Choose Me

by Hannah Njung'e

I sat at the cafe waiting, I was waiting for him, my lover. In the first hour, I didn't order anything, I wanted for us to eat together. So I waited. But the wait staff asked me to order or leave. So at the second hour I did order. I took a simple cup of coffee. I wanted to eat with him so I didn't order anything heavy. At the third hour, a waitress asked me what she could get me. The restaurant was getting packed, and if I didn't order, then I should leave. I didn't want him to come and find me or our spot gone. So I got myself a meal. A simple one. I still wanted to share a meal with him. And I waited. In the fourth hour, the staff seemed concerned. Wondered if I was lost. I told them I wasn't and ordered myself a dessert. Something light. I didn't want to disappoint him, and if I was full and couldn't eat with him, then I would. The fifth hour came and went--and the sixth, and the seventh, and the eighth. I called several times, and each time he said he was five minutes out. I believed him. Even with the evidence that he was not five minutes out, I believed him. Perhaps I didn't want to believe myself. Each hour I waited, I got tired. Each hour I waited, I got agitated. I lost interest. He finally made it in. It was perhaps in the tenth hour or so. I don't know, I stopped counting. Stopped watching my clock. He told me about his day and how crazy it was. How he had made his money, how he had met people, how he had been offered opportunities and taken most, and how he had also eaten, and we should therefore get a light meal or drink and perhaps go for a walk. Somewhere serene. I don't even know if he apologized or not for being late but I remember being livid but also too tired to fight him. Whose choice had it been? When he was out there living his life, I was in here wasting mine. I had waited for a whole ten hours, afraid to disappoint him. I was just another stop in his busy day. I don’t even know if he apologized for being late.

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He waited for my answer. I let him.

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