My passion for Vanessa knew no bounds. The mere mention of her name sent shivers down my spine, halting me in my tracks to daydream about her. My love for her ran deep, a force that made my face a constant canvas of smiles. She possessed a petite figure that was a temptation in itself, accompanied by a smile that beckoned like a siren’s call. I couldn’t go five hours without a glimpse of her; I’d even shadow her to classes. When sadness draped her, or boredom crept in, I felt her pain as though it were my own, shedding bitter tears of regret for any wrong that had dimmed her light. It pained me, too; I had to make things right before her thoughts wandered elsewhere. The notion of losing her to another was unbearable.
Once upon a time, around 5:15 in the evening, my phone went “ding!” I had just finished my classes and was strolling down the campus path with my buddies, lost in our own conversations. I quickly glanced at my phone and saw a message from Betty, Vanessa’s bestie.
“Urgent. Come to the dispensary ASAP,” the text read.
I sensed the gravity of it but hesitated, my heart plunging into my stomach. My mood shifted abruptly. Vanessa was possibly ailing, and here I stood, detached. An inexplicable shock rippled through me. I became deaf to the stories around me; the thrumming of my heart was a deafening drumbeat, as if it broadcasted my internal turmoil.
As we neared the stage, I concocted an excuse to escape, feigning an urgent errand that awaited me. One classmate saw through my ruse and taunted, “Why the secrecy? Just admit your girl’s waiting, man.” His words pierced me, the last I heard before my silence took over, my veins pulsing, eyes ablaze.
Did they know where my Vanessa was? Her image came into sharp focus – a week of sickness, missed periods. She was my responsibility, but whispers of a
relationship would mean little support from her family. It was a predicament we’d agonized over; her parents couldn’t find out. Thoughts raced, connecting dots of worry and fear.
By Talai center, my memory jogged – Betty had an alternative solution, warning of heavy bleeding. Funds were scarce, my fifth-year HELB loan unconfirmed. The weight of responsibilities beyond my years loomed. But Vanessa was my light, and I’d do anything to restore her laughter.
Inside room F2, headache gnawing, I traded my worries for a bottle of Kenya Cane. The previous night’s gamble bore fruit – Ksh366 – a brief respite. But before I could savor solitude, classmates barged in, accusing me of abandoning them. No chance for explanations, no room for excuses. I watched them all indulge, frustration churning within me. The rain began to pour outside, sending everyone scattering to their rooms.
I succumbed to my own solitude, almost cocooned by blankets, when the phone rang. Vanessa’s voice reached out – weak, urgent. “Samike, come. I need you. If you can hear me, please, just come…” The call ended abruptly, leaving me breathless, sweating. Her voice – my solace, my comfort – now carried a note of desperation.
I had to see her, but the rain was relentless. Drunk and disoriented, I awaited a lull, determined to brave the storm. The downpour eased, and I bolted towards the dispensary, each step a desperate prayer to the universe.
Near Grace Chapel, the school ambulance whizzed past, the speed unnoticed. At the dispensary gate, beneath the shelter of a massive tree, I finally grabbed my phone, revealing an unread text. It spoke the unspeakable.
“Sam, be strong. Vanessa’s no more. She’s at the morgue. Kevin and I will be at your place tomorrow morning. Hold on,” Betty’s words at 8:05 pm read.
I crumbled, falling against the tree, tears like a torrent. The ground beneath me shifted as my world shattered. The pain was real, the absence, an abyss. Vanessa, gone – how could life go on without her? The sobs came uncontrollably, my body wracked by the reality I couldn’t fathom. Vanessa, my love, extinguished.
Samike ndisya 