Monica’s wide grin which wrinkled the corners of her mouth.
“Don’t worry, Mark, Hannah is a sensible girl, she will probably just turn you down or accept your interests in her. She will not embarrass you I promise.”
“Turn me down?” I lifted both my eyebrows.
Aunt Monica sounded soft laugh. “Just kidding, Mark, approach her before her parents return home.”
“OK.” I snapped.
I rushed for the door, and behind I heard Aunt Monica shout out to me “make it sweet!” She exclaimed immediately had I closed the door behind me. I had to be confident enough as to scoop the quiver I felt as I thought of Aunt Monica’s words and more when I glanced at the huge house ahead where I was to meet Hannah. It demanded more than just my confidence, the task needed my bravery for I was to go and knock on the door. What if what Aunt Monica said isn’t the whole truth and Hannah isn’t alone but has a couple of relatives in there? What if her company are all male and much muscular than I am? And I struggle to carry a 50kg bag of rice a kilometer less. I care for my dental as well my reputation in this neighbourhood.
My looks did become stiff when I opened my eyes wide and looked at a bare road. A squelching sound in my ears begun to sound, yes it sure was only in my ears. The sound forced my heart to take few quick thumps until I injected a tiny confidence in myself. I took a deep steady breath and then released it slowly. I slowly swung my glance and looked again at the huge house Hannah had walked in. At least my task was what I could conclude gradually changing. . .I had the girl’s name thanks to Aunt Monica and I was far aware that she was alone at the moment (enough reason to get all confident though) and again the neighbourhood was incarcerated with silence. . .sure I was motivated that even if Hannah shouted at me, I wouldn’t be stared at. I was more than confident to proceed towards the huge house.
I lifted a foot to reach for the veranda. My heart was racing. I walked another foot up until set for a knock. I took a deep breath and hoped to cure a tension I had felt until then. I hoped to soften the stiff of my shoulders, my eyes popped wide as I glanced at the closed door made of Mukwa tree. . .even in my eyes the door looked stiff and tough-- it had carvings of an African elephant arted just on the bottom half of the door below the handle. Above me I could see two medium sized garishly bulbs that stood hanging on electric cables. The moment I heard sounds in the house I swallowed desperately. A bob sounded to a quiver I had hoped not to come. I shook my head and convinced myself that the day will soon end and Hannah’s parents would probably be back an hour from then. I did not want her parents to conclude something else if found me on their door step when I am not even in the friend zone with Hannah. Let me get this over with. My thoughts had decided. I reached for the door with my hand formed into a fist ready for a knock.
No response? I rose my eyebrows as thoughts scampered in my mind. I did knock loud, why isn’t she responding? Or maybe perhaps she has strict orders not to open for strangers? Or maybe--oh! I shifted my glance and looked at the window of a room which stood a meter less from the veranda. . .I had a curtain waving in my glance. I couldn’t be certain that it really was Hannah. I shifted back my glance and tried to knock the second time, but I still couldn’t get response. I puffed out silently. Hopeless. I sighed and decided that I descend. I turned around and before I could jump off the veranda I heard Hannah speak from behind upon walking out of the house.
“How may I help you?” She said and the minute I turned to look at her I noticed her quiver to a glimpse of me. I could notice a startled glance in her eyes.
She was wrapped in a bath towel, her hairs were wet and pushed behind her head. Her face was equally socked. I did not know what else to think, was she startled by me arriving at her door step? Did she quiver because she was half necked and had a guy at her front? Or was it something else? My thoughts couldn’t conclude. I stood mute. Again. I went dumb to a glimpse I had of her. For seconds all we did was glance at each other until she broke the silence.
“Sorry I was taking my bath that’s why I delayed walking to the door.” Her voice was as sweet as her looks. Even soaked wet, I could still notice beauty. I stood silent and watched her continue. “Hope all is well?”
“Ah--” I paused and swallowed hard in my throat. Before she noticed my disconfidence, I stretched my hand and received hers. “Hi, am Hannah.” I said forcibly and I heard her give a soft laugh. What did I just say? I thought and I was nearly sweating. I quickly rephrased, “oh, sorry, I meant to say I’m Mark.” she took back her hand and smiled when she glanced at me. My heart had been pounding--a hope to calm down, I scratched my hair and faced again at her. “I wanted to tell you something, Hannah.” speaking out her name made me feel more formal and precise. Only then did I hope Hannah felt the same way.
“Go ahead, Mark.” She snapped.
I loosened my quiver and my stiffness as well and injected a zeal of confidence that it wasn’t as bad as I pictured it could be. Hannah was willing to hear me out. I took a breath and kept it in for a couple of seconds before I released it. I faced her and received her wide glance which looked expectant to hear what I was going to say. I thought to myself of what Aunt Monica told me-- Being myself was far the best easy step I was to take, but still--the real me wasn’t romantic and girls like lads who stand to be romantic, that I was certain. “I have been dying to tell you this--” I caught a break and cleared my throat. “Hannah, each time you flushed a surreptitious glance above your shoulder, and a broad smile which amuses me the most, I feel like the day should never end. The moment too. Cherishable. I’m your prince and you shall be my princess.” I paused the moment I noticed Hannah part her lips and twisted both corners of her lips.
“Wow.” She parted her lips to a startle I had given her.
I picked up, “every time I hear your name, remind myself of your existence. . .I get this feeling like I am forced to jostle through brazing golden fires. Staggering each moment I think about you because what I feel only towards you is a heavy load, and each time I remind myself of your importance in my life I get this feeling of being in a marathon race towards wining your heart. Not half of it, but the whole lot like you have won mine.” I said and paused when I noticed Hannah widen her glance and part her lips into a grin. She had both her hands folding and brushing the towel she had wore, she leaned to a door frame and sent her wide glance right at me. I could see that willing in her glance that she wanted to voice out but she stood back silent and allowed me to speak. I swallowed every sarcasm inside me that I bet could have had declined my courage. I looked more at her as I concluded. “I will speak my heart out, Hannah, yes, everyday I learn on how to cage my rage, my temper, my pride, my anger over trivial things, my desperation to make money and leave Zambia. . .and after months of reading books, texts, and visiting some blogs I had managed to control most of them and the one thing that I had caged completely was love. And until now I have never felt the way I feel. I can feel the bars of the cage bending. I can’t hide my emotions. . .at least not from you. Not from the person my heart belong to. . .I will be glad to just let my emotions free and leave room to cage all the stressful, degrading, life taking trivial things that seem to bother me until now.” I paused to clear my throat. “I love you, Hannah.”
“I--I don’t know what to say really, Mark. You’ve blown me away.” She injected a smile in her voice and jumped in my arms before I could notice it when I had been calming my heart down. I could hear her sniff when she spoke. “I have been waiting for this day. I thought you never noticed me. I love you too, Mark. I love you.” She spoke with her arms locked around my neck. “I love you more.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Henry Prince Chilonga has lived most of his life in Zambia, deep in the heart of Zambia’s capital city, Lusaka. His earliest passions were art--especially landscape drawings--and writing. He rather neglected his art dream after a vast love for writing. When he was thirteen, he wrote a romance intertwine paranoid story about an Indian couple whose fight to
overcome a plague in their life brought to Mumbai’s grief for a complete year, “Year Of Destruction” waking demons, revenants...the story was almost four hundred pages long. Today, he lives with his parents and five siblings in Makeni, Lusaka, at quiet still areas.
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