It felt like I was connected to my wife’s car by a tow hook. I could actually see her through the rear-view mirror holding her cell phone to her ear as she told me how the business trip to Mombasa had been a mistake.
Here it is, Mira. Your moment of truth.
“Babe, I’m missing you so. I was thinking maybe it was a mistake to come to this stupid trip. The meeting is such a bore.”
“It’s work. I understand. See you on weekend, Mira.” If not tonight. Thirty minutes later, I stood in the dark watching my wife get the kiss of her lifetime, all bubbly like a school girl.
I had actually seen the guy kissing my wife on the cover of Pulse and Buzz magazines once, one of those bad boy, gangsta wannabes. The celebrity kids who ride on the wave of fame by buying off the media.
It took long mind-and-body-numbing eternity to realize what had just happened. I smiled at the sweet logic of it.
“I really enjoyed,” she said, staring at him in the eye. “I was hungry for you, but now I think I don’t need you anymore.”
“Why do you say that, Mira?” he asked her.
“Because we both have had what we wanted, there’s nothing more left to want.”
“Mira, I am sorry about my impulsiveness and haste. You can forgive that, can’t you?”
“Yes, I can, but what I can’t do is have a boy with me.”
That stung, and he took an exasperated sigh, wiped a thin film of sweat on his upper lip and continued. “I’m afraid I love you. Hell, I love you, Mira.”
Mira almost laughed her sweet guts out loud.
“Come on, Dill, or whatever you call yourself. You are too naïve. That’s why I said I can’t be with a boy.”
“I said I’m sorry for what I did.”
“You are such a drool. I have a family, for f*ck’s sake.”
“You’re a big girl, Mira; smart and intelligent. I am sure you know what to do.”
“And then what? Will you marry me?”
Dill, aka Dilman Makena, mulled over that. The weight of what Mira had said showed on his face. Mira was watching him.
“Yeah, I guessed so,” Mira said when Dill said nothing.
“Look, I…” Dill-boy started to say something but Mira stopped him with the wave of a hand like a traffic cop.
“I have a family, Dilman. I wanted a nice time. It’s over. Limp on. In my world there’s nothing like love.”
“I can’t help what I’m feeling for you. I want more…”
“Listen, my marriage may be on the verge of incinerating itself, I may not get what I want from my husband, but he is still my husband. I love him in my own way, and he does love me. We love each other. I can’t just give up all that to be with you. We wanted good time, we have had it. Now let’s move on.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, but something always comes out of the blue and gets to me.”
“Don’t be stupid, hip-hop boy. I’m not one of your female fans who throw their pants at you on stage…”
“That’s why I’m saying I feel something more for you.”
“I may have cheated on my husband, I may be the cougar all the lot of you are chasing after to further your music career, but I am not that vile. Precisely said, I am not the type of women you shag for their hard-earned money, celeb boy, all for carnal pleasure.”
“What makes you think I am not any better?”
“You are behaving like a school boy who has just had his first kiss.”
“So, what was all this about? We are going to be like it never happened?”
“For jove’s sake, a woman needs to be safe. I am safe where I am. I can’t just throw away years of marriage for stolen times…”
“God, Mira…”
“I’ve a family, Dilman. A husband and children I love very much.”
“Look, I love you, and I want to be with you. I give you what your husband doesn’t…”
“Yeah, drugs,” Mira said, snorting. “You turn me to this fantasy girl I barely know. Truth is, I love this girl. That’s what I want, but it’s not what I need.”
He touched her and she trembled. He wondered whether it was from the cold or desire. It was not going to be their first in the car, though.
“Stop it! STOP! Nothing more happens. This never happened.”
“But you just cheated on your husband.” She saw him wet his lips in disguised amusement. At that moment it hit her, what he was implying.
“Don’t you dare blackmail me,” she said, smiling even wider. She had her secret wild card to play. “You, of all people, should not be thinking of playing that game, especially when a career like yours is pegged on business…”
Dilman squinted at Mira and then everything tumbled on to him.
“That’s it, celebrity kid. I appreciate you loving me, but boys love their mothers.”
*
Dressed in all black and crouched in the shadows, I watched my beloved wife, who was in Mombasa; drop off her lover at his Karen house. There was the man who was reaping where he had not sown.
Stealthily, I crept out of the shadows as my wife’s car taillights disappeared round the corner. Time to show this wife-snatching celebrity kid the error of his ways.
Then suddenly, horribly, there was an explosion. A fireball went airborne from the direction I had seen my wife’s car disappear. An amazing sight. It then plummeted down. I heard a deafening crunch, metal against asphalt.
Whether I was being foolish or brave, it didn’t matter. I headed the direction of the explosion.
Whatever had exploded lay on the road burning, an inferno. A few metres from the burning heap I stepped on to something and stopped to pick it. It was a rectangular piece of metal.
The number plates of my wife’s car.
