Happy Sunday my pipo. Again, I’m really sorry for not being able to post on Wednesday. Someway, somehow things keep coming up. Pardon me. Belated happy birthday to Dorcas Dameh, Gideon Assan and Judy-Anne Darko-Nyarko (who inspired this story). Let’s get to reading then, shall we?
Kwamena had a problem with everything. E-VE-RY-THING! And his arguments were well founded. Of course from his point of view, all his arguments made sense.
After a long day’s work of sleeping, you have to rest. So many people sleep and are unable to wake up. Do you know how much work sleeping is?
And just like that, the argument about him sleeping in almost every weekend was over. Classic Kwamena. Always ending his argument with an impossible rhetoric. With that, Lizzert lost interest in buttressing her point.
Their marriage had become quite mundane over the past few months. They’d been married for only two years and the strain was beginning to get to both of them. Lizzert isn’t one to give up easily. But Kwamena made loving him difficult.
In his abstract defense, life had become a bit more complicated now, than when he was a child. Perhaps that was the problem. The fact that he had more to worry about than when next he could convince his friends to play ‘antoakyire’ or ‘pimpinaa’. Everyone had grown up.
Even Solomon. The list was endless. Lizzert was the only one who had stuck with him and somehow, there was something depressing about it-the monotony, that is.
You couldn’t sum up his whole personality into one word and it excited him because the way he saw it, his mind operated on the principle of perms and combinations. There was a whole myriad of options in every situation. All the fool hardy, crazy, I-don’t-give-two-s-word, was however, an act. True, but still an act.
He’d been broken before and he couldn’t allow it a second time.
“A mistake repeated, is a choice.”
That was his biggest fear. Somehow, Lizzert was on the blind side and all day long, she would wonder how or when things would get better.
It wasn’t like he didn’t love her. Lizzert had her own stories. She’d ‘lived’ a life before him. He didn’t mind but it always found a way of getting to him.
She’d been places, done things. But Lizzert had long since put that life behind her. And to think that the great Lizzert Boakye would be this worried about a man was impossible. Kwamena was different. With a kind of uneasiness about him. But it was nice.
Like the thrill of dating a ‘bad boy’. You’d get the whole ‘unpredictability’ but with the catch of a calm, collected, conscious, Christian young man. Which meant the whole Bible dictates of a godly life. See? So she wouldn’t dare lose him.
Sometimes it felt too good to be true. And she felt like she owed him that much. Somehow it did feel like her fault for his difficulty to be loved.
Truth be told, reality had set in on both. You can’t have your cake and eat it, they say. And well, it wasn’t all going to be mushy and sweet.
They’d expected more ‘realistic’ problems because they’d heard of them and how they affected marriages. This wasn’t to be. This was different. A problem of learning to live with each other even in spite.
Thanks for making it thus far. Let’s meet in the comment section then, shall we?