Swirl

13. Homecoming.

Tests came and went.

Assignments came and went.

Coffee consumption increased above and beyond an amount that is healthy.

Anxiety and stress soared beyond levels that are normal.

Until finals finally came, and thankfully went.

And then the big one came and went, - graduation.

He was finally done with Law School, - finally done jogging in place.

After four excruciatingly long years, Achim could finally sprint into the rest of his life. He was more than ready, save for one tiny problem...

He had no idea what exactly that entailed but all he knew was that he was ready to start a new chapter in his life.

After a tear filled graduation and last hoorah with his boys, he packed up his dorm room with a sense of solace. He was at peace with himself simply because he knew that this phase in his life was coming to an end. He learned a lot, not only academically but also about life and love in general.

Gone was the white boy next door with tunnel vision. Reborn was Achim, - a man who was prodiversity.

Speaking of love, he couldn't wait to return home.

A small part of him found comfort in the fact that he'd be returning to his heart's one true desire, and he was excited even though he knew the possibilities of finding her in the arms of he-whom-shall-not-be-named were quite high.

He somehow managed to convince himself that she would be waiting for him, that what he felt and the sense of loss he'd endured were things she felt too. They had a lot of unfinished business, and it was his deluded way of coping with the fact that they hadn't spoken in so long.

He often pondered about whether or not she would have respond to his letters had he mailed them, - he was even tempted to do exactly that during the lowest moments of his semester when his loneliness peaked; whether or not she dreamt of that day they held each other, fondled each other and rediscovered each other. He got to hold her but it wasn't enough. Should he have known that the possibility of never being granted that opportunity again was this high, he'd have held on for dear life.

Sometimes, your heart just knows. It was her for him.

But every single time he came close to reaching out, something told him that she wouldn't respond and that he was better off being blissfully ignorant this one time.

Pulling up into his family home's driveway was a nostalgic moment. He had missed it.

After unloading his bags from the rear of the taxi he had hailed at the bus station in Johannesburg, he pulled out a 50 rand note and paid the driver in kind for his services before watching him back up and drive out.

Hauling one of his carry-ons onto his shoulder and lifting his two larger bags in his hands, he turned and made a beeline for the door.

Once he opened it, he stepped forward and was instantly hit with the smell of a homecooked meal courtesy of Patience. He'd recognize her cooking anywhere. It smelled saucy and spicy, - just the way he liked it, which only registered to him as her knowing he was due to arrive today.

Not bothering to drag his luggage all the way upstairs to his room, he dropped them a few feet past the threshold and made a mad dash to the kitchen, a boyish grin plastered on his face the entire sprint.

"Patience! You have no idea how much I've missed your cooking! Gosh, I'm almost skinny!"

Without even stopping to greet her properly or check whether she was in the room, he found himself by the stove top, opening the lid of a large stew pot and letting the potent aroma waft through the kitchen.