The Rebound Game

Twenty

People kept throwing me curious glances though, probably wondering what business a mzungu like me has walking like she has a vast knowledge of the area and speaking fluent Swahili. They really should mind their own business.

After a long shower, I fetch my phone from the laundry basket, briefly stopping to wonder why I thought it was a good idea to ditch it there. I draw the pattern, get one stick of cigar from the bedside drawer and make my way to the balcony.

I stop on my tracks when I see that I have a missed call. It's from...Oliver.

***

You got this. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? Oliver saying I stop bothering him? Well, on the brighter side it would help preserve whatever dignity that I have left. It would be better than if he just acts nicely playing the part of the mature ex and then laughing later at my desperate texts with his new girlfriend.

Or I could choose not to ever contact him again. Okay, this is the most unlikely option, who am I kidding? It certainly is why I am still playing with my thumbs over the screen of my Samsung wanting to tap dial. It's two hours later and if I call him right now, it would appear I was busy earlier and could not pick his call.

I whisper a little prayer and dial Oliver's number. It rings for exactly ten seconds (I am counting).

"Hi Katie." Up until this moment, I had no idea how much I missed his full toned, manly voice. I can feel a familiar ache in the pitch of my stomach and I hope my resolve to act detached does not crumble. I can do this. Really, I was not the chairperson of the debate club in high school for nothing.

"Hi Oliver, how have you been? I just got your missed call, I must have been out of the house."

Oh my God, would you stop rambling. Also, you should have come up with a better excuse, say, I went for a run.

"No problem. I have been great. How are you? You are taking good care of yourself, I hope?"

He called me Katie, twice. How did I miss that? He must miss me too. He has to.

"Yes, I am doing an awesome job. Nice of you to check on me." I let out a nervous laugh.

"I am glad to hear. Listen, what are doing next Saturday? I would love to catch up over coffee."

Yaay,!!!

"Sure, I don't think I have plans but I'll let you know in advance." I somehow manage to find my own voice.

He says that it's fine. He can see me at a later date if I am busy. We say our byes and because horrible habits die hard, I don't hang up immediately.

The fifteen year old in me wants to find out if he is alone and what he has to say about me. There is silence for a few seconds and he adjusts the TV volume.

Feeling ridiculous and knowing he is bound to go through his phone any second from now, I decide to end the call. I will never forgive myself if he finds that I have not disconnected and shamelessly spying on him.

Just when I am moving the phone from my ear, I hear a female's voice address him, "Oliver, do you take your tea with sugar?"

My heart literally misses a couple of beats and the phone falls from my hands to the sink. It lands on glass which breaks to pieces. My phone is still intact though, thank heavens.

Shit,shit,shit,shit!

I knew it was stupid of me to text him in the first place. I even fell for his suggestion to meet him, thinking that there is some little part of him that misses me. Had I not eavesdropped, I would never have found out that he was seeing someone else.

How naive can one really be? Shouldn't there be some limit?