No Make-up

(…continuation) i honestly do not know how I ended up with a girl as honest as V. I sincerely dont know how I ended up with a girl who loved me as sincerely as V loved me. V loved me with her kindness, V loved me with absolute generosity, do not think I am being excessively generous with my words, cause V loved me so much that whatever I bad thing I did, she handled me with peace, she kept her anger in check, she forgave me for my impatience, she was always patient with me, her company was good, she was filled with goodness, with her gentle heart, have you ever met a girl who controls her emotions so that they are always positive, and when she is sad, she is not sad because of what has happened to her. But she is sad because of what has happened to others.

I remember this night, i had asked V to come over. 

That day had started off just like any other day, cappuccino made at home, no one knew how to handle my coffee machine better than V did, my navy blue suit clean and pressed, V had taken it to the drycleaners. I always found it akward to give V money.

I know she was my girlfriend, but just imagine, i messed her flower in the morning so that we can both start the day well. Then i get into my pocket and give her money. Wouldnt that just be weird. I did it once, and well… She stretched her hand to take the money. But then again she stopped halfway. I wamted to put the money back into the pocket, so I retracted my hand, then her hand was stretched, and it felt like we were playing the I-feed-you-grapes tease in the kitchen. Where she opens her mouth, and I pretend to give her the strawberry to bite, but take it back. 

It is weird when you do that with money. Anyways, i gave her money that time. And it felt really weird. From that time onwards, i gave V my whole wallet. Then she would pick what she needed. Though I know about ten percent of it would go to the needy, cause V was an angel, sadly an angel with my money too. No one should go hungry, without shelter, without clothing. I let her, cause she said she felt nice when she made sure everyone she passed by in the street or in her circles of friends, should have their basic needs met. When there was a sale at uchumi or Tuskys, she would literally go buy new clothes and give a piece and another piece to the begger in town. She would give the watchman some little change to take the kids to school. She would smile at the woman in the mpesa shop just to make her a little happy about her job. V believed that one should be generous with laughter too, cause laughter is sometimes medicine and we live in a sick world. 

“Wana help me take my clothes to the dry cleaners?”

Then I would have an excuse ti give V money. I would give her in excess by ten times or so. I felt that was a more decent way of giving V money. We had a silent arrangement whereby she keot the change. 

My suit was neat. It was one if those days as I said before. I dressed up, looked at myself in the mirror, switched tie after tie, I wanted to find the one that just popped, cause my suit looked ill fitting, or was it in my head. I wore a golden watch, then changed to a silver one. I was not sure which one looked better. Should i carry my phone in my hand? Or should I pocket it? Does my hair need mire oil. V kissed me and I left for work.

I was to meet some couple of people that day, they were in Naivasha and some in Limuru. I wanted to find out how other people in my line of business were doing. Have you ever wondered that? Have you ever talked to your friends who were dating to find iut if they have the same problems as you do? If they fight over the same thing you do? How they keep the love strong! Have you ever talked to your friends to find out how they managed to have such successful relationships? 

I wanted to see how other people in my line of business were doing. I wanted to find out how people in the flower business were doing. How people in the food peoduction business were doing. So that I could be as successful as they were. I wanted to see how they did the things they did differently. 

“i want to buy seedling.”

That the excuse I used. Cause it would not sit so well for me ti neet a stranger and say.

“I want to see how you run your business…”

If someone told me that, i woukd think they were thieves, thugs, stalkers, so I needed an excuse. If someone told me they wanted to come to my farm, that they wanted to come to my farm to see how I ran my business, i would be suspicious. I would rather they pretend. 

“I want to buy your by-products…”

“Let me come to yiur business so that i buy seedlings.”

I would allow them. So i gave that excuse. That i was going to farms to buy seedling, but what i wanted to do, is find out how other business persons in my line of business were doing. 

“But I thiught you said you are here to buy seedlings…”

“What? Me no…”

My mind was so deep in looking at the business. I had forgotten to lie. So this fat guy was looking at me weird.

“No, no, no, I am here to check out the seedlings, so that I can buy.”

I tried not to forget i was pretending to buy seedlings. I was going round farms pretending to be buying seedlings, instead looking for inspiration, i was looking for better was to do business, but all i saw was average doing people. I mean, there were no Range Rovers, no Mercedes, just small Toyotas, no mansions, just standard small houses and some other people were just stuck in poverty. Basins around the compund, old pick ups on stones with gunuias on them. Maybe I was in the wrong business. Food production and horticulture were probably not profitable.

