I could tell that something was wrong the moment she stepped into my office. Her eyes were choked deep in their sockets, her lips hung for dear dehydrated life, and her hair clung disobediently to the nape of her neck. She had on black sweatshirt and leather sweatpants of the same color, then, black sneaks that hugged submissively to the swell of her ankles. I could tell she wasn’t trying, I could tell she had tried so hard to not try but even her forced lackadaisical sense of style was not enough to clown her beauty. I watched her as she slumped onto the chair. Swollen melons, pressing deep into the foam. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, prompt her to tell me the events of her day but I knew I wouldn’t have to. Thirty seconds in that chair and she would begin ranting tales about her affairs with mystery guy. She never really said enough for me to decipher whether or not mystery guy was an actual person, only that she felt extremely guilty. Deafening silence interrupted my thoughts. I looked at my timer, then, looked at her as she sat, completely still save for the up down rise of her bosom. Three minutes had already gone by. It seemed, today would be different, today, she wouldn’t say a word.
It was 5.am in the morning when they came to knock at my door. Said to come out , said it was important. I wondered what it was that couldn’t wait until the day was decent and I had half the mind to shut my door and feign ignorance but I didn’t. Instead, I threw on a grey hoodie over my slacks and trudged my caffeinated brain to the reception. Better be worth it. Better be worth my time. She was the first thing I saw immediately I stepped out of the elevator, the only thing I saw. Tall and slender, with black curls framing the sides of her face. Lights bounced off the surface of her caramel skin. She had long, shapely legs that did well to balance the swell of her hips, not the fat yam ones that most girls had these days. She smiled as soon as she saw me and I smiled back, not necessarily because I wanted to but because at this point, my actions were being controlled by my other head. My legs began walking towards her. Was she what was urgently? Could she be what was urgent? She reached out her hand to me as soon as I got before her and I couldn’t help but notice how elegant her wrist looked bound by a strand of yellow roses. When she spoke, it was like the chorus of a thousand angels. “Hi, I’m Amarachi”. I knew there and then that fate had smiled on me, that after years of searching, I had finally found the one.
Two years later, she was lying on the bed across from me, fingering the rose petals that had now become a symbol of our love, telling me we had to talk, spilling outrageous tales, shattering the façade of destiny as the words left her mouth. That night at the reception wasn’t fate. She knew I was coming.
The first time I set my eyes on KC was a mistake. It was one of those I-give-up kinda Saturdays when i decided to disregard life and bury my head in social media. Facebook it was. Somehow, I seemed to believe that a cursory 10 seconds into the life of strangers would be the cure to my restlessness. I was barely down to the fifth post on my discover page when I saw him. Hair black as butter, skin glistening in the sun, but it was his smile…his smile that kept me looking. When he smiled, his pupils dilated a little and his eyes wrinkled at the sides. His lips parted slightly to reveal the upper half of his gleaming white teeth and his cheeks folded into puffy mounds. It was all so normal yet, so endearing. I decided to mistakenly stumble on his page, partly to grace my eyes with more pictures of him, partly to satisfy my curiosity.
I could see he was Nigerian, Igbo just like me, 2 pictures down and i knew what his hobbies were, 4 pictures- his favorite food, 8 pictures, 10 pictures, 2016, 2014, 2010 2005- Kelechi Onuoha joined Facebook. By the time I was done, I knew everything there was to know about him, everything social media had to tell. He lived in Memphis. I remembered the promotion my boss had offered me two days ago, the one that required me to move to Memphis, the one I had initially declined but promised halfheartedly to think about. Suddenly, the thought of moving didn’t seem as bad, everyone needed a change in scenery once in a while.
The move to Memphis was not as difficult as I had expected. My realtor had managed to find me a cheap apartment just downtown. KC took a lot of pictures around there. Thinking about it now, it seems strategic but I swear it was a mere coincidence. What wasn’t a coincidence, however, was my visits to Splurge. The bar where he bought drinks on Friday nights. I confess I was bored and even though splurge was just right down the street I knew partly that only reason I was going in there and not attempting to try out other clubs was my hope, that I might quite possibly stumble into him. That never happened.
There were times when I thought to move on. “Why crush incessantly on an individual you’ve never met?” I’d say to myself, but each time I made a decision, my eyes were clouded with snaps of his endearing smile, then, the haunting thought that he was merely blocks away. “He could be right outside my apartment this minute, at the gym maybe, my gym. The both of us could have possibly been in the same restaurant at the same time, circles are small don’t give up”.
I woke up the next morning and decided that the best way to end this ridiculous cycle was to take matters into my own hands. Stumble around his apartment, maybe have one or two drinks in the reception. I could sense the ridiculousness of my thoughts as soon as they left my head. This was crazy, this could be stalking, this was something a psychopath would do. But to me, it didn’t seem so. I knew myself, I wasn’t crazy, I was completely fine. I was the best employee at my job and I constantly made coherent sentences. Deciding to act upon a crush didn’t make me crazy, besides stalking isn’t stalking when you’re a cute girl. Convinced, I went. Dressed up, picked up the complimentary rose mum had given me for good luck and went. Waited in the reception for 15 hot minutes before I saw him. He looked just as beautiful as he did in his pictures, his smile just as endearing. I paused for a minute, wondering whether to talk to him, what to say, but when I saw him walking towards me, I knew he saw me too.
KC and I have lived a wonderful life, two years strong, two years of blissful love. We’ve swiftly become that couple people tag as “relationship goals” and all because I took the first step. I was happy, he was, but each morning, as we reaffirmed our love for each other, it hurt me to think of the things he was unaware of. One part of me justified it, how we met didn’t matter what we built is what did. But the other part of me knew that our love and trust was worth nothing if KC did not know the truth. I woke up that day, convinced that I was going to tell him everything and so I did; about Facebook, about the promotion, about Memphis. I told him that the day in the reception was not fate, I had hoped to see him there.
I could see the confusion in his eyes as soon as I was done talking, the disappointment. I wanted desperately for him to think it was sweet, for our love to justify the means but, as I watched him try to make sense of the entire situation, I knew he thought it was crazy, that I was crazy. I nudged him gently, KC? “You need to go, he said. I need some time to think about all this.
I was super excited when I was writing this, the last time I was that excited was when i was writing “Confessions of a deranged romantic”. Comment to let me know what you think.
- Did Amarachi take it too far?
- Was she wrong to take matters into her own hands?
- Where do you draw the line at social media stalking?
- Is it really stalking if you have no harmful intentions/ is it okay if you’re cute lol?
- Should KC disregard the facade of how they met and focus on how much their relationship has grown?
I always respond to comments so, check back to see my response if you do. PS: Feel free to share this post if you like it ooo. Social media icons are below.