The Thomas way

'Hi-day.
Phone-day.
Home-day.
Out-day.
Quite-day.
My-day.
Your-day.
Our-day.
Kiss-day.
Bang-day.
Bye-day...

The eleven days of Tom-week.' Thomas thought
to himself. Today is 'Quite-day'. Lying on his back, in
bed, he thought about how he always did the
same thing with different girls; met them, made
out with them, made love to them and... Broke
up with them. Every so often, he'd
question his cause for doing what he did. But each one of those question marks must have been the endings if rhetorical side-thoughts. The sight of another cute girl was a thing his eyes
were not accustomed to avoid without a fight. 'I
wonder what Mercy is doing right now...' he said
to his ears, 'thinking about me? No! She's got to
be thinking about...' Thomas was so lost in
thought that he never heard his friend, and
confidant, knock and push open the door of his almost empty bedroom. 'Hey
Mr.-I-love-to-stare-at-the-ceiling and-think-to-myself!' Mark forcefully freed his best friend
from the hold of his thoughts. 'Hey Mr. My-best-friend. How do you do?' Thomas jumped with a
start and rose from his bed to give his best friend
a hand shake. It was a custom in Zambia. It's
amazing how they realized that actions did speak
louder than words.
'So... What's up?' Mark
always struggled with picking the best words
with which to express his intended emotions.
That, however, is one of many things that
Thomas loved about Mark. It proved that Mark
was a less-better public speaker, and also gave
Thomas a chance to rub it into his best friend's
face.
'Uhmmm... Let me see... The ceiling is obvious. But that doesn't mean you should
disregard fuel prices, food prices, time and...'
'Alright wordy, I already get it!' interrupted the best friend.
'There's no need to say all that when you
can just say that you're fine.' Mark had the sudden stern of an injured troop.
'Dude. You take the
fun out of it.' Thomas might have been born with a certain type of calmness that proved hard to detach. 'How's my wife, Sarah?'
'Sarah... Is
fine,' hesitated Mark. 'And so is James, Zack, mum
and dad.' Thomas was rolling his eyes like a bored girly girl in a long commerce lecture. One of the things I was never able to love_commerce.
'I thought you were going somewhere today...' Thomas said, with the monotony of a lazy sunrise.
'I was supposed to go to Lilanda to see my aunt.'
Mark sounded neither fond of his aunt, nor like he despised her. He just never...
'Don't fancy folk-inspired visits, do you amigo?' Thomas
liked to make fun of his friend, his life, his family,
his everything and in different languages and
accents too.
'Folk-inspired? You've got it twisted! It's
folk-imposed visits that I don't enjoy. Well, my uncle's unannounced visit gave me a reason not to go, plus something to smile about.'
Mark was one of those people that every other person needed every now and then; with the right blend of confusion, wisdom, intelligence and composure. He could think about a thousand, plus things at each moment. 'And... about someone
having to go somewhere... Were you not supposed to be somewhere with someone?' Mark
asked, impatiently. Ensuring that the key words stood out.
'If by, 'someone' you mean to
say 'Mercy...'
'Wow! I never knew that you could read my mind...' Mark was rather random at times. But just almost right for a best friend that's been around for half a decade. 'It's amazing.'
'As I was saying,' Thomas pretended not to have
been disturbed, 'Today is Quite-day. That, my
friend, means that I don't talk to her unless she
initiates the conversation. And according to
history... My phone should be...' As though proving him a sorcerer, Thomas' phone rang...
'You were saying...' Thomas turned to look at his
friend, after bobbing his head to the sound of his
ring-tone. His phone in his right hand. 'Thomas speaking,' his phone manners were exceptional.
'Hey Thomas,' Came the
somehow animated sweet voice of the person on the other end of the line. 'How has your day
been?'
'Well, I could complain about how I really wanted to talk to you and how I wish you were here with me right now. But it wont yield much, thus I
choose to conceal it all.' Thomas sounded as natural as summer's rain. He had done this for a time long enough not to get the gist. He was a pro now.
'What if I want you to tell me just how much you missed me.'
Thomas could feel the girl smile, some 500 miles
away from the closed door of his room.
'It's a pity the alphabet is incomplete. I could have spelt
everything out to you. But every other thing that
I'd say, you've already heard before. For fear of repetition, I'll just tell you that I missed you so
much, but I'll have to use actions to explain it.'
'So... What were you doing?' Mercy was the perfect nice girl. Slender, with long, charcoal-black hair and just as shiny. She stood at 1.45 ft tall with fair, light skin, thin eye brows, black eyes and full, kissable lips. She was what we called in high school, 'a girl'.
Thomas knew exactly what the girl wanted to hear and was ready to say just that.
'Well, considering the trips that half the house made, I didn't have a lot of chores today. I washed the dishes,
cooked and then bathed,' Bathing was as much a chore to Thomas as was eating. If he could do without it and get away with it, he'd not waste a breath to think twice. 'After which I started thinking
about you.'
'Does that mean, you didn't think
about me during your chores?'
'Do you want the
truth?' The conversation was a few inches away from a recorded playback.
