Taahira’s Story

Scarification is used as a form of initiation into adulthood, beauty and a sign of a village, tribe, and clan.

People stare at me because of the tribal marks on my face.  I wish I never had them.  I wish I knew what I looked like without them.  Before I left Nigeria, I asked my mother about them.  She said that she and my father were merely upholding traditional practices. I wished that I was born in 2012 when a law against such markings was introduced.  I told my parents that I hated the marks.  They are ugly not beautiful.

My mother got angry and said to me, “Those marks you hate so much helped some tribes avoid becoming slaves, because the slave-traders viewed faces without scars as a sign of good health, and so did not seize tribesmen with facial scars.  People without facial scars are descendants of slaves, immigrants or refugees.  Those marks help people to know which region you come from.  You should be proud not ashamed of them.  They are part of your heritage–of who you are.”

Nothing she nor my father said could convince me to accept their warped area of beauty.  After I graduated from school, I was happy to leave Abuja for London to study at Queen Mary University there.  I had a room in a Queen Mary hall of residence and I had no trouble making friends but I got tired of people asking me about the marks.  I explained to them that they weren’t accidental scars and that I wasn’t proud of them.  My parents marked me when I was a baby.  I couldn’t believe that they did that to me.  For a very long time, I was bitter about it and resented them.

Then, my life and how I felt about my marks and my parents changed.  It was when at the last minute, I decided to enroll in the English and History course and I’m happy I did.  Professor Ashworth was not only very handsome and the youngest I have seen so far but he was really nice.  I enjoyed his class and looked forward to going every week.  After class, I stayed and chatted with him for a while before I rushed off to my next class.

We never talked about my marks and he never stared at them like other people did which made me feel good.  He was seeing me not my marks.  One day, he asked me if I would meet him after school at Queen Victoria Park in front of the Queen’s Gate at five-thirty.  I said yes, of course and was so excited.  I couldn’t wait and at five-fifteen, I was waiting for him.  He came at exactly five-thirty.  We went for a walk.  I had never been to that park before although it wasn’t far from the university.  As we walked and talked, I didn’t worry about running into a student or faculty member.  And even if we did, we had nothing to feel guilty about.  We were just two people strolling in the park on a beautiful afternoon.

We stopped for a while and I leaned against the tree, facing the lake.  I could feel him watching me and I turned my head.  My heart skipped a beat when our eyes met. “Do you have a boyfriend, Taahira?” he asked.

I shook my head at once.  “No.  What guy would want to date me anyway?” I asked. “He’d take one look at my face and run.” I was speaking from experience.  Most of the guys on campus avoided me.

37f6b6a8-ffa9-478a-b7d2-3a80bf67446a“In front of me I see a lovely young woman with whom I would really like to be in a relationship,” he said, quietly.  And as if unable to resist, he reached out and touched my face.  “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening?”

I seemed to have trouble breathing and my heart was beating really fast.  “Yes,” I managed to say.

He smiled and his hand dropped to his side.  “I’ll pick you up where we met today.  Dinner will be at my country home.  Oxfordshire is beautiful at this time of the year.  Before dinner, I could show you around the grounds and then we could go for a walk to Winderton Village.”

“You live in Oxfordshire?”

“Yes.  It’s just less than a 90 minute drive to London.”

“Do you live there by yourself?”

“No, I have a live-in couple–a husband and wife.  He’s the head gardener and she’s the housekeeper.  Very nice people.  They have been with me for over ten years.  They are like family.”

My head was spinning.  I was going to have dinner with my English History professor.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was looking forward to visiting Oxfordshire because it was where Downton Abbey was filmed and George Clooney bought a house for his wife there.  “What time should I meet you at the gate?” I asked.

“At four.  Bring a pair of comfortable shoes with you for walking.  Do you have to go back to the university now or could we go somewhere and have something to eat?”

“No, I don’t have to go back to the university now.”

He straightened away from the tree.  “All right, I know this Italian place where they serve the best pasta.”  He reached for my hand and I let him hold it as I fell into step with him.  I was thrilled to be holding hands with him.  People looked at us but he didn’t seem to care and that made me feel good.

