TEARS°ADDITION

By Jessica-Ken:

If you read TEARS, then you’d love to read this JESS’ SHORT :-*[/b]

For those that haven’t read my story TEARS, you can check the website and get reading immediately ☺

~TEARS
•••STANLEY’S ADDITION•••

Things were never good after Arabel died. I became a walking corpse, a mad man bound behind closed doors, and a complete shadow of myself. I’d lost the one woman I was ready to give my all and be with for the rest of eternity. And even lost my child—the one I hoped would light the both of us if he was given a chance to live—or she!

I had no purpose to live with them gone. All that my parents did to bring me back to the once jolly man I used to be, failed and completely went the other way. I saw myself unable to move on. I just couldn’t, not when the rest of the world was happy and I was left in despair.

“Stanley, get up. You can’t be in bed all morning. You’re a grown man!”

“A man with no wife and kid… yeah!” That was me going about my usual routine of laying in bed and sulking till my face was all dry and lean.

“Get up… now! What’s happened has. You can’t turn back the hands of time.” Mom’s voice got to me and I sat up, rubbing my morning-pulped face. “Is it 8 already?” I asked, looking drowsily.

“10!” she said.

I was to go to the supermarket downtown and grab some things.

“Get up. Your mates are already working.”

I yawned tiredly and got up reluctantly. “Okay,” I said.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, with the mind of having a clean shave before anything, brushed thereafter, and got the shower running.

I found breakfast already served the minute I got out. “You shouldn’t have…”

“Had Nanny prepare your favourite…”

I thought with a shrug. Seriously? I made for where my jeans were packed and pulled open their guarding doors, taking out one.

“I’m just really glad you’re out of that bed,” Mom made to start a conversation.

“Privacy… please?” I looked at her with eyes motioning to the door and she laughed.

Getting clad in a red polka dot shirt and the denim I had pulled out, I applied some cream on my face, not bothering about my body—and moved out, downstairs.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, take care!” Mom called out from the dining room as I shut the door behind.

Walking for what seemed like a long one—didn’t want to take a cab, I reached Michigan University (my graduate college), and memories began coming back as bitter tears tried to break out. The outside world’s not so different, I thought, feeling a tingling in my stomach. Hobbs Martex, read my mind. It was one of the biggest supermarkets in town.

“A trolley for you, Sir,” pretty eyes met mine.

Admirable, I thought. “A-Arabel?” My dead fiancee’s image flashed as I wondered. “What’s happening?”

The trolley lady as I nicknamed, looked at me. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Arabel?” I said again, getting myself immediately. “I-I’m sorry. I thought you were someone.” I said like an idiot. My mouth was dry and my lips were unable to make out more words as we stood, staring at each other.

“How-how do you know my middle name?”

I gasped with my eyes open wide. “Arabel is your middle name?”

She affirmed with her head moving. “Yes,” a billion smile worth admiring appeared on her lips.

“The world is really a small one,” I marvelled at how much she looked like my dead wife. Fiancee. Whatever!

I forgot about the things I wanted to pick at the mart and concentrated on asking her if she was from there.

“You may have to excuse me, Sir,” she said politely, though her words sounded displeasing. She left me hanging, with the trolley shoved in my hands—I wondered if this was a dream or my mind was replaying images and making me see my dead fiancee.

• * *

Late noon came and the trolley lady was still in the mart. I dreaded calling her Arabel for fear my late fiancee would appear and couldn’t wait to talk to her, leaving me no choice but to wait until she was done with the day’s job.

“Hey…”

“Have you been waiting for me?”

Oh, I’ve been, I wanted to say. “You know, I just can’t fathom out how you look like my—” a fast poke made me stop. “I’m Stanley,” I stretched out my hand for a shake. “Can we be friends?”

The trolley lady looked down in disgust and spoke through clenched teeth. “Leave me alone. I’m married!”

The ring on her middle finger flashed in my eyes. How did I not notice? My heart was shattered.

I knew my chance of finding another woman was lost. Maybe love isn’t for me 😔

✍Jessica Duru__❣❣

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Jessica-Ken

A student of the popular Nnamdi Azikiwe university. A Human Anatomy stud—and a passionate writer, with the hope of one day making the world a better place.
~Authoress Ciara

Articles: 216

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