'Yes. I want the truth.'
'Okay then. Are
you ready...?' A lot could ask why Thomas said all
that, but between the two people within earshot
at that precise moment, only Mark knew that the
not so obvious-irrelevant words were actually Thomas trying to buy some time and to grab at a
few words.
'I thought about you. But only after having bathed, eaten and rested, because before then, my mind was preoccupied...'
'Really?' Mercy would have made a good actor. But didn't stand a slim chance against the Oscar Award Winner, Thomas Zimba. 'With what?' Mercy
could not let Thomas complete his statement. It's
a girl's thing. Trust me. Thomas, more than most, realized
that. They like to be the center even of things that don't cease to flow in their absence. At least. Thomas thought. But
that's what makes them even more beautiful.
'You see. I couldn't think about you, because I was thinking about... us.'
'Oh. Is that so.' Mercy was a good listener. One of those that fancied the sound of true lies. She wasn't sure about the degree of truth in her 'dude's' talk. But she still loved the sound of it. 'I guess great minds do think alike after all.' Thomas could imagine what Mercy was
doing as she was saying each one of her words;
Biting her lower lip. Moving her head. Looking past at a 21-inch TV set that was almost tired of watching her now. He could feel her fall in love. But a pity
it was, because she was falling in love with an image. A man that never was.
'Oh my God. My battery is dying. Can I call you later?' Thomas sounded as sincere as a grieving mother at her only child's funeral. Mercy was unaware that she was simply buying a
cheap act.
'No problem.' she was not enthusiastic about
hanging up. It was as though she wanted to talk to him forever. His voice created an impression
on her mind that she seemed to be able to touch,
but only as long as he spoke, regardless of what he said. That, was exactly what Thomas was avoiding. The vivid impression. Anxiety was as key a rule for the game as was shoes-off on the ground surrounding a burning bush. The more anxious she was,
the less likely she is to look at things as they really were.
'Okay then bye and thanks for the call.'
'Bye.' And the line was cut.
'How much do you know about her?' Mark
reminded his best friend of his presence as soon as the mobile phone was detached from his ear.
'You mean, more than the fact that I'm breaking up with her
in exactly six days and three hours time?'
'No! I mean, get real Thomas!'
'Oh. Now I get it.'
'I thought you said that you stopped doing this last week.' Mark continued without pausing for long.
'You thought I said...' Mark gave Thomas a stare so black that he had to alter the ending of his
statement. 'That I quit. No. I did say that I quit.
And technically, I did quit. I had four days of no activity.'
'That is called having a break smarty pants! Quitting is ceasing
to do something permanently.' Mark seemed to care more about Thomas than Thomas did about himself.
'You have to put an end to this man.'
'Okay. Okay. I will quit. But just not yet. After five more girls.'
'Five!' Mark exclaimed. In a somewhat low voice and rigid tone. 'Are you aware that in
effect, you're saying that you will grow up after breaking the hearts of five innocent girls?' Mark was wise. That too, Thomas admired. But he
always hated it whenever Mark spoke something that was so true and factual that his 'Tom
philosophy' could not dispute at all. Mark was not so expressive, but when need arose, the Martin Luther King in him had more than just a dream.
'You can look at it that way if you wish. But I like
to look at it is.
'And that being?'
'Breeding five mentally weak girls,
not just the hard way, but, the Thomas way.
'Thomas. Let's make a deal.' Mark's sudden all-
goody-two-shoes mood was a little more than just fishy.
'I'm listening...' Thomas folded his hands. Expecting one of the many things he could never see coming. He knew it.
'You 'breed' two girls and I'll pay you for the 'un bred' three.'
'Okay.' Thomas laughed. 'And you call me crazy. Why would you give me money for people that you don't even
know about? It's absurd!'
'You don't understand. And I don't remember saying money.' Mark was almost getting serious.
'And I don't suppose that you expect me to, because I wont, even if I tried.'
'No...unless you had a best friend that you cared about this much, and an innocent younger sister that could wind up as one of the many pawns on some psychotic man's board. Tom, you're far much smarter than that.'
Thomas' face dropped. He had never been this out-witted and challenged by his best
friend before. Awkward silence embraced the room. The little fan in the corner tried to defeat it but all in vain. It was as though all the pictures, posters and figures in the room stared down at Thomas from wherever they were, echoing Mark's words. Tom felt the odd one out and the looser. In
the silence, Thomas sought a defense.
'Ok.' His words not proceeding further than his friend's ears. Here. Let me breed three
girls, none of whom can ever be Sarah, and you don't pay me a single penny.'
Thomas tried to bargain. Mark looked intently at his friend, calculating the fractions of honesty in his hazel eyes. After half a minute's pause, Mark agreed.
'Three girls. Only' Thomas nodded 'It's a deal.'
Mark stood up and started walking towards the door 'Two
girls after Mercy...' He left the room before Thomas could realize what had just happened.
'Two after Mer... Mark, wait! But I can't...Never
mind.' It was a deal.