We went to the Italian place and enjoyed great food.  He took me back to the university campus.  I hardly slept a wink that night.  Saturday came and I was anxious for it to go quickly so that I could see him.  This time when I got to the park entrance he was waiting for me.  He smiled when he saw me.  “Good evening,” he said before he leaned over and kissed me on my right cheek where the big, ugly mark was.  When he drew back, our eyes met and what I saw in his, made my heart skip a beat. We held hands as we walked to his car.  Soon, we were on our way to Oxfordshire.  It was beautiful and very English.

My mouth dropped open when I saw the sprawling mansion and the immaculate grounds.  He obviously came from a wealthy family.  The front hall was enormous.  Everything was enormous.  The housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkins was a bit wary of me at first but she soon warmed up.  After he showed me around the mansion where a person could easily get lost, he took me around the grounds.  Thank goodness I was wearing a pair of runners.  There was so much to see.

As we headed over the rolling countryside towards Winderton Village, he told me more about his parents and his childhood here.  Like me, he was an only child.  His parents moved from London to here and when they died, the mansion, the land became his.  His father always expected him to follow in his footsteps become an MP but he opted to become an English and History professor at Queen Mary University instead.  I’m happy that he chose teaching over politics or we never would have met.  His mother used to be private secretary to a Duchess but left her position after she got married.  She was twenty years his father’s junior.

“Do you have a problem dating a man twice your age?” he asked me.

I shook my head.  “No.  Age isn’t important to me.”

He smiled and gently squeezed my hand which he had been holding since we left the grounds.  “I’m happy to hear that.”

Winderton was very picturesque.  It looked like a picture you would see on a postcard.  We passed by old farm buildings and visited the All Saints church which is at the center of the town.  It’s an Anglican Church although Roman Catholic services were also held there on Saturdays.  He must have arranged to have them open the doors for us because we were able to go inside.  The Nave and aisles faced north east.  It was a very modest looking church, not at all like the Catholic churches I have seen in photos or visited.  “Are you Anglican or Catholic?” I asked as we left and headed back to the mansion.  The sun was setting.  Winderton looked beautiful at sunset.

“I’m Anglican.  What about you?”

“I’m neither.  I’m still trying to find a church I could belong to, I guess.”

“They are having Carols ‘at the George’ in the Church at 7:30 pm on Tuesday, December 17th.  Would you be interested in coming?”

“Yes, I would be.”

“I’ll pick you up around 5 and we will have dinner at the mansion before coming over here.  Do you have any plans for Christmas?  Will you be spending it with your parents?”

I shook my head.  “No, I wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them.”

“Would you spend it and New Year’s with me?  I will take you home on New Year’s Day in the early evening.”

“Yes, Professor I would love to spend Christmas and New Year’s with you.”

“Taahira, now that we’re off the campus, I would like you to call me by my first name.  Do you know what it is?”

“Yes, I do.”

He stopped and turned to face me.  We were on the hill leading up to his estate.  “I’d like to hear you say it.”

“Piers.”

“Say it again…”

“Piers…”

His eyes darkened and he pulled me in his arms.  He kissed me and I felt a spark.  I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back.  I have never been kissed before and it was out of this world.  We stood there for several minutes exchanging passionate kisses and then, he raised his head, breathing heavily.  “We’d better stop,” he said breathlessly.

I was disappointed but I nodded in assent.  And lacing his fingers through mine, we headed for the mansion.

Dinner was amazing and afterwards, we went into the drawing-room where we spent the rest of the evening until it was time for him to take me home.  We officially started dating after that evening and by the end of January 2020, we were engaged.  I joined the Anglican Church.  In June, we had a small, intimate wedding.  Mrs. Jenkins was the matron of honor and Mr. Jenkins the best man.  We spent our honeymoon in romantic Tuscany.

My tribal marks don’t bother me anymore.  I have come to accept that they are and always will be a part of me.  I have forgiven my parents and am in touch with them.  I have informed them that their grandchildren will not be marked.  There comes a time in one’s life when they must break with some traditions.  I think that this tradition should be outlawed and I’m advocating for that through an organization other victims of tribal marks and I have found called, Scarred for Life.  The support has been tremendous and we are pushing for the Nigerian government to ban marking children in the name of culture.

This story is fiction but tribal markings are a reality in Nigeria.  There these tribal markings are given to young children  using hot knives laced with ash by a local tribal mark giver.  This is done for cultural reasons but Senator Dino Melaye feels this practice causes low self-esteem in the marked children and increases the risk of contracting HIV/AIDS because the sharp instruments used by the locales to inscribe the tribal marks were not sterilized.  He is pushing for Senate to criminalize the practice.  “These tribal marks have become emblems of disfiguration and have hindered many situations of life. Some have developed low self-esteem, they are most times treated with scorn and ridicule.”  Melaye was himself a victim of these markings.  His grandmother took him to get them while his father, who never wanted his children to have them, was away.

