It was morning and the sun rays hit me hard on the face. I covered my face with my hand as I woke. The bed clock chimed, tick tock, 12:00 pm, Sunday 20 April.
“Oh damn!” I said, “I am late.”
Viola has asked me to come with her to church. After the sermon we were going to discuss the date for our marriage with the priest. I looked at my cell phone forty two missed calls from Viola. I was supposed to pick her up at 8am for church. I was cursing myself for such callousness.
I had no nerve to call Viola up, what would I say, “Honey, I am sorry I missed our date with the priest.”
My head ached from too many drinks yesterday. Suddenly someone was pounding my door. With each pounding my headache worsened. Oh God! Do I really have to guess who it was? I had done this third time; she will not forgive me, will she? I hesitated before opening the door. But when I did, it was a treat to sore eyes. Viola my mouth formed without any sound. She was in her best lemon yellow Sunday dress. Her face shiny and covered with her black curly hair. A small stream of sweat dribbled down her cheek. Her eyes covered with fashionable shades.
She did not say anything just marched inside his room, her heels clacking on my marble floor. I looked at my room through her eyes. Beer bottles were strewn everywhere. Whiskey in glasses and half eaten pizzas were lying on the floor. TV was loudly screaming something at both of us. She took the remote and shut it. “Oh my God.” I thought I said, but no it was Viola.
“Leslie” she turned removing her shades. Her eyes were green or grey I could not come to decide yet after four years of knowing her. They were full of fire and questions, and they held so much heat I backed two steps.
“Honey” I stammered, “I can …”
“No I don’t want any explanations. I am not stupid.” She glared when she thought I was going to say something. “No don’t utter a word. I am tired, Leslie. You promised you would come this time. You know what I think now. You don’t want to get married to me. You don’t love me anymore.” When I did not say anything, she continued, “You don’t even love God. You have no faith. I am just a mere human being, you can easily forget.”
She always brought God between us. I hated it. It was a sore point. What had me loving her have anything to do with God.
“I detest going to church. I don’t want to listen to anyone who thinks he can make good of me. Who is God? Have you seen him?” I paused, “No I don’t think so. What has all that got to do with whether I love u or want to get married to you?” I yelled.
She looked palled, taking few breaths she said, “Leslie, we love each other because God has blessed us. He is the one who brought us together. And before him I want us to bind ourselves for eternity. Don’t you want that?” she asked benignly.
That’s it I could not control myself, my anger. We had this discussion many times to wane.
“I don’t want that.” I blurted, “I don’t want anything from you or your God. I did everything possible to bring us together. There was no God; it was my and your desire to be together. And we are. But I am tired I don’t know, whether I want you anymore? Whether we even should be together?” Then I paused in my heightened speech. Like a devil had possessed me I said,
“I don’t know, whether I love you anymore.” I pressed my hands to my temple closing my eyes.
It would have been few seconds but when I looked up she was stunned. Tears brimmed her eyes, all the fire had died down replaced by melancholy.
“If that’s what you think, I will leave it to God now to decide whether we were made for each other. Goodbye Leslie.”
Not again I thought, yet God gets to decide that for her. I saw her walk swiftly out of my door, and my life.
I don’t know how long I had been kneeling at the altar of all Gods. I didn’t know whether he would listen to me, if he existed. But I believed in the power of her love, love of God. I went back up. Uncle was not there, I slowly went back in to see her. She looked angelic and such mystic powers she held. She was my God and I was losing her.
Months had passed since her accident. And as the doctor had said, “Recovery of consciousness is followed by post traumatic amnesia (PTA), when the person is alert and may be able to converse normally but has lost continuous memory.” I would say it was miracle or I had started believing in God. She did not remember the whole day of events on the day of accident.
She sat in the wheelchair, her legs paralyzed after the accident. Doctor said it is curable but may take months or even years for her to be able to walk again. But my Viola was alive and with me, we were together. He had heard my prayer. He is there, is now my belief.