The Hollow Tree
Flash Fiction Friday
That night Osa and I broke up, it rained heavily. It was as though the skies had a foreboding of what was to come and had begun to weep in sympathy. I remember it so vividly because it was the same night Nigeria played against Egypt in a quarter-final match of the Africa Cup of Nations. Also, I have replayed the sequence of events so often in my mind, it ought to be scratched by now like an overplayed video cassette.
Osa and I had gone to the Hollow Tree, our favourite diner for a meal. The restaurant had been busy, the throng of diners huddled inside, some trying to escape the pouring rain, others at the bar trying to catch a glimpse of the match showing on the TV screen.
We had just finished the Entree and were now sharing a plate of Hollow Tree’s famous red velvet cheesecake. We ate quietly, surrounded by the noisy banter of spectators analyzing Emmanuel Emunike’s goal. Soon enough I noticed Osa had stopped eating, he just seemed to fiddle with his fork on the plate.
“Is everything ok babes?” I asked, “You’ve been rather quiet since you picked me up this evening”. “How?” He barely looked up at me as he said it, his forehead creased in thought. (pause)… “like this” I responded “…You’re barely even lmaking eye contact’’.
He looked up at that moment, a half smile played lazily across his full pink lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But it wasn’t there for long, he looked outside the window, the night was filled with the dim lights of cars as they drove past in the distance, decorated with the impatient horn of cabbies trying to hook up a decent fare. I continued eating.
As I polished off the last bit of the slice of cheesecake, Osa suddenly started talking, “Do you sometimes wonder if there’s more to it all than this”? “Huh”? “What are you talking about?”, I asked, I didn’t look up as I used my fork to scoop up the delicious crumbs. May greed not distract us in moments when we really should be attentive. “Like more … to Us?” He was looking up now at me, eyes peering at me under contemplative brows. “I don't understand,” I said, peering into his eyes for a hint of an explanation, “What’s wrong with Us?” I slowly put down my fork on the table mat, looking back at him.
“You know now… like fun, exciting, thrilling…(pause). It just seems like we’ve gone… bland! he rushed the last word”. I paused for a moment. “Ow-kay…” I barely recognized my own voice, deliberately glancing around, as though hoping to see what exactly he meant.
“I no longer feel excited about us…” (pause) “Kind of like we’ve become stale … routine”. I must have paused for about 10 seconds, my heart rapidly beating loudly in my chest as thoughts of what this could possibly portend for us, raced through my mind. I suddenly had the urge to use the restroom. I really didn’t know what to say in response. But eventually, the words came. Tumbling out awkwardly, pathetic little words; words I had once sworn I would never say to any guy, words typically uncharacteristic of me.
“…Wha… what can I do to change things?”
He shifted uneasily in his seat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down animatedly. Gently, he reached out for my hand, the look on his face, was the very image of sympathy. “You did nothing wrong… I think “(pause), I think we’ve just outgrown each other, I want you to please let me go… please”. I felt my heart land heavily in my lap as he quietly stressed the word again “please”.
“Why?” For the second time that night, I didn’t recognize my own voice. It sounded shaky and childish and scared, everything I had never known myself to be. I cleared my throat slowly, and shakily, and asked in what I hoped to be a more confident tone, “How long have you felt this way”? Had I not been observant? What telltale signs had I missed? Yes, we had not spent a lot of time together lately, but that was because he had been overwhelmed by the new project at work, or was it? At that moment, the waiter came by our table, but I waved him off impatiently; an unnecessary distraction. Osa looked away uncomfortably.
“How long?” I asked again. “Are you sure about this?” He had not answered my earlier question. He simply looked at me sadly, paused, and said “Please.. Bunmi, please”. “Ah ah”, I was confused. “You’ve made up your mind… just like that?”
Then it crossed my mind that I’d said those same words, when he had asked me to be his girlfriend 23 months ago, we had only been introduced a couple of weeks earlier, but there he had been, standing in the middle of my living room, excited as a kid on Christmas morning as he told me of how he felt about me. Fast forward 23 months after, I was uttering those same words, only this time, he didn’t need to tell me how he felt anymore. Finally, I could see it in his eyes, the unspoken distance I had failed to notice in the weeks gone by. About 10 minutes later, we left the restaurant. The silence between us had become uncomfortable for us both. He’d paid the bill and I’d let him, he might as well, nonsense. Then he’d driven me back to my flat and walked me to my door, though he really shouldn’t have.
As I fished in my purse for my keys, I could feel him staring at me, trying to catch a hint of an expression. But I was as expressionless as I was numb. If he was hoping for me to assuage his guilt, I was not about to make it easy for him. I turned the key in the lock and stepped in, but he didn’t follow suit and that was when it dawned on me, he was truly walking out of my life. My heart still thumping in my chest, I barely heard him whisper good night, as I turned my back so he wouldn’t see the tears welling up in my eyes. The door shut firmly behind me as he slipped away, into the night. In the distance, I heard a doctor say soberly, “Record time of death — 9.49.p.m”, I’d left the TV on in my room when Osa picked me up. What a coincidence then, that it was the same hour Osa walked out of my life for good. Copyright © Ejiro Gray, 2015.
