For those who are eternal

7

There was little doubt about it but I had realized why making love with Yvonne seemed familiar.

My head lay atop Emilia's cleavage as she stroked my hair. We had finished making love and were basking in the aftermath. As my head rose and fell within line with her breathing, I replayed the events of today.

My hand touched her entrance and my fingers slid in; And there it was, the same texture as Yvonne's.

"I can't do another round," Emilia said, "Not when your mind is elsewhere."

I didn't say a word but just pulled out my fingers.

"Kwame, what's wrong?" Emilia asked, "You haven't been yourself for a while. At least let me know what's wrong."

The compassion in her voice always worked against me but I wondered why it didn't work now. Nay, the reason it didn't work was that I was scared.

Would she believe I was a 118-year-old man who just had sex with the ghost of his fiancé who supposedly died roughly 90 years ago?

It even sounded ridiculous.

"Kwame!" she was more stern now, "What's happening to you?! Ever since I started walking, you've become distant. Aren't you happy for me?"

That wasn't it.

That wasn't my intention.

I'm just so confused.

Her sobbing shook my heart. I tried to soothe her. 

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

I pulled her close to me.

"I said don't touch me!" she tried to wrestle herself out of my embrace but well... I am a man and all.

"Just leave me," she said weakly, "You never look at me properly."

What did she mean properly?

I let her be.

Putting on my shorts and a shirt, I went to the dining.

It was a few minutes past 4 in the evening. I couldn't believe how much time I had spent indoors, so I decided to take a stroll.

As I stepped out of the house, my neighbour called for me.

He was 90 years old, father of 4 boys, grandfather of 15 and great grandfather of 2.

"Good evening sir, I see you're taking a walk," he said, "May I join you?"

I couldn't say no; I just shrugged.

"Let me get the drinks and the nuts," he offered.

I waited for him before we headed to our spot.

I say, 'our' because it was where I had officially met him. It was just a big tree not too far away from where we stayed. From what he told me, it was where he hid from his wife to drink.

As we sat down at the foot of the tree, he broke open the kola, "I see the gods aren't hungry today."

He offered me my share before pouring the palm wine his first son had brought for him.

I accepted both without hesitation; I seriously needed it.

"Sir, I hope all is well?" he asked.

"If I may ask Papa Ebuka, why do you call me sir?" I asked.

"Aren't you my senior?" he asked.

I choked on my palm wine and turned to face him, "How did you know?"