Twisted Times: Son of Man (Twisted Times Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

5
th
October,

New York, USA;

Their times in the US together were golden nights and silver mornings. It used to pass too swiftly for Susan because since their becoming lovers she found him an invariable elation to be with. His quickly and devilishly yet serene mind stimulated hers; and through her inner eye she saw the unfamiliar things of life, not the platitudes and trivialities many people filled their lives with.

Together they went to places in New York – the Central Park, Prospect Park in Brooklyn, the Bronx Zoo, Empire State Building, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the New York Public Library amongst others. Whenever he left for Kenya he went back soon as promised. They had gone to Hawaii, Iowa, and the Bahamas, places she only saw in movies and read about on the internet and travelogues.

On this day, their last day before his going back to Kenya for his many business meetings and other commitments at the ministry of gender and culture, they watched and filled the elephantine beauty of the Central Park for the umpteenth time. One tour guide had told them that it had taken the genius of Frederic Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux to design the Central Park where they were now and they much loved his craftsmanship.

They rented horses and rode deep in to the park. They talked about themselves, nothing else. The beauty and grandeur of life around them and inside their love-drenched-bodies drew them closer to each other in solitude, and by the end of the day Samson was sure that he truly loved her. He knew that his archenemy, Kennedy Maina, was dating her, and though Samson had at first gone to Susan to get at Ken, now things had changed. At last he had fallen in love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Susan.

When it was time to go he knew that he should do what he wanted, what he had to do.

“Susan, I don’t want this to end. I love you, come with me, and marry me, Susan. I’ll give you everything that life has to offer.”

She was about to laugh at his face and tell him, “
Don’t be daft, Samson Ndolo. What I want from life isn’t yours to give. This was fun, but not reality. We can be good friends but my heart loves somebody else, and I can’t love you”
but she checked herself in time. She did not say it. She remembered when Ken proposed to her. They were in the Maldives. She had told Ken that she was not ready to marry him, meaning to get married. Not to him. Now here she was, after screwing another man, being proposed to.

She said nothing but stared at him.

“I mean it, sweetie. Would you please marry me?”

She said nothing. She was thinking.

She heard Ken’s voice telling her not to compare him with another man. The damage was already done. Ken will never forgive her, but it was what her heart wanted. She’d not have married him anyway. She had told him so, so he should never expect anything from her.

“I love you, Susan. I love you more than you, or you will ever, think. Marry me.”

Even a blind man could not have failed to see the enthusiastic nod.

2011;

My love towards Shirli was like the rocks beneath that seeps the waters of the world for all eternity like a mammoth sponge. It grew with each passing minute and day of the Israeli calendar, everything around me her and her only.

She was always there, knowing exactly what I wanted and giving it to me, responding to my desires and needs, and I responding to hers. Her mellifluous voice sang my name in different tunes; put a smile on my gloomy face, and her touch always electrified me. Where on earth would I find someone like her? 

We could not stay without the company of each other. Nature was our all-time companion, the beaches of the Mediterranean a home for us, birds the orchestras that offered free performances, and the tall grasses our love nests and mattresses. All this was a liaison; nobody in the family had an iota of what was happening between the two of us, except that there’s a problem, big problem.

July of my second year in Israel came and heavy bleak blankets hang over me with menace. Some people were after me. I don’t know why, perhaps because of the secrets I kept to myself.

Many a time I received presents from Meira, and nobody could fail to see what was happening. Meira was trying to have me appear in her romantic radar and she was not going to have it other ways. I did not tell Shirli about it for I thought Meira would stop once she realized that I was not that into her. It was all in vain. My relationship with Shirli was at stake.

Meira, who was doing her masters in medicine, was also a columnist in the
Israeli Insyder.
In her
Relationships
column in the
Insyder
              she was the liberal modern lady who would have a man for the mere fact of shenanigans or so I got from her point of view of the arguments she put across to the world from her medical mind.

In one of the articles she had written something to do with no-strings-attached bandwagons. She had written that this was the trend of the modern woman who would commit to no one but have a fuck buddy or a Friend with Benefits who oiled her joints twice or so a month. These women lead a glitterati lifestyle and are outspoken, but could not commit to anyone. These women, according to her, were sexually liberated and what they wanted from men was a No Strings Attached romp in the sack, given to them by those lucky ones she selects.

‘And don’t mistake this for love making. This isn’t love. It’s purely sex,’ she had written. ‘Limit your diction to nothing mushy and squishy. No sweet nothings, no in-depth foreplay or anything done by those in love.

‘The guy goes to the woman’s place, have a few drinks together and then get down to biz. These fuck buddies should have a condom, ladies, or else...’

That was her view, the way I took it from her articles, and I knew that she’s one I should keep away from. Never to entertain her company in private the way I was with Shifra.

But then it happened. I wasn’t that smart to know what was happening. Jeepers Creepers! She was in love with me. God forbid! But she loved me, she told me so herself.

It was too late when I connected the pieces that I had been missing and got the answer to the puzzle. She had been doing all what she’s doing to me because she was in love. And believe me; she was not into this NSA thing she had written about. It was part of her research, in fact out of pure serendipity, when she was writing her thesis for her masters.

This year the White Night Festival was held in July.
White Night Festival
is an Israeli annual event, usually taking place late June or early July, which is a celebration of Tel Aviv White City’s proclamation as a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage Site organized by Tel Aviv’s municipality. During the ‘White Night’, cultural institutions, as well as commercial ones, are open to the public all night long, and many special events take place.

