Love Hates…
AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN
LOVE HATES
A CHRISEFFE BLISS
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The Author
EPISODE 6
[wp_ad_camp_1]The three men urged Effe to sit with them at a late cafeteria they came across on their way to the Guest House.
They ordered coffee to go with the bagged food, and Effe enjoyed the food and the easy camaraderie very much, glad for a diversion that took her mind off the harrowing events of the night.
Almost an hour later, they left the cafeteria.
Effe scowled when they eventually got to the guest house and saw Fatima’s car parked in the lot. Evidently, Chris had brought her to his room here. Once again, she was shocked by the severe feeling of resentment that filled her heart by that fact.
She just could not understand what was happening to her.
She had a man in her life, a man she respected and loved in a clean way. Eight years ago, her life with Chris had been tumultuous and ended badly in a way, but she had no regrets.
She had done what needed to be done and for that she would never be sorry. In the process she had obviously hurt him in a rather bad way and made a monster out of him. But that was incidental, the spoils of war, an inevitable rippling effect that nobody had control over.
And now circumstances she could not control, a fate that took no prisoners, had slammed them together under really trying conditions, and she would have to live with the unpleasant circumstances for at least another day more.
“Everything alright?” Crankson asked suddenly. “You look disturbed.”
Effe forced out a smile.
“I’m alright, just a bit distracted,” she said quickly.
They crossed to the front desk where a tired-looking attendant handed over their keys. Effe looked at the tag on her key and then looked at the woman.
“Room six, please,” she said as she extended the key. “You gave me the wrong key. This is for room nine.”
The woman looked at her blankly and Mike Crankson smiled and spoke to her in Arabic. She shrugged and spoke rapidly, making Crankson smile and thank her, and then he looked at Effe.
“Seems Chris got your key by accident, Effe,” he said. “Obviously, he demanded for room six instead of nine…maybe he got confused.”
“What?” Effe said as she felt her anger soaring. “He took his whore to my room?”
“Ouch, Effe,” Wailer said disapprovingly and shook his head. “That girl is a star here, a very respectable singer!”
“But she has a boyfriend, and prefers to sleep around with married men!” Effe said, unable to control her resentment. “Which respectable woman does that?”
“That Tareq is a fool. He beats her, and wants to make her a third wife. Sensibly, she chose to have nothing more to do with him, but he just wouldn’t accept it,” Wailer said patiently.
“And so, Chris should risk his very life for her, whilst his poor wife waits for him at home feeling he is the perfect, wonderful husband?” Effe asked cuttingly. “Is it that you men don’t see anything wrong with a married man in an adulterous relationship even if he happens to be your friend?”
She saw the men exchanging troubled looks for a moment, and then Crankson took her arm.
“Relax, Effe,” he said gently. “You’ve known Chris, or used to know him. The man is an enigma, but a loveable one at that. He has a whole lot of emotions raging through him, and I’m quite sure that he would be able to sort himself out with time. We don’t support his womanizing way, of course, but we can’t obviously put a padlock on him, can we?”
“Sort himself out with time?” Effe asked with a sarcastic laugh. “He’s thirty-three or four years now, and he’s not a kid anymore! That’s how he has always been, a damn womanizer, and I’m not one to treat him with kid gloves. He can do whatever he wants, it is his life. But he should be careful he does not tread on the rights of other people. He took his lover to my room, Jesus!”
“Could be a genuine mistake, lady, because the figures six and nine might appear the same when viewed at different perspectives,” Wachipa said, his voice a little edgy. “You can use his room. It is just for a night.”
“I’m not using his room!” she cried hotly as he looked at them. “He can move to his own damn room.”
She moved angrily away from them and mounted the steps that led upstairs. She marched along the corridor to Room 6, the inscription both in English and Arabic, and threw open the door. Instinctively, she reached up and switched on the light, and there they were.
Chris and the Libyan girl were naked on the bed.
He was lying on his back and she was lying across his body with her amazing curves on display. When the lights came on, she squealed with a mixture of fear and surprise and slithered across Chris’ body to the other side of the bed, frantically drawing the cover clothes across her body as her angry eyes fixed on Effe with blatant dislike.
Fatima spoke rapidly in Arabic as Chris stood up calmly from the bed and walked toward Effe with dark eyes.
“Don’t you know how to knock, damn you?” he asked coldly.
Effe looked at him angrily, and at that very moment her hatred matched his own.
“For starters, this is my damn room, Chris!” she said hotly. “You see my bag over there? And that is my nightgown on the bed you just made love on, you bastard! Secondly, you should have the common sense to lock the door when you go into a damn hotel room with a woman! But let me pardon you on that because you were so much on heat that you probably started making love to her even before you entered the damn room!”
