written by Manda Donabi
(8 minutes)
It’s a cold January morning, but it’s alright because it is quite sunny this morning. I’m running late to work and I’m building up a little sweat as I pace through Bruce Grove high road, an old frail white lady ahead of me hears my footsteps getting nearer behind her, she looks back and sees me, a six-foot-three black man with a full beard battling through with a face mask so she crosses over to the other side of the road at the earliest possible opportunity.
It’s okay, I’m used to it. It happens all the time, especially at night time. It does not help that both my tracksuit and my puffer jacket are black. I guess I look like the common roadman. I could be that guy in the drill music videos behind the rapper, throwing up gang signs and gun fingers at the camera.
However, as intimidating as I probably look, I’m listening to love songs and I can’t help think about you. It’s like every lyric is tailor-made for you, me…US! What are we though? Friends? I don’t know? Because we laugh together like silly but then when the jokes are out of the way it’s all lust. You look into my eyes and I dream… I dream of what making love to you will feel like, what would you sound like when you’re about to climax? I want to feel your breath on my bare skin.
*MUSIC PLAYS*
*
”you got a way with me, you put me in my place when I’m petty”- Alina Baraz (More Than Enough)
I’m listening to this as I rock side to side on the train and I prevent myself from looking at anyone else in the face, you know abiding by the unspoken rule of the London Underground.
These lyrics take me back to that house party in South London, Greenwich, you got so drunk that night and we couldn’t see eye to eye, even though I know you spoke from your heart and told me how you felt about me. I didn’t flinch. You were drunk. I would have probably believed you, had you said it to me when you were sober but you’re slurring your words, your hair is a mess and you can barely open your eyes. It looks like something out of EastEnders and then abruptly, ”fuck this, you’re a bitch!” you lashed out at me. You repeated it again then tried to walk away. As you pulled the kitchen door open I pushed it full force and it slammed! You got me out of character now, I’m in your face. ,” DON’T YOU EVER SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT, WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO !”
I had seen red at this point my heart was racing. I’m pointing and shouting at you like a football hooligan, but you got me. This is what you wanted. Some passion? Some emotion? As I brushed past you, you looked up at me timidly and asked me ”can I get a hug?” I wrapped my arms around you tight and squeezed your bum and that was it. It was done, it was over, it was petty.
I finally get to work & sit at my desk dreading the rest of the day, I got a million e-mails to reply to, well at least that’s what it feels like and I’m just not ready yet. I’ve been getting pissed all weekend and quite frankly I don’t believe my brain is functioning.
All the e-mails are in English! I’ve spent the whole weekend with my family and not a word of English was said for three days. We were speaking Lingala as if we were in Congo, Kinshasa. We danced to the sweet guitar sounds of rumba music all night whining our waists as if we don’t have bones in our bodies.
*MUSIC PLAYS*
*
”And I can’t get you out of my mind,
God knows how hard I tried…” – Toni Braxton (Breathe Again)
I sneak on a single airpod so no one notices that I’m listening to music. ’Breathe Again’ listening to this song has me reflecting on how many times I’ve said that’s it, or how many times you’ve said we’re done. We have even had mutual agreements on not seeing each other anymore and somehow we end up at your house or some house party and the spark ignites again and it’s greater than the last time we saw each other.
The last time I was on the phone to you, I told you to do you ”we’re not on the same page, we’re not on the same things if you got better options then go. I’m deleting you off everything and any place I know you’re gonna be at, I am not even gonna be about.” and I hung up on you. I told the mandem me and you aren’t nothing, in fact, I even deleted you off all the socials.
After two weeks I got a call ”yo where you? We got a motive are on you coming?” I asked ”yeah, but is she gonna be there?” knowing that you will. I still replied reluctantly ”yeah alright, I’m getting ready.”
I put on my Tom Ford perfume, groomed my beard, and did some press-ups before I left my house. When we arrived you opened the door with a smile on your face and gave us a warm welcome with hugs. I came in cold, trying to give you the cold shoulder like I didn’t want you in my arms again. I realised that you still looked at me the same way and you still smiled at me the same.
Once the drinks started flowing we fell in each other’s arms dancing to slow jams. The music was playing loud, everyone else around us are talking and having a laugh but then you whispered in my ear ”I’ve missed you” and everything went silent as if we were alone. You got me, you won me all over again.
*MUSIC PLAYS*
*
“Alone, every night alone. Why am I alone when I know that you want me too. Am I wrong?” John Redcorn – (Sir)
I’m lying in this bed and it’s cold, I’m going to stay in this one spot of the bed till I warm up a little. The sound of rain and RnB music combined makes a perfect remedy for bedtime. However, I can’t nod off, I’m facing the ceiling with a blank look on my face because I’m in trouble and I know it.
There’s not been one girl that has thrown me off like you. When I speak to her we laugh like crazy, when I see her, I daydream into her eyes. Even when I try to resist by not phoning or messaging. I’m still falling for her every day.
The bedroom door slowly opens, the lights are switched on. “Babe, are you sleeping?” I replied squinting trying to hide my face away from the light. “Yeah, I’m about to.” I replied. “oh,” she responded disappointedly as her shoulders plummeted. “Well turn off these sad songs then”, she said dropping her bag on the floor. “I’m gonna shower quickly” she continued, whilst getting out of her baggy TFL uniform and unveiling her curves. She unties her hair, and her curls spill beautifully and rest on her shoulders, she disappears into the dark hallway leaving the lights on, leaving me yearning. All I can do is fall back onto my pillow, and face the ceiling again “I’m fucked” I thought. I got to figure out how to get myself out of this episode. I mean how can I be in love but heartbroken at the same time, maybe if I cry to Jesus he might be able to help me, but then again Jesus never experienced romantic love from a woman, therefore, my cry is futile.
THE END
Fortscriptures 
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