Memoirs of Eva – 8

memoirs of Eva

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It’s been two awful weeks since Dayo dropped the bombshell. You ever had to just sit down, and think? Think about your life, and all the turns you’ve ever taken, the good, the bad, the beautiful and the awful?No? Then be grateful.I’m sitted on the tiled floor of my room, attempting to apply a new coat of nail polish to my chirped ones. Utter failure, if you take into note that I’ve been trying to do this for the last one hour. I’ve never exactly had to paint my nails myself.After a few more futile attempts, I stand up and walk over to my closet. My eyes land on the shorts and tank I had worn that night and I draw in a sharp breath, as the events of that night resurface in my mind.You see, the Eva you see now is not the one I used to be. When Dayo asked me what happened to his Eva, I truly understood what he was saying. I’m strong now, bold, confident, ready to face the world. I’m assertive, sometimes to the point of rudeness, I take the initiative now and I’m not afraid to show what I really feel.But that wasn’t me…The morning after Dayo told me the truth, I left without so much as an argument. There was nothing to be said and the silence was more comfortable than words would have been.I had breakfast with him though, pancakes and blueberry syrup. Even when I’m angry, I can’t refuse a plate of free pancakes.I laugh silently as I stare at my outfit again, before I pull it out. It needs some laundry love anyways.Suddenly, I feel a vibration in my jeans pocket. Fishing out my phone, I open the text that has just entered and sigh.”Eva, please allow me explain myself. I really shouldn’t have lied to you like that, it was low of me and I admit it. Just, please, allow me see you.”It’s the same text he’s been sending since I left his house. Begging, pleading, sometimes even demanding. I close my wardrobe shut and grab my keys from the dressing table. Doing my hair up in a messy bun, I head out.Twenty minutes later, I’m at a fancy but loud bar, a shot of tequila in my front. Actually, it’s the fourth shot I’m having and I plan to have many more.

When I was sixteen, the first lesson I had in ‘Alcohol 101’ as Dare called it was that “Even if alcohol won’t solve the problem, it would make you forget… For the time being.”And so, I turned to my means of forgetting.I plan on drinking away my misery, forgetting for the time being. As I down the present shot of tequila, I realise that it’s been long I’ve had this much alcohol at once, and alone.Just as I imagined, I feel the tears soon. My eyes water and the tears drop slowly, rolling down my make-up free cheek. The heat emitting from the tears is stinging and I have to swipe my cheeks.Did I tell you I’m an emotional drunk?No?Ah, well, I am.I motion to the bartender to bring me more shots, four of them precisely I indicate holding up my fingers. I wanna get lost in the sea of alcohol until I’m ready to face this misery that life seems to offer.After two hours in the bar, half a bottle of Jack Daniels and at least a dozen shots of tequila, I am reeking of alcohol. And the tears are simply flowing. Not heart-wrenching tears, simple and calm ones. Uninterrupted, like the flow of a calm river from its source to a destination.I put my head down on the table as the tears continued to flow and soon fall into a deep sleep.”Mummy, wake up. I want to play with you and daddy wants to play too.” I felt the persuasive shaking of my arm and tried to tune out the voice.”Mummy! !” It continued, this time more urgent. I strained my ear to hear what the voice said properly and managed to catch the word ‘mummy’.”Mummy, please wake up!” Mummy? I’m nobody’s mummy, not yet. Perhaps, not ever. As I tried to comprehend what was happening, I heard a soothing voice whisper.”Baby, please wake up. It’s late already. Please.” Baby?

Grudgingly, I woke up and tried to get adjusted to my environment. It took some time cause I still had my contacts on, but soon, I begun to understand where I was.”Eva, are you okay?“I turned to the direction of the voice and tried to remember who he was.“Eva, it’s me. And I’ve brought him. He’s here to meet you.“Him? Who’s him? And who’s me? Almost instantly, the room became illuminated and I found myself staring into the eyes of a tall, dark man. Suddenly, I remembered him.“Dayo.””Yes, Eva, it’s me. And I’ve brought him. He’s here, Eva. And eager to meet his mummy.”My eyes narrowed slightly and I turned to the boy beside him, finally acknowledging him. We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, judging each other.I turn my lips upwards in a smile – a bitter one – and look him over. He’s dark and has dimples, his eyes shine with a delight that is indescribable and his lower lip is tucked into his mouth and held in place with his upper teeth. He has dark and curly hair on top of his head and I briefly recall how I had played with his hair at birth.He looks up at me, his eyes questioning. Perhaps, whether I would hug him or maybe even why he was here. I shiver at the fact that I have missed 3 years of his life and suddenly, I feel a pang of guilt.I look away from him, not being able to bear to look at him. His face alone is enough reminder of how he was conceived, or rather, who conceived him.I can feel his gaze on my back, curiously piercing me, willing me to turn around. But I can’t, I just can’t. I catch a sob in my throat, swallowing it back. I’ve cried enough to last a long time, or so I think.”Eva,” Dayo calls out, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk now. Maybe another time?“His words are anything but refreshing, I flare up immediately.”Another time? Maybe you should have thought of that before showing up here, unannounced and accompanied by him. What do you think you’re doing, throwing me into such a situation and expecting me to act like all is fine?” I scream at him, the hurt visible in my voice and words.

To act like just two weeks ago, I didn’t think he was gone?”Eva, please, don’t. Don’t take out your anger on him. I’m sorry, but don’t blame…”I can’t bear to see him! To look at him, to know that he’s the fruit of those months I spent with you. I feel guilty whenever his eyes meet mine, like he’s judging me for leaving him then.””Eva, please.””I can’t, I’m sorry.” I pick up my bag and gently edge myself away from the bar. “I just can’t.”And without even a second glance at the boy, I flee. It is not until I am outside and safely inside my car that I realise I do have a son.

A healthy, good looking young boy.


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