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The Gold I cannot Have
*The the greatest tragedy is not death, it is: “not having what you crave to have especially when it is very close to you*
__________________________
Tears coursed down to my cheeks as I watched her speak boldly in her dazzling white. Everything moved with slow motion. She kept smiling, exposing her beautiful dimples which guided her smile. Our eyes met and held for a brief moment and then she withdrew hers immediately and continued what she was saying. This time, her boldness began to die slowly because it had just been distracted by the sight of me. I watched her blink repeatedly and I knew just then that she was fighting with her emotions just like I always fought with mine for her whenever I saw her on Sunday masses or some other church activities. As she blinked repeatedly, I already knew what was going on her mind. She wasn’t comfortable with my presence, I knew. I knew that she was asking me why I came for her to see me. I knew I shouldn’t have come, but how would I have explained it to Kimberly my wife that Sister Chukwuemeka Rosemary had been the love of my life before we painfully separated? How would I have explained it to Kimberly that I’ve never loved any woman, not even her, the way I love Rose? I shouldn’t dare to explain that because it sure would ruin my three years old marriage, break my children’s hearts and give Sister Rose a stigma, a dent that can never be erased in the Catholic sisterhood.
Our love life began when I was humiliated by a group of boys at the school field, because I didn’t know how to play volley ball game. The boys happened to be my game partners and they were so mischievous that they hit balls all over my body whenever I failed the game. They loved to remind me that I was a nobody that was adopted by a couple who were no more compatible simply because I was adopted; that I was completely a bad luck and my only source of dignity was my knowledge and my handsomeness. They were very mean to me and as they heaped their mean words on me, one of them called Mike; the worst among them gave me the most painful ball throw on my face that it landed me on the ground and I shrieked in pains.
A hand stretched to me. “Hey, can I help?” the owner offered. I was still in pains, I couldn’t see the person clearly because everything seemed blur.
“Yes” I managed to answer.
**
Few minutes later I woke up in the school clinic. The place was almost empty only a girl and two clinic staff were there. I could feel some pain in my forehead. I looked at the girl sitting at the bed side.
She gave me a beautiful smile. “How are you feeling now?”
“Fine, but…”
“Why are you here?”
“Yes, I thought I was at the field with some boys?”
“Yes, but you sustained a hit”
A teacher walked in into the room and examined me. “Can you remember any of those boy who did this to you?” she asked.
I tried to recollect, but the pain won’t give way. “No ma” I answered.
“Ma, I can” The girl interrupted. “It’s Jude and his friends” she added.
“What? Those boys again? This time I won’t spear them” the teacher said leaving angrily.
I stared at her. “Thanks”
She smiled in return. “You’re welcome. I am Rosemary, but you can call me Rose”
“I am…”
“I know you already” she smiled again.
***
Rose was the only one who came to my rescue. She helped in catching those mean boys. She was the one who took me to the school clinic where they treated my wounds. She was the only student that showed me kindness in Elite Secondary School, Enugu and that was why I opened up my whole heart for her. I told her everything about me when she asked me if what she had from those mean boys were true. I was set free from self pity when I discovered that Rose and I were even. We didn’t know our real parents. She was also adopted but the only difference was that her foster parents: Prof and Dr. Philips Chukwuemeka accepted her and loved her so much to provide everything for her while my own foster parents: Mr. and Mrs. Boniface didn’t come to agreement before bringing me to live with them as their own son and so, my foster mother always made life very difficult for me, unlike my foster father who was her exact opposite; who never failed to pay my school fees and treat me like I’m his biological child.
***
Things began to rephase when my foster father died and I was left in the wicked hands of my foster mother. She treated me like a slave and always made me want to leave the house. It was Rose who revived my life. It was she who fed me whenever I was hungry. It was she who paid my school fees from the huge amount of pocket money she received from her rich foster parents. It was Rose who made my life so beautiful. We began to share bond in our togetherness and we lit a candle light of love that never went dim because we understood each other very well and shared every moment of togetherness in happiness.
