Drumming my slender fingers on the
cashier counter, I was unconsciously producing a rhythm, each beat rushing
after another, pressing and hastening. Staring at the middle-aged cashier with
the glamorous gift in one hand and a piece of pink wrapping paper in another, I
could not help but sigh. I could feel the look of people tired of the long
queue burning the back of my neck. I should have just bought the teddy bear and
wrapped it myself. With a fluffy thing like that, any girl would not mind a
wrapper’s clumsy state.
I felt in my pockets for my
car-keys, then quickly picked up the present and settled it on the backseat. In
no time, I was making a cute ten mileage on my speedometer on the busy
Nakuru-Nairobi highway. A thousand bucks, thirty minutes of wrapping and
probably my late arrival were the price of my weekend fling with my beautiful
dear one - I ran through all those details in my head. It had been a long day.
Driving mechanically, imagining her beaming smile while fatigue sluicing
through my body like water down a rocky riverbed.
I had just passed an exit on the
highway, when the brake lights of the car ahead flared. I slowed, slowed some
more, like at a pit-stop, then pressed down hard. Dusk was already gathering,
the sun a dull glow in the overcast sky. As I crested the lovely crater hill,
traffic came to a complete stop, a long ribbon of taillights flashing red and
white. An accident. A pileup maybe. I thought to myself, lost deep in sheer
thoughts of being involved in one. I glanced at the gas gauge- the needle
pointed at below quarter of a tank, just enough to return to the suburb, while
this line of cars could be here for hours.
The warm stuffy air in the car started
to make me nauseous. I had packed it out in the sun for the whole day. A
mistake I would dare not repeat. I could barely crawl for the next ten minutes.
Anxious, I got out of the car, my mouth half-open, gasping for air. I stood on
tiptoe and craned, only to be disappointed by the long chain of cars, hissing
in their fixed positions, hooting and honking in despair waiting for their turn
to escape the glaring traffic. I could feel the heat from all the cars around
rising up, shimmering faintly in the dusk, petrol mixed with diesel, creating a
carpet of pungent stench. To my left, in the public service vehicle, faces of
desperate passengers mixed with different emotions sat crammed up, waiting. The
driver, with a thick beard and ruddy eyes kept honking and cursing. I turned
around and glanced down the hill, where another group of cars joined the queue.
Just behind my rear bumper was a cheap, red Toyota, its driver in a denim
jacket, smoking cigarettes. In a shiny Volvo nearby, the kids in the backseat were
making faces. I wasn’t the only one irritated by the pileup, after all. The air
was cold and redolent with the scent of gas, making me feel light-headed.
Glancing at the line of vehicles, I groped for the door of my car.
I sat still for a few minutes,
gazing outside the car. The nearest exit was about half a mile back, separated
by a long chain of cars and only accessible from the other side of the highway.
I shook my head lightly, and looked at the gift on the backseat. The silvery
ribbon stood out from the glossy wrapping paper. Readjusting myself, to feel
the satin ribbon, cool and smooth between my fingers. I imagined her delicate
fingers untying the ribbon and meticulously opening the wrapping paper so that
it would not be torn. And her bright eyes when she saw that fluffy teddy bear!
My face slightly relaxed, a comforting thought in such a situation, a smile lit
up my tightened face.
Turning back to face the
steering-wheel, I started feeling uneasy. My mind drifted away from the traffic
jam and came to my beautiful one. I am going to be late, a mistake she couldn’t
tolerate. I could imagine her beautiful face smooth to the feel, her dark eyes
staring back at me, a mixture of dangerous emotions bubbling up. I couldn’t
bear it. 'Is she sitting by the window, looking out to spot me driving in
through the gate?' Or has she given up on waiting and retired to bed angry and
teary?' I wondered, and ended up blaming myself for being late.
No matter what, I would not miss
our date. After taking a deep breath, I snagged my teeth on my bottom lip and
let an instinctive impulse take over. I jerked the steering-wheel, slid off the
lane and onto the soft gravel shoulder, to the scarce oncoming traffic and made
a clean about turn. I revved up some speed, gears grinding and made off on the
opposite direction, travelling past the stilled traffic, like a frozen river. A
major traffic offence, that was. Faces from the startled drivers looked at me
in disbelief and envied my lucky escape. Not even that, could stop from the
date with my beloved.
I reached the exit safely, then
made a turn and rocketed through the softening darkness towards the suburbs. My
beautiful one was waiting.
Happy week ya'll,
Loughran