UNKISSING A NARCISSIST – PART 1

Selasi’s face suffused with sweet redness – his heart thumping so loud it echoed in his throat. That’s what he lived for. The thrill of adventure. As the Uber weaved through unfamiliar neighbourhoods an hour away from home, his heart thumped even louder. The blue trail on Google Maps disappeared as the driver pulled up on a shallow street named Currant Close. A lock clanked, and Selasi fixed his gaze in that direction. A figure stepped out of an access gate, bending at the torso slightly to avoid bumping the head. Marita straightened up and grinned. The Selita Rave was happening. Her favourite Tinder guest had indeed shown up!

Selasi tried to hide his stupid smile and stepped out of the Uber, grabbing his bag containing the essentials for the night.

He took out his phone as his host escorted him through the gate. “Hello kids, this is how I met your mother.”

Marita shielded her face in her palms, away from the phone. Every time Selasi danced around her, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face on camera, she giggled and danced about.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a bowed head.

Selasi played the video. “You don’t like capturing moments? Do you not wish to make memories?

“Don’t even think of posting on social media,” she said. “Children of today like to post everything on social media.” 

Selasi cringed at her comment, shifting his attention to the modern duplex house that fitted the narrow perimeter. When they reached the door, Marita slipped her feet out of her slippers on the porch. “We don’t allow shoes inside here,” she said. He did the same right away. Her home was good and orderly – a pleasant contradistinction to his. The only way he would have plenty of houseroom would be if his brother and father were concerned about orderliness. Selasi looked admiringly at the portraits and art on the walls. The kinds of books on the huge bookshelf in the corner were suggestive Marita was a fan of self-development.

“That’s where we’re having dinner,” she said, pointing to the petite circular dining table by the bookshelves.

 Selasi’s eyes narrowed.  “I thought you were unable to prepare dinner.  You mentioned that you were going to arrive home late.”

 She grinned. “I never miss an opportunity to cook.  Dinner before games, right?”

 He nodded.

 Marita entered the kitchen. She returned with dinnerware and arranged it on the table. “I hope you finish everything on this table.”

 “You don’t have a problem!”

 “You better do, else I’ll deal with you this evening. It’s no joke preparing a three-course meal.  There’s some more in the kitchen.  I’ll be back.”

Selasi cracked a grin. “You have no idea how much I looooooove food. And food loves me too!”

When she came back, he was still ogling the interior decor. She stood akimbo, puckering her lips for a moment. “And instead of you helping me, you are sitting there relaxed. The Selita Rave is for us both. Well, you are a first-time guest, so you can be forgiven for today.”

Selasi shifted his weight in the direction of the hallway. “You love art?” he asked.

“I work as an event planner, so it’s no coincidence.”

He pointed to a portrait that was up on the wall across from the television. “That’s the photo on your Tinder profile.”

“What do you like about it?”

“It isn’t like your other photos.”

Marita stood akimbo, accentuating her curves, which were not captured in her Tinder profile picture.

“I took it in 2019 during the lockdown. I don’t normally put on makeup, but that day I decided to experiment.”

“Aha! I think I know why I like this portrait!” he said.

“Why are you smiling?” Maria said.

“Your hair. Back then, you had long hair. This is not the same.”

“I’ve had this classic pixie since 2020. Even though it’s now a favourite, I’m considering braiding.”

Marita poured herself some wine. “You can help yourself to some wine, and I hope you don’t become addicted. My friends tell me that they have become wine addicts because I treat them to wine whenever they visit me.”

This lady is a lover of life. And boy, look at those curves! I can’t wait for the games to start. I hope she has an open mind.

Marita raised her glass and clinked it with Selasi’s. “Happy Selita Rave,” they both said.

“Wait, don’t put the glass on the table yet,” she said, startling Selasi for a moment.

What’s with her? Is she a germaphobe? First, footwear is not allowed indoors. Now glasses are not…

Marita slid a coaster towards Selasi. “Place your glass on the coaster. Never on the table.”

I’ve only been with her for half an hour, but already I feel like I’m becoming a better person. She is clean. And stunning.

Selasi heaped his plate with rice, chicken drumsticks and wings and every other assortment on the table.

“Is that all you are having?” he asked.

“That’s me. Just a little portion and I’m ok,” she said.

Marita finished in no time. “I envy you who eat a lot and it doesn’t show on you. Some of us, the little we take, our bodies betray us.”

“Well, I have the habit of eating twice a day – breakfast and late lunch. Maybe that explains my lanky size,” he said.

Marita rose from her seat and made her way to the adjoining hall delimited by a three-seated sofa to the dining area. “I can go the whole day on breakfast alone. Yet I look like someone who has five meals a day. Finish up, and let’s start the games.”

Selasi kept going at his plate until his mouth and stomach showed signs of tiredness. His mind wasn’t tired. He was ready for this evening.

She welcomed a stranger into her house. She agreed to a sleepover. She must have an adventurous and open mind. A lover of live life like me.

Marita was excited about his guest. He was the only Tinder match she chose to engage. His profile stood out from the usual street-style guys. What was a propulsion engineer doing on Tinder?

