It is said that the more he appears in front of your face, in the sleep or even in the horizons of never-ending and tiring half-asleep and half-awake moments, the more you are bound to be told off.
His wagging finger stays in your eyes for a long time.
When Kurtu explained the little finger-wagging phenomenon to his newly acquired bride, she did not take any notice.
She just laughed and did not know whether she should cry.
She is not used to the malarkeys and hectic tension biting moments of a life that kurtu offers here.
She is used to seeing life differently and that difference was apparent in her face when she consumed a whole bottle of Gordon's as a pre-emptive strike of the moment.
Kurtu did not realise that she was drunk already and showing signs of life well-treaded and consumed within a time-limit.
Kurtu was not aware!
All he wanted to do was embark on a well-meaning and fulfilled life without realising that marriage has a lot of other responsibilities. You need to be accountable for actions taken and not taken.
Now he has taken some actions and feels subordinated by the constraints of life.
The bride is named.
She has a name, but she does not feel that she needs to share that with the world.
And I would not bother you with the details.
How twisted on his mind does one have to be to accept a marriage proposal currently.
How does one bow down to the moments of truth when you realise that you made a mistake and how does one conquer the lot.
He has accepted the sad ruination of the moment, and he wants to make do now.
She blows him a kiss and tells him to put the rest of passive emotions to rest and now it is time to go raving crazy. She spoke.
Even if it means that I must explode myself to your face and release myself in one way or another. He spoke.
Whatever raving crazy meant for the bride is in no way a match to what Kurtu envisages of that moment.
He kisses her back but not sure what would be next. She then responds more aggressively, showing her experience and tact to do things sexual more efficiently.
He begins to get scared; he is flimsy at the start.
Nothing stops him from protruding his own thoughts and try and distract her because he is not that interested in that quick interaction.
She does not budge. She swarms him. Completely, covering corner to corner of his lips and the areas around his neck. She is fast, she is aggressive, her mouth dripping, her legs pushing forward on his body. He is, by now put off and pushes back. Wipes his lips and turns the light on.
We cannot do it that quick darling. Give me time. He spoke.
He then tells her how he needs to build an image of her inside his head and that he cannot get the energy going now because he is not utter ready.
You must be overthinking shit. She tells him after she wipes her lips.
I do not overthink stuff. I am solid on that.
She thinks about how falling so fast in love with men, never pays, never helps, and always hurts.
He, in the meantime reflects on mistakes he has made at times when he pulled women purely based on their smiles.
They are both on a regret mode, but both have just tied their lives permanently, sealed inside a bag with no air but a lot of work to undo. To climb out of that soggy and airless bag.
They stare at each other for a period. Kurtu pulling away slower whereas the bride attempting to repeat her name as a curse to the chaotic world she has put herself in.
There is something that does not appeal to him to speak.
He continues to stare at her. She bites her nails, her beautifully done nails and expecting for Kurtu to respond and to begin with an apology.
He does not. The staring contest continues to the late moments of midnight.
The bride wants to call her dad and see if he can bring some sort of resolution to the table before end of evening.
There is no response. She then tries to call her stepmom. No response there either.
Kurtu feels bed but his regrets only last for a few milli-seconds and then everything else become a normalised momentum.
There is a knock on the door.
Kurtu's sister awaits his response. Has it been done? She asks? Is she a virgin? While trying to peer her head in the room.
Kurtu cannot believe his ears, but he believes his family’s tradition and expectations are pressing.
Kurtu stands at the door not knowing what to say.
I think so. He responds.
What do you mean "I think so" his Mum's head pears in.
I think so, I mean yes, yes, she is all intact. I am the first one…he hesitates and realises that he is smiling too much…I will be the first one. Am still doing it. Am still not ready to tell you anything yet.
He slams the door on their face and turns back to the bride to try and distract her from what she has been hearing.
She smiles and understands the expectations and understands him better.
She smiles again but now like a long and emphasising laughter.
Kurtu is relieved but they both smile all night. They never envisaged that this moment of their truth is seeking to be itself, to dethrone the fear of tightness and feel liberated for good.
He smiles again and now its way past five o'clock in the morning when in the meantime everybody in the lounges and in the corridor chairs of the long-established church of redeemed married people, they are all asleep.
Kurtu and his bride, slowly and carefully without making any noise, holding hands together merge out of the church and head out at the beach nearby.
The bride pulling her long wedding dress alongside her and Kurtu throwing his bow tie in the people's grass area, and shoes flying everywhere.
They settle with a long smile and never stop running towards somewhere.
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