate me. I sluggishly walked towards her pulling my blouse down. I sat down on the couch across from her.

She started by saying

“I am very aware that there is very little hope for the resurrection of our relationship. Frankly because we never really had one to begin with. I realize in hindsight now that I should have done more for you. I should have been your protector. I should have been the terrier that fought to keep you safe but I didn’t know what to do then. It wasn’t until I went to therapy myself that I was shown my lapses as a parent. The hurt I had gone through made it difficult for me to be there for you as you hurt. Hurt people apparently hurt others.”

She paused for a breath and continued;

“Also, my hands were severely tied. The money that we used to start your father’s business was from Comfort’s mother. It was a huge sum of money.  At the time, we hadn’t even begun the repayment of the loans yet and that was part of why I went back to working, so that I could support the household.”

I began to get irritated and very angry, as my hangover seemed to instantly fade.

Was she really blaming not taking action on a loan?

Did she realize that I was her daughter? Her blood?

She continued before I could speak,

“I am truly sorry for everything that happened. I wish at the time, I had the strength to do more. I thought I was protecting the livelihood of the family and particularly your father. I was wrong. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. Please Efia”

I looked at her and began to tear up. It was my go to emotion when I felt overwhelmed or angry to the point of not being able to speak anymore.

This was too much; too much all at once.

I had waited for many years to hear her own up to her mistakes and apologize. It was finally here and I didn’t know how to forgive her.

I got up and I headed for my room without saying a word and then I heard my mother’s voice. It was coaxed with frustration and sadness.

“Efia, where are you going? Efia! Efia!

Efia, when are you going to forgive me?!!!”

She seemed to yell out. The rage in me was to the brim. I stopped in my tracks and turned abruptly, with piercing focus and deep emotion, I yelled back at her, 

“Never!!! You don’t deserve my forgiveness!

You think one apology more than 15 years later will solve it?

NO… So leave me alone!!”

 I stormed out of the room and slammed the door to my bedroom.

I ran into my bathroom and closed the door. I sat on the floor of the toilet and began to cry. I just cried.

I was ashamed of myself just as much as I was sad. I had forgotten what it felt like to forgive. I was so used to the emotion of hate that it clouded my view on the possibility of ever forgiving my mother.

I had let hate consume me that even when I felt the apology was sincere, I couldn’t bring myself to validate it.

I spent hours in that bathroom just crying, thinking of my failed relationships. My attempt to identify and my phase with women because I felt that was who I am. The lack of guidance from my mother through navigating new emotions as I grew up, it all just continued to break me.

How much I would have paid to have someone hold me at that time? Even a hug from my father would have been great but he was off somewhere making money.

I slowly lay down on the bathroom floor and passed out. Waking up over 5 hours later, I had missed my friend’s birthday dinner and I had a separate kind of throbbing in my head. Tears induced hangover.

.    .     .    .     .

Endless Love

 A month had now passed and there was still no contact from Damien.

I was beginning to forget him more and more as the days went by.

At home, my mother and I were getting along better. Small talk here and there but we managed to ignore speaking about the incident. She was nearing the end of her visit also, so we tried to keep things light. I hadn’t forgiven her but I wasn’t as angry as I was before anymore.

We were watching a Lifetime movie together before Lovell arrived to pick me up for our date. I told her goodbye as I headed out of my apartment. Lovell was waiting next to his car when I arrived down stairs; he held the door open for me as I gave him a hug before I entered the car.

I was hungry but all I could think about was how good he smelled. You ladies know how we get when a man smells good. He was confident, driven and super family oriented. An occupational therapist by day, a mentor on the weekends to foster youth and just an all round stand up guy.

Sitting across from him as he finished up a thought, I began to wonder why I hadn’t given him a proper chance before. He was a great guy. It was probably a case of using the curve too early.