It was so crazy, cause that same day, i went to see B’s father in yet another office I did not know about. He was on one of the top floors. The building he worked in you had to get a pass at the reception for the lift to ooen on his floor. The silver and gold trimmings, the wood and the glass, the careful modern art and the naked women art in the mens washroom with fresh flowers… The car park, the big cars, dis you know people have Ferraris in Kenya? Roll Roys! Bentleys? 

His office was of real marble, a chef for office lunch, pastries served in the conference room, fresh bread backed in the office kitchen, the excesses. That was the business I should be in. But then the business B’s father was in was the business of fraud, the business B’s father was in was the business of corruption, dirty money. But it was the dirty money that allowed for the golden framed brown leather office seats. Crazy! Crazy. 

“Hey…”

They poured me an espresso milk shake. Are you kidding? They have an office menu where you order anything for free. I wanted B’s father’s life. And b’s father had told me, the only way is his way.

“Have you found a system?”

B’s father moved from his desk. We sat on the green puffy leather seats that formed a somewhat sitting room in his office. He switched on the television on low volume. 

“Have you found a system of getting your investors to give you more money?”

B’s father wanted me to find a system. He wanted me to find a way of picking women like a guy has a particular bar he uses to pick women. He wanted me to have a pick-up line to get investors to fall in love with me so much they would give me a cheque just like a smooth guy is given a place to sink himself in on the first date. He wanted me to get a strategy of impressing the clients, the investors mostly though. He had suggested I create the illusion of success. If i flew an investor to Naivasha or the Limuru farm, he would give me a blank cheque. 

B’s father sipped his chai. And as he sipped it and adjusted himself into the seat more comfortably. I felt it. I felt how success smelled, like leather sofas, white crispy clean shirts, mute red ties, light bright red carpets, leather shoes that are so clean from all the chauffeurs and walking on red carpets. Maybe i should just follow in B’s father footsteps. 

“I think you are a bit preoccupied today. Can we do this some other time?”

“Please. I have so many thought in my head.”

He paused. I guess b’s father did not expect I would leave the cinversation like that. He was a big shot, his time was a privillage, but I was confused. I was disillusioned. The businesses I was in, the Limuru and the Naivasha business, if their owners lived the way they did. Was that the area of business I wanted to be in? 

“Could it be B?”

“No, V is okay.”

“Pardon?”

“I meant B is okay…”

I had almost blundered. I checked his face. Did B’s father notice that the mistake I made was genuine? But it was all a lie. b’s father thought I was dating her daughter. All the lies. 

“We can reschedule.”

My espresso shake was half empty. I quickly greated B’s father, did not know wherether to hug him. Did not know what to say. I dropped my phone. I over banged the door, i apologized for banging the door. Then i banged it again. The apologized for banging it. I said bye to the first receptionist, it felt weird, then I did not say bye to the second receptionist. She looked at me with a smack. Did she think I was too good to say Bye to a receptionist? You had to go through some three or two receptionist to sew B’s father. Maybe four waiting rooms. I wanted that life. 

As if the day wouldn’t get any worse. We were to meet with V for coffee. And the way she looked at me. Was i not good enough for her? Were my shoes not right? Was I over dressed? Was I under dress? Was my watch too old? Was my face not okay for her! Was my body structure not okay for her? Was my frame not good for her? 

Did I look like B’s friends? Did i wear my face with a smack, like a show off? Did i pay too much attention to the type of suit I wore? Were all these excesses in bad taste to V? Cause all of a sudden, the same girl that i woke up to that morning looked at me funny. The suit I had worn that she had taken for dry-cleaning suddenly did not feel right for her. Maybe i was wrong, cause after a while…

V started to encourage me, that i was a pretty much successful guy. V told me it was those other business men in my industry that should come to my farm and look for inspiration. That i was the one that was supposed to be their mentor. I felt like the date went on so well, it was all in my mind, thinking that V was disgusted by me, not attracted to my ways.

“Enjoy your night. Thanks for coming with me for coffee.”

When I got home. I called V to thank her for uplifting my mood. 

“We do coffee again?”

V was quiet. 

“We do coffee again?”

V was quiet.

I looked at the screen on my phone. V was still on the line. 

“Hello.”

“Hello.”

“We do coffee again?”

V was silent. 

“Good night?”

“Good night.” 

I was depressed. V my girlfriend. The angel. (To be continued…)