On her sixteenth birthday party, she introduced me to her parents as her boyfriend. I was eighteen years then and her parents accepted me but advised us to keep our relationship on a platonic level for we were both too young for erotic love. The night of her birthday party became the worst night of my life. She told me she was leaving for the United States of America after our final exams. Her foster parents wanted her to further her education there. She wept bitterly and she held her hand so tight as though she didn’t want to lose me. I wiped her tears, I told her that she would always be mine.
“I’ll come back for you when I finish my studies there. When I return, we will get married” she said softly to me and kissed me on my forehead. I brought out a golden bracelet which I made from a necklace which my foster father gave me on my twelfth birthday. “The day you lose this bracelet will be the day our relationship will come to an end”. I said softly and she smiled at me and promised me that she will never lose the bracelet.
***
Dr. Chukwuemeka was so nice to me. I visited her often to help her with her home chores. On one of my visits to their house six months after Rose left, I met Mrs. Francisca my foster mother foster mother’s best friend. I didn’t realize that she was also a friend to Dr. Chukwuemeka. Mrs. Francisca hated me as well as my foster mother and she would never want me to be happy. She often told my foster mother that I was the reason why she lost her husband in the cold hands of death, and she should never give me a chance of happiness. Fear gripped through me when I met her. I knew what that meant; that my relationship with Rose would be jeopardized once she told my foster mother. And so, what I feared most happened that evening, my foster mother got to see the gold bracelet on my wrist and she snatched it way from my wrist. Rivers of tears streamed down to my cheeks, as I immediately thought about Rose. My foster mother took me to Rose’s house and said worst things about me. she called me a “gold digger” and a that I came to reap where I did not sow. She called me a “murderer” and that I was responsible for the death of her husband, Mr. Boniface, my foster father. What she said about me drove me to tears. Tired to make Rose’s foster mother believe that I was innocent of what I’ve been accused of, but it was already too late. She believed what my foster mother told her and practically told me off. She told me that I would be a bad influence to her daughter. My whole world collapsed on me. Rose was my only happiness and now they have succeeded in separating us. I stopped receiving letters from Rose; I didn’t want to believe that they have convinced her to stay away from me. I presumed that her foster mother must have been getting rid of her letters for me so that I won’t get to read them. I continued to live like a slave in the hands of my foster mother that I craved to go back to the orphanage where they adopted me from but I was ignorant of the orphanage. My foster mother opened a restaurant and assigned me to run it with her. She deprived me of furthering my education after my WASSCE exams which I had taken with the help of Peter’s foster parents that was before I was told off.
Years later, I started to live on my own. I manage to secure a job as secretary in a private company. I was twenty-four years old and my heart still longed for Rose. It’s been six years since we met; since I stopped receiving her letters. I’ve visited her house but the gateman refused me entering because he was only taking instructions from Dr. Chukwuemeka. I craved to meet Rose; to meet the only person that had shown me love; the only person that iahd loved with all me hert, the only person that deserved my love. I prayed to meet her and when God finally answered my prayers, it was already too late for us. A week after my marriage to Kim, the source of my wealth. I met Rose at Enugu Shoprite. She had matured enough and she looked more beautiful. When I saw her and she turned to look at me in a great shock. After some minutes, we were already at a corner talking.
“My parents told me you were dead.” Rose dropped the bombshell on me and goose bumps ran all over my skin. It was a long story to tell her that and so we sat to talk in an eatery joint beside Shoprite. It was on this discussion that I discovered that she had been taken by God. I was her only love and when she heard that I was dead, she mourned me for so long before she heard the gospel from a Catholic priest. The gospel restored her broken heart and gave her a new life – a new life of Sisterhood. I remembered her gold bracelet; a souvenir that was supposed to keep our love. She was that gold and she was precious to me just like the gold bracelet in the hands of my foster mother. Rose was the gold I cannot have because she had been taken by God and I am married to Kim, my wife. There was no point remembering our past love, even if we felt our churning emotions in our bellies when we see each other, we also knew that we cannot have each other. We mustn’t come close because we have vows that we must never jeopardize – her sisterhood vows, and my marriage vows.