“Wow, how did you know that, Effe?” Chris asked with a derisive chuckle. “You’re absolutely right. I was dying to make love to the sweet delectable body of my habibati here. So, I made a mistake and took your key, great deal. Go and use my damn room!”
And at that moment she noticed for the very first time that he was actually naked, and he was an alarmingly handsome man with an incredible allure.
She forced herself to look him in the eye and not anywhere else.
“I don’t want your room, Chris,” she whispered fiercely. “I’ll wait outside. Take your slut and get the hell out of my room.”
His jaw clenched tightly and for a moment his hands balled into fists, but he remained where he was standing and returned her gaze with venom.
“We’re not moving, Effe,” he said coldly. “If you want to join in, you’re welcome. Take off your clothes and get over here and let me juice up that delectable body of yours! You look hungry standing there, and I can see you ogling my body. Seems to me you want a hot ride! Come on, get naked!”
Effe could not help it.
She slapped him across the face, driven by a fury and pain she could not control. But the moment her hand smacked hard across his cheek, she gasped at what she had done. She had never hit out at anyone in fury, ever, no matter how badly she was taunted.
But this man, this hateful, attractive man, was simply driving her out of her mind.
She sighed with absolute dejection and glared at him.
“I hate you so, Chris Bawa,” she said softly, and then she walked past him into the room.
The young girl held up her cloth tighter with a worried expression on her face as if she feared Effe might hit her.
Effe marched into the bathroom and took her bathing essentials and put them in the small carrier bag and then returned to the room again to find Chris Bawa lying on the bed trying to pull the cloth off Fatima, who was resisting as she cast worried looks at the bathroom door.
Effe sighed as her whole body shook with seething rage.
She threw open the wardrobe and gathered her things, thrusting them blindly into the bag. She hoisted the bag across her shoulder and marched furiously toward the door.
“Hey!” Chris called, and Effe turned around quickly with fury.
“What?” she snapped furiously.
Chris’ hand was now covering the girl’s naked breast and fondling her nipple, and he barely looked at Effe as he used his right foot to pick up Effe’s filmy nightdress and kicked it off the bed.
“You’re forgetting your nightie,” Chris said with a nasty smile. “Though I wonder if that’s a nightie. Looks like a bloody tent to me.”
Even the Fatima girl gasped at this insult, and tears stung Effe’s eyes as she looked at Chris Bawa.
“You beast!” she whispered with feeling. “You monster! I hate you!”
“I hate you more, Effe bloody Kedem!” he said, and indeed his face was now filled with blind fury and venomous hatred. “I wish the earth will open up and swallow you up! Get the fuck out of here!”
“Bastard!” Effe hissed, and then she turned and left the room in a huff.
She banged the door and stood in the corridor breathing hard, so much filled with fury that she felt like screaming.
The three men were waiting in the corridor.
She faced them with bitter tears in her eyes.
“I’m not using his room,” she said painfully.
Crankson, who had a backpack in his hand, smiled at her and extended his key to her.
“Take room seven,” he said gently. “I moved out. I’ll use Chris’ room.”
“Thank you, Mike,” Effe said, her voice sad now, and took the key.
She handed the room nine key to Crankson and without another word walked to room seven, entered and locked it behind her. She dropped her bag and walked to the bed, dropped down on it, and even though she tried hard to stop herself, her tears fell slowly.
His words could just not be drowned out, and echoed with relentless intensity in her brain. This was not the Chris she had known eight years ago. That Chris had been bad, yes, but he had not been intentionally cruel to her. He had always been civil and gentle to her. She had been in his arms, and known the sweetness of his gentleness.
But this man was a monster, a devil!
And he had accused her of doing this, of turning him into this beast.
And yes, Effe was just finding out that he had the ability to hurt her rather badly!
***
Effe woke up early after a really bad night.
The only good thing for her was the lukewarm shower she had. She changed into a pair of pink jeans, a lovely black and pink blouse and then put on a pair of flat-soled shoes.
She held her hair back with a black hairband and then packed up.
The telephone in the room rang shortly afterward, and she heard Mike Crankson telling her he ordered early breakfast for her because they would be leaving very early.
Not used to eating that early in the day, Effe declined and said she would take breakfast later.
She dropped the receiver and sat on the bed morosely waiting for them. She really did not feel the urge to eat, and wished above all else that they would get to Tunisia early. Yes, she simply could not wait to get rid of Chris Bawa once and for all.
It was time to accept the fact that he would continue to hate her for the part she had played in his life. There were some things in life that could not be changed no matter how much change was desired.
That was the way the cookie crumbled sometimes, and life should move on, and yes, her life would move on.
A gentle knock on her door woke her up from the morose trail of her thoughts. She walked to the door and opened it, and found the three men standing there, but there was no sign of Chris.
“Time to move, beautiful,” Crankson said with a smile.
“Okay,” Effe replied. “Please let me get my bag.”
