Saying Sorry...

Saying Sorry is a collaborative work of fiction between myself and one of, in my humble opinion, Kenya's amazing bloggers. A passionate and profound individual, I find his words to be captivating and very inspiring. This is a testament to his ability to move people with words. It was an honor and a pleasure working with him. Though I will keep him anonymous, I hope he will be able to receive the accolades from those who read this story.

...

Dear Nate,

Sigh. Where do I begin? I can't seem to shake off that feeling that something's amiss. With me. With you. Or is it with you and me?

Today you take me out for frozen yogurt at Junction. Planet Yogurt is empty so we have our pick of seats. I am so excited about the whole experience that I cannot choose which flavor to sample. Yes, it is that much fun, and no, I am not apologetic about being a kid. I know that this treat must have been difficult for you to save up and I enjoy it all the more.

At one point I catch you staring at me.
"What?" I ask you.
"What, what?" you respond.
I smile at the absurdity of the conversation.
Nate and I. Friends for forever. Lovers in our souls.

Many times, I catch myself staring at you. Dimpled cheeks. Wide grin. Tousled hair. Sometimes a slight frown. "Stop frowning," I say to you. "I'm not frowning," a look of surprise on your face. I laugh. I am happy.

Then.

I don't understand the distance. Am I reading too much into the situation? Why are you sitting across the room when you normally sit next to me? I want to tuck my legs underneath yours for warmth. Why are you erecting again the walls that I struggled so hard to pull down? Why are you shutting me out again? Can’t you see how much I need you now?

I see you looking at me as if you want to kiss me, but at the last minute you turn away. And at that moment you miss the flash of hurt in my eyes. Am I that difficult to show emotion to? I know you feel it too. I have seen the light of vulnerability in your eyes many times and, as soon as you see me looking at you, you erase it. A man is not to show any signs of weakness. Have you forgotten about loving me?

Then.

You kiss me. The world stops. At least, I think it does. Do you know I can feel your heart beat faster? Can you feel mine racing to catch up with yours? You taste slightly of coconut and chocolate. Bounty. Your musky scent engulfs me. OMG. Where is the couch?

Then.

I can't understand why we are standing here in silence. You are looking out the window. I trace your spine and you stiffen. I can’t get through to you. I leave. No words. No affection. No kiss goodbye. Where are you Nate?

xxxxx

Dear Nina,
It is exactly one year today that you sent me this letter. I have read it everyday wondering how I will ever reply. Words fail me. I should have replied when I was a free man, just before they came for me. Everything I did was to save our relationship. You told me you were pregnant. I will never forget that day - the idea that a life inspired by me was growing inside you overwhelmed me; when I placed my hand on your tummy trying hard to convince myself that I could feel the bump. Did I ever tell you how it was whenever we parted? I kicked myself, hated myself. A man in a dilemma. No job and a child on the way. A loser. Life has been one huge gulp of lime and brine. The little princess, Cindy, is 7 months today, no? Does she know who I am? Is she beautiful? Does she have your eyes? Mine?

This week, they finally let me live with the other prisoners. My stab wound is healing albeit slow. My cheekbones look like dark soap dishes. I have developed a rash on my skin [it is very unhygienic here]. They let me enjoy twenty minutes of sunshine everyday. It seems the sun is the only thing left to share.

Remember our last night together? I wanted to tell you but I wasn't man enough. How can a man tell the woman he loves that he is going away and may never come back? It is why I stiffened when you traced my spine. I wanted to run away from you. Escape from all that was happening. I saw the look in your eyes after we kissed. You knew. You'd watched me walk away so many times and you knew the look. You cried but this time I couldn't comfort you. I was in a big mess. I knew they would find me. I will never say I didn't have a choice in doing what I did. They say I shot the guard at the bank. However futile this sounds, I hope you'll believe me one day that I didn't do it. I would never hurt anyone. I was there for the money. It is all I took. Nothing more. Not a fellow human being's life. I wanted a better life for you and our baby.

There's never a moment that I don't think about you. I wish I could undo what I did. I wish she could grow up with a father; ever present.

You swore you'd never visit me. I can't blame you. 35 years is hard for anyone to wait. I choose to pay for my mistakes hoping that as time soaks your tears, you will find heart to forgive me. I have only two things to ask. I hope you can move on with your life. Find a good man (there are lots of them out there). Love him as you did me and you won't be disappointed. Kiss him with your soul. Allow him to be a man and push him to succeed. Heaven gave the right you to the wrong me. That I accept. Secondly, please tell Cindy when she grows up, that I was a good man. I messed up but I was a good man; that I loved her before she was born and always will.

My heart still bleeds for my girls. I am there with you in spirit. I would want you to believe that they might let me out on pardon but the chances are almost non-existent. I miss the lazy days when we were both jobless and carefree. Going to the movies at night, not to watch but to wow at the posters. Tell my daughter that a man is a man not because of what he can give but for what he can take.

I know it's pointless to wish, but I hope we'll be together one day. May God grant us the chance before it's too late. Remember our bedside picture that you said was your favorite? Look behind it. There's a picture of a place I always wanted to visit and directions. Please do it for me and take Cindy with you. Take care of my daughter.