Short Story: Dear Yellow Part II

Written by Dora Achieng’ Okeyo

Twitter Handle: @herhar

Dear Yellow,

The next morning I donned my beautiful dress and made for your home. It was your birthday and we had to wish you well. You hugged me tight and said, “you know I’ve always loved you.”

I didn’t believe you because as you know I am very conservative. I didn’t want to rush into things and with that you didn’t let your sorrow show. Your family welcomed me and it was a day well spent.

I liked being around you. I felt as though something was missing when you were not around. We spent most of the days together. We knew when schools opened; we would be six hours apart.

I wanted to run back into your arms the night we bid each other good-bye. At times I think I should have run back to you that night.

Dating must be hard for most girls. I know it’s also hard on boys, but I can’t empathize with people I barely comprehend Yellow. We would talk for hours over the phone. I am glad Safaricom understood the dilemma of young lovers. It was their free call offer from 10:00pm to 6:00am that rid us of sleep.

You wanted a modern girl, the one who would say she loves you after one peck. I wanted a man who would understand my feelings.

You dreamt of me every night and you missed me especially when it was cold on campus. You often called to tell me you were jealous of all the guys who walked holding the hands of their girls. You wanted mine in yours but I was six hours away. You asked me to visit you but I declined. I could not leave my classes to see you. You concluded that I loved you less. Yellow, if only you knew how much my heart ached for you then, you’d never have uttered those words.

You constantly reminded me that I was living in the 21st century. I could tell you I loved you and that’s what you wanted to hear. I didn’t do so and when I did, you asked me to say it again. I only said it to get you off my back Yellow. I didn’t completely love you then.

Yellow, why did I ever give you that name?

I have a list of annoying contacts on my phone. There’s Cheapstick for that guy who keeps calling to hear my voice. There’s ‘Mbuzi’ for the guy who keeps saying he likes my hips. There’s ‘panya’ for the friend who tells the world about me and ‘chizi’ for the guy in class who is forever asking me for notes even when he attends lectures. I saved your number as ‘Yellow.’

I call you Yellow because of the way you love me. You are so selfish with my love and attention I constantly remind myself that you are a lastborn. Each time I see you or hear your voice, I brighten up like the Eastern sun. Any time you hurt my feelings I think of burning you like the scorching sun in Lodwar. I call you Yellow because it’s the name the two of us know-our love is free from prejudice, worthless opinions and strangers demanding a share of it.

You never did care did you? How can I start off like that? Let me try and make sense of this conversation. It was the first year of our courtship when you would be unavailable. I would send you emails and you wouldn’t reply. I would call you and you’d not pick answer my calls. I think your room mate hated me for calling him every time to ask him where you were. I called you once and the response came from a girl. Her voice was so clear and soft-it reminded me of love. I never told you about it or bothered to ask about her.

It was three months before you called me. When you finally called, you said you were going through a lot. You told me your life was a mess. I recall you saying that you had flunked in most of your classes and you were trying to catch up. You said that things were awful. You apologized for being so aloof. I forgave you like the complete fool I was. You promised you would keep in touch. This promise lasted only two weeks and after that I never bothered.

See, I value my freedom as much as you do. I figured that asking after your well being all the time could easily be taken for nagging. Yellow, you killed me then but you were never there to see it. My room-mate saw it and so did my friends. They never talked about you or asked how things were. I know they wanted to ease the pain, but they made me forget you. Those next three months were the best time of my life. I went on to attend conferences, wrote poems and even journalled just to clear my head. I went on to achieve great grades in my classes. I knew what it meant to live for me and I did just that. You had done what most guys did to their girls. You had worked hard at chasing me and then after acquiring me had done nothing to keep me. I had become a vovlo-the kind of car you desire, save to buy-and then after wards leave it parked in your garage as you save up for another car.

