a very long 10 minutes

I finished the gym, I picked my sweetheart got home and was then called back out to go to a meeting. I dashed in the shower jumped out, got dressed and was organising my papers. My sweetheart, was sitting, waiting, reading a paper and I was almost out the door. All of that happened in 40 minutes of my life that past so quickly it could be called insignificant. The next 10 minutes however, brought my life to a standstill in ways that only quantum physicists can articulate. I lifted my head and looked toward the front door and in walks my godmother. Family tends to slow me down in general; the questions about your life the pleasantries, the prying into your business in hopes of getting information already told to you by my mother but wanting verification from you. That’s what family visits can be. Now had it been that it was only my godmother, time would have quickly recalibrated and I would have been out the door and in the car and continuing the conversation that I was having with my sweetheart as to whether we she should take our parents out to a brunch would have continued. Sadly that conversation never continued because by the time I got into the car there was so much more to speak about. And all of what we spoke of had to do with the persons who followed my godmother.

A short long rasta, dark-skinned cute woman, casually dressed in jeans and a magenta scoop neck empire waist top walked in close behind her. This woman was not as loud as my godmother, specifically because she was holding a baby girl of no more than 9 months, well coiffed and wearing a green dress. I did not at first know who they were and it took me all of the 20 seconds after they walked into my house and were formally introduced, before I had a well controlled spasm. This young woman is the wife of my god brother and the child is first born.

Had he been simply my god brother and I simply stunned at the fact that someone I considered like my brother is now married with baby and living that life compared to the way I still remember him (smoking weed in his mom’s car before he got to school), you would think that was natural, normal, regular, but there has never been anything normal about my life and I strongly doubt that there will ever be.

Let us go back to 2004 and we are at a neighbour function and I have just left school and working and looking dam fine; not trying to but oozing that late teenage-somewhat-jailbait sex appeal that only black big-breasted women ooze. It is at this function that my god brother, who shall be called Kevin herein, proclaims his interests in me. Being a late teen-somewhat-jailbait seductress, I am fully aware that
1. This is my god brother and YUK!
2. Chances are he really just wants to be on vice – yes my breast were and still are that mesmerizing.
3. THIS IS MY GODBROTHER. That I grew up with laughing at, being laughed at.
Being who I am naturally I flirt with him and leave the function very much aware of the fact that I have to know a extended family member at least for the 6 months when he leaves for school, while seeming very normal to the rest of the family.

Fast forward 2006, and he returns recently married and as far as I’m concerned, joyfully living his life. So we hang out and reminisce about old times and good laughs and school and friends and family. And in the middle of sitting in his gallery he leads forward and kisses me. A greedy passionate, risky kiss; you can taste the abandon on his lips. He kisses know and feeling nothing on the other side of it. It last for only 3 seconds but in 3 seconds he sells himself out.

I end up half way across the room in the next 2 seconds. He explains. What follows is a story of having feelings for the girl next door (ME!!!) but feeling strange about it, and hinting it to her and she, never actually say no 2 years ago, leaving and having her on his mind, getting married and knowing that he had to tell her and finally planning to tell her and choosing to take a risk instead.

I left with great haste. She spent the next 14 days of his stay trying to persuade me that a divorce was eminent so long as he could be assured that he was coming home to me.
“what about my wife?”
“she’s my friend. I HAD TO MARRY HER” (you know the Caribbean story – marry to stay, divorce and go home)
“so why not stay cause with her if you guys are friends.”
“because she wants children and I not lying, T, I not going to have children. WELL NOT TILL I TOLD YOU AND WAS SURE IHAVE NOTHING BUT MY MOM TO COME BACK HOME TO.
I wanted to talk to you first. I can work out everything. You just have to say that you willing even if it is to give us a try.”

Being me, I let the yuk factor subside, I took time to think about it. I will admit that was the first time in my life I realise he was good looking. I had been taking his features for granted since I could recognise them. I had taken him for granted.
Now folks don’t be concerned, he left with a ‘no’, claiming to be heartbroken. I may love guys but when it comes to matters of the heart and genitalia I really don’t trust them. He returned in December of 06. And although he knew I was seeing my sweetheart since the last time he was there, he unfortunately was introduced to him after bouncing us up on date being the PDA champions that we are. It was not premeditated.

So as I see Mrs. Kevin and the little Kevinette, my mind swims. I malfunction; all of my tact seems to drip from my limbs and I go into overdrive and overcompensate from my initial shock. I did not know about the Kevinette. I end up holding her and she lays her head on bosom and begins to get comfortable when Mrs. Kevin says
“you know she only like women with big boobs.”
I could not help but think these same breasts your husband seems to be so fond of.

And no matter how I tried, the Kevinette seemed not to want to leave from my arms. I removed myself from the adult conversation and pretended to be preoccupied with the baby – babies are always good ways to get out of conversation with their parents. I left that grown-up stuff to my sweetheart; all that was on my mind was “this is what it feels like to be the other woman”. I learnt in that conversation that the Kevinette was conceived in late January 07. His words began to haunt me.

After a long 10 minutes of acting as if I was comfortable. They walked out, my sweetheart took my bags, we got into the car and left and time sped back up.

And all my sweetheart had to say was, “you really have a way of messing with men’s mental... I love that fact that you have ability to leave me scarred”.