The chilly upstairs apartment is what I always dreaded facing, each time I left class. During the first weeks, I spent extra hours in class when everybody else left. I told the trainer that my apartment was really lonely and so was I.
The ever-chilly studio apartment had a bed large bed, chilly couch, a stand- offish dining set and a television set, set up above a table! Even the ironing table stood aloof in the furthest corner of the room. They all watched each other from a distance and it appeared they enjoyed the solitude. I could feel my dressing mirror tell the jewellery, “Don’t you dare!” And the chilly bed that I effortfully warmed night by night was not even grateful.
Later on, I thought outsourcing company was no taboo. When Patrick, a Yankee from the fissi (cheats) clan that my gossip mate was trying to hook me up with asked to pay a visit, I did not hesitate. I kept asking him, “When again did you say you were coming?” My apartment had never had guests before. I painted pictures of what it would be like if Patrick showed up. Wouldn’t everything around this gloomy room just frown at him?
Before I knew it, the phone rang. It was the receptionist calling. “Are you expecting anyone?” Huh! Of course I was. Although the question sounded outrageous, hearing it for the first time. In a few minutes, the doorbell rang and I peeped just to be sure what was coming. On opening, Wagema threw his arms around me. Astounded, I stood still, arms folded at the back, eye balls rolling from the other end of the hug. That was our first meeting and he was acting cool. “I think I like this guy!” I thought to myself.
In his bag were all these niceties; red wine, black forest cake and Faxe – how did he even know this was my favourite beer? We watched a movie on the chilly couch while we sipped on the wine and munched matooke crisps. It got to 11pm and he showed no signs of leaving. I became restless. I feigned headaches, tried to make him understand it was late and we both needed to sleep, in vain.
He looked me in the face and boldly said, “I am sleeping over. It is really cold here and you could use my company. I want to warm you up.” Wow! “But I do not like people sleeping over because I just have one large-lonely bed in the corner,” I replied, pointing to my lonely bed.
He stood up, picked his bag off the floor and walked out. Impassively, I said, “Goodnight”. A text message came in a few minutes later. It read:
“You will never see me again. Who do you think you are? How can you be so selfish? You have left me an emotional wreck. To you, your happiness is more important. You do not care how the rest feel. If you think you can be happy in your loneliness, why do you want company? Take it from me. Do not depend on other people to be happy!”
Ouch! Every word in the message hurt. What didn’t I do right? After thinking through it deeply, my apartment and I decided we were not going to beat ourselves up for something we were not sure of. So I locked the door, headed straight to the bed and curled up there. My lonely apartment and Patrick left me enough lessons.
1. Everything else in the house suggested one thing; that we are all together, yet all dying of loneliness.
2. Like my chilly bed that I warmed each night, sometimes we need people who do not need us.
3.The TV set that gave me company did so only because I forced it. I must have ‘super glued’ on it and the poor thing had no option.
4.You can stand alone, like my ironing table and still be useful.
5. Patrick left a mark too. Some people have totally different intentions and your existence in their lives is worthless if their intentions are not satisfied.
6. His visit was a reminder that in this world there are two terrifying realities; one is being alone and the other is having unnecessary company.
7. Much as we need one another and are all dying to date, break up and date another, sometimes loneliness rules.
Charlotte Bronte said, “The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and most likely to stay lonely.” On second thoughts thought, loneliness can be a disguised blessing.
ewatsemwa@ke.nationmedia.com
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