(Short Story)

By Alem Hailu G/Kristos

Out of the blue, a cold sweat began coursing down Samson’s spinal cord when he caught the sight of a lady and a young girl presumably a mother and a daughter. They began approaching him directed by the pointing finger of the guard of the organization Samson works in. Sat on his office chair, Samson was talking with his coworker-turned– fiancée Sara who stood by his side.

Unconsciously, Samson sprang to his feet his eyes glued to the young girl. What the camera of his eye captured and his sub-conscience transported him two decades back on the timeline.

He and Sara were discussing the shortlist of invitees they could call for their wedding with the money they decided to jointly outlay.

“Fifty from your side, fifty from mine,” he swung his hand emphasizing the need to downsize the number of wedding invitees.

“Please, Samson all together I have to invite sixty people. I think we could afford it,” she put her arm on his shoulder affectionately.

“In that case let us make it 40 from my side and 60 from yours,” he moved his head on both sides to show a fair mix.

“Sorry Samson apart from my relatives, neighbors, close collogues, and friends from college want to attend the wedding which will remain a memorable occasion for me,”

“Things have changed especially after the inflation. We must not bend backward to throw a fantasy wedding putting our hard-won money on the altar of inflated pride,” he began striking out names from his shortlist, while Sara started adding names to her list.

“Yes, you are right. We need the money to ‘they lived happily ever after,’” she giggled; he followed suit.

“What made you surmise the marital vibe is like that?” he cast a passionate glance towards her.

“That is what people say!” she upheld the forked fingers of both arms.

“You must have taken that from Papa Tesfaye Sahelu, the one that used to tell tales to children in a TV show.”

“Of course, I grew up imbibing morals and ethics from Papa Tesfaye during my formative years.”

“Don’t you think marriage is a bitter-sweet thing?” he sarcastically smiled.

“You used a nice expression. Yes, it must be bittersweet.”

“In literature, such expression is called oxymoron. In a good marriage, the two ingredients are found in proper balance.”

“I read your mind. You mean the hardship of parenting and the pleasure of consensual intimacy.”

“Yes, you are right. Standing by each other side in punching away the hurdles life poses and in enjoying the flower it proffers also affords hidden satisfaction ‘We made it hurrah!’”

“Love birds must not jump into marriage simply expecting the bright side of marriage. They must learn in advance the presence of a shady area where it casts its shadows,” a dark cloud crossed her face.

“Yes, it has ups and downs, twists and turns.”

“It also has hairpin turns.”

“I remember reading marriage is an institution where partners’ integrity, selflessness, and faithfulness fall under a question mark,”

“Do not worry discussing once in a while we shall turn our marriage a hit,”

“Yes, we have to establish a genuine relationship.”

“Picture perfect marriage collapses when relations sour because of the follies of one of the partners or both of them. They must not drift apart, for they will stop clicking. That is why the pessimists say, ‘marriage is the tomb of love.’”

“Often relations sour when one of the partners begins to project his/her hidden habits after marital vows. The fickle one could resume somersault of love. That is why there is a need to take time to study a partner’s covert and overt behaviors.”

“It could not be gainsaid studying would-be spouse’s checkered past is essential.”

It was when Sara and Samson were eagerly talking about the blissful life ahead of them, a mother and her daughter approached them.”

Sara was a reserved and cool girl. More often than not, she was aloof.

A goofy man Samson was at a loss how to romantically address a member of the fair sex till he gets tipsy. He changed his timidity with a painstaking effort. And after it was too late, he endeared himself to Sara to make a sprint finish to break the ranks of the bachelor ones. The flattery of Samson’s unstinting attention and the compliments he baths her with swept Sara off her feet.

“It is with a pail full of beauty God showered you with... Is it the attire that lends glamor to you or you that afford beauty to the attire? Both long and short dresses befit you. Have you been on the front row when God was dispensing beauty?”

All his remarks sank in Sara’s mind and warmed her heart which soon got conquered by love.

