CHAPTER EIGHT

VINNY

The evening's laughter and revelations with Marcus still bounce around my mind as I leave, but I find myself walking towards Blake's place. The beauty of having friends living in the same area. Marcus had helped me house hunt for Blake when I realized how far she lived from the workplace. Marcus lazily recommended an area very close to his house.

It was a great house to rent so even Blake couldn’t say no and living 15 minutes away from Marcus wasn’t so bad. I turn a corner where there is a cozy restaurant still open in such late hours and I marvel at the readiness of living in a city. Everything is always available to you no matter the time. I fondly remember my days renting out in Pipeline, the chaos that was so neatly packed. The eco-system the residents created for themselves; I never want to go back jumping over the puddles of raw sewage, rain water: and continually ducking the tiny water droplets of fresh laundry dripping from the seven or tenth floors, hoping an object doesn’t suddenly drop on your head causing instant death. Fun times!

Her home, a sanctuary hidden beneath layers of ivy and muted streetlights of Langata, always seemed to draw me in when my thoughts grow too loud. The streetlights flicker dimly, casting elongated shadows that dance around me as I walk. Each step resonates with a quiet rhythm against the pavement, echoing through the empty but silently busy night. The occasional buzz of electricity overhead punctuates the silence, from the corner of my eye I witness a lone car packed secluded but two persons inside. The windows dense with fog and steamy promises, a reminder of the urban world around me. I smile knowing very well what the two strangers are unto. I allow myself to remember our time in the shower with Eve last week.

It has been a wonderful one month. (I walk on and wish them the best...) I am also so optimistic the last few weeks. Sudden bursts of hope and bubbly joy keeps consuming me and swallowing me whole, taking me on euphoric trips and endorphin highs that threaten to be addictive. I am scared shitless when I think of the possibility and the immediacy of it ending and losing it forever. Paradoxically, I am at my happiest when I am deliberately being hurtful to someone I care for. Life is never easy, is it? Or am I looking for excuses where there are none!

Reflective puddles mirror fragmented images of passing clouds, adding to the surreal atmosphere. In this nocturnal realm, my senses are heightened, attuned to the stark contrast between the illuminated path and the enigmatic shadows lurking just beyond its reach. I cozy up in my polo sweater and walk hurriedly now towards Blake’s apartment building as I can spot it now, abandoning my reverie and silent musings.

I find myself fumbling in my khaki pants pockets for the small bunch of keys I call my own. I find Blake’s key and go to insert it when I hear her voice inside(singing), it sounds happy. I knock instead, feeling good about coming over. Why isn’t she asleep at this hour? Pushing open the door, I am immediately enveloped by the soft, ambient light and the smell of burning vanilla candles. Blake's house is like her: enigmatic, dark yet beautifully warm, a treasure trove of books and bohemian art that speaks volumes of her deep, artistic soul. Even though she wants us to think she is logical and plain and unemotive.

"Hey," Blake's voice pulls me from my reverie. (I am having these moments a lot these days, hence the ‘I am distant’ speech from Marcus) She stands in the archway to her living room, an unreadable expression on her face. She is not surprised that I am standing on the threshold of her home. It is not the first time I have popped up like an unwanted zit to her door at odd hours.

"Couldn't sleep," I admit, stepping inside and letting the warmth wrap around me. "Mind if I crash here for a bit?"

"Of course not," she smiles, leading the way into the living room past her kitchen door, spotting a freshly baked cake atop the tiny kitchen counter. My heart does a flip and a flatter, Eve must have been here earlier or may still be here. No one else in B’s life bakes. We settle onto her plush, oversized couch (in my opinion), surrounded by the cozy chaos of her books and the abstract paintings she loves so much.

The room is quiet for a moment, the kind of silence that feels full and comforting.

