First of A Tear Drop
His phone beeped, the little green light at the top of the screen indicated it was a Whatsapp message. “Who could it be?” He thought to himself as he reached for it on the bed. Hours before that, he had been feeling sick, but not a pathogenic kind of illness. He was being consumed by the same ghostly loneliness and despair that ravaged the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the atomic bombs dropped. Yes, this was the kind of overwhelming hurt Paul battled with.
Prior to those hours he wasn’t in anyway near his elements, in the days before, he had an argument bothered on distrust with someone incredibly important in his life and though this had happened before, it wasn’t really Paul’s fault that he didn’t trust this person. But given painful moments in Paul’s previous relationship that could be summed up as the union of an angel and the worst kind of She-devil ever to roam the face of the earth, Paul suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. He’s trusted truly and badly burnt that his skin still smelt of sulphur from hell.
Paul knew this, he had been trying to cleanse himself of mistrust but as rightly said sometimes, “Order comes from Chaos.” Something emotionally excruciating had to happen in Paul’s life before he could get rid of doubts in his new relationship. Yes it did happen! Paul unwittingly showed a bit of suspicion to the new Love of his life again and as much as she told him it was over, with him apologizing fervently and seeking the intervention of everyone he knew could bring back this Love, Paul still got the boots.
Oblivious to Paul, the worst was yet to come and as certain as the Grim Reaper hovers in the emergency units of hospitals, it did come.
He opened his phone and saw the new message from Bunmi. His heart skipped as he thought for a moment in joy, if she’s accepted to come back. “Pls can we chat?” Bunmi asked. “Yes pls.” Paul wrote.
“Okay, Paul I’ve got something to tell you.” Bunmi wrote.
“Babe I’m so sorry I promise to trus…” Paul was writing as he was cut short by the next message from Bunmi. “I don’t think we should really continue dating.”
“But babe I thought we already worked this out?” Paul wrote back.
“Hmmm, it’s more than you think. Listen, my mum wouldn’t support us marrying.”
“Why?” A puzzled Paul asked.
“Because you are Igbo and I am Yoruba. Given that, there’s no need to continue dating you…It’s OVER Paul. It’s Over!”
“WTF?!” Paul asked in shock as he felt his soul being dragged into the infernal pit.
“Geez! How could this be happening? I thought mum already knew of us?”
“Yes she does. But she’ll never support me marrying you cuz you ain’t Yoruba.” Bunmi wrote.
“Babe see, I’ll try. I’ll meet mum and speak to her. My Auntie married a Yoruba man and been happy since. Times have changed dear, I’ll try to make it work out.”
“No need Paul, just forget it. It won’t work. She never agreed for my sister and wouldn’t change now. I know my Mum better than you and lastly I’ve gotten someone else. I can’t keep hiding it from you.”
“Bu..bu…t.” Paul’s fingers couldn’t type anymore as the remnant of any energy evaporated from him. For several moments, memories, thoughts, plans of everything great and delightful him and Bunmi had talked about and envisioned they’ll do with their kids flashed through his mind and as much as he tried to relive them, they fell and broke to smithereens like a mirror thrown from a skyscraper with nothing to recover.
Paul’s heart sank as a deluge struggled to pour from his eyes. He heard his phone fall as he bent to pick it, a drop of liquid landed on the floor. Paul sniffed, trying to hold back the tears as Bunmi used to say “You’re a man, Paul. Don’t ever cry, I’m here for you.” “But was she here now? Would she ever be here again? God why me?” Paul asked himself as his eyes got watered and Lady Agony embraced his soul with her scrawny, dry, deathly fingers.