© Michaelspeaks
__________________________
Tears coursed down to my cheeks as I watched her speak boldly in her dazzling white. Everything moved with slow motion. She kept smiling, exposing her beautiful dimples which guided her smile. Our eyes met and held for a brief moment and then she withdrew hers immediately and continued what she was saying. This time, her boldness began to die slowly because it had just been distracted by the sight of me. I watched her blink repeatedly and I knew just then that she was fighting with her emotions just like I always fought with mine for her whenever I saw her on Sunday masses or some other church activities. As she blinked repeatedly, I already knew what was going on her mind. She wasn’t comfortable with my presence, I knew. I knew that she was asking me why I came for her to see me. I knew I shouldn’t have come, but how would I have explained it to Kimberly my wife that Sister Chukwuemeka Rosemary had been the love of my life before we painfully separated? How would I have explained it to Kimberly that I’ve never loved any woman, not even her, the way I love Rose? I shouldn’t dare to explain that because it sure would ruin my three years old marriage, break my children’s hearts and give Sister Rose a stigma, a dent that can never be erased in the Catholic sisterhood.
Our love life began when I was humiliated by a group of boys at the school field, because I didn’t know how to play volley ball game. The boys happened to be my game partners and they were so mischievous that they hit balls all over my body whenever I failed the game. They loved to remind me that I was a nobody that was adopted by a couple who were no more compatible simply because I was adopted; that I was completely a bad luck and my only source of dignity was my knowledge and my handsomeness. They were very mean to me and as they heaped their mean words on me, one of them called Mike; the worst among them gave me the most painful ball throw on my face that it landed me on the ground and I shrieked in pains.
A hand stretched to me. “Hey, can I help?” the owner offered. I was still in pains, I couldn’t see the person clearly because everything seemed blur.
“Yes” I managed to answer.
**
Few minutes later I woke up in the school clinic. The place was almost empty only a girl and two clinic staff were there. I could feel some pain in my forehead. I looked at the girl sitting at the bed side.
She gave me a beautiful smile. “How are you feeling now?”
“Fine, but…”
“Why are you here?”
“Yes, I thought I was at the field with some boys?”
“Yes, but you sustained a hit”
A teacher walked in into the room and examined me. “Can you remember any of those boy who did this to you?” she asked.
I tried to recollect, but the pain won’t give way. “No ma” I answered.
“Ma, I can” The girl interrupted. “It’s Jude and his friends” she added.
“What? Those boys again? This time I won’t spear them” the teacher said leaving angrily.
I stared at her. “Thanks”
She smiled in return. “You’re welcome. I am Rosemary, but you can call me Rose”
“I am…”
“I know you already” she smiled again.
***
Rose was the only one who came to my rescue. She helped in catching those mean boys. She was the one who took me to the school clinic where they treated my wounds. She was the only student that showed me kindness in Elite Secondary School, Enugu and that was why I opened up my whole heart for her. I told her everything about me when she asked me if what she had from those mean boys were true. I was set free from self pity when I discovered that Rose and I were even. We didn’t know our real parents. She was also adopted but the only difference was that her foster parents: Prof and Dr. Philips Chukwuemeka accepted her and loved her so much to provide everything for her while my own foster parents: Mr. and Mrs. Boniface didn’t come to agreement before bringing me to live with them as their own son and so, my foster mother always made life very difficult for me, unlike my foster father who was her exact opposite; who never failed to pay my school fees and treat me like I’m his biological child.
***
Things began to rephase when my foster father died and I was left in the wicked hands of my foster mother. She treated me like a slave and always made me want to leave the house. It was Rose who revived my life. It was she who fed me whenever I was hungry. It was she who paid my school fees from the huge amount of pocket money she received from her rich foster parents. It was Rose who made my life so beautiful. We began to share bond in our togetherness and we lit a candle light of love that never went dim because we understood each other very well and shared every moment of togetherness in happiness.