I loved you then Yellow but you were so impatient and stupid to see that. You wanted the modern girl, the one who could soak up liquor and wear strips of cloth, the one who went to bed drunk and woke up with nothing but a guy’s arm around her. You wanted the girl who could jump when you barked-no matter how shrewd that bark was. You wanted the kind of girl you met in the clubs you hit. I was to be all over you and to party from Friday to Sunday. What you got instead was a girl who had a daily planner. You had to ask me out two weeks in advance. I put my classes before music and dancing in clubs. I dressed in a manner that made your eyes focus on me and not my lower torso. I knew my opinions and facts. I never minced my words. I listened to what you said and what you left out. I often knew what you would say before it came out of your lips. I could look at your friends and conclude their motives. They liked this; they labeled me your wife. Indeed I was what every guy on campus considered wife material. You even confessed this to me. You said you were afraid of speaking your mind because I was too perfect. I said I couldn’t be anything else but that which I wanted. You knew then that you wanted to be with me. You wanted it so not because you loved me but because I challenged you to be better. I was more like your pace-setter. The only problem was I set my standards to high and you constantly fell short.

All the while I loved you. I remained patient, hoping you would stop being selfish and see your mistakes. I did the opposite, I changed my perspective in life and with time you saw it. You cared more and even shared your problems with me. I listened not only to you but encouraged you to be great. I saw how brilliant you were. I saw how convincing you could be and often showed you how to use this to your advantage. You listened to me.

One night you revealed the real you to me. It was 11:00pm when you called and I was reading a book. It was a book by Ann BrasharesThe Last Summer of you and me.” You had just received your results and had failed. You knew then that you had to re-sit that course and it was weighing you down. You did not want to sit a class with second year students. I listened on as you told me how pathetic you feel around me at times. You said I was too perfect for you. It was humiliating for you to be dating me, yet you wanted to be better. You asked me if I wanted you to quit drinking. I told you I did not. You probed and I told you why. I told you that night that if you wanted to quit it had be your own initiative. I told you that if you quit because of me, it would only be a break from alcohol. I saw the way you held that brown bottle. I heard the way you talked about a bottle of beer. You gave it more life than your own life Yellow, what right did I have to ask you to quit? I never did ask you to quit. I shall never do so because if there’s one thing I value in life is free will. So Yellow, you can drink as much beer as you want. You can go ahead and work for the East African Breweries company and indulge as much as you can. You can caress that cold bottle of beer all night and I shall still appreciate you as much.

I loved talking to you that night-because for once-you shed off that macho look and confessed your problem. It was sad that I was the one you thought was not meant for you. Yellow, if you love someone-why would you tell them that they do not deserve you? I chose to be with you, because I saw something good in you, who were you to tell me otherwise?

You never called me again. By such a time, I had learned to live my life as though you did not exist. On Facebook-I had maintained that I was in a relationship. It was not with you, but with myself. Thank you Yellow for never communicating for you gave me enough time to discover and love myself more.

I could sense that our relationship was futile. I was not however prepared for what was to come that December. You told me then that you had distanced yourself from me because your ex-girlfriend was pregnant with child. She was expecting your baby. I did the Math and it did not add up to my advantage. She had the child while we were dating. You knew she was pregnant while we were dating and never divulged that information. I smiled then and you were relieved. You expected me to throw a tantrum and insult you. I wondered how calm I was and when I look back on it I feel stupid. I feel stupid because I should have walked away without a word and shut you out of my life! I could have achieved much more by doing that. I sat there and listened to you.

I told you we would take a break and you would tend to your baby. I wondered how shallow you could be not to use a contraceptive while having sex. I looked at you and knew why-you were always impatient! My heart went out to the girl who had to walk around with a swollen belly for nine months. She had to deal with lactation and I pitied her. You thanked me for being so calm about it. I told you it was okay-you were stupid but you had to take care of it. You wondered what would happen to us. In fact you asked me “why should I suffer for one mistake?”