“Unlike many guys you are calm, cool and collected. These virtues of yours attracted me very much.”

“Thank you!”

“The screen saver of my eyes,” he rubbed her cheeks with his arms.

This way despite the age gap between them they developed a friendship which conspicuously blossomed into a strange affectionate bond that augured well for marriage.

Soon after the lady and the young girl drew closer to Samson’s table, receiving a call from the bridesmaid about choosing the bridal dress for rent in a nearby shop, Sara went out of the office to answer the phone.

The young girl was a mirror image of her mother except that the wear and tear of the tyrant time had left its ugly mark on the face and elegance of the mother Rahel boasting a brown chocolate skin that matched that of her eyes and hair color. As brown is his favorite color Rahel magnetized him upon first sight two decades back. It was that selfsame face he beheld when seeing the young girl Rebecca in his office.

The strange surprise made him revert and reminiscence the recorded moment of happiness he lavished with Rahel, while he was on a field trip to Illubabor to make a TV report on the inauguration of a hospital made by a philanthropist.

That day, on a return trip, as he missed the car assigned to take them on a field tour he was forced to rent lodging at a small hotel on the outskirts of the city. After having dinner on time, he had to resort to alcohol. Goading the cashier Rahel to take whisky—triple shots—he gulped down bottles and bottles of beer and consummated it with whisky saying, ‘Beer after whisky is risky but whisky after beer is dear”. Rahel was laughing “Is that so? I didn’t know that. I like challenging customs. Let me check out things,” she took a bottle of beer. In the good old days, everything was less expensive.

A rain accompanied by a ferocious wind and also punctuated by lightning had made the night a terrible one. Rahel, who was intent on going home, had to willy-nilly accept his persuasion to stay the night in the Hotel. That turnout of events became a reason for the conception of Rebecca.

“Must Rebecca undergo a DNA test for paternity test? Does Samson have integrity?” were the questions Rahel tossing and turning in her head. She was on a roller-coaster of emotions.

Heading towards Rebecca kissing her on her cheeks “What is your name pretty?” he accorded her a warm smile.

“I go by Rebecca dad. Thank you!” she turned her face towards her mother.

Kissing the mother in a similar fashion Samson said “Rahel, why didn’t you tell me about my lovely daughter Rebecca all these years?”

At this moment Sara who returned back and heard about the unfolding angry stormed out throwing her wedding ring on the floor. Rolling all the way the ring fell by the leg of Samson. Indifferent to what happened the three continued talking.

“You did tell me you’re a TV journalist while we were watching a documentary you produced entitled ‘Wedding and the Ethiopian month Miazia.’ The show had a contagious effect. That day we were in a high mood. When I called ETV they told me you had resigned and left without a trace. They were not willing to give me any further information.”

“I see!”

“Rebecca is now a student at a private college. Her stepfather, engaged in modern farming, is a kind and responsible person. Financially we are well off. She has two brothers—twin boys—he and I were born. It is because Rebecca nagged me to death ‘Show me my biological father’ I came to Addis to conduct research to trace you down.”

“You did a nice thing. I will take charge of her college fees and help Rebecca get herself back on her feet. Now let us go to a nearby restaurant and celebrate. We shall talk about the past, deliberate how to face today, and address tomorrow,” he bent down and picked up the ring.

On their way out, when Sara saw them from afar, she made a U-turn and moved away picking pace.

“Is she your wife?”

“My fiancée!”

“I see. Is she disturbed by our visit?”

“I think so. We are to get married after three weeks. I have to undergo a peace brokering work.”

“I have to help you out!”

“Sure. But we have to wait until tomorrow as ‘anger unlike love fizzles out quickly.’”

On a sunny Sunday afternoon, celebrants of a wedding were displaying their traditional grooving styles in Samson’s parents’ house. They were vying to display the chirography of their dance is synchronized with the music. Among the pairs dancing on the make-shift stage, jubilant were Sara and Rahel as well as Samson and Rebeca.//