Thomas had 'fun' with Mercy for the rest of his
days on his Thomas-Week. They went out for
dinner, went to Thomas' place, almost went to
Mercy's and always talked on phone. Kiss-
day crept faster than a newbie on a battlefield, crouching for cover. In the daring evening breeze of 'Kiss-day', Tom asked Mercy to go on a walk with him. They strolled down the street until it was what most mothers called, 'late' only when addressing the girl-child. He walked her home and bed her a goodnight she'd never forget; his arms open wide, allowing her to fall on his broad chest, locking her arms around his neck. He stroke her hair, down its full length, after which he moved back and let his arms slid to her back like thick juice in a long glass. His arms moved around her divinely shaped behind, as though seeking some lost treasure in the dark. His eyes, fixed on hers. He spoke to her with them. Their faces were less than an inch apart. Mercy stood there, still, swallowing hard, as though a subject of time. Tom squeezed her behind and let most of the air she grasped fade in his mouth. He crushed his mouth against hers, his tongue moving in her mouth as though a ship radar, meeting hers and moving on. His arms, defining the special woman that he saw in her. Mercy had been kissed before. She'd done her time too. But this wasn't an ordinary kiss. It came from Thomas' secret tool box. He moved back and was about to kissed her lightly, just before she grabbed his head in her arms and tried to design a hard, passionate kiss that would linger in his lips and tongue as long as the memory. Hormones in her body were racing in overdrive when, finally, he kissed his way out of her mouth, like trailing breadcrumbs and loosened the grip of his hands, which slid through hers and were finally 'free'. The words 'Goodnight.' Came and were slowly breathed away by the nightly cold whisper. Mercy walked through her gate, smiling as though she'd just won an Olympics gold medal in being kissed the best. Tom walked the half mile to the taxi rank and got home just in time for super. Nobody told a 20-year-old Unza student what to do. Not in Thomas' fatherless house. The least they did was ensure he's inside. Everybody lived in their own world. Thomas, in his hit-and-run planet; his 15-year-old cousin, in his 'school-only' planet and his unknown-aged aunt, in, wherever she lived.

