#closedforbusiness

She knew it was a booty call. Nothing else could explain why Mike was calling at this time of the night. Actually, it was already morning. She let the phone ring thrice, four times, then pressed the silence button. But just as she lay her head down, the trill came again. "Oh, shit! What does this bugger want now??" Silence button.
He tried again after about five minutes. She had no option but to pick up.
"Hello." She put on her best sleepy voice. "Who's this??" Just to show him she didn't have his number.
"Hey, sleepy-head!! It's Mike. Were you asleep?" His cheeriness made her stomach churn. She could hear the loud voices and music in the background. He must be bar- hopping again.
"Yes." Curtly. She also wanted to add, "What did you think dimwit?? That I was sitting in the dark, waiting for you to call??"
"Oh, I was hoping we could talk some. I could pass by your place. I'm just a few minutes away." Silence. She could hear the hesitation in his voice. Make him feel like he's bugging you.
"But, I mean, um...if you're already in bed, then... maybe some other time?"
He let the last word linger. She knew he was trying to box her into the guilty corner.
"Why don't we talk on phone?" She hoped she didn't sound too cold.
"No, it's okay. Some other day. It's fine.” Such finality.
But she knew she had touched a raw nerve, and that it was not okay for him. She’d had it.
"Goodnight Mike."
"Goodnight my love." He sounded despondent, his last attempt to push at her resolve.
It would be a “no” tonight.

                                           *****************************

Afterwards she switched off the phone and stuffed it under her pillow. She couldn't sleep again. She lay in the dark, thinking. When did things turn this low? One-night stand? No. Booty-call actually sounded more like it. Callous, but nearer the truth.
Three years of being a walk-in closet was enough. He didn't love her. He only wanted her body when it was convenient for him. Did he even realize that she had feelings? That she wanted commitment and stability and someone to come home to, someone to talk to, someone to rub her feet, someone to share her deepest thoughts with, someone who was fun, someone who loved her.
He had never ever invited her over to his place. The crib, that's what he liked to call it. In three years he had changed cribs four times. Najeera, Kiwatule, Bweyogerere, and now he said that he lived in Seeta.
She knew he had also changed girlfriends several times. He called them all sorts of names, nicknames, endearments. Once, in the middle of a heavy petting session, a “Kamikaze” called. The phone was in vibration mode on the table. She handed it to him. He gave short one-worded replies in low tones. “I'm ok”, “Yes”, “No”, “Somewhere". In the quiet, she could hear it was a female voice. Sounding desperate. Probably asking if he was fine, if he was still at work, where he was.
The names varied. Rich Rose, Auntie Hellen, Gold Fish, Student.
She once jokingly asked why he never invited her over. "Because I have a housemate who might fall for you!" Silly answer. Very silly answer.

                                      ***************************************

They had met at a movie theatre. She was in the popcorn line, two places before him and as she left with her goodies, he bumped into her in his haste to jump the queue.
A few drops of her Coke splashed on her. She thanked God she was wearing a black top. Otherwise. And you know, these stains. Even with the numerous soap powders on the market.
"Oh my gosh!! I'm so sorry, really sorry!” he offered profusely. The white treat was scattered all over the floor, and she stood there gaping with half a paper cup of soda in her hand.
"My apologies. I'll get you some more..."
Everybody was staring. She wanted to get on her knees and pick up the popcorn. But she was rooted to the spot.
And yes, she was irritated. "No, it's okay. You don't have to." She had been brought up to know that going Dutch saved you a lot. As she made to line up again, reaching into her bag for her purse, he dashed off  to the popcorn counter.
"Jesus, this oaf! How bad can things get??” She swore under her breath.
He was back in a second, after having cleverly wangled his way into the vendor’s good books. Unknown to him, several dark eyes were boring into his back.
“Return of the Matrix” had been famed to be a blockbuster. She found her seat, H4, praying there were no cockroaches in this theatre. Just last week, in another downtown theater, an insect had crawled over her foot as she watched Harry Potter, and she screamed in terror.
The moviegoers were many today and the place soon filled up. Somehow, the three seats to her left were left unoccupied. "I wonder why..." She thought. But she'd had enough for the evening and wanted to concentrate and wind down. All the better with no neighbors pushing your elbow off the arm rest, talking, munching and shouting obscenities.
Imagine her shock when ten minutes into the showing, someone plonked their body next to her.
"Can't he sit farther? C'mon, there are two other seats free. He could sit in the middle!”
"Hi."
"God!" She rolled her eyes. Then did a double take. It couldn't be!
"Can I join you?"
"It's okay,” She whispered back, rolling her eyes in the dark. Now let me concentrate and get my money's worth. After all, you already caused me enough embarrassment out there!
The movie was not worth the hype it had created. Just full of unrealistic situations, too much sci-fi, crazy acting,. All not her… cup of tea.
The lights went on and the show-goers started streaming out. “That was nice,” he said as he rose from his seat, stretching his arms above his head.
“So, so. I was actually kind of disappointed.”
The hall was nearly empty as they walked out, making small talk.
She got to know his name was Mike Kamau, and that he had a sister called Joan, just like her. Jojo.
He was a clinical biologist. Whatever that meant. He loved animals and quiet nights in. Actually, this was a one-off for him, he’d only wanted to watch the latest movie.
“Where did you park your car? I mean, I could offer you a lift home.” He was being extra nice. But this was not a date. She did another mental roll of the eyes.
“In the basement.” He walked her down and she got into her grey Vitz and waved him bye.
As she reversed, he tapped on the back of the car. “Can I have your number?”
Uh, oh! “Yeah, 077390001.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Bye!”

