Juliet Lubega


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Moving on my son?

‘Look after Tom and the home’ those were the last words, she closed her eyes and took the last breath. I took a step forward, towards the hospital bed and placed my sweaty palm over her fore head. I felt a one part cold an another warm as my emotions got mixed up too; hot and cold. She was gone, lifeless and breathless. I looked at the meaningless tubes inserted in her arm. The oxygen mask hanging upside down on the wall, but I knew nothing could have saved her
That was 10 years ago now and nothing seemed different. Every year on this day I heard those same words in my ears, see her face and remember when we met as giggling teenagers at a school disco. I had been staring at her across the hall for about half an hour before I picked up the courage to go and ask her to dance with me. She had felt light and tender in my arms as we swayed from left to right to the gentle sounds of Michael Jackson’s ‘Human Nature’. The aroma from her perfume filled my nostrils and I felt my stomach turning as her body pressed against mine.
When Tom was born, my life became complete. I had married my dream girl and we had the perfect baby. It fell apart on that dreaded Thursday afternoon March 19th.I was left to raise Tom alone.
‘Dad dinner is ready’ he stood in the door way of my bedroom. I raised my head and attempted a smile
‘Okay, I am coming’.
‘Are you alright’
‘Yes, I am son’
I always tried to hide my sadness from Tom since his mother died but he could read me like a book. The 8-old boy who wept in my arms at his mother’s funeral was now towering above my head. Tall and elegant, cultured beyond his years. As time went by, he wanted to make it more of a celebration and had offered to make the dinner that night, we would have a quiet reflection and look at the family albums later. I listened as he told me the day’s plan.
‘Dad’
‘Yes’
‘Have you thought….’ His voice trailed off like a train wagon in the distance.
There was silence. The knives and forks talked as I cut my chicken quarter leg in half.
‘Thought about what?’
‘Maybe you could…’ he stopped again mid- sentence.
I looked at him, his dark velvet skin shimmered under the light, and that questioning look in his eyes, just like his mother stared at me at the school disco when I asked her to dance all those years ago.
‘Go on tell me’
‘I was just saying’
‘I am listening’
‘About you trying to find another wife’ he paused. ‘I am sure Mum would want you to be happy’
I broke into a smile. He smiled back.

©Juliet.Lubega (unpublished 2018)

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Behind S3

‘Find me behind the S3 block after classes’. The words stared back at him. The black ink dazzled on the white back ground of the black sheet of paper. His hands trembled a little and the pen shook. He wasn’t sure if he was making the right move, but he couldn’t bare it anymore. The night had been sleepless, he had no idea if he had slept at all. Through the darkness of his closed eye lids, he could see her dimples dig deep into her cheeks when she smiled. The long braids hang loosely on her shoulders. Her tiny waist cut through her skirt. He imagined what it would be like to get his hands behind those soft buttocks and whisper into her ear.
He looked at the classroom clock, they had 10 minutes to the end of the lesson. Miss Acan had just handed out the Maths home work but he hadn’t written anything down. It didn’t matter now because, he would ask her what it was and then slot the note under her book while she explained.
Miss Acan had a habit of standing in the door way to see all the students exit the room, he had to be quick. Stella sat two rows in-front of him. He drew a picture in his head of the action he would take to reach her as soon as the lesson was over. The right leg first, stretched as far as possible and by the time he added the left leg to the stride he would be there.
She had hardly noticed him since morning. He was already at his desk sorting his books when she came in. He stared at her, but her face was expressionless towards him. He tried to shout, ‘good morning’ but shut his mouth as soon as he opened it. Every step she took towards her desk, he took a deep breath.
He looked through the window, it had stopped raining and the sun had come out. The grass in the football pitch looked like a dark green blanket, its wetness shimmering below the rays. The goal posts looked like two white squares held together by the earth at either side end of the field. He often wondered why they had no nets and who ever played cricket in the middle murram patch. This was no ordinary pitch, it was a multi sports ground with full blown athletics on sports days.100 and 200 metre lanes were drawn in it during the season as well as high jump and long jump sandy pitches at adjacent corners.
They were both in yellow school teams and he wondered whether Stella ever watched him play football.
Behind S3 there was a quiet corner. Lukwago in S4 had told him, he had kissed Anna there two weeks ago.
‘End of lesson’ Miss Acan announced. The class erupted into noise and the silence seemed like a lid being lifted off a boiling saucepan enabling the steam to escape. as the girls and boys packed away their books. Miss Acan walked towards the door and stood there silent. Her eyes bright white against her velvet dark northern complexion.
He put away his books inside his desk as quickly as possible. He held the note in grip in his left hand, and in swift motion, he stretched his right leg. Soon he was standing at Stella’s desk who was putting pencils and pens in her geometry set. ‘What?’ Stella asked, surprised to see him. His tall frame towering over her head. ‘You have nice hands’ he said sliding the note under the open book in-front of her.
Stella raised her head slowly and their eyes met.

 

© Juliet Lubega (unpublished 2018)