Although the tradition of tribal markings or scarification is dying, it should be outlawed.  The Nigerian government needs to put the rights of the children above this barbaric practice of preserving family identity.

Sources:  How Africa; NGO Insider; Face2Face Africa; Queen Mary University of London; Sher She GoesAll Saints Church Winderton; Queen Mary University of London; US News; Daily Post; France24

Ife Gets Jealous

1143538-800wHe was on the beach.  It was a beautiful afternoon.  The sun felt good on his face as he gazed out at the sea.  It was after 4.  In an hour he would see Ife.  Ife.  Right now he wished she were there with him.  They would walk along the water’s edge, holding hands before they went skinny dipping.  And then, instead of getting dressed and heading back to the hotel, they would make love right there in the sand.  His eyes darkened at the thought.

“Hello, Toshiro,” a pleasant voice said behind him.

Startled, he turned around.  It was Emma, the English woman who was staying at the hotel.  She had arrived last week and they had exchanged pleasantries.  Yesterday, she invited him to join her for breakfast and he accepted out of courtesy.  He smiled now.  “Hello, Emma.”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, you’re not disturbing.  You’re more than welcome to join me.”

She sat down beside him.  “It’s really quite beautiful here, isn’t it?  So peaceful.”

“Yes.  That’s why I come here every day.”

“I usually come in the mornings but this morning I couldn’t because I went on a tour to Lake Mburo National Park.”

“How did you like it?” thumb_286003_600_800_0_0_crop

“It was wonderful.  We were taken directly from the hotel and to the park for a boat safari, guided hike, and game drive.  We got to see the animals in three different ways and lunch was included.  I took so many photos.  As soon as I return to London, I’m going to post it to my blog.”

“Sounds like you had a great time.  I’ve never been on a tour even though I have been to Kampala many times.”

“Are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Business.” He explained to her that he was in the Sogo shosha which are Japanese companies that trade in a wide range of products and materials.  He didn’t mention that Sōgō shōsha were among the highest-paying employers in Japan.  “What about you?  What do you do?”

“I’m a Financial Director.  I get to develop and control the company’s annual operating budget to ensure that all financial targets are met and financial advice and guidance to the company’s managers and staff to enable them to achieve their objectives.”

“I can tell that you love what you do.”

She smiled.  “I do.  It’s a wonderful job.  I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

“My sister, Miko feels the same way about what she does.  She works for the Human Rights Organization.  Her specialty is Women’s Rights and she is very passionate about it.”

“Good for her.  The HRN has its hands full trying to eliminate domestic violence, human trafficking, honor killing of women, military rape, and other violent acts committed against women.  I’m thankful that there such organizations exist and am always interested in helping them in what ever way I can.”

Toshiro wondered what she would say if she knew about his arrangement with Ife.  How ironic it was that, for purely selfish reasons, the brother of a human rights advocate, should be exploiting one of the maids working at the hotel where he was a guest.  He got abruptly to his feet.  “I think we should be heading back to the hotel,” he said, glancing at his watch.  It was a quarter to five.  “I have a call to make.”

“All right.”  Emma stood up and followed him up the embankment.

Ife was on her way to the stairs to go up to fourth floor when she spotted Toshiro and the very pretty young English woman walk through the front entrance of the hotel, talking and laughing as they headed for the elevators.  She watched them jealously, making sure that they couldn’t see her.  When they got on the elevator and the doors closed behind them, she turned away, seething.  She was sorely tempted to go straight home instead of up to his suite.  No.  She couldn’t allow her jealousy to cost her her job.

Emma turned to Toshiro, her expression hopeful.  “Perhaps we could have dinner together this evening.”

He smiled apologetically.  “I’m afraid I have other plans.”

“A rain-check, perhaps?”

“I’m sorry, Emma, but I’m already in  relationship.”  When he said that he wasn’t thinking of his girlfriend, Asuka but of Ife.

“Well, whoever she is, she’s a very lucky woman.  It was a pleasure meeting and spending time with you, Toshiro.  Take care.”  She held out her hand.