I almost yelled, “Mistake? Mistake? Do you call making a baby a mistake?”

You smiled then and said you were referring to our relationship. I asked you whether you had given us a second thought as you were in bed with her. You kept your folly to yourself and I was relieved. I never told a soul about your betrayal. I never shed a tear about it. I felt relieved that we could take a break. I was better than you, not because I was naturally good, but because I made it my priority. I set on giving things my best shot and being good to others. I lived by the Golden rule: Do unto others what you expect them to do unto you.

Yellow, if you knew you had Heaven, why would you opt for hell? Did you want to endure pain so much that in your quest for that you killed me? The following semester I found myself in the company of girls who complained about their guys. They cried about how much they were hurt. They hated them now and loved them the next second. Some had been cheated on with their best friends, yet they clung to these guys. They often asked me what I knew of heart breaks. I acted a fool, because I had no answers. They talked about having sex with their guys as being their downfall. They said they became emotionally attached to the guys. I listened to them and learnt from their pain. Some cried over a break-up for so long you’d think they were grieving. I kicked out some of them because my room had been filled with such sorrow. My ears were tired of taking in sorrow and pain.

I made so many new friends that semester. It was your Father who kept in touch. He would ask me about you and what you were doing. I would tell him that you were busy with studies in school. I lied during those times thinking the old man needed some peace of mind. It never hit me that I was lying to myself too. You were buying diapers and taking your son out during the weekends. You were a Father at twenty two. I hated thinking of you like that. I hated the fact that you lied to me to keep my love in check. So, there I was lying in bed one Saturday afternoon when your call came through. I stared at my phone with such disgust my room-mate thought it was some stalker calling me. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID then laughed. She begged me to pick up your call, but I refused. I hated you so much I could strangle you.

You called thrice that afternoon. I never received any of your calls and you must have given up.

We did not talk for a year, and when we met the next time-you still had hopes of getting back together with me. I wondered what was more important to you-intimacy or an understanding between us. I would sit down and think of how much money you spent on a night out drinking. I wondered how much you thought of me. Yellow; let us talk about your baby momma. Why did you sleep with Melanie? Why did you simply sleep with her only to tell me a year later that it was a fling? I hated hearing that Yellow. You are reckless and that much I know, but to describe an affair with another beautiful girl as a fling was an insult! It was an insult because the girl in question now had to raise a baby-not only hers’ but yours’. You, who I thought was different, turned out to be as much a cheater like the boys on campus with sagging trousers!

I removed you from the pedestal I kept you and since then you have been beneath my feet!

Yellow, your account of Melanie’s pregnancy did not make sense. I have never heard a story with so many contradictions-it seemed more like a rumor to me. You said she had your baby and that you were the Father. You said that your family, which welcomed me knew of this. You said that your friends on campus knew I was your wife. They knew I was the Empress. I did talk to some of them but they denied it. They had never heard of Melanie, or your baby. I felt as though you were testing me. I felt as though you wanted an easy way out of the relationship because I couldn’t give in to your sexual advances. Even then I knew something was amiss.

A year later you tell me that she lied to you and the baby was not yours. You called me one night to confess that you still loved me and wanted me back. You apologized for having been a fool and swore never to do anything stupid again. I listened to you but felt disgusted. It must have been easy for you to break my heart and still come back begging.

You must have thought of the words to say to convince me otherwise. You must have spent the whole time talking to your friends, asking them for pointers, and then you called me. My family knows my weakness and strength lie in my ability to listen. I listened to you that night. You begged me for a second chance. I told you to forget about it. I had changed and gotten stronger.

I hate being a statistic Yellow. You made me one when you cheated on me. You went on to list me there when you came back begging. It is true I am the ideal wife and for this I can shout it on every roof top. I believe in respect and most of all honesty. You do not understand what respect is and every word that comes out of your mouth is not honest. You even use the word ‘love’ when it only suits you. You started asking what would happen to ‘us.’ I wonder why people create this ‘us.’ When you met me you fell in love with ‘me’ and I loved ‘you.’ So why is it that after dating for a while, the ‘us’ creeps in destroying who we are?

