Johari Lodging, Bed & Breakfast
I Azari Baraza
He grips her thigh
Take you Andrew Mbogori.
Thrust. Grunt. Moan.
To be my lawful wedded husband
He places her thigh over his shoulder.
Forsaking all others
He pulls out and thrusts. Harder.
She opens her eyes and meets his.
For richer or for poorer.
Her hips are shaking. Her teeth meet his shoulder.
In sickness and in health.
Thrust. Harder. Thrust. Harder.
To love and to hold
Faster. Faster. Moan. Grunt. Faster.
Till death do us part
According to God’s holy law
He throws back his head till thy kingdom come.
And this is my solemn vow
He is not supposed to be here. The leg that should be over his thigh is tucked behind a throw, alone. The hand that should be stroking his chest is somewhere wrapped around a bottle of wine. A bordeaux bottle that was meant to be shared in honour of a first anniversary. This bottle was preserved. It has been kept for an year. Aged with grace till tonight.
Somewhere on the road – not driving.
Chevy Camaro, 1969
He stares through the windscreen at nothing in particular. At each thought of the thrust, the touch, his hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel. His phone vibrates from the car’s console distracting him from his thoughts.
He looks at the screen, it’s his wife, Azari. The picture of her laughing, on the screen, makes him grin because he knows that is not what she’ll be doing once he picks up. Other than that, that picture, he’s the one who took it. That was the last time he saw her that happy.
He picks up after the fourth ring.
Azari: Oh, so now you’ve picked up. Where are you?
Andrew: OK. Should I be scared? You are calm for a person that has ten missed calls.
Azari: Where the fuck are you, Andrew! It’s our first anniversary and you are not even here! It’s not even our first anymore, we just started our second year two hours ago. Did you even notice?
Andrew: I’m sorry.
Azari: You are sorry? Is that all? What should I do with that?
Andrew: I’m an ass and I don’t know what else to be other than that. I should not even be anything other than that.
Azari: I thought we were trying, Andrew. I thought we were getting over everything, starting a new. You are breaking now, you are breaking away. You are worrying me here. What is wrong?
Andrew: I am sorry for not loving you enough. I’m sorry that you had to love for the both of us-
Azari: Don’t do this over the phone. Come home.
Andrew: That I’m not the man you thought I am. That I’m a coward. A selfish man who thinks of himself, only him. I know I’ve made you cry more than I’d want to see you laugh and-
Azari: Stop. Stop.
Andrew: And I cannot be sorry enough. I know I vowed before God and man, a day like this, that I would love and respect you but today I failed. I’ve failed all along but today I outdid myself. And I feel like crap.
Azari: Andrew, where are you? I’m not doing this over the phone. Come home.
Andrew: I hate myself right now and you’ll hate me more after today. I’m sorry.
Azari: What the fuck did you do?
Andrew: I broke my vow.
He sighs. And hangs up.
He knows he has lost her.
She is not his anymore.
He knew the moment he was inside that cunt.
The cold thrusts and the empty grunts.
And what was on his mind were Azari’s vows.
Her promise. Her honour.
But that did not stop him. Nothing stops a broken soul.
A broken soul is selfish and cruel. His kind.
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