He shook it.  “It was a pleasure meeting you and being in your company too, Emma.  Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”  She turned and stepped out of the elevator when it reached her floor.

Minutes later, Ife heard the elevator doors open and saw him exit.  He was alone.  Relieved but still miffed, she watched him as he let himself into the suite.  She waited until it was exactly five o’ clock before she walked down the hallway to number 406.

He was on the telephone when she let herself.  “Thank you,” he said before hanging up.  “I asked for a car to pick me up tomorrow morning for my meeting,” he explained.   He walked over to her and would have taken her in his arms but she brushed past him.  Frowning, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Herieth-Paul2Ife swung around to face him.  “I saw you and the English woman together.”

“I was on the beach and she joined me.”

“What did you do?”

“We talked and then it was time for us to head back here.”

“Is that all you did–talk?”

“Yes.”

“It’s obvious from the way she acted that she’s attracted to you.  What about you?  Are you attracted to her?”

Toshiro caught her by the shoulders.  “No, Ife, I’m not attracted to anyone but you,” he said.  “I think about you every minute of every day and I want you all the time.  You have no reason to be jealous of Emma or anyone else.  You’re the only one I want to be with.  Oh, Ife…” he groaned thickly before he began to kiss her passionately.

Ife’s jealousy went away and putting her arms around his neck, she eagerly responded to his kisses.  After they made love and showered, he ordered dinner which they had on the terrace.  By the time she left, it was almost eight o’ clock.

Miremba was with Mrs. Sato, their next door neighbor.  She always went there when her mother wasn’t there.  Ife didn’t like the idea of her being alone in the apartment.  And besides, Miremba and Mrs. Sato enjoyed each other’s company.  The older woman was teaching her how to speak and write Japanese.  “Mom, are you seeing someone?” she asked as they let themselves into their 1 bedroom studio apartment.

Ife glanced at her, startled.  “Why do you ask?”

“You used to come straight home after work but now you don’t come in until almost seven and you have this faraway look on your face as if you’re thinking about a special someone.  Who is he?  Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”

Ife closed and locked the front door before she replied, “This is just between us.  It’s the person who gave me the tickets to the ballet.”

“So, who is he?” Miremba asked.

“He’s a Japanese business man staying at the hotel.”

“He’s Japanese?  Wow.  Several weeks ago, I met Mrs. Sato’s grandson, Kento.  He’s really cute.  When he’s not visiting Mrs. Sato, we call or text each other.  He’s teaching me how to speak and write Japanese.”

“Make sure that you and he are never alone together.”

Yes, Mom.”

“Are you hungry?”

Miremba shook her head.  “No. I had chicken Teriyaki at Mrs. Sato’s.  It was delicious.  So, is it serious between you and this Japanese business guy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, Mom, I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with Dad but I’m sure he would want you to be happy even if it means being happy with this other guy.”

“What about you, Miremba?”

“I want you to be happy too.” She hugged her mother.

Ife hugged her back, her expression troubled. “Thanks, Baby,” she murmured.

 

Next up is Toshiro Goes to Bunga.

Sources:  Viator; Wikipedia; Human Rights Now Japan; Study in the UK; Institute of Directors

Love in the Open

wk-109-idyll


Armand and I are spending the afternoon in a beautiful French rural idyll. It’s nice not worrying about running into someone we know. We can hold hands in public, something we can’t do in London because none of our friends or family suspect that we’re involved. We’re forced to hide our love.

Armand and his wife, Etienne are separated.  I dated their son, Michel but I broke up with him after I met Armand.

“Happy?” Armand asks me now.

I nod. “Extremely.”

We kiss.

 

84 Words

Man with younger woman

This is for the Weekend Writing Prompt by Sammi Cox. For instructions, click Here.

Anna/Rift #writephoto

cracked
Photo by Sue Vincent

“Mama, I’m going for a walk.”

“But, my Dear, Mr. Foster shall be calling on you at precisely three o’ clock.”

Anna stared at her mother.  “Oh, I forgot that he was coming.”

“You would do well not to slight a man of Mr. Foster’s constitution.  I’m sure you’re not impervious to his singular affection for you.”

“No, I cannot say that I am.  I will admit that Mr. Foster is a very amiable man and I have enjoyed our conversations but I’m afraid that my affection for him is of a platonic nature.”