                                            *************************

Three weeks later he called. They met up for an Indian dinner at the Kochi restaurant in Kamwokya. He said he’d been calling, but her phone was switched off.
“Well, I’d travelled to Nairobi. Been there for eight days. Break.”
“And you didn't tell me?” He said playfully.
“But I didn't even have your number. Remember you promised to call. I thought you’d do so immediately.”
They talked about everything from men and women, the weather, the food, and work, to cars. He even told her what a clinical biologist was. He was 29. She was 28. She loved quiet time, he treasured alone time.
And when the meal was over, they went to a club a few doors away for a drink. And talked more.

                                             ***************************

The next time, he took her out on an actual date. Well, she couldn't really call it a date because there were so many people there. Weird, but nice, people. It was somebody’s home, probably a foreigner- the decor and bohemian setting of the house, its wall rugs and leather poofs. There was a group of people in one corner, some shirtless men, dancing to music played on a guitar and three African drums. They shook their heads like they were high on something. Another group, mainly women, sat huddled in comfy bamboo chairs, warming themselves in front of a campfire. Then there were those going crazy over fried fish and beer.
They found a seat in a corner and ordered drinks. The night was cool. Crickets chirped above the confused din. It was all good. Then he put his arm around her.
She thought, “Oh my God! So it has finally happened! I was starting to doubt if I was falling for this guy!”
It was a few minutes to midnight when they left. He stopped by a takeaway on their way. A couple of hamburgers. “One for you, one for me. Enjoy!”
Yeah, it felt good. She was happy.
Mike walked her to her door. He said it was late and he would let her rest. But he wanted to be sure that she was safe.
“Will he kiss me?” was the thought running through her head during the three-minute walk from the car, to the entrance to the apartments, up the four flights of stairs. He walked behind her. Her legs felt like lead. Her heart was beating so fast, she feared he could hear it.
He didn't kiss her. He wanted to. But he didn’t. They hugged good bye and he started to walk away. She stood by the door, not wanting to go in, but wanting to watch him walk away. He stopped and looked back.
“Go to bed Jojo,” he whispered. “I do not want to leave you out here. Anything could happen.”
Then he was off, blowing kisses at her. Not long afterwards, she heard the car start, and the askari opened and clanged the gate shut.

                                          ************************

It was a happy relationship, or so, Jojo thought. He eventually got an invite to her apartment, and he watched TV and listened to music while she washed up and read novels. He took her out on Saturday nights, to dinner somewhere, and they talked into the night. He told her she was beautiful and that he loved her. She loved him back, she said. More than he loved her. Mike started spending the weekends. Fridays and Saturdays, because he didn't have to work the next day, he said. They had been together six months.

