Breaking the silence with a smile, a surprised laugh escaped Carol's lips as she took in the room. "A hostel room? I didn't expect to find you here. What happened to your apartment?"
"Guilty as charged," I chuckled, scratching the back of my neck sheepishly "I’m sure you knew I was here that's why you tagged along with Gracie, just to see me”. I teased (but in my mind I was like sema kimeumana!) 'She pursed her lips but before she could say anything, I added “My roommate tends to turn the place into a mini stadium every Friday night playing FIFA with his friends. Loud music, friends crashing on the floor – not exactly conducive to video editing peace. So, I snagged this little haven for the weekends, which happens to be most of the weekends by the way."
Carol surveyed the room, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Well, it's certainly...sophisticated," she said, drawing out the word with a hint of amusement. "But oddly charming. Much more my style than that sterile apartment of yours."
I laughed, a wave of relief washing over me. "Hey, I try to keep it clean at least." Noticing her gaze drifting to the bed, I added, "The pillows are surprisingly comfortable, though." A comfortable silence settled between us, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the computer. Finally, I decided to break the ice. "So, Carol, how have you been? You are tagging along with Gracie often?"
"Actually, this is a first," she admitted. "Just got a little bored cooped up in my room, so I volunteered to assist her for the day. Sissy bestie, you know."
Her eyes darted towards the video I was editing, a flicker of curiosity in them. "What exactly are you working on here?"
With a smile, I started explaining, detailing the project and my creative process. She listened intently, peppering me with questions that demonstrated a genuine interest in my work. I answered each one with enthusiasm, enjoying the easy way the conversation flowed, and mostly so, her melodic voice.
"Wow," Carol breathed, a delighted glint in her eyes. "You seem really passionate about this. It's contagious."
Seeing her captivated expression, a bold idea struck my beautiful mind. "Well, if you're that interested," i said, picking up my laptop. "I could show you a little bit more. The graphics can be tricky since they require some experience, but playing with the sound effects is pretty intuitive."
Her face lit up with an eager smile. "I'd love to learn!"
With the laptop on my laps as we sat on the bed, I started walking her through the editing software. I showed her how to add sound effects and adjust audio levels, impressed by how quickly she grasped the concepts. As we worked, the conversation flowed effortlessly, and she would occasionally lean on my shoulder pretending to have a close look up on the laptop.
I discovered a shared passion for unexpected things like quirky (not quicky) sound samples and the power of storytelling through creative editing. Time flew by, filled with laughter, discovery, and a growing sense of connection that transcended our initial awkwardness. In her presence, I felt truly alive for the first time that day. If she were a dream, she would have been a fantasy I never wanted to wake up from. In her eyes, I saw my future, a future I never knew I wanted until she walked into my life.
A contented sigh escaped Carol's lips as she leaned back against the plush bedspread. The rhythmic tapping of my fingers on the keyboard provided a soothing counterpoint to the gentle hum of the computer. A comfortable silence had fallen between us, but within Carol's mind, a whirlwind of thoughts danced. The playful banter and shared passion for video editing had momentarily pushed aside, and a more personal contemplation that had been brewing since she stepped into my room.
The sight of my small, but impeccably organized space, sparked a pang of longing within her. It wasn't the lack of space itself that tugged at her heartstrings, but the sense of peaceful solitude it represented. Growing up as the youngest of four in a bustling household, Carol had always dreamt of a haven like this – a quiet corner to retreat to, a place where thoughts could breathe and her creativity could flourish without the constant hum of family life.
Her family, a chaotic symphony of four distinct personalities, was the source of both immense joy and occasional frustration. Her eldest brother, David, the epitome of order and responsibility, was the quintessential golden boy. Tall, dark, and blessed with an effortless charm, he sailed through school with stellar grades and if this was the United States of America, a trophy cabinet overflowing with awards would be next to his wardrobe. He was the sun, radiating warmth and achievement, leaving Carol, the small satellite in his orbit, perpetually striving to bask in his reflected glory. There was a silent competition, fueled by a desire for her parents' approval, a competition she could never quite win. However, he held a meticulous schedule and a dry wit that could disarm even the most stubborn opponent.
Sarah, her elder sister by five years, was a whirlwind of contradictions. One moment she'd be lost in a world of Jane Dark Desires series, the next she'd be leading the charge in some elaborate backyard adventure. Sarah yearned for independence, a yearning that often clashed with the expectations of their traditional Kenyan parents. Their constant battles, a war of wills fought in raised voices and slammed doors, left Carol feeling like a bewildered bystander.
Then there was Michael, the mischievous middle child, two years older than Carol but with a maturity three years younger than her. With a twinkle in his eye and a joke always on his lips, Michael was the jester, the life of the party. If his life was a song, then it would be called “Go Patoh’. He could turn any mundane chore into a hilarious game, his infectious laughter a constant presence in the house. Yet, beneath his playful exterior, Carol sensed a vulnerability, a yearning for genuine connection that often got lost in the chaos. indeed, He was just a baby boy.
