FADED VIRIDITY

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I just came back from grocery shopping one day after lunch when my mother pulled me by my arm inside the house.

'You need to get dressed now', she said excitedly. 

'I am dressed, what's happening', I asked her in awe. I can't remember the last time my mother was happy to see me, I thought and laughed hysterically in silence.

'Dress into something better! My sister just called to say that her mother's friend is coming in to see prospects because he knows boys that are of age to get married', she screamed as she dragged me into my room. 

'This is how I look on a daily basis, mother, I'm not going to make an effort for some old bloke I don't know', I replied tiredly and annoyed. 

'Please don't argue with me, Issabella, and just do as I say. You are getting old and you need to get married. Your sister was married at 20, she already has two kids, when are you going to start your life?', she asked rhetorically with a condescending tone. 

That was that and my opinion didn't matter. I rolled my eyes and grudgingly changed into multiple different outfits. One was too dark; the other was too short and the one we settled on brought out my complexion but I could do better. Well, whatever I did or said or wore worked a tad bit too well because a week or two after this impromptu meeting, the couple that visited called to offer me their grandson in wholly matrimony if I would have him. It wasn't something that I wanted to mention to anyone just yet because I was not completely interested, or at all. What about my studies? And about campus? Oh, and also! I have to give it up for a man? I don't think so. I didn't fully understand how the world works at that time but I had the ideology of wanting to please my parents even if it made me unhappy. Therefore, I agreed to a meeting with this complete stranger at their behest. 

It was the night before my blind date when I messaged David for outfit ideas. I sent him almost 10 snaps of me wearing different outfits and video called him immediately after to ask him to choose the most appropriate one. I tried to dodge his questions about what kind of event it was because I wasn't sure if it was important information just yet. I had planned to say no to marriage in any event, and only accepted a meeting because I did not want to create a scene unnecessarily. So, I changed the topic every time it came up. 

'Can you please help without questions?', I asked politely.

'Sorry I'm just asking because you're being so fussy', he replied sheepishly.

'I just don't want to look like a cow and give my mum a reason to complain is all', 'Okay but just tell me, are you meeting someone romantically? like a date?'

'No... now would stop playing detective, Inspector Gadget, and help me?!'

'Okayyy, wear a blue shirt', he said without thought, unapologetically. 

'Why blue?' I asked whilst laughing. 'that's so random', I added. 

'I don't know, just wear color. You look good in color'

'Can I wear green to match your eyes', I asked him mockingly. 

'You rarely ever mention my eyes', he said. 

'Yeah like they are pretty but I think you already know that, why would I mention it? Are you offended?'

'No, I'm not. I don't like people commenting on my eyes and you never do, it's different'

'Is that a GOOD OR A BAD THING?', I replied mockingly. 

'Definitely a good thing', he said, smiling. 

We chose a really amazing outfit that night. I wore a black velvet party dress and completed the look with pink floral heels under a pair of sophisticated stockings. After that date, I felt nothing. Sure, he was a gentleman but he lacked direction. He couldn't completely articulate to me who he was as a person, and our conversations were by no means free-flowing. I didn't feel much of a physical attraction to him either. He looked pretty charmed by me, though, which bothered me a lot because he didn't even know the first real thing about me. I came home disappointed because part of me knew I would have to get married to this man regardless of my feelings. My parents liked him too much to allow me to say no. After all, he was from a prominent family in Johannesburg. A part of me wanted to feel something for this stranger so that when I told people I was engaged, I would be happy about it. Rest assured, the arrangements were made for me to be wed, and I wasn't asked but told that was how it would go down. I felt completely defeated. Not only were my choices limited, I was convinced that I had none. I felt as though I were suffering from sleep paralysis. Dreaming that I was trapped in a loveless relationship, and I couldn't run from it.When I did eventually gather up the courage to express my extreme dissatisfaction to my parents about my 'future husband', things got ugly. As a young adult, I was not exposed to many opportunities in life, I had little to no experience from the real world, and I grew up knowing two things: 

1. I need to get married as soon as I turn 20

2. My parents will choose.

So, naturally after my conversation with my parents I was made to feel guilty for even thinking against it. It was put to me by my own mother that it was either I marry him or no one because 'I wasn't worthy of better.' My body was frozen in motion, my lips were stitched and everything went dark. It felt as though my soul had left my physical body and I witnessed myself on autopilot going through the motion as the weeks went by. I spoke to people about it, asking if what I felt was natural. Trying so desperately to get feedback that played on my good side. 71And that was advice from my big sister....My family members were broadcasting the news ('Issabella weds Ryan') so I knew I had to tell David. 

They beat me to it, I figured, when he texted me. That was by far the most painful phone call I had received that year because he didn't call to congratulate me or wish me well. He didn't sound bothered, really. His disinterest soared through me like a sharp pain. I needed my best friend in that moment to support me and be happy for me. But, he didn't. In some way, I looked-for his approval because it meant so much to me, and I didn't hear it at the time I sought it. I did not let that stop me from spending time with him, though, because I knew our time together was limited and that distraught me more than it should have. I will, however, forever be grateful for continuing with that conversation as I later realized that his indifference was not because he didn't care. It was quite the contrary actually, it was because he cared too much. This time, I would agree that in that moment it did feel like a tragic romance movie- for his disinterest wasn't disapproval but rather, regret. He delayed in professing his love to me, and regretted not taking advantage of the opportunity when he had it in the palm of his hands. And that ladies and gentleman, was the definition of heartbreak. Wanting something, having it want you back only to figure out that you can't get it. 

I could not admit to myself that I felt the same way because of the dream, the sleep paralysis. I knew I would have to lie there and suffer though that pain, my pain, alone. I also knew, in that moment, I had lost my best friend. 

'Stop crying, you know I don't like it when you cry', he told me that night.

'I can't control it!', I shot back.

'Okay, okay I just want two things from you', he started tearfully.

'hmm', I grunted. 

'One, I want to see you on more time. And two, you can't cry'

'Okay, why can't I cry though', I asked him as I sulked.

'Because firstly, you look like a princess! And I secondly, I don't like seeing princesses cry', he said adorably. I agreed to meet him in a weeks' time, in room 3, where we would usually meet to study. I was overwhelmed and anxious when I walked into campus that morning. I didn't know what to expect or how to react. But I walked in anyway and ran straight to the tan wooden door labeled 3 to pull the figurative band aid off as quickly as possible. I opened the door and saw David sitting on one of the tables directly opposite me. He jumped off when he saw me walk and marched towards me. I saw grief in his beautiful green eyes and I all I could think about was 'my best friend was sad because of me. I caused him distress and unhappiness'. But before I could say anything he pulled me closer and heaved me in for a hug. 

'I bet the colleague you hugged would be totally jealous of me right now', I teased to cheer him up.

'She doesn't even come close, you had nothing to worry about', he said timidly as he looked in my tearful eyes. 

'I thought I said no tears!', he exclaimed.

'They are tears of happiness because I'm with you', I flirted. 

'We need to contain the Harriet Spector in you, she never lets me win', he smirked. 

'I wish I lost if you won her'

'Me too...', he whispered. 'And now I'm crying', he added.

I wiped away his tears and then pulled him closer by his waist as I rested my forehead on his lips. He held his kiss for as long as my head was lowered, and caressed my cheek when I looked up. He looked at me with love and pain and cusped my face in both his hands as he lessened the space between our bodies. Our lips touched passionately and we when we parted, we had done so in a painful goodbye