Storymoja

Celebrating East African Writing!

Should I call Him?

Written by Patrick Irungu

He looked into her big, black, beautiful eyes and with all the courage he could muster said, “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

She stood her ground and kept her gaze right back at him then replied, “Listen, I told you my reasons. I know what you said, ok; I just don’t see it working, that’s all.”

He shifted his eyes from her, dejected and looked at the ground she stood on for a long while. The shadow did not do her justice leaving out some of her godly specifications. His eyes then moved to her toes and he could see them squirm perhaps feeling the attention they were now getting. Exquisite, well maintained. The way they fit the shoe it so looked like it was made specifically for her foot. In his mind thoughts ran in the color chart trying to figure out what nail polish colour she had on. ..She moved her foot so that it was covered by her blue denim trousers. That set him off the trail of the color chart and he was back in this world.

“But your reasons are unfounded, I mean why won’t you even try, please?” he muttered not looking at her but at the flowery pattern on her denim at the knees.

“What do you want me to say…do you want me to lie to you? Is that what you want?” she asked in response her tone hinting at some annoyance. She continued”You don’t know me. You think you do but in the future I know you’ll see I mean no harm.”

“So you’re doing me a favor?” he retorted but then he caught himself in time and explained the comment somewhat disturbed by his outburst.” I’m not asking for any favors. What I meant is that you give it a try, ok?” In his mind he wondered when it had gotten to this level of begging and pleading shamelessly. Wasn’t he the Casanova who swept them all off their feet? Where was the charm, the confidence?

“I think we should postpone this, let’s go out tonight…your choice…anywhere you like. We don’t have to do this today. Everything else can wait .I will not do anything stupid. I promise. No surprises. None whatsoever. I promise. So what do you say?” he blubbered on, all this time his gaze now squarely on her midsection at the big butterfly belt she had emphasizing her beautiful waistline.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know why I came here. I can’t do this anymore. “Her voice was now calm and composed, her mindset made up.

He then raised his head and caught her clutching her bag in readiness to leave. Resigned to the fact that it was over he needed closure.

“Tell me again. Why won’t it work?” he asked

She looked at his face. He was good looking there was no denying it. The way he smiled had lit her heart for nights on end, his built and gait was astute. He was good from far but as she soon found out, far from good. What she did not know was that he had fallen line, hook and sinker madly in love with her. Perhaps he liked her too much for his own good. It had become an obsession. He would call her daily.

At first it was interesting to have someone calling for it meant he cared. But when it got to three times a day with text messages in between she knew something was not right. Two months down the line on one gloomy night he ambushed her with an engagement ring. He was moving too fast for her liking. She sent out those feminine distress signals but he did not get any of them. It was time for her to break up the link. She had thought of him as cute but now she knew he was a psycho and she was not going to wait for him to explode. She had unsuccessfully tried breaking up with him several times but now she was resolute. It had to end.

“OK, let’s go out for the last time.” she said as she held her bag and headed for the door out of his apartment.

“Wait! “He shouted. She froze in her tracks and inhaled in quickly in fear and turned to face him not knowing what to expect. He was brimming with happiness.”Let me put on some shoes first! ”And with that he rushed in to the bedroom and was back in a flash hopping as he tried tying his shoe laces and also wobbling in the process.

They left in tow one in apprehension and the other in anticipation. They later on made their way back to his apartment where he surprised her with a candle lit romantic ambiance. She spent the night and left the next day mid morning, glowing in joy.

It has been two weeks now and counting. She’s still wondering why he hasn’t called her. She thinks he’s cute, psycho or not. “Should I call him?” she wonders aloud.

©Patrick Irungu 2011

If you would like this piece to be the Story of the Week, please vote below on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being weak, and 10 being excellent. The numbers will be tallied on Sunday and the story with the highest figure shall be Crowned Story of the Week on the next Monday. Be sure to fill in your name and verifiable email. You can include your critique/comment after the vote.

2 comments on “Should I call Him?

  1. Roger
    January 18, 2011

    7/10. Smooth! I love the toe paragraph. Good story.

  2. baru
    January 25, 2011

    The end looks somewhat intentional. Meant to invoke that puzzled look on the readers face when he gets to it but nothing more.
    But I enjoyed the descriptive nature of your writing. I give you a 6

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