Tragic Endings

She looked one more time to see if her outfit was on-point. She would have loved to wear the floor-length navy blue dress that her aunt had bought for her 25th birthday, but it showed too much of her shoulders. She was certain he would not like that. Instead, she settled for the "more modest" black dress that he bought for her for one celebration or another. Having received a text that he was waiting downstairs, she picked up her handbag, turned off the lights, and locked the door. She inhaled a deep breath before walking downstairs to the waiting car. She could not help but wonder what his complaint about her would be today. Who could possibly complain about her? Seeing her come down the stairs you would think she was a flawless angel who had descended from the heavens to brighten the world. The black dress, although it barely showed any of her golden skin, could not hide her African figure. She was after all a descendant of the Bangwato tribe and full figures were their specialty. He did not leave the car to meet her or open the door, but that was fine. She was a strong, independent, black woman who did not need a man to open her door. He barely received the kiss she planted on his lips. 

"I didn't bring my make-up kit and can't afford to have your lipstick on my lips," he joked. She smiled and responded, "Of course!" Then she silently put on her seatbelt before he went on his usual lecture about how seatbelts were not optional in his car. Silence. Awkward Silence? "You look good in your uniform," he said to break the silence. She was growing increasingly tired of his hurtful words and actions covered up as some form of humor or feedback. She was perhaps on the verge of rage, but she had to collect herself because he was kind enough to accompany her to the end of year office party that she was dreading. "Thank you. You look handsome yourself," she responded. "But I have not worn this suit since my college graduation," he said. "You know I have worn this dress to more events than I would like because it is the only one that seems to please you, " She thought to herself, but did not share her thoughts. The drive to the Radisson Blu hotel, in the center of Kigali, was uneventful. They spoke about the recent Easter bombings in Sri Lanka and a shooting in his hometown back in the United States. They debated about the difference between free speech and hate speech. As with most of their intellectual discussions, it ended with him driving his point without pausing to listen to hers. They rode in silence for the remainder of their drive. 

A photographer was hired to snap photos of all the dashing individuals and couples who showed up for the party. He asked that they should be photographed individually in addition to as a couple. She found that a bit puzzling but was not opposed to it. She was used to them taking photos together. He asked for the photos and posted one of himself alone to his Instagram with the caption, "Pretending to be a slave to the 9-to-5 life". She felt grateful not to be a part of these social media platforms. She was not even bothered by the caption, she was used to him making remarks to undermine her dedication to her career. It was as if being a successful entrepreneur made him infinitely better than her. They met up with two of her colleagues who had come with their long term boyfriends. She felt a bit insecure about the relatively shorter duration of their relationship in comparison. The three couples agreed to grab some drinks and some food before reuniting at a table in the back of the room. "Do you want to walk around and say hi to a few people, or maybe check out the dance floor?" she asked him. "I don't care, it's your event, you do whatever you want to do," he responded as he downed a cheese slider. "In that case, let's head back to the table to sit with the others," she was fed up. "Okay, let's get some drinks first," he said with some strange smile. She asked for a glass of wine and he mocked her for not picking a "grown-up" drink. She did not respond. She was over his never-ending critique of her actions. 

It was funny for her to watch her worlds collide: her hotshot boyfriend, her work friend Gladys, her work acquaintance Elizabeth, and their partners. This was the first time Gladys had finally met this stranger of a man she had heard so many good things about. She is a very private person and had not shared much beyond implying that he was an amazing boyfriend, so naturally Gladys was curious to learn about him. She sat back watching their interaction. She did not want to be there. She felt like an imposter. Both Elizabeth and Gladys thought they looked good together. She wondered if they could see that she was unhappy. Could they tell just how lonely she was in that moment? Of course not! They were enchanted by him. She was beginning to accept that this charming man has some very toxic traits. She recalled reading All About Love by Bell Hooks and how she had written about Romantic Terrorism. He was a romantic terrorist. He never cared to ask how she was doing, except absentmindedly when half answering her question of how he was doing because on days that he responds attentively he keeps the spotlight on himself the entire time. She looked at their conversation. He was telling them about how his startup was helping villagers in rural Sri Lanka have access to clean drinking water. Gladys' boyfriend had questions for him because he was thinking of joining a non-profit in Sri Lanka to work on a similar issue. She was glad that at least he was having fun, and enjoying the attention of her friends. She wondered if anyone noticed that she was especially quiet. Of course not!

It felt like the event would never end for her. The couples had returned to the photo booth to take more photos. Then they had had more drinks and visited the dance floor although the couple did not stay there for long. While dancing to Marc Anthony's Vivir Mi Vida he had criticized her underdeveloped salsa skills. In that moment she had collapsed under the weight of the inadequacy. She knew she would never be good enough for him no matter what she did. The drive back was awfully quiet. She tried to hold his hand and he took it away. "I do not like being distracted while I drive." "Of course!"

* * *

"Are you home?" he texted her. "Yes" "May I come over briefly?" "Would you like to join me for dinner?" "No, there is something I want to tell you." She knew it was over. Two nights ago after the event he had dropped her off, barely kissed her goodnight, and had not responded to any of her texts since. It was not even 5 minutes and he had arrived. There was no hug or kiss exchanged. Just two insincere greetings exchanged. "I know you value honesty and I am going to get straight to the point, I cannot imagine how I would have made it through the stress of securing the last round of funding for my start-up without you. You have been a great source of support and encouragement for me. I truly value you and everything you have done for me. But I realized that I value you as a friend and nothing more. I do not feel the chemistry between us anymore. I hope this won't be awkward and we can be friends," he paused and looked at her. She was curled up in the single-seater sofa in her living room without saying a single word. Silence. Awkward silence? "It is okay, I understand," she responded finally. He sighed with relief and said, "That is all, I will take my leave now." As he was about to leave, she asked him for a hug and he was generous enough to agree to hug her. She did not keep it long and he left.

* * *

In her tradition, 40 days after a death they split the property of the departed loved one. She decided she was going to treat this breakup like a death. So long before the sun rose on  the 40th day since the breakup, she built a fire and dumped into it every single piece of memory of him that remained. The journal full of vivid descriptions of their happier times, the other one filled with the tears of her heartbreak, and all the photos of them that they ever printed. You should have seen the smile on her face as she burned that black dress that he used to love when she wore. "I will never again wear some black dress because some weak-ass man cannot stand to share the shine with me in my other fire dresses!" She had said as she tossed the dress into the blaze. In that moment, all the feelings of inadequacy that had befriended her when she was with him were also burning in the fire. She was a strong, independent, black woman who did not need a man to be validated. She knew she was an angel who had descended from the heavens to brighten the world the same was as the sun that was beginning to rise. It was a new day!