Incompatible

He was handsome, in his raggedy way. That was what Nicolette 'Summertime' Dayton thought when she paused by the entrance to watch her boyfriend, Don Presley, deliver a poem from the raised platform of the Spunken Theatre. He shook his long hair out of his hypnotic blue eyes lazily, giving the impression he was high on some drug, although she knew he was sober as a judge on a Monday. His sonorous voice rang clear and true, yet slurred and caressing. It rose high, then went low, swaying the crowd.

He took them to those depths and heights only known to poets and those who follow their poetic gospel.

He spread his arms, embracing them all. His face told a story of unfermented love,

"But you held me in my darkest,

Your love true as the sun's rays in summer,

We made love out of pieces of our broken hearts,

The shears and guns we melted into jewelry,

From the thorns, we grew roses..."

Nicolette had listened to the same poem sung a million times yet she still found it moving. Just like the first time she had heard it. She wiped a tear and moved from the door, cheering loudly. Her voice was choked with something deep, as deep as true love could infect it. She caught his attention, and he turned to address only her, his eyes devoured the distance between them until she felt he was looking directly into her eyes,

"An oasis in the desert, I found in you,

Broken, I found healing,

My heartbeat,

I'll love you better tomorrow,

Under the stars, we'll drink our fill..."

He knelt on the stage and blew her a kiss. He turned towards the crowd, engaging them, inviting them to be part of the poem. They responded, and became one with him. Everyone was on their feet, shouting and held helplessly by the enchantress in his voice. When it ended the audience went up in a roar. Nicolette wiped the tears with the back of her hand. It was a great performance.

*****

"Now that was awesome. But the other bit about oasis and deserts, that was made up. I know this poem as intimately as I know my name isn't Bob Marley," began Nicolette quizzically eyeing her boyfriend as they say later in her car.

"No, it wasn't made up, it was from the heart," he winked at her, "for the most beautiful woman in the universe."

"Oh sweetheart," she purred sweetly then reached across towards him, "Come to mamma, come and get a warm one." They hugged from their seats.

"So, how did your day go? Ready for the fight tomorrow?" He asked trying to cover up the awkward moment after disentangling.

"Of course, we have been training hard with Mr. O. He's a great coach, honey!"

Don couldn't resist it. Looking outside to take the edge off his sarcasm he attacked,

"Sure he's good, laying his filthy hands all over you. Do all trainers do that?"

Here we go, thought Nicolette. Aloud, as airy as a fairy,

"Oh yes, he's good. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here today, would I?"

"Sure, there's a price for everything, and you're willing to pay it, aren't you?" He turned towards her and continued,

"We both know you could have picked up another trainer. There's Joyce. She's good but no, you don't want her. You'd rather be with that vile pig and put our relationship on the rocks protecting him!"

"Please," she begged.

"Why would anyone call themselves Mr. O moment? That's pretty vulgar!" he fumed.

"That's exaggerated, he's not Mr. O moment." she protested lamely.

He turned to look at her. He couldn't believe her naivety.

"Why do you always have a problem with me?" She asked.

"I don't have a problem with you, I have a problem with the way you relate with your so-called associations!" He fired back.

"I'm tired of these fights!" She replied.

"Look, I don't mean to...,"

"Ouch!" She interrupted.

He left the words hanging in the air and decided to shut up. He wondered why there was such a huge wall between them. Don felt that she deliberately chose not to listen to him. He felt that she was going out of her way to be difficult.

Nicolette looked straight ahead. She desperately tried to think of something to say but words failed her. She couldn't understand why he always found a way to spoil a good time. Always had a little something to disapprove. He was so insecure. They drove in silence, the tension seeping into their hearts, sowing its poisonous seeds.

****

Don woke up feeling a slight headache. The night before had been sour-sweet as always. They'd gone home, to her place. Both of them were ravenous even after the meal they'd had after the show. They always went to her place. He'd made a quick dinner for both of them. The duo had eaten their meal in silence. He'd decided to go back to his place afterward.

He picked up his phone and quickly went through his WhatsApp messages. Nothing from her. He clicked on her name and typed a message, but deleted it again and with a sigh, dropped the phone back on the table.

They had been dating for three years now. Fightings and misunderstandings were the order of the day for them. Their relationship strived on it. The toxicity was the lubricant that kept their love wheels turning. Admittedly, he had failed to make her happy. Hadn't she told him numerous times that she wanted to be married? She always said something about what a man must do for his woman yet he knew he had failed to give her even half of the things she wanted.

He didn't understand what stopped him from getting married to her. It could have been the financial constraints that beleaguered him relentlessly. All he knew was something always held him back. Maybe it was the double standards he felt she kept. He knew he wanted to be married-he craved for it. Don knew he didn't mind falling in love in the morning and getting married later in the day but for some reason, he had stalled short of getting married to her. He couldn't understand what it was but it was there, a force that held him back. Don sighed sadly, for he was in love with her–or so he thought.

His bedroom was cold and gloomy. Don promised himself to move out to a livelier place, just like he had done the last one hundred times. He wasn't into moving in and out of places. He was a man who enjoyed a sense of permanency in life.

Looking around, he realized how much he hated his own life. The house he rented was cold, even on the hottest of days. This coldness about it went beyond literal temperature. He could be in this house on a vest and the fan battling to cool the air while he sipped iced juice and still feel the coldness of the room. The furniture was mostly old pieces either bought at some local auction or one he'd had for a long time. Needless to say, every piece of his furniture had outstayed its longevity. His very life, just like his furniture, was a mangled mess. It reeked of failure, unrealized dreams, and numerous forsaken projects either from lack of money or some other reason. At times he did admit, that he lacked consistency. Partly he was right, that is both ways. His financial challenges were the major reason he failed but he also lacked the fire to see his projects through. Was he not an amazing poet and a good actor?

He lacked the will to persevere against the odds that came with success. It was the only thing that could save him: perseverance. But again it could have been his lack of motivation-something he could live for. Something to add meaning to his life. He realized it was the reason why he needed Nicolette so much, to fill that void in him. To find a reason to get up every morning and fight to write his own success story. He sighed again and slid a disk into his music player. It was some trending jam from one of those fly-by-night artists. Picking his towel, he went out to the bathroom for his bath.