My mind briefly flashed towards Damien but he was not here. He was not caring enough to have gone a month without any form of contact. Lovell, smiling at me would probably have turned out to be the same kind of guy but for now, he was mindful of my feelings and respectful of my views. I was laughing my ass off and we had so much in common. I even remember me burning his tongue as I tried to feed him a spoon of my clam chowder. He took it like a champ and we laughed it off. I was having a great time.

My phone began to buzz and I excused myself and reached for my purse, it was my mom.

I kind of rolled my eyes a bit as I answered, Lovell smiled and I responded to her. Lovell motioned at me as he excused himself to use the bathroom. I smiled back.

“Mom, what do you want and why are you still up?”

I asked as I glanced at the time on the phone.

“I slept in the afternoon my dear, I’m not sleepy. Please what is the password for your other computer? I’m trying to watch a dvd and I cannot understand the one under the television”

 Not trying to explain how the blu-ray player worked, I gave her the password to my old computer and she set about watching her movie while I got back to my date. I had barely placed the phone down when a waiter brought me my favorite dessert; a Cookies ‘n’ Cream Pizookie and a single purple tulip.

I smiled but confused I said to the waiter 

“I didn’t order this”

For a brief second, I thought Lovell had planned it but I was sure I had never told him what my favorite flowers were even if I had mentioned my favorite dessert.

“Oh miss, the gentleman at the table over there specifically ordered it for you”

 he said pointing towards a table in the opposite end of the restaurant floor. I turned around in my seat to look with him but I caught the look of surprise on his face, as the man was nowhere to be seen. This odd thought began to come into my head and I tried to shake it off.

I asked the waiter,

 “Can you please describe the person to me?”

He nodded,

“He was about 6’1 with medium athletic build. Dark hair. He had a golden ring on his middle right finger. He spoke with a British accent”

My mouth was ajar as I turned around and scanned the room again. Only one name came to mind; Damien.

I began to panic as the waiter excused himself.

Was it really Damien?

What had he seen?

Did he see me feed Lovell or hold his hand?

I picked up my phone and dialed Damien’s friend who I knew, Lucia.

I must have woken her up from her sleep.

“Hey Lucia, sorry to wake you up but I had a quick question. When was the last time you spoke to Damien?”

She cleared her throat as I heard her moving in her bed.

“Hey Effy, umm… the last time I spoke to him was probably a week ago. He was looking for someone to drop him off at the airport”

I was now really worried.

“Where did he say he was going?”

I asked,

 “America. He sold all his property and I think he got a job out there. Yeah, he’s gone”

 I thanked her and hung up. Tears as you suspected were streaming down my face.

Lovell returned and with a confused look on his face asked me what was going on.

I swallowed hard and lied that a family emergency had come up and I had to leave.

He looked at the food on the table and then back at me really confused. Then said;

“Okay, can I drop you off at home at least?”

 I responded with a “no”. And I proceeded to walk out. He followed me as I hailed a cab and got in. He stood there mad confused like it was his fault or something.

I felt bad for him but I felt horrible for myself. I was crying as the cab driver navigated downtown and headed for my apartment in the midlands. I was regretting everything on the cab ride home.

I blamed myself for opening up to someone else so quickly. I could not fathom if I had blown it with Damien again. I was looking for ways to convince myself that it was okay by telling myself that Damien didn’t see me kiss Lovell, I hadn’t had sex with him or slept at his place but none of it worked. I still felt terrible.

I didn’t understand why he left. Was he mad at me? Did he not want to see me?

I needed answers.  On one end, I was just tired and sad but on the other, I was glad that he came back. At least I thought he came back for me. It was just too much to deal with in one night and I just wanted to curl up in a ball in my bed and worry about it all later.

I got home and the walk up the stairs felt like the scene out of the Rocky movie. It just felt like the stairs went on forever. I was still sobbing lightly when I finally arrived at the door.  That must have been the reason why I didn’t initially hear the voice of someone else sobbing inside the apartment.

I pushed the door open and froze at the sight of my mother sitting in the dimly lit living room as the light of my computer illuminated her face. She was crying and she was crying hard!