But I have something on my mind, something I'd noticed about Blake but never had the courage to address directly. Tonight feels different though; maybe it is the vulnerability of the late hour or the way the candlelight makes everything seem more intimate. I do realize, I didn’t just wander into Blake’s apartment tonight, I intend to ask her about the morning after Eve and I first did it. I had woken up in a panic, blinded by the morning light, promising a new dawn, but I knew the morning light could only bring me darkness and sorrow and grief from Neema’s probing questions. I ran to the sitting area frantic to retrieve my phone, only to find B in a distressed posture crying in her sleep. I was thrown off at how vulnerable she looked and how sad and real her dream seemed. In the chaos I tabled the observation but today feels like the day to circle back wouldn’t you agree?

"Blake, I wanted to talk to you about something," I begin hesitantly. "About a month ago, you know on the night at Eve’s. you had a nightmare, don’t deny it, I saw it. It seemed so real, like you were in pain and reliving something so morbid."

Her face changes slightly, a flicker of something like recognition or fear passing through her eyes. "Vinny, I—" she starts, I panic.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," I quickly add, not wanting to push her. "I just...” I hesitate. “…you seemed really scared, and it stuck with me."

Blake looks down, then back up at me with a forced smile. "It was just a dream, V. But thanks for worrying about me. It was just one of those sleep paralysis dreams."

I nod, accepting her boundary but feeling a pang of concern still nag at me. I have seen sleep paralysis nightmares and what B was having wasn’t anything close to anything I have experienced. I am torn between prying further knowing there is a story or letting it slide. Something drops in my stomach, heavy, old and painful. I am taken back to my sister…...I dismiss that thought and I change the topic, hoping to lighten the mood. "How are things with your Jamal guy lover? I try to tease her."

She chuckles, the sound a bit hollow. "Yeah, well, he is still ghosting me for the past couple of weeks. No idea why. I hoped he would," she stops herself, her voice dense with emotion. She swallows and looks at her lap. I love how she lets her guard down around me and especially on these late-night visits. She may not even be aware of it but she is almost childlike when we are the alone. I love it!

"Maybe you should reach out, see what's up? I mean, if it was good, it's worth a shot, right?"

Blake considers this for a moment, her eyes softening. "Maybe you're right. I'll think about it."

Feeling the heaviness of our earlier conversation fade, I suggest, "How about a movie? " I grab the TV remote sitting lonesome on the coffee table, begging to be rescued from the dull documentary about ‘Top Ten Breathtaking Sites Around the World” playing on the screen. Blake loves mindlessly watching this YouTube channels but I find them ridiculous and insufferably boring. But I have to admit, they are much better than the serial docu-series shit she loves. Those give me endless nightmares and paranoia; I end up being extremely and embarrassingly jumpy for days.

"That sounds perfect," Blake says, her usual spark returning. She gets up to get juice and bites for the movie, a ritual we formed for the late-night meet ups. No alcohol, always kid’s squeeze bottle liquids and snacks. I scrolled through Netflix and landed on ‘Shotgun Wedding’. B returns with blueberry juice and a bowl of popcorn (My favorite). I press play and settle in. She tucks herself in one corner, furthest from me. I spread myself wide and I can almost touch her feet. I momentarily think of Eve and if we will ever share our secret late night hang outs.

I push that thought away and steal a glance at B chewing on a piece of cake (when or how did that cake get here?), giggling at the screen... I turn my full attention to the screen as well and toss a mouthful of corns in my mouth. As the comedy unfolds on the screen, the tension of earlier moments dissolves into laughter and shared jokes. With each comedic twist, the room fills with mirth and amusement, casting aside any lingering seriousness. Eventually, the credits roll, and a peaceful silence descends once more, wrapping us in a sense of contentment.

"I think I'll crash here, if that's okay?" I ask as I yawn feeling very tired all of a sudden.

"Of course," Blake replies, standing to blow out the candles and turn down the lights. "Make yourself at home." She adds sarcastically. I roll my eyes.

I settle onto the couch, pulling a light blanket over me. Blake retreats to her bedroom, and the house quiets down completely. As I drift off, I feel grateful for our friendship, knowing despite the secrets and the unspoken words, this is a bond that wouldn't easily be broken