“My Dear, you would do well to remember that you have no beauty or fortune to recommend you to any man.  And so far Mr. Foster is the only gentleman who has shown any solicitude toward you.  Don’t let your fancy notions about love blind you to the fact that if you offend Mr. Foster in any way and he withdraws himself as your suitor, you will end up an old maid like your Aunt May.”

Anna took a deep breath.  She didn’t want to lose her temper.  “Mama, I’m going for a walk now,” she said.  “I can do with some fresh air.”

Her mother looked rather put out and she sniffed indignantly, her expression one of censure as she gazed upon her rebellious daughter.  It was Anna’s fault, really that there was a rift in their relationship.  She had always been a rebellious and unconventional child.  “If you want to go gallivanting about the place, by all means do so,” she said.  “Just make sure that you are here when Mr. Foster calls.  I will not have you embarrass your father and me.”

“I will be back before Mr. Foster comes, Mother.”  And after giving her mother a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, she left the room.

What a relief it was to be out of the house.  The temperature was mild–pleasant, though the sun wasn’t strangely absent.  She headed straight to her favorite spot–the clearing in the wood and the rock with the crack.  When she reached it, her face was flushed but she felt invigorated.  She sat down on the rock and removed her bonnet.  She smoothed her fingers over the golden wisps of her that brushed against her forehead.  She could remain there all afternoon but she had to return to the house before Mr. Foster got there.  Drat.

Why did Mr. Foster have to show such a marked preference for her company when he could easily have shown the same to other young ladies, like her cousin, Charlotte, for example.  Charlotte seemed like a better suited companion for him than she was.  And as her mother liked to remind her, Charlotte was very sweet girl with such an agreeable disposition.

“Why can’t you be more like your cousin?” was her mother’s constant query. As fond as she was of Charlotte, there were times when she found her wanting, not to mention boring.  No, she would never be like dear sweet and irreproachable Charlotte and that suited her well.

After spending a long time there, enjoying the solitude and nature, she reluctantly quit the place and returned home.  Slowly, she entered the foyer, removed her bonnet and made her way to the sitting-room where she would receive her visitor.  Upon entering the room, she was surprised to see a strange gentleman standing there beside her mother who was sitting on the sofa.  “Anna, my Dear, this is Mr. Abbotsford, Mr. Foster’s nephew.”

Mr. Abbotsford bowed and Anna curtsied.  “Miss Fairley.  I’m here on my uncle’s behalf.  Regrettably, he has been called away on urgent business in London and has bestowed upon me the important task of conveying his deepest regret that he’s unable to keep his appointment with you.  I asked me to offer you his profound apologies.”

Before Anna could reply, her mother spoke up.  “Mr. Abbotsford, please inform your uncle that although his absence is of a considerable disappointment for my daughter, that she understands his predicament and that upon his return, she will be more than happy to receive him whenever he is able to facilitate another visit.”

Mr. Abbotsford bowed.  “I shall inform my uncle of your disappointment, understanding and eagerness to see him.”  His gaze shifted back to Anna.

Anna met his stare squarely.  He wasn’t at all like his uncle.  He was tall with very striking features.  His black hair framed a very handsome and tanned face.  It was slightly long and brushed against the crisp white collar of his shirt.  He looked and had the manners of a gentleman.  He looked to be six and twenty.  She wondered what his occupation was and why Mr. Foster never spoke of him.

Mrs. Fairley cleared her throat.  “Mr. Abbotsford, if you have no pressing business to take you away, perhaps you can stay for tea?”

“I would be delighted,” he replied.

“Very well.  I shall ring for tea.  Please be seated, Mr. Abbotsford.  Sit there by the fireplace.  Anna, come and sit beside me.”

Anna dutifully went and sat beside her mother.  After arranging her dress and making herself comfortable, she looked over to where Mr. Abbotsford was.  Again she wondered why Mr. Foster had never spoken of him nor introduced him.  Perhaps, it had to do with the fact that he was young and very handsome.  And perhaps, if Mr. Foster were privy to the thoughts that which occupied her mind as she studied his nephew, he would never have enlisted his help to bring her news of the urgent business which had spirited him away this afternoon, preventing him from being at her side now.

As she sipped her tea and listened attentively to the conversation between her mother and their visitor, she hoped that she would see him again.  Surely, Mr. Foster won’t object to her family getting better acquainted with his nephew.  Perhaps, she could persuade her mother to invite him for dinner.  There was no telling how long Mr. Foster would be in London.

