Loveless Fascinations

On a dark cold morning in March, the clock strikes four. The milk-white blankets and bedspread warmed my idle body. I barely saw the ticking-tacky time-teller that interrupted my sweet dreams. I was the only black-skinned person in that conference. I loved what I saw. I wished to influence the world and make a difference in the sea of sameness (of the bad ones). I existed in an alluring world until the alarm clock boomed me into a world where utopia faded as the days goes by.

I clenched my eyes and wore weak smiles on my weary face. I dragged my buttocks on the high-density bed that comforted my body through the night. The cold breeze found its way through the window above my head. It swept through the spacious strands of my unkempt hairs and walked on my scalp. I observed the digital calendar on the wall, at the front of me. It says '10-03-2020'. I gravitated towards the table that faced my soles.

Landing my buttocks on the chair, I stumbled upon a note on the table. Who sent it? How did a stranger invade the most secured part of my mansion? “I locked the door,” my eyes flipped. I never stopped gazing at the piece of paper. The thunder squeaked. I peeped through my translucent glass-made aluminium window. The supposed-to-be bright morning turned dark! The pregnant crowd hinted unstoppable downpour.

My room sits on the uppermost part of the one-storey mansion I purchased six months ago. I loved the ‘purity colour’ from ‘Day One'. However, today was the opposite of ‘Day One’. Everything turned topsy-turvy! Saturday was my favourite day of the week but I lost interest in it after I roamed my eyes around the room. The saint-like painting breeds my past demons! My heart raced on the fastest lane of my biggest fears. The winds dashed through my hands as I struggled to read the indistinct writings on the paper.

My eyes drummed within her borders, “who wrote this?”

The milk-white walls of the room sparked blue. The ‘purity colour’ failed to comfort me in my oceans of distress. Psychology philosophies deceived me. – The first time in my entire life!

I am friendless. I had no one to call. No parents. No siblings. Life took them to the other side ten years ago. Ever since then, I lived with a secret face (known to me alone). I kept my real face from the public. No one knew I was the daughter of ‘The Bensons’. - The only child who survived the backstabbing that wiped my fathers’ wealth. Days passed. I never ceased to wonder why those bloodthirsty killers never sipped from the abundant cursed wealth. Arrant wickedness!

In twisted cases as this, the popular saying justifies the rumours that spread like cancer in the bones, ‘everyone has different perspectives.

The wiping out of ‘The Bensons and their wealth’ took place on the 9th of February, 2008. - Exactly one month after my fifteenth birthday. The aftermath births the questioning of my parents’ wealth in my obscure thoughts. Are they pure? Did they indulge in illegal acts to raise our living standards? I emerged into an adult with the honesty motto, ‘Integrity is the best policy’.

My parents schooled me with our lowly background. They told me we lacked the necessities of life until things turned around. Truth is; ‘I never met the wretched condition on ground’. How did it vanish before I had adult senses? They kept mute until doom showed up and ceased their breath forever!

In Africa where I grew up, things were hard to accomplish if one arrived on Earth without a silver spoon. However, these are my boastings; I emerged. I turned a millionaire before thirty. I established a consultancy firm and a self-satisfying job in my mid-twenties.

I could brag about this out there but … In life, everyone has ‘buts' whether you are successful or not in what you do.

I changed my first and last name, my identity and my face. I did the latter, not by surgeries but with a skin-tightening facemask that matched the colour of my brown skin. No one knew this except me. Not even the house cleaner, gardener and driver that works for me.

This panicked me. Who invaded my privacies? Did the fella see my real face? I had plans to accomplish before I unveiled the truest part of me. I established my self-given name. I am a very likeable person in public. I knew I had haters. My motto goes thus; ‘Amid friends, there are multiple enemies’. One or more of the enemies came in while I slept. They sowed what they wanted to and fled while my dreamful ambitions buried me in deep sleep.

As a graduate of psychologist, I tried all my possible best to connect happenings around me. It helped me a lot in the past. Without doubt, I questioned the series of events that staged themselves today.

I witnessed the strokes of rains through my translucent glass-made window. I wept in my heart. I reminisced those beautiful moments I shared with my non-existent family. I rolled my swivel chair against the window. My pen danced on the papers as I wrote today’s date and the happenings that intruded the most secured part of my one-storey mansion.

“March 10, 2020,” I wrote, “My first invasion. A day after my business expansion. One month after my 12th-year remembrance of my demised family members.” I rolled the pen on the table. Did someone trace my existence? I bowed my eyes and I saw the weird piece of paper the intruder dropped on the table. I sighed, shook my head and wept.

