Amina’s Diary (R-18): He disappeared into the night


My friend is finally here. She hasn’t changed much. Except for a little mystery behind her eyes bursting to come out, she is still the friend I knew and loved several years ago. But I am not talking about my friend this time. I want to talk about Mo. I thought I’d quickly go back in time to tell you what happened with Mo and me, way before all the craziness got in. Well, it’s just as well. Everything does work together for good, doesn’t it?

Mo and I were ending. I could feel it. And I was a little sad. Heck, I’m still sad. I know! It’s not as if we were in love or anything. What we had, if we could even classify it, was just pure animalist lust. Sated, we both wanted out. Or at least he wanted out.

Let me tell you something about Mo. He is the most attentive, caring and loving person anyone could have ever met. And sincere too. Attributes that made me fall in love with him. But what was I thinking, falling in love with a man who barely speaks at all, let alone speak his mind?

I think I need a vacation to put things in perspective. And mostly, to run away from mother. “Amina, you’re 28 years old. Won’t you get married and have children?” Mother sings to me every chance she gets in recent times when I invited her into my world, the world I felt was crashing down because of Mo.

It became necessary to invite her to Abuja two weeks after Mo told me we had to cool things off. He wouldn’t explain to me what that meant. I was convinced my heart would stop beating and I didn’t want that happening. My mother had always been my go to person whenever I was feeling out of sorts.

My father is dead and mother says she can’t live in Canada, where my only brother had bought a home for her so he could be close to her. I wouldn’t have her live with me in Abuja where I reside. I am not a bad daughter. I just don’t like to hear her say her four favourite words – “I told you so.” Mother is not leaving anytime soon. It isn’t as if she has anything to return to in the Village.

After my appointment with my doctor, I knew I had to get away from Abuja. My mother is the most perceptive human being alive and I knew she would ask me questions. I had to get out of the country. It was the only way I could keep my sanity.

Two nights cocooned in my hotel room in Paris was driving me crazy and I resorted to taking walks and breathe in the fresh hair. On my second night out walking, I bumped into him. As always, his scent reached me before his voice did. I thought I’d walk away without looking up; after all, it was dark. But he grabbed my hand and pulled me to his masculine chest. For no reason I could think of, I began to sob silently. He held me quietly until I had cried my heart out.

We went to the café near the hotel, where we sat and spoke for a long time, like long lost friends would. I told him of my medical condition, and he promised to help out in any way possible. All I had to do was call. He gave me his private number and leaning forward to plant a kiss on my forehead, Mo stood up, walked out the door and disappeared into the night.

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