Every conversation became based on us. It was more like I had to please the invisible ‘us’ before pleasing you. I was caged in a relationship by ‘us’ some being so powerful yet nonexistent.

It was then that I hated myself. It was not the hate that could destroy me but one which made me reflect on life. I was still young and beautiful. I had so much love to give but not to campus guys. I wanted a man, one who knew what a commitment was. I had so many questions but I never told a soul. I never told the whole world how you did me wrong. It was our relationship and none of their business.

Why did you ever have a fling with your ex-girlfriend Yellow? Were you in dire need of sex that you forgot I loved you? You kept saying you loved me. I do not understand how love can lead you into the arms of another other than your beloved. I do not understand how love can create room for a fling, more so a child. I asked you to let me go and become my friend. We had been best friends before and so we stuck to that. There were days you’d text me and I would feel as though we were still dating. Do you remember what happened this holiday? You asked me out to lunch and I agreed to it. We had the best time; it was like the old times. I made you walk halfway across the town and you bickered like a toddler the whole way.  You could not understand how I loved walking. You also asked me why I love volunteering. I told you it was because I had so much to share with people. You laughed about this. Do you recall those two girls who were struggling to sit on a bicycle? You asked me to let them be, but I helped them sit on the bike and watched them go. I knew then that I wanted a daughter of my own. I turned to look at you and you were smiling. You knew it then-I knew it too, but like always you were the coward. You wanted a second chance and that lunch was to know your chances. There’s always been one Yellow in my life. It will always be you.

Yellow, so now though still miles away I talk to you. We share information about our day. You want us to continue where we left. I am seeking nothing but your friendship. You still love me and I am hurting you by distancing myself. Yellow, if you can think back to life in primary school-reflect on proverbs. There was one ‘once bitten, twice shy’ and that’s what happened to me. You did not think twice about me when you were sleeping with your ex-girlfriend. Like every two year old you were thinking of immediate gratification. You satisfied your need and killed my trust. I am a woman, bold and beautiful and intelligent. I forgave you for cheating on me. I forgave you because the thought of holding a grudge is enough to haunt me.

So do I still love you? Yes I do. Do I trust you? Not with every breath that you take. Do I want you in my life? Yes. Am I willing to give us a chance? I never asked for that us to creep into our relationship. What does all this mean then? You are free to have as much fun as you want. You can hit all the clubs in town and have numerous affairs. You can drink that beer as water for it hydrates your body. You can chew some of that miraa till dawn. You can look at every woman that passes before you. You can ask one out, and the other the next day-for who is to say that beauty cannot be appreciated? You are young, free and this is the only time you can enjoy your life. Yellow, I am setting you free. I am setting you free of a love that you know not. Am I being too harsh? I sure hope not. I sure hope that you read this letter when you are sober. I hope it’s at noon when you arise to an empty stomach and splitting headache.

I am setting you free because you promise but cannot keep your word. I am setting you free because I am done being a statistic. If you loved me Yellow, then the string of girls would have ceased when you learned you had a baby. My friend Grace, once said, ‘men are just dogs.’ I never agreed with her and I must confess I still don’t. Take a look at your life Yellow-all that liquor you consume, where will it be ten years to come? All the parties you attend instead of studying-where will they be then? You are gifted with understanding, but you waste it in the name of fun. You called me an introvert. You spat it out and laughed about it. I saw nothing but a waste in you then. I read, write and listen to music. I choose to sit in a corner all by myself at any party. I watch people as they make good or fools of themselves. I dance and I do hit the clubs for this. I walk in and leave when I’ve had enough. You couldn’t believe that no man accompanied me. Why should any do so?

