House of Balloons Part II (1st Draft)

Part II
Sharon

Patricia wouldn’t stop going on about him. It was always Ben this and Ben that. Ben said this and Ben did that. And oh yeah, did I tell you how when I met him he had dreadlocks? He looks good now but you should have seen him then. Sure, I was with Stefan at the time and so I couldn’t do anything but now…who knows? She gushed about him so much that when I finally did meet him I was more than a little disappointed. I mean he was cool and all but he wasn’t all that. And sure I could see why she might want to bed him, empty pockets and all, but still, like really?
I met them outside of the entrance of Karma. You know, that bar in Kisimenti that for some reason or another is one of the prime spots in the city for those people who have more of a taste for how should I put it…white meat. Present company excluded of course. I like my meat dark and tough. So why do I go there then? Well, partly because of the music but mostly because it’s close to home. That’s what I tell people anyway.
Patricia and Ben had just come from Dashiki’s art exhibition. Well not just; according to Patricia they had gone out for Ethiopian after the less than stellar exhibition. God knows she sure as hell wasn’t wasting any time in milking the guy for all the thousands of shillings he had.
Initially, I had wanted to go with them, for the exhibition that is, not the Ethiopian (yuck!) but unlike some people (I won’t mention any names), I actually have to work for a living. And so Patricia and I agreed to link up afterwards. Have a night out. Invite a couple of boys along for company as well. But knowing Patricia, the boy she started the night with (i.e. Ben) would not be the same boy she ended it with (random white guy).
I looked Ben over. He was obviously into her. When he looked at her, he had that look in his eyes. You know, the look guys get when they think that maybe, just maybe this was a girl that they could love. Boy was he in for a surprise. And to be quite honest, I kind of felt a little sorry for him. He had no idea what he was in for.
Seeing as Patricia had meant for this to be a double date kind of thingy I invited Joey to keep me company. God knows how much I hate third wheel status. Although truth be told, that wasn’t the only reason why I called him but I’ll get to that later.
Joey is an old friend. And unlike Patricia, when I say “An old friend” I mean exactly that. No lips or tongues or fingers in private places. Joey and I had gone to Uni together. Had been course mates. He was one of the first friends I made after I moved back from Malawi.
After school Joey had gone the bankers route while I had gone rogue and gone the Self employed private consulters route. Something, I have since been made to understand, most people don’t do until they are well, well into their careers. But then, I was number 3 in my class while Joey had been some where between mediocre and “Did he even really graduate?” Thing is, I was naturally already ahead of the curve; I could afford to skip a few steps. And so Joey was still wearing the shirt and tie of the corporate slave when he came to meet me. Or us. Or whatever.
Neither of them knew that I knew but Patricia and Joey had slept together not too long before. This little reunion was my own delicious little way of finding out how guilty they would act around me. If at all.
Their greetings were marked with uncertain words and hesitant handshakes. I almost laughed. This was going to be one interesting night, I remarked to myself.
Trying to cover up her, what I took to be, discomfort as much as possible, Patricia introduced me to Ben. I could feel her eyes on me as she watched for my reaction. She wanted me to be impressed. I, however, wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction. I smiled, wanly, and held out my hand. Ben, taking it said something about it being really nice to meet me. No surprises there. Even after he let go of my hand I could still feel him giving me the twice over with his eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he liked what he saw. I know his eyes must have lingered around my pierced navel, juss like every other guy’s did. Knowing myself, I stopped my line of thinking before it went too far…
Boy, was this going to be an interesting night.

***
Three drinks in and I was finally starting to warm up to him. His was the kind of cool that grew on you. That pulled you in slowly. Without you even realizing it.
Patricia had done what she usually does when she drinks and had more or less bailed on us. Leaving me alone with Ben. Joey was around somewhere but he had his own issues. Some chick named Barbra who just wouldn’t leave him alone. Which could have caused problems considering how her boyfriend was the DJ that night. Thank God it didn’t. I guess he (the DJ boyfriend) knew how she is and had resigned himself to just making sure she didn’t leave with anyone.
Sometimes, I wonder why people put up with so much bullshit. I mean, she’s obviously not that into you dude, why put yourself through all that aggravation? And by “dude” I’m not only referring to the DJ boyfriend but also to Ben. Who, even though it was pretty clear that Patricia was up to her own shit, kept on following her around the bar trying to get her attention. She blew him off every single time. Which, personally, I found kind of messed up. Considering how much she had been going on about him and stuff. But then the thing is, she’s like that. Fickle. Capricious. Especially when she had some liquor in her. Which from what I knew was like most of the time anyway. But then according to Patricia, Ben had known her for as long as, if not longer, than I have. Meaning he knew all of that. Why he stuck around was beyond me. He could have gotten almost any girl he wanted, why Patricia?
I watched as Ben, shoulders slumped; glass in hand, walked back towards me and the table we had commandeered. Before he could say anything, however, I took the glass from his hand, empty if I remember properly, put it on the table and then taking Ben’s hand in mine told him to come and dance with me.
I don’t remember what song was playing but I do remember that it was one that we could dance to. The floor was teeming with moving bodies. Some on beat but many were not. Mostly couples. The funniest to watch were the interracials. The black girl winding with the white guy looking like he was having a mild seizure, arms shaking, feet skittering all over the floor looking like they were about to shoot out from underneath him.
It was Ben who pointed them out, though he made it a point not to point. I knew the girl. Her name was Chantal. Well, not really. Really it was Santa. But then you can’t really have a name like Santa when you’re trying to hook a white guy…you just wouldn’t hear the end of it. And so she had gone with Chantal. I knew the guy too. His name was Devon. From Massachusetts. Med student specializing in tropical diseases. The way he was ploughing through them I wouldn’t be surprised if he had caught a few. He had been with Patricia like the weekend before.
We had fun. Ben and I. I don’t know whether if it was the alcohol or whether he actually enjoyed my company but somehow I managed to get him to stop thinking about Patricia. To stop talking about her as well. And well, just dance. As for Patricia? She was dancing too. And drinking. Every time I got a glimpse of her she had a different bottle in her hand. And a different guy pulling her by the other. If it bothered Ben he sure as hell didn’t let it show. He seemed to be completely focused on me. And to be honest, it didn’t feel half bad. I was starting to get why Patricia claimed to be so enamored with him.
After getting another round of drinks Ben and I found somewhere to sit. A cushioned sofa that had it been in the right corner would have been perfect for making out on but seeing as it wasn’t (in the right corner that is) it was perfect for getting to know each other. And so we talked. A lot. Me more about myself than he about him. It was actually kind of refreshing. Having a guy not trying to paw me up but who seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. I told him about where I was from, where I had grown up, why I had grown up there, where I worked, how I knew Patricia…he let me talk until it seemed like my tongue dried up and rolled into the back of my head.
“Can I ask you something?”
That was me. I had told Ben so much and yet I still knew next to nothing about him. Not that my question was particularly illuminating. I was just a little curious. Well, maybe a lot curious.
Ben told me to go ahead, “What’s up?”
I took a sip of my drink. Smirnoff Red Ice. Black was way too strong for my blood. Especially in the heels I was wearing. Placed the bottle back down on the table in front of us.
“What’s up with you and Patricia?”
Ben gave me a look that said, did you really have to go there…? We were having such a good time too.
Instead of answering though, Ben pointed. Yes, actually pointed. I followed his hand. Patricia was winding on top of one of one of the big bass speakers. Where the paid go-go dancers often danced. I watched as some random guy climbed up on top of the speaker and started grinding her from the back.
Ben looked from me to Patricia then back to me…
“What do you think?”