Wachipa took her bag when she came out, and they all descended to the reception area and checked out.
They crossed the front courtyard to the huge space where the trucks were parked.
Chris Bawa, wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless jeans jacket with a white singlet underneath and dark-hued combats, cut an incredible figure indeed as he closed the bonnet of the truck and jumped agilely to the ground.
He took leather gloves from his pocket and proceeded put them on as his eyes looked at Effe coldly.
And at that very moment Effe felt her resentment returning, and she looked at him with colder eyes. He moved toward the driver’s seat without another look at her, and she stopped suddenly with a bitter feeling cutting through her heart.
Maybe she had expected a modicum of apology from him for his awful behaviour the night before, and his apparent air of indifference hurt her deeply indeed.
“Mike,” she called softly, causing the men to stop and look at her.
Even Chris turned around with his eyebrows slightly arched.
“Can I ride with you, Mike, please?” Effe asked softly. “I don’t think I want to sit in his truck.”
And she was even more bitterly hurt when Chris Bawa nodded and turned away.
“That is a good decision,” Chris said as he walked. “I really don’t give a fuck.”
Mike looked from her to Chris’ retreating back, and then he smiled at Effe gently.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Effe said. “It was a mistake coming along, but I had no other choice. I take it we would be in Senegal today?”
“Later in the afternoon, yes,” Wailer chipped in.
“Good for me,” Effe said. “I can’t stand the presence of that wicked bully another second.”
A few minutes later, they were on their way.
Mike Crankson was a superb companion, keeping up an easy conversation and pointing out some interesting spots along the road. He asked her only once if she would like to talk about what had happened between her and Chris to make him so hostile toward her, but Effe told him she was not ready to talk about that.
Like a true gentleman, he understood and did not mention it again.
Instead, he kept up a steady friendly banter that eventually brought smiles and laughter from her. They also kept up a constant flow on conversation with each other on the intercom, but Chris was mostly noncommittal.
And, much against her will, as much as she disliked it, Effe found herself missing him, as absurd as it sounded.
Perhaps, that was the one thing she remembered most about Chris from the previous time she had known him; their moments together had been characterized by frequent drives and sometimes aimless cruising where they had shared a lot of laughter and warm conversations.
Those times had started to creep up on her, and she had often been alarmed by the fact that she had been enjoying the company of Chris Bawa. She had only been able to keep her heart from being messed up by reminding herself of the monster that he actually had been.
Almost two hours later, as they approached the Tunisian border, they stopped at a rest stop along the road where Effe took breakfast of tea, salad sandwiches and poached eggs.
Later, buying a bottle of water at the counter, she watched as Chris sidled up to the bar and purchased a pack of St. Moritz cigarettes and afterward a full glass of alcoholic beverage was placed in front of him.
Chris pushed money across to the tender as he picked up the glass and drank the contents down straight.
Effe’s eyes opened wide with sudden horror.
The Chris she had known had abhorred alcohol and cigarettes.
Perhaps, that had been one of the few things she had admired about him. But here he was, drinking down alcohol and purchasing a pack of cigarettes.
She quickly paid for her drink and, much against her will, she moved toward him with a worried look on her face.
Chris Bawa had broken the cellophane seal on the pack of cigarettes, flipped the lid, and extracted one of the slim and elegant white cigarettes.
He looked at her coldly as he put it into his mouth and brought out a beautiful gold-plated lighter from his pocket. She reached out before she could stop herself and snatched the cigarette from his lips.
“You smoke and drink now, Chris Bawa?” she asked, unable to keep the shock from her voice.
He reached out his hand for the cigarette but she shook her head and took a step from him.
“I smoke, and I drink, and it is not in moderation,” he said calmly, but his eyes blazed cold fury at her. “Hand it over.”
“No, Chris!” she said with her face screwed up with passion. “Why? When did you start this dastardly behaviour of alcohol and nicotine?”
“About eight years ago,” he said coldly. “Actually, I think I drank my first full bottle of alcohol the night you witnessed against me in court. I guess you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out the rest of it.”
“Don’t dare blame this on me too!” Effe cried, stung by the bitterness in his voice, and instantly aware that her raised voice had attracted the attention of the others. “And stop accusing me of witnessing against you! I did no such thing, Chris, and you know it! Stop making me out to be what I am not!”
“You’re worse, you bloody bitch!” he almost shouted into her face, causing her to flinch, and then he turned away from her with disgust on his face.
“Chris, please,” she said and reached out instinctively to hold his arm, but he swivelled on her with an almost violent gesture and pushed her back roughly.
“Keep your damn hands away from me!” he hissed.
His push would have deposited Effe rather ungainly on the floor if a huge bearded man wearing a leather jacket and standing to one side of her, had not reached out to hold her steady.
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LOVE HATES :: A CHRISEFFE BLISS :: EPISODE 5
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