“When did you join Tinder?” she asked.

“I believe it was last November. You?”

“Just this January. It was even a bet I made with a friend. He did not like the idea of me living a recluse lifestyle. So, he dared me to mingle on Tinder.”

“That’s strange. You? Living a recluse life? You’ve been singing and dancing since I arrived.”

“Four months ago, the story was different. I was suicidal.”

Selasi’s eyes widened, yet his gaze tightened. “I see you to be bubbly, though. Such a fiery personality and inviting smiles? I never would have guessed that you could entertain suicidal thoughts –”

“I’m separated. Working on divorce,” she said almost faintly.

“Don’t worry. You won’t be the last married woman I will be dealing with.”

“I see. How many married women have you dated?”

“Just three,” he said, with a quiet confidence that bemused Marita.

He looks so comfortable blurting out such stuff. Who’s this daring young man?

Selasi asked for the kitchen. She led the way. The kitchen was enormous, twice as large as the room he and his brother Etornam occupied. Selasi reached for a sponge beside the sink and turned on the tap.

“Don’t bother. I will wash them,” Marita said.

“It is fine. I always wash after eating. Unwashed utensils in the kitchen bother me. In fact, I like washing them,” he said.

“Living with you would be great then! You could be doing the dishes since you apparently love it.”

Selasi let out a muffled laugh behind her. Marita dreamily watched him wash all the utensils. Early last year, Larry would follow her everywhere. She felt like a queen. He would video call her all day long, even when he was at work. She was the cynosure of his life. And she felt on top of the world. But now she wanted to banish every memory of that.

“Are you okay?” Selasi asked. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were done. We will have the games in the hall. Let me change now that dinner is over.”

She climbed upstairs, her butt jingling from side to side in her diaphanous white dress. Selasi smiled at their fullness and roundness, like two well-pumped basketballs held together loosely.

Neat. Gorgeous. Educated. Cultured. Independent. Voluptuous. He had hit a jackpot. Most of the ladies he met were nearly perfect but lacked one of his crucial criteria. They’d tick all but one of the important boxes. Some lacked voluptuousness. Some were not independent. Some were voluptuous but not independent or not educated. Marita seemed to have everything. She was independent, elegant, well-educated, beautiful, neat and voluptuous.

What Selasi truly desired was a polycule. But in a heavily monoamorous and heteronormative-centred society, it remained a fantasy that he could only enjoy in his mind – at least for now. This was his year of rebranding, as he gushingly put it. Now he was raring to change several things about himself. For some reason, the statement ‘Life begins at 40’ appealed to him now that he was 30. This rebranding made him feel that “life begins at 30.”

Selasi checked the side of his backpack. Excellent. He hadn’t forgotten the condoms. “So where did you tell your folks you were going?” Marita’s buttery voice echoed down the stairs. “I told my dad that I was working on a project at the University of Ghana.” She walked into the hall and perched on the ledge of the couch, her arms folded. “Oh, so the project is me?” His smile was weak. “You are.”

“Why would you do that? You are far from home. Telling your parents where you are is the least you can do. They should know what neighbourhood you are in, but I’m not saying you should provide them the exact address. And if something happens to you?”

Selasi hurried to look up to see if her tone matched her expression. Was she developing cold feet now? “You are here. You will take care of me.”

Marita’s mind raced. Something about Selasi seemed off. His trebled voice had become sloppy and juvenile over the past five minutes.

She stood up on the balls of her feet and glanced at him. “What’s the matter?”

He had his head slumped on the dining table. That explained his muffled voice. His left hand hung at the table’s edge. His right hand was sprawled across the table in the direction of the empty wine glass.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Marita’s breath came out in a puff. Her voice quivered a few times. Oh Lord, what have I got myself into?

She inched closer, hoping to catch a coherent response this time. “What’s wrong with you?”

Why is she screaming at me? What has come over her?

He lifted his head to meet Marita’s piercing gaze.

“I am fine. It’s just the…wine. Just tipsy. That’s all.” The slur concealed his dismay at her growing flakiness. What happened to her friendly demeanour?

He inhaled sharply and pumped his voice. “Just give me a minute. I will join you soon.”

“So why didn’t you answer when I called you before?” Marita was clearly frustrated. “You mentioned that you were okay with wine. So, what’s this you are doing now?”

She grabbed the DStv remote control and tuned the channel to 175. A necessary reprieve from Selasi’s episode. Culinary art was her guilty pleasure. The sight of cooking or any semblance of a kitchen gets her to forget all worries. She took one last look at Selasi and swallowed her frustration in one big gulp. He had promised a variety of fun games when they planned this on Tinder. This was supposed to be an exciting night. The TV screen came alive, and the room glowed blue. Teen chefs competed in a cooking competition in today’s show.

Selasi was not going to ruin their evening. Especially not her mood, which was critical to the games’ success. He sprang up, as if to shake off his drowsiness, though there wasn’t much left anymore. There was no hint of grogginess as he made his way to the hall. Marita knew that his firmer tone was intended to reassure her.

“We’ll start with Truth or Dare,” he said.