Am I too old for my age? Woe unto me when I turn forty! I think I will be dressing half my age and hitting the clubs! Psychologists call it overcompensation! You asked me once what I loved about you, can you recall that night in a tuk tuk? The driver ignored the bumps as we shouted in the mini-taxi. You said you loved me because I made you aspire to be your best. I told you I loved you because I felt safe with you. Don’t you think you made a mistake by getting involved with someone like me? At times, Grace tells me to take you back to kindergarten. She doesn’t believe in second chances yet she has given her boyfriend more than ten. She often says they are soul-mates. I often know they have lots to deal with. I sat this afternoon to talk to you Yellow. On this paper is my heart laid bare. It is not to make you hate the world, but to continue living in it. I have my pride Yellow and it is stopping me from being a statistic. I will not be one of those girls who break up with a guy today and are back with him the next moment. I will not be the one to give second chances to people I trust not.

Isn’t it odd that the girl you had a fling with loves you?

Should I close my eyes and pretend that nothing exists when I can see it does?

Yellow, the boy whom you once viewed as yours doesn’t belong to you. You found out in the most cruel of ways and it has hampered your relationship. I felt sorry for you when you confessed this. You were heartbroken because it hit you that nothing could become of us. You had destroyed the best thing you had and there was no going back. You drank yourself to oblivion that night. You woke up to a test and workshop training. You woke up to greet the world that dealt you a blow. Here I am Yellow, tired and hoping that you would see some sense in all you do. It’s been over two decades yet you are still that boy who won’t raise his hand to speak his mind. You would rather sit back and watch as events unfold to your disadvantage.

Grace believes that you are no man. I believe that she is wrong to deem you that high. For being a man requires experience-you earn that position by being accountable, something I am glad to say you are not. So here I am writing this letter, so bitter yet full of love, I feel like it’s a teenage affair. My life has become an endless roller-coaster when it comes to you. When my friends ask me to start dating, I shrug. I do not want to get hurt. I know emotional pain is inevitable but I still hope to rid myself of you. You are my best friend Yellow. You are the one I talk to, who knows what writing means to me.

Your family, let’s talk about them. I love them dearly because they are beautiful people at heart. You have the kind of family that most people wish for but never find. They love and care for you, yet Yellow-sometimes you do them wrong. When your Father has sleepless nights because he cannot reach you for almost a month, does that make you proud?

When your brother says that he hasn’t talked to you in ages does that please you? They might not be perfect, but they are your family. You will marry someday and start your own family; don’t you think it’s best to learn from the one you’re in now? Yellow, I have known you for fifteen years. We have been good friends for almost all that time-but you have to get out of your shell. You have to stand up for something you believe in. The way you support Man-U is the way you ought to support yourself. Before doing so, you have to take time and ask yourself what it is you want in life and where your current actions will take you.

My friends insist that I am a tomboy. I wear my boyjeans and hoodies and converse. I walk to campus every day from my hostel. I always have a grey back pack on my back. They have never seen me in skirts or dresses and they swear I am missing out on male attention. Isn’t it odd that for someone so conservative I have very Americanized friends? They carry A-list bags to school and often use the ladies’ room to check their make-up. They strut in heels and often wonder why I don’t. Isn’t it weird that most guys on campus think I’ve lost it? I recall this guy-we call him ‘Swag’ because he always looks good. He came up to me in class and asked, ‘are you bent or something?’

I smiled at him and said, ‘no, I’m not gay. I just love boyjeans.’ He walked to the back and I heard the guys sigh with relief. When it was time for Mr. and Miss Campus, they were shocked to see me in a dress, heels and a clutch purse. Every other guy in our class stole a picture of me. Later on when I asked Swag why they did it-he laughed and said ‘so we can remind ourselves that you are still awesome beneath the boyjeans and hoodies.’ I laughed about it all the way home.

