On Monday night Eve, Gwen, Wisty – my three best friends, all at the top of journalism – and I met at the Club Galileo to feel the magic begin to spark, and to realize it was happening again. I was back in the BaC (Bachelorette Club).
“Just like ol’ times,” Eve said.
“In more ways than you know,” I sighed.
Our drinks were brought, and as we each took a sip almost at the same time, I felt placid, as if a heavy yoke had been taken off my neck.
There was an obvious level of anticipation buzzing through the group. As I took another sip of my red wine, I scanned around. All the six eyes were on me.
“What?” I said.
“I told you,” Wisty said. “Shiri’s not gonna tell us how it went unless we squeeze it out of her.”
“That’s not it, guys,” I defended myself. “It’s just that I dunno where to start.”
“Start from the beginning,” Wisty said. “We are dying to hear how it went.”
“Jeez, guys. I’ve not even patted myself for excellent performance.”
“It’s been two days, Shiri,” Eve croaked.
I shot a glance at Eve.
“And everybody is just us,” Wisty interjected.
“Guys, it’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, nay,” I sad. “I just don’t know how, or where.”
“Well, you guys should have been there to see the look on his face when I told him that I already knew about him…” Eve said. “That’s how, Shiri. And for where, start at the end, the middle, then beginning, or vice-versa, or just jumble it up, as long as you tell us.”
I knew it was just a matter of time before I gave in. After all, how could I keep secrets from my girls. The trio were the only people I trusted here in Kenya, and the first people I knew when I came to Kenya. There weren’t sharper minds in the media cognoscenti I could pick for friends.
I let out an expectant sigh. “This all stays amongst us,” I said. “I put a gag order on you.”
“Of course,” they all chimed in.
I turned to Eve, the celebrity gossip columnist in the Friday Nation of the Nation Media Group, “And that means I am not ‘a certain media personality’ for your column this week. With any of it. Not ever.”
“Why do I get the feeling I am hated by you for my column?” Eve shot back, shook her head then acquiesced. “Fine. Deal.”
Wisty smiled. “We knew you’d eventually break down.”
“Nay,” I said. “I decided to tell you when you said ‘you’re dying.’ I don’t wanna you dying on me.” I gave them the wink, my wink.
Piece by piece, I took my friends through my meeting with Fr. Francis, my ex. The confrontation, Frank’s excuse of an explanation, and the break up.
“Well done, baby. That’s my girl,” Eve said, raising her wineglass for a toast.
“Now you’ve got to move on,” Gwen said. “The bastard should go and rot in hell.”
Eve inquired, “Is anybody here in a quagmire that needs our help?”
“No,” we chorused. “We are good to go.”
I had shared my Not Exactly What’s Said (NEWS), all of it what they wanted to hear. Everyone was happy for me.
I nodded to Wisteria. “Now you…”
One by one the girls updated the BaC. We shared news and gossip till it was late in the night then knocked it off and called it a night.
As usual, Friday was BaC’s. The week is ending.
I have never been at peace with myself.
Copyright ©Elove Poetry, 2012.
If you have enjoyed this story, go to my blog http://elovepoetry.me and read the earlier series.
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