A Dance

Blood and water

In black panty shorts on a buttoned shirt that swallowed up my nails, I gently stirred the tea with a teaspoon on the kitchen counter that formed a clunky sound. Steam rose from the tea cup and drew images. I was having tea and three slices of buttered toast for the morning. My eyes were distant. I was keen to know what had happened the night at the restaurant as I showed no concern for details yesterday and the day before. I needed my peace. I was going deranged in thought. The last folder my brain could mercifully open was waking up the next morning in my room, on my bed. I knew I did get home alone with my soul and spirit in my body but what I was distraught about was my reaction when I caught a clear gaze with... You know, anonymous.

I hadn't thought about it in days when every shutter captured by my eyes that shot straight to my mind folder for registry was fresh and willing to assist. But I did now. 'Why?' Your guess is as good as mine. I guess nothing to feed on the plate in the dining of thought. I needed to be engaged. Something and anything to rob my mind off my crazy thoughts.

I snapped out of thought at the sound of my phone. I was startled by the piano sound from my phone. I jerked like jumping over an innocent tiny little pet I didn't want for dead. It was that loud. Loud enough for anyone to sing verbatim three houses from mine to my doorway.

It was an RnB song by Halle Bailey, 'Angel'. I found it to be special so I marked it amongst my list of favorites. What the song conveyed was as lovely as the lyrics itself: loving and accepting our flaws. It spoke more to my soul than the slow beat did to my body.

A little tea spilt onto the counter in fright from the deafening blast of my phone. I gasped. My eyes got stucked on the counter for longer than imagined. It was a mixed feeling of irritation at how bad I suck and calmness that justifies my not so intentional act. Whatever it was that got me engaged had to be deep. "What continent in heaven's name had my mind traveled?" At that point, I had to question. Also, needed answers.

Hastily, I picked up my phone. Though not in a rush to answer the call before it stopped to ring, rather to prevent the spilled tea that had begun spreading its wings from getting into the phone and throwing me off into debt. I didn't think my phone was so close to the teacup let alone the spill when I earlier noticed a spill on the counter.

I had bought three carton phones in the space of one year as if changing the oil of a generator and the fourth about to be damaged yet again. Thank goodness for a swift hand else I would have been at an unintended meeting with the bank in seconds. A frail phone like Samsung needed so much pampering to be enjoyed. I had an absolute love for its product that I could go on and on gifting myself those as soon as a newer product hit the market despite it requiring high maintenance and tended use.

It was Naomi. I picked up the call and placed the phone to kiss my ear as I walked a short distance to get a hand towel neatly folded in two on the rod of the kitchen window, and back to the counter.

"Ihunanya," Naomi called. Her voice sounded breezy as though she was under the weather however, I was unmoved at how calm she sounded, unlike her vibrant self that could put smiles on the faces of the depressed. I called it a gift as I am left to fix the puzzles to date on how she brightens faces without having to wake the crumpled lines on the corners of her eyes from a forced smile or grin, revealing her upper teeth. She was unaware of how much magic her voice possessed and the depth it healed in the well of my heart. That was how special she was to me. This however didn't displace the truth that she could be both fire and ice in a card.

I could tell she battled her drowsy eyes in bed from shutting. She possessed a hidden robust strength that made me admired her with each passing day. Her ability to juggle tasks while she remained productive and effective at it evinced her strength but the myth that being busy and continuously multitasking was the road to ultimate productivity was never purchased by her. She was smart, not hard. She worked with the mantra 'less is more and more is less.' Naomi would rather channel her inputs into fewer things to reap greater benefits than spend long hours breaking her bones on what she called 'diminished output,' despite she possessed such capacity. Her intellect was so wowing that I doubted we were of the same parents or that she had her little lips encircled the nipples I fed from. Not that I was anything short of what she had but I never acted as such. It was rather more of a prayer than it was literal because I behaved doubtedly differently from individuals with intact senses.