It didn’t take very long while glued in that spot to figure out that my mother had stumbled on my video logs where I had talked about hating her and all the pain trying to love and forgive her had caused.

I felt weak. I wanted to die. As much as I was angry at my mother, I never truly showed how angry I was. I always kept it in and poured it out in my writing and in my video logs. And on those video logs, I held nothing back. I had called her all sorts of horrible things because I thought she would never see them. That no one would ever see them. She must have watched most of them and one was still playing right then.

I just stood there motionless and stared at her.

We both had tears in our eyes now. I stood still with the door opened contemplating closing it and staying in or leaving. She looked broken, I heard each word sail into the open room, floating in the air but like a knife to her heart it stabbed further. This was a cycle of hurt and I could run like she did but what would that do for us?

Someone had to stop the trend of hurting women and creating these dark holes in our hearts that we then expected lovers, friends, jobs, money, and life to fill up. I looked at my keys unsure if I could do this or if I had the strength to do it. I began to doubt myself; I was just as imperfect as she was in many ways, who was I to talk to her? I moved and I closed the door.

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The End

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© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan

Art · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Uncategorized

Imperfect 2

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Imperfect 2

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 ⟹ ⟹ ⟹ PLAY THE SONG BEFORE YOU READING.

Broken by Lifehouse

The door slowly opened up.

I believe I must have said What The Heck Man in my head like twenty times before the person emerged.

I was regretting this. I was regretting having him come over. I was just scared to my bones.

The door opened completely and she poked her head in.

It was Comfort.

Comfort was a family friend’s daughter that was living with us at the time. She was going to school and working for my father at his fish farm.

I was a bit relieved it was her. She was a girl like me and she would understand. She was 19 at the time but she was obviously 11 once.

“What’s going on here?”

she said with a smile on her face while we both rushed to try and cover up. The buttons on my blouse were loosened. He had been fondling my newly acquired breasts that had just come in that summer.

“Nothing. We were just…”

I stuttered to respond.

“Save it…”

She snapped back.

“Your mom wants you in her room.”

My mom was home?! I didn’t even know!

“Thank you, Aunty Comfort!”

I dashed out of there, knowing that she had done me a solid favour. David and I would eventually have sex a few weeks later. He was just great with words like that and watching Emmanuelle in Space that night while his parents and mine happened to be out of town didn’t help my resistance. I can’t really explain how my first time was but it was sort of a bland experience. He like many guys after him began to act weird after the first time and we never had sex again. I don’t regret it because it was eye opening in many ways but what I regret was how that incident in my house played out.

There was a 13-year age difference between my older brother and I. My mother had always frowned against boys because she herself got pregnant at the very young age of 15. In many ways, she feels like the man who got her pregnant, though 17 and also a minor at the time knew better but still took advantage of her.

Dealing with the stigma of having my brother and going back to school to get a degree was a huge struggle for her and she never wanted any of us to experience that. I understood it but in many ways, it felt to me like my social life was being punished for her mistakes. She wouldn’t let me go to parties. Sleepovers were off the table and like I previously stated boys were not allowed over. I was able to bend that last rule a bit when it came to friends of the family.
Comfort so far had kept my secret safe. It might seem like an exaggeration but the only male my mother seemed to bring herself to like was her son, my older brother. I strongly believed growing up that my mother hated every single guy on Earth and her father was dead at the time of her pregnancy, so I guess he was exempted.
This particular evening, my parents had gone to visit my aunt out of town. It was just Comfort in the house with me. I had stayed up way past my bedtime. It was a Friday night and my parents weren’t home. Hell yes, I was going to run the house.

It was a little past midnight and I had fallen asleep on the couch watching television. I felt someone waking me up. I must have eaten too much or something but I was in deep sleep. I felt me getting smacked all over to wake up but I didn’t and then I was helped to my room. I remember my body touching the bed.
Slowly, I felt someone’s hands all over my body; running on my skin. It was fine because it wasn’t in the intrusive areas until I felt the hand go up my skirt. I began to move uncomfortably in the bed. The person was very patient because whenever I moved, they would stop and wait for me to fall asleep again. I felt their fingers move my panties aside and one finger went inside me. I jumped up!

