I have missed the challenge of writing a series (I know I am not the most consistent writer around *side eyes* at Adaeze Ibechukwu who makes it look so easy), living with characters in your head and wondering where their story is going.
The last two series I completed here ended up being love stories despite my intentions, I guess I’m a romance writer at heart. So I’m writing a full on love story/stories and I’m adding a paranormal.slant to it, not too much before y’all start sprinkling holy water on my blog. Please enjoy Something like love and tell a friend to tell a friend to tell a friend to follow the series, I’d be posting daily and I’d try to be consistent at it. Is that a promise? Well, almost.
Something Like Love
The first thing she did every morning was look at his picture, she’d crane her head just right to see the early rays of the sun strike the frame at the angle where it lit up his smile. That smile never faded or dimmed, but it was forever imprisoned at that place and time by that frame and by death. Thirty-two years ago he stopped breathing, he’d gasped her name as his spirit left his body and she never let anyone call her by that name again.
She could hear her daughter singing Marvin Gaye’s Sexual healing in the kitchen with full gusto and clapping enthusiastically, it was never too early for that girl to break into a Marvin Gaye crooning session. It had bothered her at first when the then five year old girl would belt out “Let’s get it on” with such authority and audacity, when she sang the line “If the spirit moves you, let me groove you” with the same emphasis her father had sang it on the night that she was conceived.
She was singing “I heard it from the grapevine” now, it no longer unsettled her that her daughter had inherited her father’s fierce love for Marvin Gaye’s music even though she had never met him, even though he died before the first period went missing.
“Nneka don’t you have work to go to this morning” she snapped when Nneka began to sing “Ain’t no mountain”.
“Don’t be such a killjoy Mum, You know I need Marvin to help me get in the groove”.
“Killjoy indeed, when you have to rush out of the house because you’re thirty minutes late, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Nneka had set out sliced bread and anchor butter for toast bread for her mother but she wasn’t in the mood to have toast that morning, she wanted pepper-rice and very soft goat meat, the type that would literally melt in her mouth and the pepper rice would burn her mouth and replace the sour taste of grief. She was carrying the plate with the slab of butter back to the freezer in the kitchen when Nneka raced into the kitchen clad in only one shoe with other in one hand and her handbag slung over that shoulder. The other hand and shoulder carried her bulky bag that housed her laptop and a mini-mountain of files, but the expression on her face changed on sighting her mother’s face.
“You’re grieving again, thirty-two years have gone by and you are still living half a life.” She accused as she paused her run in the middle of the kitchen.
“There’s no point in denying it, is there?” she answered casually as she put the slab of butter into the butter bowl.
“Mom, I know he was my father but this is too much. You weren’t even his wife yet and you have continued to live in suspended animation.”
“Nneka go to work, we’ll continue this your, suspended animation talk when you are not five or is it ten minutes late to work.”
“We are not done with this mom, not by a long shot. In fact I…”
“Just go!” She screamed and her almost thirty-two year old daughter fled.
She went back to her bedroom and pulled the sheets off her bed while her shoulders shook and her eyes watered. The frame on her bedside table vibrated on an unearthly frequency and the smiling face of the man in the frame changed into something darker, it was anger mixed with a large helping of sadness that was etched on his handsome features now.
But Fechi did not notice that change because she was blinded by the tears that clouded her vision but she heard a loud crash and gasped when she saw the frame on the floor with the picture facing the ceiling, the glass had shattered to about a million pieces.