Frankly Told: Consented
The evening air was enveloped in a weekend mood. On the screen blue and red figures danced across the green background to the tune of some commentary coated in a heavy accent. That day, happy hour started a little earlier to the cheer of the few who did not mind the low traffic afternoons in that quaint little corner bar.
As he sat on the up-cycled barrel at the counter, his hand fondled his fourth glass swirling the tail-end froth at the bottom. Somehow, he didn’t feel the least bit inebriated. Which was strange given three glasses was his sweet spot for a good time. However, that day he met the bottom of the glasses before the sun slipped over the horizon and it didn’t feel odd. It didn’t feel sad. It didn’t feel unusual. It didn’t feel uncomfortable. It didn’t feel.
Right next to him, his companion rallied on the proceedings on the screen with the rainbow of emotions of someone on the very field. His collar button unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, a symbol of the end of the week. It was always interesting to sit there, across the bar from the all too familiar face of the man behind the flow of the liquor and tear down the pressures of the week sip by sip. It had become a sort of culture between the two green workmen with their first pay checks.
“Ah! Cheki this ref has been paid bana!” His companion exclaimed. “That was clearly a red!”
The man beside him shook his head and laughed. The barman simply scoffed and nodded, continuing to wipe glasses as he too slipped a few cheeky glances at the screen.
“By the way, hii match, I refuse to count it as a loss. Me I can’t just- it’s nearly half-time and somehow we are behind? To this team? Mi siwezi accept! Mi si-" he stopped.
“Bro! How have you just taken down four glasses? And I’m here on number two… heh!” His companion continued.
He just shrugged and half-smiled. The ball of energy next to him didn’t seem read the blatant expression on his face, nor pay much attention to him. In his mind though, he thought it okay. He thought it better to allow his friend the little bit of happiness, for he knew that the week was not heavy for only him and he sat in that ebbing happiness.
He decided, perhaps, one more would lift his spirits. Perhaps his tolerance had risen. So he gestured to the barman who silently obliged. A whole conversation of nods and shortly, a fresh beer landed before him. He thanked his purported caregiver who nodded as if to say “This one is a little stronger.”
He took a swig of the drink, the froth tickled his nose and he smiled softly to himself as the strength danced on his tongue.
“This is it!” He thought to himself.
He almost immediately acknowledged that he was knocking on that “one drink away from saying 'I love you’" door with that one sip and it felt grand.
“Dude… Are you good?” his companion’s voice cut through his daze.
He curtly nodded in response and his eyes drifted to the screen, where only highlight reels played and a panel discussed the proceedings of the match that seemed to have come to an end; “4–2” the score displayed around the panel. He shifted his focus to his side where his companion sat now facing him, guzzling the last of his beer with another one already in cue on the bar.
“You know, you are terrible at lying and the whole world could see it. Ama it’s something deep? That’s why you’ve nyamaza’d on me like this? Cheki, we are boys just say what it is.” he said as he placed his hand on his shoulder momentarily before it went back to craddling his new beer.
“Nah nah… It’s not like that.” he started then stopped.
“Then what is it like?” his companion asked with quickness.
He sighed, deeply contemplating his next words, hoping he wouldn’t say too much to appear weak. It had been so long since he had confided, his mind was in a bit of a haze. Every time felt anew and made him not want to ever again but the relief was almost freeing, so he chased that.
“I mean,” he convinced himself in his mind, “Why not? I shouldn’t keep these things to myself. I mean aren’t we advocating the boys should open up more. Am I not a man?”
He threw back another couple of gulps and exhaled in readiness.
“Now, I think i’ll rip off the bandaid and just drive through this wall.” he shook his head and turned to the wall behind the bar. “I guess i’ll ask this. Have you ever been… violated?”
His companion gasped his drink and it ended with him in a coughing fit momentarily.
“What in the hell kind of question is that?” he asked harshly, as he stabilized, cleaned up and put aside his drink.
The on-deck barman swiftly dabbed down the mess the companion had made on the bar. When it looked decent and dry again, he flipped the rug over his shoulder and planted his feet, gesturing his colleague to take over the remaining orders. With two sets of eyes on him, he folded to the pressure but the words just wouldn’t let.
“Boss,” the barman said, “Kumeendaje?”
“I think,” he responded, “ I have been violated.”
“Yo!” his companion exclaimed before hushing down, “kwanza I am sober now. What are you talking about? Ati you have been what? What went down? When was this?”
“Chill, chill. I don’t mean that I have been touched by someone or anything of the sort,” he explained.
“Oh! Now you… the hell? You can’t start saying things like this!” his companion retorted, punching him in the shoulder. “I am here thinking, what person would take a big guy like you? I was worried here asking, was it a man? was it a lady-”
“A lady but I mean,” his eyes played between the barman and his friend, “it wasn’t sexual violation but I still feel violated, yaani by what she has done.”
“Is this who I think it is?” His friend asked, dismissively. “What has she done kwani?”
A pause. He looked down at the glass in his hands and watched the froth bubbles slowly disappear.
“It’s like she…” he trailed off. “It’s like she just walked into my heart and took me in her stride, without me letting her. Now there is this vulnerabilty that I am feeling, like this weakness hadi I am feeling depressed. I told myself I was single, that I could be a whore and work on me, then she is here manipulating herself in with her perfection, when I haven’t consented and I am not happy about it but I am, you get?. We haven’t even been talking for long and I am head over heels for this girl. I think she has taken advantage of my heart in ways I have never had someone do. Like she forced her love and care and tenderness on me, she slipped it past my defense and I couldn’t do anything to stop it and now I am simping. I feel like I have failed as a bro, man. I made a promise to myself and you guys to not be taken away into a relationship but I have broken it. Y’all can understand though, right? She has me down bad I can’t even defend myself.”
He sighed.
“I think it’s criminal. To make me fall so hard.”