“Aunty Comfort, what are you doing?

I asked confused, shocked and surprised. She responded

“Don’t act like you don’t know what this is. Just relax. I won’t tell anyone and if you tell anyone, I will tell your mom about that boy”

I was young but I knew what blackmail felt like. I was scared of what my mother would do to me knowing I had sex with David. I lay back down in the bed and I felt her hand come up inside me while her mouth was all over my privates. I lay there and felt a little bit more of my honesty drift out of me. I couldn’t believe it.
The next few days were hard. I couldn’t look at myself the same way.
I believe I avoided a mirror at all costs during that period. I wasn’t a virgin but it just felt different to be violated. It felt like something was stolen from you. Like you worked for something, even if it wasn’t your hardest effort, and then someone comes and takes it away.

Aunty Comfort was super nice to me over the next few days. Trying to show me how to put makeup on and letting me get extra food when I was hungry. It was all a bribe but all it taught me was how to understand deception and be more deceptive myself.
I played dumb for the most part; acting like whatever had happened didn’t faze me or reflect in my behavior. The only difference was that I couldn’t look at myself and I stayed in my room.
In a way, I felt like a veil was lifted off my eyes. I watched Comfort smile in the eyes of my parents and pretend that she had not done despicable things to me. I felt a little bit more of darkness surround the positive light I saw life in. People are just evil.

You hear stories daily of children that got violated and kept it a secret from their parents because they didn’t want to deal with it or they didn’t know how to, I was the opposite.
About a week had passed since the incident and I could not contain it inside me anymore.
It was a Saturday afternoon and Comfort was at the mall with her friends. Both my parents were sitting in the living room. My dad was reading a newspaper and my mother was working on work stuff like she always did at home. I walked into the living room and asked my mother to come to my room that I wanted to show her something.

The way I asked was awkward. My dad looked up at me briefly and then back to his papers like I was a fly that buzzed by his ear. My mother followed me to my room.

Closing the door behind her, she pulled up the chair in the corner next to my dresser and sat down. I sat on my bed with my head down.

“Is your period heavy again?”

she asked. I looked up at her and then bowed my head again. I shook my head in disapproval.

“Okay, so what is it dear?”

She asked looking around my room at the state of it’s cleanliness.

I wanted to talk but I found it hard to put the words together. I was scared. I just wasn’t sure how it would all play out.

Slowly, I noticed my mom’s face start to become covered in concern. I wanted to bail then. I should have just lied. I shouldn’t have told her the truth. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have trusted her.

“Did a boy touch you?”

Interesting how that was her first question, I shook my head. I still couldn’t say it out loud.

“ Efia, did someone touch you?”

I nodded slowly. Tears were beginning to fill my eyes. I didn’t feel safe talking to my mother about this. I wanted to run but I was glued in place.

My mother sat up straight. Something about her stance wasn’t comforting. Thinking about it now, it must have felt like she was being traumatized all over again. But it was still her duty to protect me, especially from whatever hurt she might have faced before.

“Who was it? Did they beat you? 

The last question coming out as she pointed towards my body. I shook again.

Now I could tell she was angry and ready to kill. Her eyes were bigger. Her voice was louder. I could feel her breath on my thighs below my shorts and her anger choked the room.

“Who?!!!”

she asked with her voice raised and leaning in towards me. I backed up and seemed to cower and then I answered

“Aunty Comfort”

Boom. I dropped it. Right there. I felt scared at the time but mostly glad I had said it but I started to cry.

Tears streaming down my eyes, I looked up at my mother and she looked defeated. She looked like the stuffing was knocked out of her but somewhat relieved. Why? I wasn’t sure. I sensed it might have been because a boy did not violate me. She knew what I was saying. She knew what had been done to me.
I was now crying full tears and my mother was sitting down across from me with her head down. She was not comforting me in anyway and I didn’t know how it was all supposed to work so I just sat there and cried.
It wasn’t up to two minutes later when the door opened. It was my dad. He saw me crying and immediately came over to me and sat next to me.