On her sixteenth birthday party, she introduced me to her parents as her boyfriend. I was eighteen years then and her parents accepted me but advised us to keep our relationship on a platonic level for we were both too young for erotic love. The night of her birthday party became the worst night of my life. She told me she was leaving for the United States of America after our final exams. Her foster parents wanted her to further her education there. She wept bitterly and she held her hand so tight as though she didn’t want to lose me. I wiped her tears, I told her that she would always be mine.
“I’ll come back for you when I finish my studies there. When I return, we will get married” she said softly to me and kissed me on my forehead. I brought out a golden bracelet which I made from a necklace which my foster father gave me on my twelfth birthday. “The day you lose this bracelet will be the day our relationship will come to an end”. I said softly and she smiled at me and promised me that she will never lose the bracelet.
***
Dr. Chukwuemeka was so nice to me. I visited her often to help her with her home chores. On one of my visits to their house six months after Rose left, I met Mrs. Francisca my foster mother foster mother’s best friend. I didn’t realize that she was also a friend to Dr. Chukwuemeka. Mrs. Francisca hated me as well as my foster mother and she would never want me to be happy. She often told my foster mother that I was the reason why she lost her husband in the cold hands of death, and she should never give me a chance of happiness. Fear gripped through me when I met her. I knew what that meant; that my relationship with Rose would be jeopardized once she told my foster mother. And so, what I feared most happened that evening, my foster mother got to see the gold bracelet on my wrist and she snatched it way from my wrist. Rivers of tears streamed down to my cheeks, as I immediately thought about Rose. My foster mother took me to Rose’s house and said worst things about me. she called me a “gold digger” and a that I came to reap where I did not sow. She called me a “murderer” and that I was responsible for the death of her husband, Mr. Boniface, my foster father. What she said about me drove me to tears. Tired to make Rose’s foster mother believe that I was innocent of what I’ve been accused of, but it was already too late. She believed what my foster mother told her and practically told me off. She told me that I would be a bad influence to her daughter. My whole world collapsed on me. Rose was my only happiness and now they have succeeded in separating us. I stopped receiving letters from Rose; I didn’t want to believe that they have convinced her to stay away from me. I presumed that her foster mother must have been getting rid of her letters for me so that I won’t get to read them. I continued to live like a slave in the hands of my foster mother that I craved to go back to the orphanage where they adopted me from but I was ignorant of the orphanage. My foster mother opened a restaurant and assigned me to run it with her. She deprived me of furthering my education after my WASSCE exams which I had taken with the help of Peter’s foster parents that was before I was told off.
Years later, I started to live on my own. I manage to secure a job as secretary in a private company. I was twenty-four years old and my heart still longed for Rose. It’s been six years since we met; since I stopped receiving her letters. I’ve visited her house but the gateman refused me entering because he was only taking instructions from Dr. Chukwuemeka. I craved to meet Rose; to meet the only person that had shown me love; the only person that iahd loved with all me hert, the only person that deserved my love. I prayed to meet her and when God finally answered my prayers, it was already too late for us. A week after my marriage to Kim, the source of my wealth. I met Rose at Enugu Shoprite. She had matured enough and she looked more beautiful. When I saw her and she turned to look at me in a great shock. After some minutes, we were already at a corner talking.
“My parents told me you were dead.” Rose dropped the bombshell on me and goose bumps ran all over my skin. It was a long story to tell her that and so we sat to talk in an eatery joint beside Shoprite. It was on this discussion that I discovered that she had been taken by God. I was her only love and when she heard that I was dead, she mourned me for so long before she heard the gospel from a Catholic priest. The gospel restored her broken heart and gave her a new life – a new life of Sisterhood. I remembered her gold bracelet; a souvenir that was supposed to keep our love. She was that gold and she was precious to me just like the gold bracelet in the hands of my foster mother. Rose was the gold I cannot have because she had been taken by God and I am married to Kim, my wife. There was no point remembering our past love, even if we felt our churning emotions in our bellies when we see each other, we also knew that we cannot have each other. We mustn’t come close because we have vows that we must never jeopardize – her sisterhood vows, and my marriage vows.
© Michaelspeaks
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