Slowly disappearing

Ebube’s narration

They say that the death of a loved one is the greatest pain anyone can experience—this is arguable. I believe that the greatest pain one can experience is living in hopes that your loved one will return.

I spent two hours and thirty-eight minutes on the road—trying to swallow the insults thrown at me by strangers while fighting my impatience that had slowly upgraded to vile thoughts.

On a normal day, I will obey the traffic rules but that day, I played the part of a mad driver because my integrity did not leave the house with me.

My legs were getting weary and my heart was about to jump out of my chest because I was uncertain about what my eyes will behold in a few minutes.

My car stopped in front of the blue-colored bungalow that had red flowers growing on the fence. I strained my eyes to see and realized that the door was wide open. My heart skipped a beat. I got down from the car and walked slowly to the door, I peeped through the door like I was ready to catch a thief. The room was dark and there was music playing in the background.

I slowly tiptoed into the room, the floor was decorated with broken bottles and cigarette butts. She lay in the corner of the room, drawing stars in the air.

“One of those moments?” I asked.

She didn’t utter a word, she wrapped her arms around my body while burying her in my chest.

I caught a glimpse of her fresh cuts after I put her to sleep on the bed.

My boss warned me about women like her, they drain you until you are unable to perform effectively—of course, she was a bit too much but everything I wanted to have in this world was pressed together and molded into Ama, she had a way of making me understand that I am all I believe I am. A great man.

I love her—deeply.

I spent the remaining hours thinking about the abandoned tasks and how I could make up for the time spent.

The following morning, I got up to make breakfast for us—spaghetti, her favourite.

I was done in 45 minutes and when I picked up a plate to dish out her portion, I realized that I wasn’t at her place.

I was in my flat, my cold lonely flat.

It was happening again.

It’s been 20 years since I last saw my girlfriend, Ama.

She woke up one day and disappeared, leaving just a note for us.

I dream about the nights I never caught her slowly disappearing from my world.

Just maybe, I would’ve offered her a shoulder to cry on.