Manka and Other African Shorts

New Year's Dreame

It seemed like the days were passing more slowly than usual. It looked like just yesterday when Mark was still by my side. It was almost as if I could hear his voice sometimes. I felt his presence. It was strange, really.

Like right now, as I was sitting moping around, I could almost imagine him telling me if you knew just how awful you look when you cry, you'd stop. I chuckled and looked around the room with a wistful smile.

I had stopped asking myself why. Why hadn't I gone with him? Why hadn't I called him that day? Why hadn't I convinced him to stay home? I knew the questions were futile. Thinking I could have done something wasn't going to bring him back.

I sighed. Today was the 31st of December. I was supposed to be happy. I was supposed to be celebrating going into the new year. But I here I was, sitting in my living room, all alone.

I stood up and walked to the room. I opened the closet and there they were, still wrapped up, the outfits Mark and I were supposed to wear for the NYE's party. I touched Mark's suit and smiled wistfully. He never even got to try it on. It was a surprise I had made cause I knew how much he hated shopping.

I wiped the tears that had spilled and took out my dress. It was a long burgundy dress made out of a velvety material. It was form fitting and it was supposed to make Mark lose his mind.

I choked on a sob and dropped the dress. He was my everything dammit! He was my best friend, my lover, my mother, my father all in one. Why did he have to leave me?

I sat on the floor and watched morbidly as the mucus left my left nostril to the floor. I couldn't even bring myself to wipe it. I couldn't even bring myself to care about how disgusting I was being.

After a while, I took a shirt from Mark's side of the closet, wrapped it around me and lay on the floor. Its coldness didn't bother me. It was almost like I was dead along with Mark. It made me feel closer to him.

About an hour later, I stood up slowly and walked to the bathroom. I looked a hot mess. My box braids were tied up loosely and the bags under my eyes were more pronounced than usual. Even my ever bright eyes were dull and listless. It was like they had lost life. Which in a way they had.

I wiped my tears and stripped, still looking at myself in the mirror. I dropped the clothes carelessly on the floor. Mark wasn't here to scold me anyways. After putting on my shower cap, I walked into the shower cubicle and turned it on.

I regulated the temperature to cold and stood under the flow. I didn't bother to lather my body with soap, or to get the washcloth. I didn't have that energy.

In a way, it was refreshing standing under that cold flow of water. My mind was empty and since his death, Mark was not on my mind.

I walked out a moment later and wiped my body. Then walked to my vanity table. My actions were mechanical but efficient. I finished making myself up and walked to the closet.

I picked the dress I had planned to wear and put it on. Then put on my shoes as well. After taking my clutch, I headed outside, to where my car was parked. In less than no time, I had arrived the venue for the party.

As soon as I got in, practically everyone's eyes turned on me. It was a nerve-wracking experience. I could see the surprise, disdain and even concern.

I didn't stop for anyone, headed straight to the bar. And ordered the strongest drink. As soon as I took it, I downed it in one gulp. As I was about to order another, I felt someone's hand on my shoulder.

I looked up and let out a loud gasp. It was Mark. It was really him. He was wearing the suit that I had bought for him and the baby pink was exquisite against his dark skin.