Intellections

 Love is being stupid together.

Paul Valery

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I stood leaning on the bedroom door with a mug of coffee in my hand watching her sleep. She slept on top of the covers with nothing but her panties on and a long loose t-shirt. She held Pinky in a tight embrace, I had precisely left Pinky at her disposal right after I had disentangled myself from her unnecessarily tight embrace. And although I didn’t like Pinky, I pitied the look on his face gasping for breath from that tight embrace, at the same time his look seemed to say, look at how your girl puts her leg on me. Let me clear the air a little bit. Pinky is a teddy bear I got her on her birthday last year. Worst gift idea ever, at least on my part but she loved it. I hate the way Pinky looks at me when we make love, Pinky is the third wheel on our bed. I hate how I will sleep embracing her and wake up to Pinky’s face staring at me like – nigga you gay? Pinky is every where in my face and I have hatched several plans on how to get rid of him but need I say, I failed. So every time I get home, I put him lying down on his face, I wish I even got him in a smaller size, I just had to get him in the size of an actual seven year old human being. Damn it Steve.

Babaa, her cat, is another member of the family and although cats give me the creeps, I have learnt to live with Babaa. Babaa likes me, he came rubbing his fur against my leg purring softly while looking at her sleep and I am tempted to say soundly, but she snores. Her snoring has recently gone from out rightly irritating to music in my ears. For a moment I am tempted to take a video of her snoring so that when we argue when she wakes up on whether or not she snore like on most other days,I will have solid evidence. But what is the fun in that, I love the look in her eyes and the way she smiles when she denies the fact that she snores. It wouldn’t be fun anymore if I did, I would ruin those meaningless arguments that start our day off:

Yes you do

No I don’t

Yes you do

No I don’t

While we walked to school, probably minutes late because we spent thirty minutes playing rock –paper-scissors to decide on who goes to the bathroom first, we eventually reach a truce and take a shower together.

She did not sleep last night because the lights went out. It beats logic on why she is not scared of spiders and rodents but at twenty, she is still completely terrified of darkness. For the past one year since we moved in together I have had to contend with sleeping with the lights on, we even bought nightlights for toddler so she could allow me turn off the lights, but even that was still a raw deal on my side, now we use them both making the room unnecessarily brighter than ever, I have however learnt to deal with it.

The lights went out last night, and like every night when the lights go out, we lit a dozen candles in the bedroom and I had to stay up all night listening to the stories of her childhood while sweating in her uncomfortable tight embrace. I would listen to her confessions of how she took her mum’s change on the kitchen counter when she was seven and her confessions would date back to the present moment when she thought I was asleep. Recently I found out who broke my Xbox game counsel on a night without light.

“Steve, don’t get mad,” she began.

“I broke your game counsel because you do not pay attention when I talk to you and you are playing. So I poured water on it and then dried it up so you would not blame me.”

I however don’t consider it a confession, and I pretend to be deep asleep when she tells me. So I usually make her feel guilty later on by blaming myself for breaking my own stuff. Its not just the game counsel, I have had episodes where I picked up my phone on in the garbage bin, woke up to my shoes filled with water and mornings when she simply faked sickness so that I stayed home because I was going out with some ladies from my class. I know the sickness are fake because she heals soon after I stay home. She however doesn’t know I listen in on her confessions and I would pretty much miss all of it were it not for her making it hard for me to sleep. How do you sleep in such a tight embrace and the way in which she traces my face with her index finger as if keenly sketching my face on one of her sketch books.

So she stayed up all night and probably went to sleep when she saw the light of break of dawn through the window. She would sleep in late and I would stand leaning on the door watching her and talking to Babaa like I was actually deranged.

“Isn’t she a sight to behold,” I would muse to myself aloud and Babaa would purr softly in response as if he noticed how I looked at her ass. I would note the lustful look on Babaa’s deep green eyes and I would pick him from where he rubbed his fur on my feet and take him to the kitchen to get him something to eat while warning him against the look in his eyes when looking at my girl. Glad she was not having her examinations today, she would have totally flunked if she showed up to class sleepy.

 

 

Disclaimer, this story is not based on true events but the conception of a mind running wild. It is a short excerpt from my book in progress I therefore warn against plagiarism. Special thanks to my personal friend and editor Mumo Musyoki for his ever valued opinion and sometimes gruesome critic of my work that makes me a better writer each day.

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