                                          ***********************

One weekend he said he couldn't come because his sister was taking her boyfriend to meet their parents and he had to be there as well. She missed him. But as she read away that night, it suddenly struck her that she didn't even know where he stayed. He said he lived in Seeta.
“But Seeta is big. So, where exactly?”
 Also, he never ever left any clothes over, he always packed an overnight bag. That’s weird, she thought. She went to the bedroom and rummaged through her  bedside drawer where he kept his shaving kit when he came. Nothing. “Oh well!”

                                     **************************

The Kamikaze incident happened the next weekend. He suddenly announced that he had to leave because his housemate had misplaced his keys.
“But you only just came!” she wailed.
“Babes, I have to go. The guy has been sitting outside for hours. He called me because he was so desperate.”
She was upset. She was certain he was lying to her. She was also sure that it was a woman’s voice she had heard over the phone. But she said nothing, just hugged him goodnight.
The next time her hackles rose was when they out on New Year’s Day. The waitress brought their drinks and Mike asked for the menu.
What she said next made Jojo’s blood run cold. “Should I reserve a room for both of you like the other time?”
“What the f***?!”
It was not the waitress’ halting English, or her ears for that matter. Jojo was sure she had heard the young woman right.
“Uh, what?” Mike stuttered. Mistake.
“I was asking if I should…” Mike cut short the waitress’ feeble attempt to repeat her statement.
“No. That will be it. Bring our food. We will call you when we need you!” Brusquely. 
“But you have not ordered yet, Sir.”
“Okay, bring chips and chicken for me. Jojo, what will you have? Same as me?”
Before Jojo could utter a word, Mike said, “Bring the same for the lady here too. Now go!”
Dinner was strained. Mike slumped into his seat, looking broody. Conversation was tight, with Jojo trying to lighten up the uncomfortable mood, asking questions and making small talk.
He suddenly straightened up and barked at her. “Stop asking silly questions Babes! Do you know how irritating you sound?”
“What??” Jojo was astounded.
“I said ‘shut the f*** up!”
“But… why the sudden change in you? Was it about what the waitress said?” Her eyes were angry.
He didn't answer.
That night they had their first major blow up. Mike’s surly temper started the fire, his tongue fanned the flames as he uttered expletives like there was no tomorrow. Eventually, Jojo asked him to take her home. They drove back in silence.
“Drop me at the gate. Don’t come in please.”
They didn't even say goodnight as she jumped out and slammed the car door so hard.
               
                *************************

For two weeks, no one attempted to contact the other. Jojo was hurt. Two incidents in the space of two weeks. Now this was a major coincidence. And he was lying. That could only mean one thing. She didn't want to say the word, let alone think about it. Cheating. He was certainly cheating on her.

                *************************

Mike sent her a WhatsApp message at work two Friday mornings later. She was in the middle of a meeting when her phone beeped. “Hi Babes. I hope you’re good. I miss you. And I love you. Hope I can see you tonight.”
Now this is cheek, she thought.
When the meeting was done, she started her reply. Then she erased it, and started it again. She did four drafts and finally decided on, “I’m good. Hope you’re okay.” No lovey-dovey xoxos.
He immediately messaged back. “Babes, can we spend the weekend together?”
She read the message and put her phone back on the table. She needed time to think out her answer.
About an hour and a half later, “Unfortunately, I’m going to be busy.”
Prompt reply. “Busy? Doing what?”
“Just busy.”
“Okay. Enjoy your weekend.”
And that was that.
The incidents had scarred her. For one, she had no idea if her boyfriend lived in a cave, a tree, a house. For all she knew, he could be living at another woman’s house.
Two, that Kamikaze incident- that was definitely a feminine voice. A weepy somebody on the other end of the line. His exit had been so swift.
And three, the waitress had definitely mentioned a room. A room that they could both share. Like the other time. What other time? She had never been to the hotel. So what was this other time all about? No, something was definitely up. And then there were other small incidents, things she had never chosen to think about. He didn't have a toothbrush at her place. He had called her irritating. He had been extremely cold of late. He had commented once or twice, rather jokingly, that she laughed like a call-girl. A call-girl. Huh! And then of course, the fact that he had suddenly transformed into a wolf and uttered expletives for no fault of hers. She would not take this kind of bullshit. And he did not apologize over the incident. He just wanted to sail back right in and forget that it ever happened, and yet she knew that she had done absolutely nothing to set him off. Maybe she was being petty? Maybe this is what love was? Adult love. Because this was only her second relationship. The first one had ended when they finished high school and went on long vacations, and eventually lost contact. And she didn't hate him. Her first love. Was hers and Mike’s relationship just a weekend one? By the way, he hardly called her during the week. He took so long to reply her texts, and she would be fuming by the time he eventually texted back. Was it really worth missing him. He was a nice man really, if you took away these incidents. They were few. Or were they? But Mike was messing up. And she was certain about her doubts.

