COLOR. BEAUTY. And
A Short Story by Jonathan Kibe
Snap! This is the third time I’ve caught her looking at them. It’s actually irritating me now. I knew it was a terrible idea to tell her a joke. I see her face crease. Her mouth opens in a slow motion with her lips slightly parted. I feel her vile disgust. Before the words ooze out, I stop to admire: a most beautiful gap between her two upper incisors coupled with a well spaced-out dental formula. They aren’t the type that would be used in a Colgate advertisement nevertheless, they are gorgeous.
“Jona, did you brush your teeth?” she asks me in a nonchalantly irate tone.
I feel tears hang in the balance. I bite the inner part of my lower lip a little too hard as the sharp words pierce. It isn’t uncommon for Sisita Nnanzi to ask me this question. And every single time, it comes with a higher level of contempt for my lemon teeth than before.
“Yes,” I mutter, staring at my feet in shame. I shouldn’t subject her to such a horrific sight when speaking to her.
When I look up, she’s already sashaying away towards the front door. I stare at her green African-print attire that is dotted with pink, orange, and lime streaks. It’s truly colourful. We’re going for an important dinner and my pigmented teeth are as dressed up as she is. This is all in spite of having brushed my teeth thrice. My gums are sore from the blood that decked the toothpaste. I didn’t use enough force, I conclude.
Pulling up to the hotel, I’m discouraged. Any self-esteem I had has been deflated. We walk into the foyer, and smiles flash left, right, and centre. I try not to maintain any eye contact and if by bad luck it does happen, I plan to flash my tight-lipped smile.
Sisita has abandoned me to go chat and giggle at not-so-funny jokes made by prominent people. I make it to my assigned table as I sip from the mocktail I picked on the way here. The glass rim is covered by those colourful sugary crystals that I lick when no one’s looking. The goal tonight is to not talk. It’s too ambitious a goal as it goes against my very core. But for this cause — to keep my speckled nature a hidden stowaway — I will lock my lips and throw the key down the darkest abyss. There’s no one at my table yet and I’m glad. It makes it easier to stay shut.
I look about two square tables away, there’s a small group of people surrounding a woman who just walked into the Chimanimani Ballroom. The woman is gorgeous — elegantly clad in a white linen dress that rounds her body though not too tightly. It’s flawless, highlighting her light brown skin. She appears to have a soft glow dashed with a good amount of influence to draw others, hence the flock around her. Her bubbly laughter floats to my ears. I suck my teeth. It reminds me that I cannot express my own. I look back at my mocktail.
“Hi there.”
I jump up having been caught unaware. It’s the flawless woman. I reply with a tight smile and a flashing of my eyes as I think she’s passing through. To my surprise, she takes the empty seat next to mine.
“Cat’s got your tongue?” she asks in a foreign accent succeeded by a beguiling smile.
I take a glimpse at her flowing gown. It’s snow-whi… wait, is that a brown stain on her dress? Does she have any idea about it? Shouldn’t she try to clean it up? My cheeks heat up, bashful to have noticed this defilement on such an important lady. I chuckle with a slight snigger. It’s my first genuine laugh of the evening. I’m not sure whether it’s because of her failed attempt at a joke or the smudge. It leaves me smiling. She looks at them, my teeth, intently. This time I’ll actually cry. I know what’s coming and my smile starts waning slowly…
“You have such a beautiful smile!” she firmly notes.
A tear drops onto my tux. It’s the first time I’ve heard such words. I wipe my tear as quickly as possible before she notices. I think she already did. My smile returns in full swing. I indulge in an entertaining conversation with the Second Lady of South Africa.
Spotting Sisita Nnanzi glaring from across the room, I laugh so she knows that I’m having a good time. And to make her cringe at the sight of my beautifully discoloured teeth.
“I feel whole when I write. I can spread my secrets in codes that only I can break and it gives me the chills!”
Jonathan Kibe is from Nairobi, Kenya. He joined ALA in September 2016. Email Jonathan at jonathanwkibe@gmail.com.
