Saturday, 4 April 2009

The Saxophonist 3

I stepped back, closely observing Moses' face. The body language suggested something was not right. The woman came closer, she had seen us and was coming straight towards where we were standing now a few feet apart. They greeted each other but the greeting was short, as of two people who spend a lot of time together. Later on, while thinking about this encounter I thought Moses had handled it quite well, as he had calmly introduced me to her as a friend. This woman was his wife. I was taken aback at first, because he had given me not even a hint that he was involved in a relationship as significant as this. But then, I couldn't hold this against him because after all, in total the time that we had spent together would amount to no more than an hour. It was I who had allowed myself to become so hopelessly infatuated with someone who I hardly knew, and about whom I knew next to nothing. This however begged the question, why would he react to me the way he had done the first time we met a few days ago, and since?

Anyway, since three is a crowd even in the best of circumstances, I knew the sensible thing was for me to withdraw. And so I did, wondering when I would get the next chance to spend some time with this man . I greeted Mrs Moses courteously, excused myself and quietly left them, careful not to look at Moses as I left, being fearful that my eyes might give us away as I'd heard all those stories about women and their intuition. I had chosen to come to the Shrine on my own tonight and I felt alone. I knew that in this huge crowd gathering outside forming itself into queues, there would be people I know from campus. But I wasn't in the mood for raucous banter. The person I really wanted to be with was somewhere inside this building. And he has a wife! The realisation of how untenable my position was suddenly hit me. However, even his wife couldn't stop me from watching him while he was on stage. And that is what I did, having joined a queue, paid the entrance fee and made my way to exactly the same position next to the stage where I had been last Tuesday when I first met him.

I had been standing there for about 15 minutes, sipping a Guinness from the bottle when Mrs Moses, who I later learned is called Grace, brushed past me. She turned to say sorry and then her eyes lit up when she realised who I was. "Oh, its you", she smiled at me and I smiled back. It was clear to me that she was here for the very same reason as I was, to watch her (or was it 'our') man perform on stage. Forward of where I was standing were some seats. There were only few seats arranged close to the stage, but in truth there was hardly any need for seats at the Shrine because most people just stood and watched and danced and jumped when the show got going. But there were seats available at the front, many of them reserved for special guests. I watched Grace from behind as she made her way to the very front row of seats and perched herself delicately on one of them in a way that only a woman can. There was an air of importance about her, sedate, demure, and the feeling that went through me at the time was a mixture of admiration and envy. Envy because it was this woman who got to enjoy this man with whom I was so besotted.

The show went on as usual. Predictably, my eyes hardly left Moses, but I would take the odd glance at Grace who seemed herself to be enthralled by the music. She remained seated, calm and composed, but from time to time she would sway with the rhythm. At break time, I looked up expectantly at Moses and observed that he too was staring at me. I noticed that Grace had left her seat and gone in the direction of the ladies room at the far side of the hall. As before, Moses left the stage and came straight towards me, but as he got closer I sensed his uneasiness. He searched my face as he approached me. I smiled, my heart leaping as I now knew without any doubt that this man wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. Seeing my smile, his uneasiness visibly disappeared. Again, he took me outside, holding me by the hand. I suspected he was taking me away from his wife and others. This time, we walked through the crowd outside where Moses acknowledged a few greetings from people he knew. But we pressed on and continued down the street, still holding hands, him leading the way determinedly. The Shrine is located in a residential area, such that once away from the immediate vicinity of the club, it was dark and quiet with cars and vans parked on both sides of the street. Moses led me behind one of the vans, the rear of the van facing away from the direction of the club. We were completely hidden from everyone and it was in this dark place that he pulled me into his body with an urgency that surprised me. We embraced tightly and kissed for the first time. We held each other and he talked about himself and his wife and many other things. And we kissed again. I just listened to his voice, wishing that this moment would last forever. Then we kissed again, and again...I had never felt such excitement in my life...

8 comments:

Amooti, Uganda said...

Jeeze Anengiyefa, the end of that piece seems more like the begining of a great great story!You should consider a writing career while you are at it.

Anengiyefa said...

Thanks Amooti, I'm glad you enjoyed it..

Amooti, Uganda said...

I will accept the "thanks" on condition that in your best seller book, you dedicate it to me and mention it in the book! Ha ha ...

Okie you dont find that funny....

Anengiyefa said...

Well Amooti, I will agree to your condition, on the condition that you will find me a publisher who will pay me in advance for a book I haven't even written lol. But don't worry, at least I'll mention you on this blog..:)

Amooti, Uganda said...

Hullo...cant you see we (sorry...you...) have the second last chapter already?!!!!!!!

Chapter 15: The Saxophonist
Chapter 1: Mrs. Squiggle

Anengiyefa said...

Huh?! What are you on about??

Amooti, Uganda said...

Just telling you that there is a strong story line there. I should reckon you are trying to make sense of "Mrs. Squiggle", but again.....

Amooti, Uganda said...

chapter 7: Environment