FADED VIRIDITY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I haven't touched much on the emotional trauma and the emotional abuse we were getting at home because it hadn't affected me completely, yet. It was not until around twenty-four that I had uncontrollable, unbearable panic attacks and mental breakdowns. My parents who bickered from the start of their marriage to thirty years after never saw an issue in their toxic cycle... and neither did I. There was constant verbal abuse and manipulation emanating from my household, and I was too ignorant to see or understand the signs until I broke down. That was when I frantically started looking for answers in self-help novels, and qualified therapists. It all read the same, my trauma will not and cannot stop if I am in the same environment that broke me. But, my parents (who took no accountability for their actions) further enslaved us, and made me feel guilty for wanting to leave. So, I stayed...until I found a temporary escape, by some miracle, to relocate. 

It would have been just for the year, with my younger sister for work, but I jumped on the opportunity.My self-esteem was low when I moved, and I was not financially stable. My parents did the bare minimum because they did not want us to move away, so we were on our own. We didn't complain about it though. In fact, we enjoyed the freedom a bit too much...In an attempt to yet again find my soulmate (latterly realizing this endless search was to impress my parents and to distract me from my crippling anxiety), I fell deep in the clutches of the devil himself. I want to say that it was my punishment for not having faith in the process. But I also was in no position to make any sound decisions. I was absolutely broken. Anyway, my sister and I moved from Johannesburg to Durban for one year for work. It was a new town to us and, naturally, we did not know anyone. I was still studying, and she was working. I took up part time employment at a local pharmacy to help out with the rent. 

The field of medicine was very different to business, but I needed the income. Unfortunately, however, I did not own a vehicle so transport to and back from work was an everyday problem. My boss understood my predicament and suggested I speak to a customer that came in 89for his monthly medication. Looking back, asking him for help was a decision I will forever regret. That one single favor proved to be a lifelong sentence...He suggested a particular client to help me because he was apparently a really helpful gentleman.

 "Speak to Tiny. He is a good guy," he told me. Taking his advice, I waited for this Tiny to walk through the store. As anti-climactic as it was, Tiny was a large Indian man, 6 feet tall or more, he was dark skinned and muscled. He spoke eloquently, harbored good manners and was fluent in confidence. He was not someone I would typically be attracted to, and I wasn't. So, when he came to the pharmacy that month and tried to spark up a conversation, I explained to him my situation. He was more than willing to offer a hand. I assumed he really was a gentleman by the way everyone spoke about him. He was well known, and trusted. During the next month we travelled together every day to and back from work. I would compensate him with a small fee even though he never asked for the money. He was working in the same location as me so it was convenient. The pampering didn't stop there, though. He would take me out for lunch, shower me with fancy gifts and, in general, make me as comfortable as possible. As much as I liked the attention, it ironically made me feel uncomfortable. When I would confront him about it, he would simply say 'it's my money, and you don't owe me anything.' 

Soon, he was the living embodiment of everything I wanted from a man. I felt an unexplainable attraction to him after two months of being friends. I hid my feelings because we came from different backgrounds, and different cultures. So, I knew that our union would be impossible. My feeling became stronger each day, and as much as I would try and stay away, he was always there. Hoovering. That was when I came to the decision that I needed to tell him how I felt. I met him at the coffee shop on Monday afternoon. 

'Hey there,' I said as he stepped in from the door and walked to the table where I was seated. It was a small café, intimate. It smelled of flowers on a rainy day covered in orange paint. The tables were antique but varnished well.