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Rift at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

The Newlyweds

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Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

They were on their way to Venice for their honeymoon.  She was bursting with excitement.  Before today, she had never been anywhere outside of London.  As they walked through the station and up the stairs to the platform, her eyes danced with excitement.  The porter followed them with the luggage.  As they stood on the platform, waiting for the train, other passengers observed them with great interest.  They were not your typical married couple.  He was a middle-aged man with streaks of grey in his dark brown hair and she looked young enough to be his daughter.  Women shook their heads in disgust and the men were positively green with envy.

Ignoring them, the man put his arm around his young wife’s shoulders as they waited for the train.  He didn’t care what they thought.  He had been given a second chance at happiness. What did age matter?  So what if she was younger than his eldest daughter?  After losing Barbara, he never imagined that he would ever fall in love again.  He hadn’t planned on falling in love with someone so young but the fact was, she made him happy and that was what really mattered, wasn’t it?

 

199 Words

This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.  To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Remington/Fragrant #writephoto

rose-garden

It was a beautiful summer day.  The roses were in full bloom.  Their sweet fragrance filled the air.  Blue lavender added more color to the lush garden.  Mrs. Middleton was throwing one of her extravagant Garden parties.  Guests milled about, chattering and admiring the rows of flowers which lined each pathway.  She stood by the weeping rose which stood where the four pathways intersected.  Everyone was there by invitation only.  For her part, she was there because she worked for Emma Middleton, the hostess’s eldest daughter.  Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Emma for a while now.  Sighing, she was starting down the path which led to the pond when she heard her named called.  She turned around.  It was Emma hurrying towards her.

“Oh, there you are,” Emma exclaimed.  “I’d been wondering where you had gone off to.  Come, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”  She grabbed her hand and hustled her over to where a tall, well-built man stood talking to a group of people.  Emma drew him away from them.  “Remington, I’d like you to meet Talisa, my assistant.”

Remington looked at Talisa.  His amber eyes studied her.  He was blown away by her eyes which were slightly slanted and the most striking features of her face.  She wasn’t a beautiful girl but she was stunning.  She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties.  Her hair was pulled back in a hairdo which didn’t quite suit her.  It seemed rather severe but the dress she wore was very flattering to her figure and her complexion.  He held out his hand.  “A pleasure to meet you, Talisa.”

She smiled as they shook hands.  “Likewise.”

Emma tucked her arm in his.  “How’s my favorite cousin?” she asked.

“Busy.  I just got back from Singapore.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Business.”

“Hmmm.  Well, I’ll leave you to tell Talisa all about it.  Excuse me.”  And she was gone.

Remington and Talisa stood there for awkward minutes and then, he smiling apologetically, said, “You’re not obligated to hear about my trip to Singapore, you know.”

“Actually, I would like to hear about it,” she said.  He was extremely good-looking with his dark hair and amber eyes.  He looked elegant in a white silk shirt which accentuated his olive complexion and navy blue trousers.  She realized that she was staring and looked away.  “Was it your first trip to Singapore?”

“Yes, it was.”

“And how did you find it?”

“Pleasant.  The Singaporeans are generally very open but it’s best to avoid topics like religion, racial issues and politics.”

“What did you think of the women?  I read somewhere that they are ranked the 4th most beautiful in the world.”

“The ones I saw were attractive, pretty and beautiful but as far as them being the 4th most beautiful women in the world, I don’t know if I agree.”

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to put you on a spot.”

“You didn’t.  Where are you from originally, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Luanda, Angola.  I came after high-school and came here as an international student.  I studied at the University of Brighton and after I graduated, I moved to London after applying for and getting the job with Emma.”

“How do you like working with my dear cousin?”

She smiled.  “I like it very much.  She’s a great boss and friend.”

Remington was about to ask her something when a woman’s voice exclaimed in delight, “Remy, darling!”  They both turned to see a vivacious blonde with outstretched arms and a big smile on her face.  She brushed past Talisa as if she weren’t there and wrapped her tanned arms around Remington’s neck.  The hug lasted for a few minutes and then she drew back to look up at him.  “You’re back from your trip.  Welcome back from the world’s priciest city.”

“Thank you, Evie–”

“Are you free this evening?  Please say yes.”

“Well, I am free but–”

“Good.  There’s this new Italian restaurant I’ve been dying to go to.  I have a friend of a friend who knows the manager and she could get us reservations this evening.”