Yellow, you did me wrong. You did me wrong but out of your selfishness kept the truth from me. Now that you are free of the burden of Fatherhood-you have gone back to your reckless ways. Yellow with a drink in hand your sense of reason is gone. You have gone back to partying and doing things on a whim, what if you get another girl pregnant?

What if this time the child really is yours? What if Yellow-you lose touch with yourself-would that mean that I would forever be your counselor? Would I be the one to listen to your problems and help you see through them and solve them? Does that mean that my loyalty as a friend would see us talk more often about your shortcomings?

I am so mad I could slap the life out of you Yellow. I am mad because you know you are on the wrong and you still stay there. Why did you ever fall in love with me you poor soul?

Why did you ever opt for a girl who lives in a modern world but her conduct is so reserved? Why did you gain my trust only to destroy it by numerous flings behind my back? Why did you lie so many times? Why did I ever let you feed me a lie, even when I knew it to be so?

Someone told me to let go and move on. I wonder why people think that with emotions one can just pick up and go. I had invested time, love and understanding in that one year, so how am I to pick up and go?

I am so mad Yellow, not only at you but at myself. I am mad because I cannot stop thinking about you, how silly can a girl be? So, you asked me why I was never mad that day when you told me that you had a child and I smiled. Yellow, I am not like all the other girls you have dated. I do not believe in shouting at people. I do not believe in crying myself to sleep because of a heartbreak. I have been nurtured with some kind of pride-my delightful mother told me I had a fighting spirit. I am a fool not to have believed her. I knew something was amiss when you never communicated in three months. I also knew that whatever it was I had to deal with it. I had three months to prepare myself and when the day came, I was ready. I believed in you Yellow and maybe that is the one thing that is still linking us. I am a fixer.

Men hate fixers, don’t they? They want to to live and let live. They want a woman who will love them for who they are. Yellow, I am a fixer and I am proud of it. I believe that we are all fixers-for we expect the best of others, don’t we?

Your delightful when sober but irksome when drunk brother-once told me that his girlfriend cannot change him. She cannot tell him what to do. He is the man and she is a woman. I listened to the alcohol in him talk and controlled my urge to box him. You looked at him-in the same delirious state as him and smiled. You saw through my anger and it was then that I understood why I loved you.

The Bible says that ‘love is patient and kind’, am I really patient Yellow? You have known me all this time, you still love me-but am I patient? I know I am not love, but I am full of love. I wonder why you dare show the true you in bits. I can recall the fragments of them. My friends on campus, have a complete narration of how good their men are. I can sit down and hear them account for the times their men have shown them love. They can talk of being called, taken out to lunch, or accompanied to places-they lucky ones can talk to their boyfriends. I think of them and smile. I am happy when my friends are grateful for what they have. As for Yellow, it was bits and pieces. It was like I was dating two of you. I have heard of Mutiple Personality Disorders in movies and journals but never heard of any in Kenya. I would say you are the first case. You would smile and hug me like I was your world. The next minute you would switch back to your friends and leave me hanging. It was more like I was a convenient girl.

They knew I was your heart, but they didn’t know how you treated me. It was more like a thought. It was always a flash of affection. In a way I am grateful for this, because I do not believe in public display of affection. Yellow, I am not Beyonce so I won’t dare dream of being a boy even for just a day. I am not Rihanna too because I do not love the way you lie. I am me-the one you love, the one whose heart has become as cold as ice. The same one who gave you her heart and you squashed it.

I am the same girl who still listens to you in your time of need. I am the friend. I am always your friend Yellow-no matter how cruel you treated me, I still believe in you.

Now that is why I am proud of being a fixer. I would not demand that you change your ways. I would not chain you to your study desk on Thursday nights. I would not stop every retailer from selling you alcohol. I would not insist that you tell me the truth at all times. I would not demand that you remain faithful to me.