Bang-day. Was on a lay-man's 'Saturday'. A language that Thomas used rarely, as his usual audience was his best friend, who know the Tom-Week enough. This day was the trickier than a Greek jigsaw puzzle whose pieces are incomplete.
It was on the very day that the punchline in Tom's life of a joke was said. And as history worked, only 45% on average, was a total success; 30% involved a change of plans and the remaining 25% was all 'unforeseen' circumstances. He
called her over to his friend, Zack's. A modern structure of ingeniously arranged blocks, wet-and-now-dry cement, metal frames, glass panes and wood, among the noticeable materials, that ensured the safety of Zack only, by the last day of Tom-Week.
Zack couldn't stand the knowledge of what was happening under the innocent ceiling of his bedroom. He placed his thoughtful pillar of flesh, bones and water in front of his parent's Plasma screen TV, on which he re-watched a philosophical film. He loved those. And at present, it was serving it's purpose_escapism. Thomas was declared a villain in Mark's sub conscience, and rightly so.
The other side of the closed door to Mark's room was heating up. Mercy and Thomas were watching a romantic movie. A moment that meant no pushing away's when Tom touched Mercy. With the attention of a careful barber man, Thomas started touching Mercy. He touched the side of her face, as though drawing more features to add to her beauty. He touched around her left ear. She could feel the electricity that she did on the night of her 'Friday' and Tom's 'Kiss-Day'... It was coming back. Ecstasy. She had to feel it once more. She's thought about it whenever she was free enough. Thomas Zimba knew where she wanted to be touched. He raised her chin and kissed her full lips, with the lightness of a feather. She moved forward and kissed him back, sticking her tongue in his mouth, as though a white flag from a loosing side in battle_slightly, but noticeably. He held her hands in his and kissed her like he meant it. In time,
they were touching each other and kissing passionately. Hotter it got until Thomas' hand
reached for Mercy's bra and with the swiftness of a sharp sword through boneless mean, he un strapped it. Inside her shirt, his hands, once again, sought more buttons. She was a bit doubtful, but she liked what he was doing so much that she did not stop him just yet. He was about to take off her shirt when she
gathered enough courage to push him away and
tell him that she was not ready and that she was
sorry to have done that. She pinned her bra and realised that he had unzipped her slacks too. He was too good. As the game's
instructions specify, when she refrains softly, Thomas acts as if he's back to his senses and
willingly bears all the blame and takes her home.

A cocktail of emotions kept her up at night. 'What a gentle man he is,' The words played like kids in the morning in her mind. she couldn't keep thought of him away.
'What if I had not stopped him? What could he
have done? Did I do the correct thing?' Mercy
was glad and also regretful that she had stopped
him from doing whatever he was about to. Something that he seemed rather good at too. Thomas had two ways to end his relationships on the eleventh day; the first is for the girl with whom he successfully had sex. He told her that he blamed himself for having contaminated her and told her that it is
for the best that they stopped seeing each other. The
second is for a girl like Mercy. He would tell her
that he cares about her and didn't ever want to
contaminate her. It is with this much that he 'hurtfully' walked away from her life but reminded
her that if they are meant to be, they will be together later in life.