Why did this have to come now? I had aspirations but these unjustifiable statements eat my ambitions alive! I rose on my shivering feet and dragged them against the floors. I tapped ON the light switch. The blue spinning lights walked into my eyes. They produced melancholy smiles on my weary dry face. I looked into the mirrors and dumped myself on the tile floors. Demons of defeat pulled out their hands from the mirror and stabbed my innocent soul. I gasped for the fresh air of victories.

“I am at war.” My eyes birthed tears, “My labour, they must not vanish like that!” I screamed. None could hear my moaning. The harsh rain strokes struck the stone-coated roof tiles.

The indistinct notes on the paper contained what they never disclosed to me. Anyways, I was less bothered about that. Who knew me as the rightful owner of this shallow-deep truth? Definitely, someone monitored my survival regardless of how secretive I was. Who was the horror demon that raided my cherished room while I slept?

I washed my face and stared at the mirror again. I was a little bit different. I wished the bruises from today’s ‘early morning war’ never revealed on my ‘disguised skinned face’ when I appear in public.

A knock on the door raced my heart again. Who was that? Is the invader still around? I trembled. I panted. I became sweaty. My hands dripped water. The cold floors turned wet. I dragged my heavy feet against the tiles and I slipped on my left leg. I achieved a staggering rise that jammed my jaded face upon the drawers. My perfectly arranged bottles of costumes tottered with dismissal sounds.

“Who there?”

“Ma’am,” the voice paused, “you have a mail.”

I patiently tested the familiarity of the voice by asking some irrelevant questions. Afterwards, I commanded to drop the mail papers in the living room.

I launched into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later. It was already past six. - A Saturday morning. Who would disburse a mail to me on weekend? There might be something urgent to attend on Monday. I wrote this odd event on my most treasured paper for the moment.

I transformed into my usual public identity. I dashed out of the room and landed in the living room. The wide luminous room welcomed me with her flipped airs that cooled my face. The expensive chandelier droppings thanked my generousity. I worked for it and I earned it.

I dumped my restful soul on the wine animal-fur couch. I stretched my hands and clenched the envelope on the table. I hurriedly opened it. I sat up after glancing through the most important lines of the letter.

“I’m about to be crowned!” I hugged myself.

“Congratulations Ma!” my gardener walked behind me.

I responded with a welcoming smile and vanished into my room. My joy turned off as I remembered the happenings that seized the interests of my favourite day of the week. I bowed my head in disarray.

“Happiness is temporal,” I exhaled, “Joy is everlasting.” I cried. I do not know the next thing to do but to cry. - Tears of joy mixed with grief.

The same day their wealth’s secrets leaked was the day my ambitious dreams advanced into reality. The president of a powerful political party in the country appointed me to hold a key position. I would soon resume office as their political adviser.

I knelt and tears never left my eyes. I waged war against thirst and abundance at the same time. I looked around, forced a beam of smiles on my weeping-watery face.

Why should I believe those tiny writings by a faceless soul? I knew my parents before one invader dropped some trash in my room. He called it secret but I termed it craziness. Why didn’t he come before me in my office? I was easy to access (the world knows this). Should I secretly make further investigations about the invader? Should I utilize the media to call a private meeting with the cryptic soul?

“No,” I grinned at the milk-white walls. “Seeing is believing.”

The room served me a blend of ecstasies and pains. It was hard to cope. No one understood how I feel now. If there was, they are dead and gone. And now … An intruder wants me to disbelieve the ones that imbibed the integrity cultures in me. Why should I?

Growing up, I knew that secrecy is power. What folks cannot access, they can never ruin it. Everyone sees me as a woman with a sense of humour but inside me, I feel pain every day and night. I lacked the other half of me. I never knew how to expose my feelings to the ones I had crushes on. They could take advantage of my wealth and my likeable spirits. The world sees this as a big advantage but my view is the other way round.

Fame is sweet when tasted but bitter when swallowed. I wished this fame outlasted me. I aimed to bag my biggest political office, get a loved lover and start a family. What about my real face? Would they still love me if they found out what I am hiding? Truth is, I am hiding more than a face. I am hiding secret ambitions.

“Well,” my pen flowed on the diary, “we all have secrets. Whoever does not have one is not human. There are things we hide from the closest ones to our hearts. If they love us after finding out, that means they loved us from the start. If they don’t ---" I held back my writings as another knock landed on the door.

My home receptionist informed me the governor wished to meet me on Monday. “Who am I?” I almost regretted gaining fame but I reconsidered the responsibilities attached to the fulfilment of my ambitions. Fame could help me achieve my dreams faster than expected.

“I’m on the right path!” I jammed my hands quietly before the mirror.

I prepared my files into my briefcase. I knew Monday would be hectic for me. I am used to it. However, I expect this coming Monday to be about three times more stressful than my normal routines. Was this what I longed for? - An extra-busy day with the affairs of my most-dreamed career. How would I balance it all if a man comes into my life?