I would however ask that you love yourself. You should stop thinking of pleasing a crowd, or having fun-for the kind of fun you have doesn’t make you smile hours later. You need to look at your strengths Yellow and never let failure weigh you down. You are a wonderful person for you can love, and care-what you say is yours’ is protected, so stick to that. You need not get straight As in your courses, for it is a technical degree. It is bound to be mentally challenging. Be proud of who you are Yellow-and just not your ability to make a party come to life, but also your ability to sit back and reflect on a days’ events.

It’s been three days since you sent me a message on Facebook. You said that your phone was messed up and asked that we communicate via the same channel that killed our communication. I responded by wishing you well in your upcoming exams.

Yellow, at times when I sit down and think back on how we started going out my heart grows weary. In life, we have nothing but memories. We may make all the money or travel everywhere, but we can’t recall how we felt at any given moment then we have nothing.

I still remember that first kiss, just outside our door. It was at 5:00am, and all my siblings were asleep. My parents were not home that week-and I could go out. It was the feeling of being your arms that made me linger a little longer. It was so beautiful Yellow, how much a kiss can tell. It was genuine love then. It was the best moment of that night. What happened to that honesty? Where did it ever go? My friend and your arch enemy Grace, believes it was because  refused to give up ‘the goods.’ Is it so?

Is it because of my desire to withhold sex for a perfect moment that made you distance yourself? Is it because of that, that you had a fling with Melanie resulting in a child who would later not be yours? Or was it a story that you made up to test me? I could read through some lies-it’s like you were making up the story as you went. It was so unreal that all I could do was smile. I smiled because I had expected it. I knew so much about you Yellow. I also knew how messed up you were and how reluctant you were to change this. If you can connect a circuit and fix electrodes to some block of wood and produce electricity, why can’t you fix your life Yellow? Why must you look up to me to do that? Yellow, why must I be the example? It all goes back to your belief Yellow. You are capable of so much if only you can set your mind to it. So, think back to primary school, what were your dreams?

Think back to how you loved life and people. Think back to how you talked of being a better man than your Father and do so. Think that to those days and just get up and do it. Get up and get moving for you are not a clock to be wound, you are my Yellow. You are the one who radiates such joy, so do the same to yourself. I have been writing this letter, and forgetting that you do not read much. Forgive me for making it so long.

I however believe that if you can flip through issues of magazines with nude women-you can surely read one sentence a day. I want you to read this letter and simply let me go.

Isn’t it funny that your arch enemny is the very same person who is advocating for you now? She insists that I should give you a chance, and that all men cheat. It is simply a statement I will not accept.

I will not accept to be the object of affection and not that of commitment and respect. For you can love so many women-Lord knows you were created to do that, but to lie with another and expect to hold me in the same hands is the greatest act of betrayal. I am an old soul Yellwo,why did you ever fall in love with me? You are not ready for my love and esteem. You are ready for flings, chips funga (one night stands), booze, clubbing, and mwaks (cheating slips). You love me and that much I cannot deny. You love me because you know what it means to lose me.

You trust in me. You know I am your future wife. You also know that with me by your side you will never fall. It is true Yellow, I would never do that. I would rather die than watch you fall. I would rather stop to lift you up, because the sun has never lost it’s brilliance. God! I love you Yellow. I love you so much that I constantly wish you the best. I constantly pray to God that all goes well with you wherever you are. I have been asking Him to help you move on, but how can He when you are not willing to? You are stuck in a moment and that’s not right. You are in love with a memory and not me. I am an original Yellow and cannot be loved as a copy. That is why you cannot lie with another girl and still expect me to take you back. In that moment of pleasure your desire was that girl and not me. Yellow, love also comes with pleasure and desire. It is true what the Bible says about love and also how it endures all, but it does not talk of lovers. I am full of love. I am also the one you betrayed and as such, there ain’t no pain as a betrayed lover’s pain. So, thou shall not expect me to be calm, and endure all.

