Keeping them informed

It is late in the evening, and this happens to be one of those cold evenings. Such evenings make me remember school. It is one of the coldest places I know in the world. The kind of cold nights I have to endure inside my lonely house cannot be explained. The cold bites as if it has an agenda, the agenda being to punish you for being single. It is like telling you that it is a curse that these many beautiful daughters of you cannot have you for a boyfriend. I pick my coat and snap back and head to D-Lux Hotel. It is one of the good hotels I have experienced in Nakuru. It’s not like I have experienced many, no, I have always wished to do that but how will my broke ass afford that?

Apart from getting the weekend rolling I am getting to see Kevin, a friend of mine who works at this place. Kevo is this guy who used to be so tiny when we were in school; the only tinier person was me. I think he was one of these who made us tiny people to be called cheeky. He was my first friend ever in Kisumu, Nyalenda by default, with the fact that he was already my friend from school. I had some short staying stint at Nyalenda during my high school days. Apparently dad wanted to keep me in Kisumu with him having the thoughts that I will not have many friends and concentrate on my studies, or maybe he wanted to bond with his eldest son. It was that period during my teens when I was taking ground and my hormones were starting to charge. What a disappointment when the second day I was already coming back to the house way past dusk. I could read see it all on his eyes. So bad the period never lasted when the man’s health drastically moved from mint condition to shitty and it had to diminish altogether. Kevo seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood and pretty ladies would flock him. I swear he is one of the most talkative guys I know. He would always ask me if he could throw one my ways, but hell no. who was I to break the say jogoo la shambani hawiki mjini.

So here I am with Kevo sited next to the deejay’s booth, and Sam, also a high school pal joins us. I am amazed at how both of them exclaim how big I have grown the first thing when they see me. I used to be the smallest in the whole school when I joined, but here I am taller than these two bustards. In fact Sam was very big. He started lifting weights way back. All he’s got now is a huge chest but I beat him in height. For those who said God’s time is coming, just know my God’s time in height is already here. As usual Kevo points an ass passing by and asks me, “Odundo nikupe huyo?” These guys call me Odundo; they knew me when I was not yet Lewis Martin. I didn’t even know it was coming. I politely decline the offer. They are surprised just as I am as well and ask whether I got married. How do you explain to your boys that you stopped fancying the asses that you used to adore? That nowadays every time you wake up next to a different face you feel so wasted. That having a casual woman around does not exhilarate you anymore. That you cannot even make time for chats with different women sending smiley and kissy emojis. That the number of visits prospects that you have declined are shooting on an upward trend. They let me off the hook but Kevo makes sure that I know that whenever I feel I need to work my waist he can always swiftly outsource me a lass.

After some little talk I let them get back to work as I proceed to the bar counter to get some beer. Just when I was starting to bond with my bottle and glass, I realize that I will be getting home late and I have to say something to that effect home. It hits me what freedom means and what being under someone means. I can’t imagine how it is like staggering back to a house that you do not pay rent nor foot the bills in late in the night. How disrespectful. I once did it before in Nairobi in the company of a crazy cousin; it never went down well with the missus of the house. The type of lecture we got on how bad alcohol is and that it has no additional value for us. To make it worse if we drink when we are broke, how about when we will be earning? Well, they were partly truthful but I don’t think one has to endure all truths all the time. Some truths are always just left to be, because they are nothing new to a man and whining about it won’t change anything.

So here I am trying to get the words that I will use to say that I am not around and might come back off time and a little off mind. I need to pass this information without sounding rude yet not being on my knees as well. First I think about just letting it go altogether. Then it hits me that it is only my mum who I can pull such shit on and the next day will still be happy and throw a joke at me, meaning I have to text. Calling is out of question because we know how such an environment spells rotten on you when talking to a staunch Christian on the other end. I have experienced such situation of having to choose words carefully before only when chatting up a new lady. You know those get to know you threads when someone gets to give you a glimpse of who they are for the first time and every text is a paragraph. That point you religiously wait for an answer as you get to know the prospective wing lady. I do believe most of the battle is won in this stage. This is the point where you know if you will invest time here or just let it go like the rest. You are also making an impression.

I compose my well thought text, sends and it is delivered. The only problem is that I don’t receive a reply. I always smell bad stuff when I text someone and they don’t reply, one of the things being that am out. That is coz I rarely reply to shitty messages even though at times I can also be full of shit. I just read and look at it as if nothing has changed or just assumed they somehow feel my reaction without me physically replying. I had to hurriedly clear my drink before it gets too late and could not even wait for the meat Kevo was bringing. From my sprees before, I had learnt that there is a big difference between getting home at 8.57pm and 9pm. The three minute difference can change a lot. I get home, go clear any proof of me touching a bottle that has alcohol content in it and try make sure that I talk and react normally. Not like someone high on something that you should not handle machinery after taking. After that I take rice and broccoli for supper.

So for my friend who once asked me how it is to stay with a relative, how I wish you know how to describe something that can make you leave beer and meat on a Friday evening at a nice hotel behind. Always having in mind that to me food is bae and I treat it with the love and care it deserves. I really hope it’s my last stint though.



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