Objection Overruled

DAMNIT!

Surely this was a bad joke, right?

I proceeded to dole out half of the intel I had been able to gather in furious typing outbursts after I had given ‘ye olde Nemesis’ his marching orders. By the time that he got home he would have to read through enough words to fill up several encyclopaedias. Note that this was only half of what Detective Clouseau had been able to gather- I couldn’t totally play my whole hand.

Yes, I meant every single word. I am not to be effed with....

Or so I thought.

The man is stubborn- probably worse than me, pepper that with a need to vindicate his very sensitive self it was a recipe for flaring emotions, tearful explanations and even nonsensical justifications over days and days. I would simply read through his messages and give a one-worder in response. I was sincerely trying to get past the jolts of fear of my phone suddenly ringing and having to actually speak to him; every single time my phone so much as gave me the eye.

He would persist in sending the good mornings, how is your day goings and the jokes here and there; all this in the face of my coldness. One day when it got too much I got a phone call from a very concerned waitress at the bar we used to frequent before I discovered that I was a potential home wrecker. At the same time that this was happening the damn mobile kept shooting off messages left-right-centre… giving me that evil eye. I picked the thing up wearily and warily, with a major eye roll to boot because I knew what was coming as if I was reading it off a script…

…………cue very syrupy voice- you know that type you can never say anything but yes to?.......

“So hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii , wow larrrk we haven’t seen you down here in like fahever! Larrrk when are you coming down hun” (we’ll call her Slooshia)

*eyeroll,sigh,clearing of my throat*

“how are you Slooshia?”

She immediately cuts to the chase …“aww bless I’m fantastic hun, but larrrk my dear uncle Nemesis isn’t doing too well yannow”

I say “ but why though,” in a very deeply concerned voice because I know for a fact that I never gave Sloosh my number at any stage. She wasn’t one of the ones who like to keep Nemesis happy by keeping his woman’s beauty business going over the weekends.

Unbeknownst to me I had stood violently enough to pour the beer I was cuddling in bed with all over myself and the bedding I had washed just the day before. I could hear my pulse pounding at my temples as I was gripped by panic, trembling, nausea and fearing he was dead. Lord knows I was angry but I certainly didn’t want him dead, crazy especially since there was no logical reason for him to be dead. He couldn’t possibly go and do something dumb to try and get us back to where we used to be…could he?

 Anyhow that was my first thought

I choked on my own saliva as my brain raced my mouth to get words out that neither of the two could do fast enough. I crumpled to the floor and begged her to make sense, any damn sense. She all this while was silent and waiting for me to calm my breath enough for me to hear her over the phone. This was futile, so she proceeded to railroad into what had necessitated this auspicious phonecall. I am not being sarcastic here, it was auspicious.

Slooshia then proceeded to explain how for the past 3 days in a row Nemesis had hardly done anything but sit alone in a dark corner with a book; pretending to read, pretending to drink a beer and genuinely sobbing like a baby and smoking cigarette after bleeding cigarette as he stared into the distant cobwebs on the ceiling.

He had been there from the time their doors opened that Sunday and it worsened whenever people would approach him expecting his usual jollity when they inquired after his ‘wife’ only to be assailed by a barrage of tears, maybe even spit and snot as he reached for their t-shirts to wipe the tears off his teary sweaty face (poor people, you will remember this man’s high propensity for those ugly heaving crying sessions).

I asked her if she knew what exactly was wrong with him. Did he say anything at all to her? 

Right there with the phone pressed to my ear I almost felt her hand land on my shoulder softly as she stared me in the eyes and said …

 “Please just talk to him”

(follow me on Twitter ~ @mazituwe)