Meira invited me to the bash that was organised by the
Israeli Insyder
in Tel Aviv in commemoration of the White Night. I asked Shirli to go with me but she told me that she was going to audit their businesses in Tel Aviv-Yaffo. She told me that she won’t be long, and furthermore Meira had invited me, not her, to the bash so may I stop being a jerk and go and rave to grave?

After the bash, Meira offered to drive me home since I had not used the business car and had left my car at home. Instead of driving to her father’s home where I resided, she drove to her house in Ramat Aviv. She promised that we’re going to have a few drinks then she would take me home. She had something to talk to me about.

She had known my tastes for wine from the numerous dinner parties at her father’s home and she offered me my favourite – St. Anna sweet white wine, a product of South Africa. I don’t remember drinking more than a glass of the wine, or finishing the bottle to the extent of drinking myself to a stupor. Point is, I didn’t know what happened. I was never driven home, and I never finished the glass of wine she offered me. It was there on the bedside table in the morning when I woke up, nude, and in Meira’s ample. All what she could say was that I lost it and she took care of me.

She was austere nude.
I had slept like that with my sister!
Jeez! I looked at myself. Stark naked. In fact I could not believe what I was seeing.

“Have you seen a ghost, Ken?”

“Not really, but a vision,
M.
Would you mind telling me what the hell is happening here? What am I doing with you at this hour... blooming heck...” reality dawned on me. “What have you done, Meira?”

“Nothing that has never been done, brother. Lemme say, some old-fashioned incest is the word.”

Were they a piece of an ember I couldn’t have reacted such swiftly. I warded her hands off me as though she were leprous and faltered my eyes all over. Spurious guilty was plastered all over her. Here she was, Jasmine Meira Shalom, unperturbed by what she had done. “You drugged me. How could you?”

My hackles were beginning to rise. She had struck me as anything in this world, but not as a rapist.

“I know you’re silently demanding explanations. I’d offer a million and one of them. First of all, I am not your sister for heaven’s sake. I fell in love with you the day I saw you. I have always loved you. I’ve tried to show it to you but you’re a wilderness of emotions. I love you, will, and shall love you always. Don’t you see that? Stop playing monk on me.”

“Still it beats me.”

“All right. I got a little crazy about you and last night was so stupid of me. I am sorry. You know everything about me yet you don’t give me your heart. I love you, please, see that at least.”

“I’ve heard all that. True you’re crazy about me to the point of sleeping with me without my consent. Does that seem right to you?”

“I am so...”

“Oh, save the sorry for yourself. How could you do such a thing? You’ve terribly hurt me. I must go now.”
Your father must hear this.

She reached for me as I got out of bed and grabbed me. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave now. I don’t want you to leave us. How could I explain that to Hanan?”

“You should’ve thought of that before you….”

“Ken, please, forgive me. Find a place in your heart and forgive me. Forget it happened and let’s move on.”

“Cripes, Meira. I don’t even want to see you.”

“Have you ever loved, Ken?” she asked “Love makes us do things that we’d not have otherwise done. It’s because you’re playing hard to get. You’ve replied to not even a single of my cards, emails, and FB messages. I expected more. What don’t I have that Shirli has?”

She added pepper to an already bleeding wound with that. She knew about Shirli?

“Meira please, I don’t have time for this. I am getting late for work.”

“Work? Who the hell is your employer?” she reached for the bedside telephone, dialled and listened. After a while she spoke. “Yes, Jasmine Meira. No, no, no. Yeah, I know. Mr Kennedy Maina would be late for work. Yes. He’s at the hospital. No. Not really. Yeah. He’d be fine. I am sure of that. Yeah. Nice day. And thanks.”

When she hung up she looked at me and said, “It’s done. Let’s finish this off.” She paused as though to ponder on what she was going to say next. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I am sorry. It was stupid, and preposterous, of me. It won’t happen again. Not ever as we live, but you’ve to give me something I don’t have – your love. You’ll never get Shirli. She isn’t your type. Please come to me...”

“I really pity you, Meira. You have never struck me as...”

“Don’t say it.” She put a finger to my lips to quieten me. “When we’re angry we say things we come to be sorry about when we regain our composure. I know you’ll open your eyes up and see that this heart of mine hurts and aches without you.”

She looked at me searching for something I never knew. They, her eyes, were ingenuously filled with tears – remorseful and apologetic tears. She leaned forward and kissed me. I felt her tongue penetrate my teeth, probing, asking to be accepted, pleading to be kissed back. She was not going to give up until she knew I had forgiven her. I kissed her back just for the mere fact of making her feel good, forgiven, but deep inside my heart I knew I’ll never forget this day. She sighed softly and pushed me to lie supine on the bed. She climbed on top of me, straddled me, and began making love to me.

Shifra, on the other hand, was a friend since the first day, and I had no trouble with her. I was used to her playful nature and I never worried myself over her. She always spent most of her time with me when I was at home, telling me of her accomplishments in her software development business. She had already finished her master’s in April. She’d had the slightest idea, just but a notion, of my liaison with her triplet sister, Shirli, but she never got the evidence that we were sleeping together. She was the coquettish type and although I relegated it to non-importance I did not like it. It was not until it was too late.

I was in the bathroom taking shower after a nice day with Shirli at the Mediterranean beach when I realized that I was not alone. As usual, Shifra had come to my house as she used to. I had not noticed she had come until when I heard someone opening the bathroom door.

Let me not say you’re wrong of what you’re thinking. I won’t do that. It happened the way you’re thinking, and let me not go into the details and particulars of the spectacular yet hesitant shenanigans in a story that would be heard by both the young and old. The worst mistake of all was that it was unprotected sex. On the other hand, self-control is a possession I lack especially when faced by nude nubile bodies.