Carol, the baby of the family, felt like a splash of vibrant color against a canvas of established patterns. Unlike her siblings, who seemed to have effortlessly carved their own niches within the family dynamic, Carol found herself constantly adapting, chameleon-like, to the personalities around her. As the youngest, she was often the recipient of playful teasing from her siblings, the brunt of their well-meaning jabs disguised as affection. Yet, she also reveled in the unwavering loyalty and fierce protectiveness they offered.
Family dynamics, she realized with a sigh, were a complex matrix woven with love, competition, and the unspoken language of expectations. While she adored her siblings, there was a yearning for a different kind of connection, one built on shared vulnerabilities and quiet understanding. The constant tussle for her parents' approval had left her with a lingering need for validation, a need she often struggled to fulfill in her relationships.
Her interactions with her siblings, while filled with love, were often colored by the roles they inhabited within the family dynamic. David, the prince charming, remained an unattainable ideal. Sarah, the rebel, became a cautionary tale. And Michael, the jester, often shielded his deeper emotions with a wall of humor. This left Carol feeling like an outsider looking in, yearning for a deeper, more authentic connection.
The absence of a younger sibling, a dream she'd harbored since childhood, left a void in her life. she had dreamt of having a younger sister – a partner in crime, someone who understood the intricacies of navigating life as the youngest in an African family. The thought of sharing secrets whispered under the covers, giggling over silly jokes, and building a shared world of make-believe filled her with an ache of what-could-have-been.
This yearning for a closer connection wasn't a slight against her existing family bonds. Theirs was a messy, chaotic love, a tapestry woven with laughter, squabbles, and fierce loyalty. Yet, the absence of a baby sister left a gap in her emotional landscape.
As a result, Carol gravitated towards baby girls, her heart swelling with a tenderness she didn't always feel with her own family. Whether it was a cute baby girl cooing in her mother's arms at church or a giggling toddler in the pediatric ward of the hospital, she wound find herself drawn to their infectious laughter and wide-eyed wonder. She'd crouch down to their level, her voice dropping to a playful whisper as she chatted with them, their babbles a symphony to her ears. She'd take pictures, capturing their fleeting smiles and innocent curiosity, a visual reminder of the sister she always longed for. These interactions, fleeting as they were, brought a spark of joy to her world, momentarily filling the void left by the absence of a sibling.
As she grew older, Carol found herself gravitating towards friendships that offered a sense of sisterhood. She formed strong bonds with girls who shared her interests, girls who made her laugh until her stomach hurt, girls who understood her unspoken needs; no wonder she always stuck with Gracie. Yet, there was always a bittersweet undercurrent to these friendships. The girls she connected with often had their own families, siblings who filled a space in their lives that Carol could never quite replicate.
The yearning for a deeper connection also manifested in her romantic relationships. She was drawn to partners who offered emotional support and a sense of understanding. However, the lack of experience with a sisterly bond often made it difficult for her to navigate the complexities of intimacy. She craved the kind of openness and vulnerability that comes from sharing a history, from having someone who knew her inside and out, flaws and all.
Despite the occasional need for validation, her upbringing had a profound impact on the person she became. It instilled in her a fierce independence, a desire to carve her own path. Witnessing the tug-of-war for attention between her siblings made her a better listener, someone who valued genuine connection. The lack of a confidante fueled her empathy, making her acutely aware of the needs of others. Her family's chaos, despite its challenges, taught her the power of laughter, the importance of resilience, and the joy of finding comfort in the company of others.
Lost in this introspective journey, she had momentarily forgotten my presence. The gentle tapping on the keyboard had faded into background noise, replaced by the vivid memories that painted her past. Suddenly, the sharp knock at the door jolted her back to reality.
"Hey guys..." Gracie's voice sliced through the comfortable silence, shattering the introspective reverie Carol had been lost in. A flicker of surprise flitted across Carol's face as she straightened up on the bed. As I turned towards the door, I couldn't help but wonder, who is this guy? Nani huyu? Why between our moment are you knocking around? I hate you!
Gracie stood framed in the doorway; the bag of perfume bottles slung carelessly over her shoulder. Her usual bright eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were dimmed with a flicker of sadness I hadn't noticed before. A faint crease etched itself between her brows, a line that spoke of a deeper worry than just a sales pitch gone wrong. Her posture, usually energetic and confident, slumped slightly, the weight of some unseen burden settling on her shoulders.
There was a hint of something else too, a flicker of unfulfillment that surprised me. It was a fleeting expression, easily missed, but I caught it – a longing beneath the mask of forced cheer. Perhaps it was the contrast to Carol's current state of relaxed contentment, or maybe it was the way her gaze lingered for a beat too long on the scene before her – me, engrossed in conversation with Carol, I didn’t know.
link to part 7.
Comments