The love that never happened

Photo by freestocks.org

Growing up, I was as gentle as a dove, tender, and somewhat fragile like a doll. Older ladies wanted to have me as their pet. After a handful of advances from ladies older than me, I kind of got used to it. Psychologically, I was prepared for such moments, and it ceased being a surprise.

What I, however, never prepared myself for was getting similar advances from someone a bit younger than my pretty young self. I was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and newly admitted to the university, even though I had yet to fully resume.

I got back home one warm evening to meet my mum, who was wearing a cold and an uptight demeanour. That spelled trouble. Immediately, my mind travelled through the activities I participated in in recent times.

"What have I done wrong", I thought to myself.

Had she continued to burrow into my chest with her furrowed gaze, I'd been coerced to bake a fresh cake of troubles for myself by confessing sins I didn't have to confess.

"Mfoniso, meet me in the room." I was rescued by her order.

"Do you have anything to do with Abigail?" She asked as soon as I shut her bedroom door behind me. "Who's Abigail?" I asked in a soft tone. "Abigail is Christopher's sister. Her family was one of our closest neighbours in our former residence."

"Okay." Being sure that I would get out of this one unscratched, my voice grew bolder, and my demeanour flipped from timid to confident.

"I know the person, mum, but I'm not even sure we've ever greeted ourselves." I sunk into the bed beside her before asking, "Why do you ask though?"

"She came earlier on to look for you."

"Geez! Why would she do that when we don't even talk to each other?"

Truly, I was shocked to my marrow, but my mom went from being a ruthless interrogator to a comforter.

"She might not be the one looking for you; someone who's not as spoiled as she is might have sent her." She paused and gave me a concerned look as I nodded to consent to her hypothesis.

She finally advised, "You know what we stand for in this family. This is a Christian home; be sure that you don't corrupt yourself with all this lewdness flying around in today's society."

"Okay, mum." I said as I turned the door handle, opened the door, and slipped out of her room.

I got into my room, trying to process Abigail's audacity. The said girl is infamous for being the most promiscuous teen in the neighborhood. My mum, on the other hand, doesn't only drum sexual purity into our ears; she enforces it to the extreme by making sure she knows exactly what we're doing with anyone she sees us with. Protectiveness was her way of expressing love to us.

The cracking by the door snapped me out of thinking. My kid brother had just entered the room. He handed me a folded white piece of paper, as he said, "Abigail almost got you into trouble."

"Can you imagine her telling Mum she's looking for you?" He asked rhetorically before adding,

"Well, all thanks to your smart siblings. We were able to snatch from her the letter she was with and tell her off before she does something even more stupid."

"We also tried to convince Mum that we'd never seen you two talking to each other."

"Bro! You owe us one."

"Silly boy!" I said, smiling as I snatched the paper from his hand.

"You better pay us; if not, no one will save you next time," my brother said teasingly.

"Okay, fine. I will pay." I conceded.

I unfolded the letter. True to my mum's words, Abigail was only an errand girl. She came to deliver a love letter written by someone who wasn't bold enough to do the delivery.

The compliments I got in the letter were not really different from the ones I get from older ladies. The writer mentioned that she's been approached by many guys, but she doesn't want them. She said that she wants me because I look gentle and quiet, and I don't socialise with many people. In the end, it was signed by one Joyous Raymond.

I didn't know the bearer of the name because, just as she said, I hardly socialise. But I suspected who the writer was.

I went to my mum.

"Mum, that family friend of ours that just moved into this neighbourhood, and we paid them a visit a few days ago; what's their name?

"Raymonds," Mom replied, not suspecting a thing.

I now know who sent the love letter. It could only be one person, the first daughter of the Raymonds.

When we visited, I noticed how pretty she was. But I didn't think of having a romantic relationship with her. My mom had earlier told me that I and their eldest son were born the same day. I knew that she couldn't have been older than 16. Even though I was 18, I considered her to be too young.

A few days later, I walked past Joyous on the road, and she gave me a loving and knowing smile. On the other hand, not wanting to encourage her, I maintained an uptight face.

The water of time didn't rinse off the knowing smile she gave me the first time we met, after I read her letter. Years passed. I grew, she grew, the smile grew with her, and the awareness of her love grew in me.

Years down the line, we grew up beautifully and started talking as adults. I decided to give this love a shot.

Our first meeting was all giggles and lovey-dovey. We were headed somewhere. Just as I was about to leave, she requested that we exchange our phones.

"Exchange phones?" I asked.

"Yes! Don't worry, I will not pick up your calls; I just want to be with your phone while you are with mine. You can come tomorrow and get it back," she said, pleadingly.

Maybe being with her partner's belongings is her love language, but it's certainly not mine. Again, I smelled trouble.

"Years ago, this love almost got me into trouble with my mum; right now, all I see is trouble." I said within me.

Right there, in my heart, I ended all possibility of a relationship. It was supposed to be the start of a romantic love affair, but it started with a breakup.

I walked out of her presence with the conviction that this love would never happen. And it never did, because I never allowed it.