He had a look of surprise on his face while directed his question at my mom.

“What is going on sweetie? Efia, why are you crying?”

He had his arm around me pulling me close and cuddling me. I felt safe as I sobbed. I didn’t answer his question. I looked up at my mother to answer. I wanted her to explain it but in that moment, she broke my heart forever.

“Nothing honey, she’s just having a really painful flow”

my mom lied to my dad.

“Aww, sorry my baby. It will be alright okay. Maybe you should get dressed and we can go and get some pizza?”

he responded trying to make me feel better. I didn’t move but I looked up at my mother. Our eyes met. My heart shattered.

She was embarrassed by my hurt and she covered it up.

I remember returning from a friend’s house after church the next day to Comfort’s empty room. She was gone. I would find out many years later that my mother never told Comfort’s mother. It was just swept under the rug.
My mother and Comfort’s mother were still friends when I last checked because she never knew about it and my father never did either.
I was even more confused as to why my mother did not fight for me. Why didn’t she do more?We never talked about that day or the incident again but you bet your life, it left its mark on me.

.    .    .     .     .     .

Ride Out ft. Iyanya by Angel

“Damien, I don’t fucking care!!!! I’m over this shit. It’s always one thing or the other with you. I agree I’m not open enough and I keep things close to my chest but that’s me! That’s how I’ve always been. Deal with it!”

I could see confusion in his eyes. I was overreacting and I had been yelling at him for almost 10 minutes inside my car while parked in front of his apartment. He had followed me from inside where the argument had started.
I had been having a bad day when I got to his house. My mother had told me that she was coming from her base in London to spend 2 weeks in the US and she wanted to stay at my house for a few days to spend quality time. Now I love my mother don’t get me wrong, but I could not stand the idea of being in a space with her. That was the first thing to annoy me that day.
Damien and I were having a conversation about taking our situation to the next level. We had been exclusive for about two months and I wanted more but Damien was hesitant because of my irrationality and my go-to reaction of always leaving whenever I was upset.

“I don’t know if a relationship is the best thing right now Efia. You’re supposed to be going back to the States in 3 days. We are on two separate ends of the world. It will be too hard”

He explained to me and it made sense but I responded with,

“I get that but I can go to the US and work on getting transferred back to our office out here. We just have to be on the same page”

“That still doesn’t address your sometimes erratic behavior though, your sometimes hot and cold demeanor. It’s hard to give you all of me if you can easily throw it all away”

he chimed back and I lost it. I yelled back,

“You don’t love me. You never have. It has always been about the sex and the time for you. Now I want more and you have excuses! Fuck this, I’m out!”

I ran out to my car and he followed me. He got into the car and kept trying to explain himself. He told me he loved me and saw a future with me but the uncertainties made him uncomfortable and he wanted us to carefully make a decision. All smart points but I wasn’t having it. Today was not my day. I kept yelling at him and then he made the biggest mistake ever.

While I was yelling and motioning in the car, he asked me to calm down and then he placed his hands on me.

“Calm down Efia, you look crazy right now and you know I live here”

he said.

All I heard was “Calm down and you look crazy”. Two phrases no woman wants to hear when she’s heated.

I just went into overdrive. I hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut. I headed for his apartment complex that was gated. I pulled up my dress from my ankles and began to climb the gate. I briefly turned and noticed Damien in the passenger seat of my car, his face had one look on it; STUNNED.
I hopped down on the other side and headed into his apartment. I went straight to his room and picked up my bags. I had 3 of them and I was only staying for a night, I was horrible at packing. I was struggling to carry all the bags out of the room when Damien barged into the room.

I had never seen him that angry before but it was different. It was channelled and controlled.

