Interesting title, don’t you think brother. Initially it was Hey Brother, but I figured you’d ignore it like you have all my previous ones, so I went with a title you would never resist.
If Pops were sill around, he’d smack you if he knew where I picked you up from last night. I can still see the old guy on his wheelchair, blanket over his legs with his old Generals hat on, holding a cigar between his right index and middle finger and a glass of whiskey in his left hand. I still find it interesting that he’d forget all eight of his grandchildren’s names but never any of his stories. I can see him yelling at you ‘You small one, how dare you make your brother leave his work to go get you from a bar, too drunk to walk out on your own’. Then he would threaten to throw his glass at you but Grandma’s famous death stare would convince him otherwise.
I told your stubborn self countless times to call me if you needed to talk, but I guess bars and clubs have always been better at making you open up. Your wallet first, then your mouth to order your good friend Lawsons or the General, then finally your mouth when that all familiar buzz hit- and that is where you met her. Aisha. Some nine or so months ago right?
Now lets get back to your favorite song.
would you be my one and only woman,
The boys still don’t understand your obsession with that song, but I do, and I’ll get to that. First lets take a look at what I’ve gathered from your boys about the start of all your problems. Your heart rate spiked at the sight of the invitation- the red and gold colored paper with a white ribbon. ‘She still loves red and gold,’ you couldn’t help but think. It gave the location, time, venue and other details of her forthcoming nuptials. The spike in heart rate, were you getting jealous? You chastised yourself, recounting every reason why you weren’t right for each other, but you were married for 7 years and had a daughter with her. So it was natural for the occasional thought of your regret to linger, but this was always meant to happen. She was eventually going to meet someone who would love her like she deserved to. To be fair, you did too, only for you it was seven of them.
There was a Cindy right after the divorce was finalized, a Sasha sometime later, others I was not particularly fond of and most recently Aisha. Your time with Cindy and the others passed like a blur. With Sasha it was always shouting and arguing. I remember the time you had me stay in your guest room when I was in the country for Christmas. One evening you were returning from dinner with Sasha and I heard you come in. It started with the rumbling of your old Mazda as it crawled, yes crawled, into the compound. Then the car door being banged followed by ‘what do you have against my car Sash?’ Then ‘you call this a car Eric, my grandmother’s wheelchair is faster’ and ‘nothing is ever good enough for you Sash’ And things would have been fine had you stopped there, but no, you just had to poke the bear with ‘my friends are right about you’. I tuned you out after she started ‘ooh so we are doing this…again?’ I swear y’all were toxic as hell.
Then came Aisha one fine evening when you were out clubbing. Everything about her screamed perfect for you. Nine months later, she dumped you.
Heard she shouted something in the lines of ‘na nyumba hii uionee paa!’ and you immediately regretted never paying attention in your Kiswahili lessons in high school. That combined with the fact that you were fish drunk left you mindlessly staring at her. What followed was a series of insults that flew past your ears because damn, Mama Nitilie’s product slapped different that day, and still ringing in your ears was your slogan for the night-waiter mbili mbili hapa ni mbwe mbwe.
You were left because of your drinking. What happened dude? Eight months with this girl, six months clean, but in the last week you’ve had a perfect run. Seven out of Seven in going home drunk. Started the day you received that invite. Coincidence?
The boys believe otherwise, but they are wrong. You’re not mad that your ex-wife’s moving on, hell I know you are even wondering why it took her so long. You are mad that you are happy for her. You are mad that these few months with Aisha have meant more than all those years with her, and you are scared. Aisha told you that she wasn’t looking to get hurt again, so she ended things before they got to that extent.
Brother after you finish reading this, please take some paracetamol or aspirin (whatever works for you), take a shower then go find Aisha. You speak to her, or I will then we’ll both kick your ass. I’m sure even Ashley would love to help us do that. Ooh Ashley is your daughter if you have forgotten. Last week she was telling me all these stories of the years I missed when I was abroad, and I couldn’t help but reminisce about our Scooby Doo Mystery Club days. The mysteries and cases we’d solve and our never ending discussions on ‘Where is Carmen Sandiego?’ Growing up was simpler then, and life was easier before blue-ticks, welcome to my YouTube channel, streaks and tiktoks.
Anyway, Aisha, please fix things before its too late. She is good for you.
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