28 Jun Sandy. Episode 5: The break-up
The cigarette smoke wafted in the air around us, thick and sour, almost provoking me to involuntary tears. The smell of different strengths of beer added to the assault on my nostrils. The din from the restaurant was heavy, as pot-bellied men and girls in skimpy dresses jived and chattered away.
Sandy sat there, elated and obviously enjoying herself. She tore at the chicken and licked her fingers.
“You won’t eat? I don’t know what you are worried about. I told you already. I didn’t abort your baby. I just saw my period. That’s all.”
I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. I sighed.
“You are such a kill-joy. I could be enjoying some cool beer now.” She sulked.
“You are a bad influence on me. You are ruining my life.” I said, looking away.
She dropped the chicken and looked at me, mouth ajar. She put her head on the table and started to sob.
She lifted her head and shook it. She said nothing. Tears were streaming down her face. Passers-by looked at us, with various degrees of puzzled expressions on their faces. I was embarrassed, but I could care less. It was already bad enough that I, Samson, was sitting at table, in such a place.
I paid the bills and rose to leave. She followed at a distance, still in tears.
Sandy continued to cry when we got home. She lay on the bed and faced the wall. I almost felt sorry for her.
The following morning, she sat quietly, facing the window. I could not imagine what was going through her mind.
Maybe she wasn’t really pregnant afterall. If that was the case, then I had to do something fast to outsmart the game she was playing on me. It wouldn’t be long before she started pulling on my belt all over again.
I went to the bathroom and prayed in tongues, for the first time in four months. A prayer of repentance, a cry for help. I was sweating profusely when I came out. An immense power inside of me opened my mouth.
“Sandy, I can’t do this anymore. It is over”. I said, my voice husky.
“Shit happens”, She said.
She dressed up, putting on a tight-fitting red top that exposed at least a fourth part of her breasts. She packed her things into her Aristo bag, and stomped out of the room, out of my life.