It was eight o'clock, the morning of Bye-day when
his phone went. 'Game Over,' the thought as he picked up the phone.
'Hey my love. How was your night?' Mercy was enthusiastic. Happy and proud, but not aware of the moment that awaited her. Her innocent, naïve heart about to be heart broken, brazenly.
'Hey Mercy.' Thomas sounded lower than usual. He rarely addressed her by name. She was 'hey babe', 'hey swits' and 'hey- whatever was nice', not really 'Mercy'.
'Is anything the matter baby? You don't sound fine.' Mercy's spirits began to lower.
'I don't know...' Thomas was so convincing that she could literally visualise him worried sick.
'Let me help you. Whatever it is, we'll do it
together.' She offered her companionship.
'I wish you could help me. But I need you to help
you instead.'
This wasn't good. It didn't sound like it. But what ate more at her was that she never knew what was going on. 'What do you mean? What are you talking
about?' She was genuinely concerned and almost scared.
'I have been thinking about yesterday. What
happened. Or rather, what did not happen.'
Thomas finally came out.
'Oh that. Don't worry. As you said it. It didn't
happen. And for good cause...' A sense of safety enveloped her worries. It was alright to be worried about almost going 'that far'. But next time, she was determined not to let it happen.
'Exactly!' He responded impatiently. 'The fact
that it didn't happen got me thinking of what is
likely to happen later in life. I couldn't bear my
pain if I ever did that to you.'
'So then don't do it.' She commented.
'I could lie to myself, but I don't want to lie to you. I don't want to give myself a chance of ever
hurting you. I can't.'
'Thomas. What are you talking about?' Mercy
was so scared that her voice was shaking like an old nokia phone during a call's vibration.
'I have to let you go.' He paused long enough to let her listen and not just hear, but not long enough for her to respond. 'Not only for me, but
especially for you and for us.' He hesitated.
'What do you mean for us?' Mercy's voice began to climb over the walls of her listener,s ear.
'I mean I care enough about you not to let you get
hurt when you could otherwise avoid it. I mean
that I don't want to be the person that hurts you.'
'Really?' Mercy said between sobs. 'And does it
occur to you that you're doing just that right
now. Do you realize that you're hurting me right
now? Do you Thomas?'
'Mercy. I'm not exactly smiling right now. I'm sorry, but, I don't another way.'
Thomas tried to defend his decision.
'You don't have to do this Thomas. Please. We can work
it out.' Mercy insisted.
'No. I don't have to do this. I don't have to hurt
you later. And, I am working this out for us right
now.'
'Stop saying us!' Mercy spoke with the command of a parent to a disobedient 10-year-old.
Thomas took a deep breath. 'Mercy...You mean
a lot to me. But you deserve better.'
'Lies! If I mean a lot, why don't you prove it? Why don't you stand up and
fight for me? Why don't you fight for us?' It's not always easy to fight so hard for pieces of a breaking relationship, but Mercy was determined to do it.
Silence...They both took it in. 'Good bye...'
Thomas broke the silence.
The next thing he heard was the operator tone.
She hang up on him. She was gone. For some
reason, however, he felt sorry for her. The talk
about Mark's sister had gotten to him after all. 'I
wish...Aghh. Never mind. It's the nature of the day.'
Mercy tried to call Thomas the following day, but
he did not pick up. On her third attempt, he gave
the phone to his cousin whom he instructed to relate his journey out of town and his mistakenly
having left the phone at home. A text message,
saying how sweet he was and how she'll always
cherish the memories they created together, was
the last he got from Mercy...

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Hi Alexander, this is a very detailed and well observed piece about the bad side of some people who simply use others and especially in an abusive way in sham relationships. Some gramatical errors but an interesting read.

[Alexander143]

Thanks a lot John. I'm still waiting for a friend request from you on Facebook though. My username, once again, is Alexander PrinceCharmer Brown. Thanks for reading my pieces.

[Hester Vane]

Ooooo I love the quirky start! I did not know what to expect from the piece, but it was great. The flow was good and I couldnt stop reading it! Great Job

[Alexander143]

Thanks a lot Hester Vane. I'm really glad you liked it. That gives me one more reason to keep writing the book. I will be writing the second chapter in a few hours, maybe days, maybe... But it will be soon.