He snatched the bags out of my hands and threw them to the floor. In one move, he swept me and pinned me to the wall. He kissed me hard. His lips and the heat from his nostrils burned my neck as he kissed his way down. In certain places he bit, hard enough to not give me a hickey but I felt the pain. I was beginning to get wet. He was reacting and in a weird way, it validated that he cared. Some of you ladies know what I mean.

I was getting wetter down there and I knew he was going to make his way there soon. He had his right hand around my neck, slightly choking me. He bit gently on my nipples as he sucked on them. I wanted him inside of me
He lifted me up and slammed me onto the bed. He placed his hands on my knees then he slid them upwards, lifting my dress and then downward with my panties in his hands.
He could see my wetness now and he licked his lips. He still made no eye contact with me. He pushed my legs up and back as far as they could go and he stuck his tongue inside my pink. He was rough today with just the right amount of aggression. My body was shaking now.
He continued to patrol my pink while his face became soaked in all my wetness. I could feel more and more drops seep out of me as he went for more. I was nearing cumming hard on his face when I snapped my hips together and I might have hurt his head but he backed up for a minute while I got up and ran for the bathroom. I didn’t want him to make me cum yet. I was turned on, scared of his anger and already shaking.

He got up and growled while following me into the bathroom, he turned me around as he closed the seat to the toilet bowl.

“Kneel on top of it”

he said in the most commanding tone he had. I obeyed and knelt down.

He spread my cheeks and slowly slid his throbbing member inside me. I don’t know if it was because it was the angry sex but it was hard and felt bigger than usual. He didn’t begin slow or go gently like he normally would. He went for the jugular. He squeezed my cheeks apart as he slid in and out. He grabbed my waist and began pounding; each thrust going deeper than the last one. I could feel it in my gut but I couldn’t feel my legs. He moved his left hand and grabbed a handful of my braids. He began to pull as he fucked me. My breasts settling on the cold of the toilet, he continued to ram into me. I was moaning loudly.

“What’s my name? Who’s pussy is this?”

Were the questions he asked as he worked his throbbing dick into me.

“Say my fucking name!”

“Damie…. Dam…. Damien…”

I moaned out with my head kicked back due to his hold. It was only a matter of time before he exploded. He let go of my hair and grabbed my waist tighter and had 5 really hard thrusts before pulling out and spraying all his seed on my left ass check.
We both ended up in bed next to each other, no words said. Before I knew it, it was morning. Damien was gone and I had to leave too. I didn’t hear from Damien again that weekend.

It was now Monday morning and I was scheduled to fly back to the US that morning, I had called Damien again that morning but there no answer. I was sad. I think I might have blown it. I had stopped by his house the day before and he was not there. He was gone and I was about to fly to the other side of the world without saying goodbye to the man I had fallen in love with.

The cab driver helped me put all my bags in the car and I left my keys in the mailbox for the landlord, I was headed home; my real home.
On the car ride to the airport, I kept asking myself about how I lost it all. I knew I needed to work on my anger, short fuse, and erratic behaviour. I needed to be a better woman for me and for the future I wanted to have.
I arrived at the airport and checked in. I was doing everything slowly to give Damien enough time to show up. Nothing.
I could hear them now calling my name as the boarding for my flight was almost done. Sadness covered me. I truly loved that man and he wasn’t there to see me off. It brought tears to my eyes.

I kept on hoping that he would show up like in the movies and I got nothing. I’d fucked up.
I knew I was imperfect, I knew I needed work and I knew he had been patient and understanding. It was a blessing to have him, at least before I lost him. I placed my headphones in my ears trying to navigate my emotions.

I was drifting into my thoughts and thinking about sleeping in my bed in Detroit, pizza and watching Basketball when I felt a hand on my shoulder. My heart skipped a beat. I slowly opened my eyes….

I slowly realized that if I don’t comment at the bottom of this post, @adewus4real will find me and not give me plantain. And na only me go waka come but it will be a deadly day. Make we no die on the line abeg! COMMENT!!!!

The End

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Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

Lookout for Part 3 of Imperfect next Saturday

© 2014 #WhatTheHeckMan