He Has A CAP
Is the saying true? 'That not all those that has cap has head?'
The sun shun out lazily, it's rays mocked by the harmattan breeze. Tiny ray squeezed through the small opening in my window, it scattered in the wall of my room. I stood in front of my standing mirror, I laughed and saw it Laughing back at me.
This days I find so much happiness from giving out love.
Abdul is like a craft work, his body slender and tall, his eyes are piercing. The pupil is like an ink, so dark and dreamy. His eyeballs are excessively white.
He is the man I've fallen in love with.
I looked at my relaxed hair, it was a virgin until yesterday, it was so long and pretty, the sun sparks also rested on it, so it shun. I looked at my pointed nose, my big eyes. I bit my lower lips and partially closed my eyes, thanking my maker for the beauty.
This is my first time loving, or loving this wholeheartedly. Abdul always confess I am a good woman, virtuous and trustworthy. I wonder if it was because he had dared untied my ever tied wrapped, the one he confirmed was ever intact untill that night or because he knows I am allover him to have time for another.
As I prepared myself, giving special attention to everything I put in my body, I sighed. This is a modest 'dress to kill.'
My gown was not a straight one, but my big buttock made it rest at its shape and it fell afterwards.
My hips are full and it always command stares. I reached out for my car key and left the house. I drove for minutes and my catchy car came to a halt on facing the big gate.
It automatically opened after a horn, the security must have confirmed it was me.
I entered his house and went to his room, everywhere was neat and I met Abdul calm. His calmness made me uneasy.
'Is everything alright?'
I finally asked after some formalities
'Yes dear but there is something I've been wanting to tell you'
'Sure, you can tell me anything'
Different thoughts ranged in my mind. What could it be that he wants to talk about?
He faced me, our eyes met. The atmosphere in the room wasn't the same as before when we usually look into each other's eyes.
'You are a very good person.' His words came too painful.
'Why are you telling me'
My eyes soaked from unshed tears, I fought within myself to keep the tears from falling, so he could say the things he want.
'Aisha, I am sorry. I am afraid of your love. It's too much, I fear I can't handle it. I could hurt you and if we continue like this, it will be more painful later'
He observed me but I was wearing a blank expression. I do not know how to react. He continued...
'You are too innocent, too gentle, too loving. You are too fragile, I do not want to break you. This is difficult but we should quit.'
'Are you that scared of my perfections? Or is my way of showing affection so imperfectly perfect?Please don't let this happen to me. It's you I want, no one else. you. Let me worry about getting hurt, don't push me away. Abdul, I love you.'
'That's the problem. You love me too much, and I don't want it.'
I was as angry as I was confused.
Is it that bad to love a man, was I that obsessed with him?
I took my bag and ran out, I don't want to be helpless before him, I don't want his pity, and I do not want to hear more of his carefully painted hurting words
I went home, devastated from the feelings of dejection.
I looked at my pretty hair hidden inside a scarf. He didn't even see it, I took my time to appear appealing to him. He didn't even see my hair.
I wailed at the thought.
I looked at myself in the mirror and hate it that I still care he didn't look at me, despite my shattered heart.
©Yusuf Muyibat Avosuahi