You will be getting this letter sometime next week. I am betting you will be in class. You will walk into your dorm room and crash on the bed and let out a sigh. After ten minutes, your room-mate will walk in and do the same. You will greet him and then sit up on the bed. You will look at the time-and ask him, ‘kuna mpango?’ (is there a plan?)

He will tell you, ‘nichoree” (come up with one). You will call the other guys and soon you will be dressing. He will remind you that I had called to say I sent you an email. You will check it out and download the attachment. At this time, when you read the first sentence you will frown. You will scroll down to the last page-and read the last line then switch off the laptop. He will ask you what I said and you will brush it off. If you are hitting Sizzlers or the other club with good songs-the one just downtown, you will wear that smooth blue shirt you have. You will have your cologne on and the Nike shoes that I love. You will go out and sit at the table at the corner-so you can see the people walk in. You often look at the girls-first their boobs and then their butts. Some will smile at you and others will look around ignoring you. The ones who smile are openly inviting you for a chat and so you go after them. You invite them to your table for a few drinks in that deep sexy voice you have.

All this time I will be in my room reading a book or writing my encounters in my journal. You will have a laugh and enjoy your youth. I would be here thinking about you and what direction your life is taking. I will be asking myself why though I love you so much, I cannot take you back. I would be here, being lectured by Grace who knows what it means to endure because of lust. She would tell me I am stubborn and foolish. She believes that its’ best to get married to the man who loves you and not the man whom you love. She may be right or not, but at this time I shall not allow anyone to break my trust and get a second chance to do the same. Really? Yes, Yellow-you have not changed much since we dated, in fact I fear that you have sank lower. There is something in you-a reckless spirit. It was there before but now it has become more violent. You picked up Melanie in a club, and you have never stopped picking girls up. According to you, if a girl is willing to have fun and give up her goods, then why not? What phrase did you use? Yeah, it was ‘consenting adults.’ Yellow, she is consenting but not in a relationship. She does not call any man she loves the next morning and say ‘I love you.’ She knows what she is doing and that’s the reason why I have never been mad at Melanie. You were the one I was dating, not her. You were my boyfriend and not her. It was you that knew of my love and not her.

I love you Yellow, always have and always will. They say time heals the heart, but this time I would rather it didn’t. I shall not be a statistic and I shall not stick around hoping that you’ll turn into prince charming. I shall not long to be in your arms again as I was in December 18th 2008. I will however hope that you will lift your hand Yellow. I will hope that you will let go of that little boy who never raised his hand, and take a stand in your life. Then and only then

shall you fully claim your name, it is only then that you would be ‘Yellow.’

Be the sun love, be the radiance and not the gloom

Be the smile and not the frown,

Be the one who stands before the alcohol and doesn’t hide behind it

Be the one my heart yearns for and not the one who it shuns

Yellow, prove me right…prove me right, prove to me that indeed there is radiance, brilliance and sense in that guy who I see.

Prove to me that you are Yellow, till then

Your Friend,



Author: Faith Oneya

Lover of the written and spoken word.

5 thoughts on “Short Story: Dear Yellow Part II”

  1. I had to stop now and then to fight back the tears from flowing,coz i was travelling with friends, the similarites are painfully real in all aspects-May’s character and Yellow’,same to their predicament’. The emotions they evoke are so real and familiar. I dnt know if this is a fiction story,bt what i know is that i would want him to read it because it has spoken all i could ever want to say.

  2. quite a read this has been …its raw with emotion and sincerely written. it made me sad, strong, vulnarable, in love and hateful all at the same time ……yellow i do hope you read this letter not just the beggining and the end but the whole of it

  3. I love her work…every bit of it…a normal person can relate to that..its just plain magical

    1. I am glad that you did get to relate to May in one way or another and in writing the story all I could think of was how will this be? I wrote it because it had to be told and thank you all for taking the time to read it.

      1. Again, its hard to imagine that this is fiction. I hope that May read’s it too

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