“Fine.  Evie, allow me to introduce you to Talisa.”

It was the first time Evie even acknowledged that someone else was there.  Her green eyes swept over Talisa.  There was disdain in them.  Without offering her hand, she said rather grudgingly, “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Remy darling, I’m starving.  Let’s go and see what there is to eat.”  She clutched his arm possessively as she said to Talisa, “Excuse us.”

“It was nice talking to you, Talisa,” was all he managed to say before he was hustled away.

Talisa watched him go, crestfallen.

 

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Sources:  Denmark in Singapore;

Turned Upside Down/Hidden #writephoto

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Samuel Villan stood on the rocks, looking at the stream winding its way in at an unhurried pace.  This was his favorite place.  It was where he came when he wanted to think, to clear his mind and to forget…

Life had been fairly quiet and uneventful for him since Julia died.  It had been twenty years since she passed away.  They never had any children.  When, her older sister died from complications after giving birth to her son, Julia and he adopted him.  His father had been killed in the line of duty.  He was a police officer.

After Julia died, he and her nephew became close.  It was nice having him around during those tough times but now he was gone.  He had moved to London where he was living and working.  During the holidays, he would visit and they would go for long walks or sit by the fireplace and talk.  Sometimes, they played Chess.

Yes, life was relatively simple, some even, say it was dull but it was how he liked it–no stress, no complications.  That was until, she came and turned his world upside down.

It all began last year Christmas when he was expecting Colin to visit as he usually did.  This time, however, he didn’t come alone.  He brought a Nigerian girl he worked with.  The moment Samuel laid his eyes on her, he knew that he was in danger of falling in love with her.  She was stunning with eyes that were large and framed by long lashes.  Her skin was smooth and flawless.  Her hair was cut short like a boy’s but it flattered her.  Her neck was long and slender.  She moved with such grace and had a pleasant voice.  She was vivacious and the entire house seemed to come alive when she was there.  He could tell that she liked him.  She was always seeking him out and seemed to enjoy his company.  While Colin was out walking the dogs, she would remain at the manor and sit in the drawing-room with him.  He taught her how to play Chess.

One afternoon when they were alone in the drawing-room, he got up from the chair in front of the fireplace and went over to the window to look out.  She joined him.  They stood there for a while, not saying anything but were acutely aware of each other.  “Do you get lonely being here by yourself?” she asked, staring straight ahead.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Would be it presumptuous of me to ask if I can visit you sometimes?”

He looked at her then.  “Do you want to?”

She looked at him and nodded.  “Yes.”

She was staring at him so intently that he felt his face grow hot.  He stood there, not knowing what to do or say.  He wanted her to visit him as often as she could but was afraid of what would happen if she did.  She ignited in him an unquenchable fire and filled him with a fierce hunger.  He never imagined that he would ever feel this way about a girl half his age.  “What about Colin?” he finally asked.  “Wouldn’t he mind you coming to see me?”

“Why would he?”

“Aren’t you and he…?”

She shook her head.  “No.  We’re just friends.”

“I thought you were his girlfriend.”

“No, I’m single–like you.”

“I’m a widower.”

“We’re both single.  We’re not seeing other people so what’s preventing us from seeing each other?”

He blinked.  He wasn’t used to such forthrightness.  It thrilled him.  It also scared him.  “Are you always this direct?”

“Sometimes.  I like you, Samuel and I know that you like me.  I think we should give us a try.”

He swallowed hard when she moved closer.  “I would like that very much,” he muttered.

She was standing right in front of him now and reaching up, she kissed him on the lips. “You’re standing under the mistletoe,” she said when she drew back.  They were both breathing heavily.

He reached for her and kissed her with all the passion that consumed him.  Their moment was interrupted several minutes later by the sound of barking and Colin’s voice.  That night, they continued where they left off when he went to her room.

He ran his fingers through his hair now as he stood there by the stream.  For twenty years, he had lived a life of solitude, interrupted by Colin’s yearly visits but now, here, he was, the happiest he had ever been.  Yes, life was exciting and wonderful now that she was in it.  He turned now as she joined him.  He smiled and putting his arm around her shoulder, he drew her to him.  She slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head against him.  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

She placed her hand on her swollen stomach.  “Extremely happy,” she replied.  In seven months, they were going to have their first child.

Sometimes, when you least expect it, love comes along and turns your world upside down – Notes to Women

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Hidden at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.