I was a mess. I didn’t have any confirmation bias at the moment. All I wanted was someone to tell me that it was the right thing to do even if it wasn’t. I couldn’t turn to Henry Madaga’s LittNerd letters because despite relating with the article “why I’m still a mess”, I didn’t want to go on and read about the “simps Will see dust” series.
I turned to my collections. In his book about mindset, Bronze Age says, and I quote, “Those who forget the body to pursue a “perfect mind” or “perfect soul” have no idea where to even start. Only physical beauty is the foundation for a true higher culture of the mind and spirit as well. Only sun and steel will show you the path. “
Contrary, Tory Morrison writes, and I quote, “Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another—physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought. Both originated in envy, thrived in insecurity, and ended in disillusion.”
However, those didn’t tell me anything. Telling someone “You are beautiful,” was simple on first impression until she went on, gave a tiny shake of her head and said, “I didn’t feel beautiful when I saw the women he was flirting with. Don’t get me wrong. I have no desire to be that thin. I like my curves. But it was like he was saying there was something wrong with me, and it made me even angrier because he was right. “
Now you get it. It’s always more than the first impression, but isn’t it the same that attraction is first based on? I was neither an idealist nor a philosopher, but honestly, no healthy young man could fail to be stirred and set off-kilter by her, who, though it’s not safe to but I’ll say anyway, had become the loveliest girl on God’s green earth. ...
I was chilled, top back right corner looking at the door with emptiness when she walked right in wearing a dress made of intricately tucked and ruffled white cotton. As she moved across the room, the lamplight silhouetted the generous curves of her breasts and hips through the thin fabric and slid over the shining sable locks of her hair. You would notice this even if you weren’t looking. She had looks of the kind that caused the heart to stop and the breath to catch. Her coloring alone would have given even a homely woman the appearance of great beauty.
But her features were fine and perfect, and perpetually lit with the radiance of unchecked emotion. And as if all that hadn’t been quite enough, nature had added one last flourish, a tiny black mark that flirted with the corner of her mouth. For a second, I fantasized endlessly about kissing that tantalizing spot and following it to the lush curves of her lips. Kissing and kissing her, until she was weak and shivering in his arms before hastily pushing aside that thought.
Lost in ecstasy, I stretched my legs and a cable snapped, dimming the light next to the entrance she used. She paused, stood there, in all her beauty queen pageant glory, tall and slim and panther-like. Her dark hair always seemed to capture whatever available light there was, and her skin, just like before, but now in a dimmer room, was flawless. And now I could see how her wraparound dress that accentuated every curve parted in just the right place to show off the best part of her legs.
It was funny how in a split second I could wrap my mind around things and fit them into their version of reality, and in this case, her. Awaked by reality, I took two quick steps off my seat, dashed downstairs while sliding my arms down the greasy soft wooden handrail. She stared at me, but I pretended not to see her for a second and reconnected the lights.
Just like God would say during creation, alas, let there be light, and there it was, like sunlight, dancing over her disheveled hair. It seemed entirely reasonable to have her named after a Greek goddesses. Amphitrite maybe? Or Aurora? Charisma, the goddess of grace, beauty and charm? Maybe Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory , was better suited, so I could forever remember her salient features.
“Welcome mmmh… “ I started, waiting to hear her name.
“Purity” , she replied indifferently. There was something lawless and cheerfully feral in her rosy-cheeked disarray, that tempted me to further the conversation.
“There are free seats on your right. And by the way, we reserved those for visitors like you”. I said, with a bright but concealing smile.
“Im not really a visitor”, she replied. “Its okay, you can save yourself a seat before they are all taken up”. I said. “The seminar is about to end and people will rush downstairs in a bit”, I added, pointing to the secluded corner.
In the symphony of charter and clinking of glasses around the neatly arranged chairs covered with white and blue satin, like a miniature throne, I did not hear her say thank you.
The heavy oak doors pushed open, and the silence which in contrast to the bustling seminar grand hall, suddenly ended. Bestowed with the duty of ushering and hospitality, I immediately took my mind off Purity, who I had just met, and walked back upstairs to see how the buffet was coming through. It was safe to say that this elder’s night was going to be a success.
In the serving area, my eyes adjusted to the opulent scene, taking the sheer scale of the banquet. The white tablecloth stretched like glistering river down the center, adorned with crystal vases overflowing with vibrant blooms. From a far, laughter and clinking of silverware rose in crescendo as people walked towards their designated tables. And yes, they were all comrades.
Fast forward, it was around quarter past midnight. Having served the guests, adjusted the lights to LED, lit the candles and seeing to it that everyone was served quite to their satisfaction, I was ready to call it a success on my part. My tray laded with food, I shuffled through the bustling crowd, scanning the faces and food-filled tables, searching for a familiar face. I saw Chris, next to him kids, Justah and some other familiar faces, but the round table was full.
Luckily, there was Jitu. Towards the far end of the room. Next to him was Kashi, the little guy who despite always eating a plateful same size as Maxxi, was always a third his size. There were seven seats, six occupied and one vacant. Glad that I would finally share a table with the wise men, I hastily walked only for my joy to be cut short.