                *************************

She was drifting away, amidst all the tears and missing him. She hadn't seen him for a month. She wanted to see him, but she wanted him to own up and apologize. But she was not willing to accuse him because she was sure he knew what had happened. He hadn't called her back. Just one random text. Asking how she was and if she was up for it, could they meet up at the club near her house. She decided to shock him back to reality. “No. Until you decide to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?”
“Oh, so you have forgotten??”
“What do you mean? I have nothing to apologize for. What have I done?”
“Oh God! Don’t tell me you do not know!” Then she spat it out. Who was Kamikaze? What did the waitress mean when she asked if she could reserve them a room ‘like the other time, huh?
“What the f***! Damn! You are so petty. I don't even know what you’re talking about. Kamikaze. Who is that?”
“Get back to the question I asked! What did the waitress mean? Gimme answers! I want answers Mike!!”
“Jeez Babes! You beat my understanding.”
“Answer my questions. Are you CHEATING?”
The conversation went silent.

                **********************

She was done. Exhausted. Through. Finito. He could go and hang for all she cared. He was a liar. He was also a dodger of questions. All he wanted was a good time, but he could not own up to anything. Coupled with all her doubts about him, this was a finished subject. It didn't matter about that saying that “all men cheat”. He could have tried to be different.

                **********************

The little things that reminded Jojo of Mike were so many. His smile, his soft voice, his hearty laugh, the way he lay in the chair, his music, their songs. It was so hard. But she was determined to be strong and weather the storm. Her friends consoled her. Some urged her to forgive, others applauded her for moving on. She sunk into a raft of thoughts. So many times she was tempted to pick up the phone and call or text to say they could forget the past and get back together because what they had together was real. Then the Kamikaze devil’s voice reminded her that that door had been closed. The waitress’s words also came floating back. She played and replayed them in her head, saying that maybe she had heard wrong. But when the expletives rang in her ears, her resolve hardened. No.

                ***********************

Mike called her three months later. She had long erased his number from her phonebook but it didn't help because she knew it off-head. She answered the phone, hoping she didn't sound too eager.
“Hi Mike. How have you been?”
“Oh, its been a while Jojo. I miss you so much!” This man doesn't waste any time. He just gets down to business.
Then she found herself saying, “I miss you too Mike.”
“I miss you Jojo. Please say I can see you. Please. Please Jojo?” Pleading. This was a new Mike. Transformed. Renewed. Transfigured. Altered.
Her heart melted.
“Yes. Yes, its okay. Do you want to come over?”
“I’ll see you at 7.”

                **************************
And that fast became the routine. He would come over on some weekends, plead excuses and stay away on others. He still took phone-calls, sometimes dashing to the kitchen, or the verandah as he spoke in low tones. It hurt. But she decided she would not question him. She had made her bed and would lie in it.

                *************************
But Jojo soon tired of a year and a half of being the spare mat, the so-called side-dish. The third wheel. The one he called when he wanted to satisfy his animalistic urges. Mike was becoming more and more careless. He was not abusive, he was just growing distant. He only called on weekends. And sometimes spent only half the weekend anyway. They didn't go out anymore, he preferred to stay indoors. He regularly sank into quiet spells, and was moody and broody, so much that she silently wished he would leave and she could have her peace and alone time again. He was so consumed by his phone, texting and Whatsapping, and would only mutter replies when she asked about anything. And he still refused to show her where he stayed, only saying that he now had two housemates. Jojo knew she was that someone, the spare tyre. And it was not a good feeling.

                *********************

And now, here he was, calling her in the middle of the night. He had lowered her to the level of being his booty call. A low life booty call. Who the f*** did he think he was?
The closet was closed for business.