On their left was the elegant Miss Musomba approaching. The ripple of anticipation running through my veins dried up almost immediately as her silver hair, styled in a timeless wave, and the regal tilt of her chin commanded attention. Yet, in her eyes flickered a hint of fatigue, a silent plea for a moment of respite.
Jitu, his eyes the color of storm clouds, afraid that Kanga would notice the predicament and steal his limelight, didn’t hesitate.
With a silent grace honed from years of observing his grandmother I guess, rose from his seat, took his jacket off the adjacent empty seat and wore it, brushing against the leather as he pushed it back, and created a welcoming gap beside him.
His gesture wasn’t grand, no sweeping bow or booming voice, it was quiet and offering, a subtle symphony played out of shared courtesy. His eyes met hers, offering a warm unspoken invitation: “I had saved this for you”.
With a gentle smile, she lowered herself into the offered seat as I, with a constricted throat and betraying flicker of hesitation darted my eyes furtively across the tables and luckily, nestled in a secluded corner, two seats remained vacant. With relief, humming a soft melody, I strode carefully between the thinly spaced tables and with a long sigh, placed my tray on the table.
The air carried the delicate scent of jasmine and vanilla, mingling with the faint aroma of spices from the nearby buffet. As I sank into the plush seat, a sense of calm washed over me, momentarily shielding me from the lively hum of the gathering. Boom, there she was. A familiar figure. “Hi purity, “I started this time without stammering, “anything I can help you with? “ I asked, trying to hide my surprise.
“Not really, “she said. “Just returned my plate only to find my seat occupied and since I don’t know most of the faces around, I searched for the next empty seat. “ she said, with a calm voice but concealed with frustration and restlessness. “its okay, you can sit here. “ I replied pretending to be unbothered. “Thank you. “ she replied, putting her phone on the table. I didn’t mean to be nosy but there was a picture of her and her parents as her wallpaper.
From her father she had inherited a beautiful olive complexion and defined angular features; from her mother she got a mass of fiery copper curls that hung down to the middle of her back. The combination was almost outrageously unusual, and I was sure that half the male population in the world was in love with her. “Tell me sth about you I can build a conversation from” was the silent plea in my mind and like heaven sent, she read my mind.
Sitting down casually, she said , “ don’t mind me, I am always an unusual girl.” “ why would you even say that? “ I asked.
“My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean. “ she said, holding her phone into her delicate hands as I took the fork to my one hand and opened my food with the other.
“If I didn’t know any better, would say you’re a narcissist.” I told her, taking a spoonful of rice into my mouth.
“why would you say that?” she asked, surprised.
“because it seems like you regularly practicing self-care in order to stay physically attractive.” I replied .
“If I didn’t know better, I would take that as a compliment. “she said, smiling.
“The problem is that you’re putting too much emphasis on your physical appearance, neglecting other dimensions of your being and using your image to mask all the complexes and insecurities you may be dealing with inside.”
A flicker of annoyance sparked In her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a sigh. “So, is this your preferred method of ‘getting to know’ a stranger, then, Mr. Perfect Inquiry?” she challenged, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“I don’t claim to be perfect,” I countered, feeling a defensive prickle rise on my skin. “But the fact is that we have no way of knowing if the person who we think we are is at the core of our being. For example, are you a decent girl with the potential to someday become an evil monster, or are you an evil monster that thinks it’s a decent girl?”
“Wouldn’t I know which one I was?” she asked.
“Good God, no. The lies we tell other people are nothing to the lies we tell ourselves. “ I added.
“I already like you, can we be friends? “ she replied, a flicker of amusement in her.
Her amusement caught me off guard. “Like me?” I echoed, bewildered. “After I basically psychoanalyzed you on the spot?”
She shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “You did, and it was surprisingly insightful. Besides, everyone loves a challenge.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. This girl, shrouded in enigma, was certainly a challenge. “Alright,” I conceded, “But don’t expect me to go easy on you. I’m a firm believer in bantering as a form of flirting. “
“Oh, absolutely,” she replied, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Just promise not to be all gloom and doom. A little self-deprecating humor never hurt anyone, right?”
I assumed that was rhetoric. She tapped her phone thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on the screen for a moment. “And what would make you say that my image isn’t the real me?”
“I don’t,” I admitted, surprised by her sudden vulnerability. “But I also don’t know the real you if you’re constantly hiding behind a façade.”
A tense silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, she met my gaze, a flicker of defiance replaced by a hint of sadness. “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered. “Maybe I am just a chameleon, afraid to show my true colors because I’m afraid of what others might think.”
A wave of empathy washed over me. Her words resonated with a vulnerability I hadn’t expected. “We all have insecurities,” I said softly. “But true connection comes from embracing our vulnerabilities, not hiding them.”
I pretended to care, most people have not known me to anyway, but now I could see all that was unpleasant about her face—her large nose and bony frame. But inside her, there seemed to be so much peace and contentment that somehow, she lit up everywhere, or so I thought. She was beautiful to me regardless. It was the kind of attraction between people who were really people—and who could see the other person’s aura and makings.
I wanted to see what made her flesh move, and not her flesh. The intricate mechanics of her person, and not her shell. I wanted to look at her and see something genderless—a kind of organism that was born and that over time has been affected and affects—that was ultimately kind and brave. It was the highest rank of physical desire one could experience.
Link to part 2
Comments