Faith, hope and love

I went to Samantha’s house not long after that. I had not seen her since arriving from the land that doesn’t pronounce their i’s correctly and it had been three days since I had been back. She was glad to see me when she opened the door. She lived in a terrace house by herself. About a year ago she decided to move out of the share house she was living in so she could concentrate on her own life. She got sick and tired of counselling her flatmates when they broke up with their partners, lost their jobs or talking to them when they were drunk, high or both.

When she got this inner city house she had dreams of renovating and selling it for a massive profit but didn’t take into account the amount of elbow grease that you have to put in, so you can make the renovations somewhat affordable. None of this bothered me one bit. I was used to living in run down shacks next to freeways so this was pleasant even if a few cracks were appearing on the walls.

It had been a couple of weeks since I had been here and I noticed that she had begun work on the spare room, making a start on painting her feature wall a dark purple. She had her first coat done and I applauded her on it. She said that she got bored whilst I was away and she didn’t like watching DVDs by herself. I jokingly thought to myself that we should spend less time together just so she can get more done on her renovations but then thought that that was slightly nasty so I withdrew my wry smirk. Samantha noticed this and asked what was funny.
‘Nothing’.
‘Yeah right’
I tried to cover myself up ‘I’m serious! I’m just happy to be back that’s all’
She knew I was lying but let it go. She asked me how my trip was and I told her about my little journey but left out the part about Catherine.
‘So did you pick up any ladies while you were away?’
‘Shit yeah, I was king of the town. They were thinking of making a bronze statue of my face and placing it in the town centre with the words: Ioju, the two-week procreator extraordinaire. I have to except the designs first of course.’
‘Of course you do babe. I’m going to put the kettle on.’
‘Excellent. That’s what the last girl said as well’.
‘Oh really? Did she tell you to fuck off at some point as well?’
‘Oh you bet.’

That night in bed I kept on thinking about why I didn’t tell Samantha about Catherine. There was no reason why I shouldn’t tell her cause nothing happened or was going to happen. In the same respect however why should I tell her everything? What if she did take it the wrong way? How do you go about telling your girlfriend that some coke crazed girl who makes a lot of money in a brothel (apparently) hit on you at a bar and that you saw her a second time by chance hundreds of kilometres away from where you first met her. What was Samantha supposed to say? “OK, I’ll go put the kettle on? Keep on telling me about your time at the bordello while this Jasmine tea is brewing. You need to speak up though cause I’m in the kitchen!”

Perhaps I was over thinking the matter since I wasn’t getting to sleep in a big hurry. Samantha was next to me quietly snoring. I concentrated on her snoring instead and eventually got to sleep.

We both woke up at about seven am so we could both go to our respected workplaces. She kissed me goodbye as I lay in bed. I didn’t have to leave for another hour. I watched her drive away through the window. It seemed like a nice day outside which wasn’t a good thing if you were going to spend the majority of your day in an office with minimal natural light filtering through. I’m not going to bore you with how my day went, as you already know what I do for a living. It was yet again uneventful.

When work finished I decided to walk home instead of catching the bus. The setting sun was still surprisingly bright and lovely. A light breeze was coming though for the night which made it the perfect weather for a stroll. I walked past a flamenco guitar busker playing his instrument masterfully. I wondered if I should start learning the guitar so I could serenade random people with my nylon strings for twenty cents each. I romanticised about all the lovely Italian woman (and I don’t know why Italian and not Spanish or Latin American woman) that I would meet and fall in love with as they passed me by but I then thought about the years of training and practise I would need to master the guitar, which put me off the whole idea quick smart. Also, there is no such thing as love, right?

Walking next to me at this instance was a middle-aged man in a dark suit who was talking to himself. I tried to catch what he was saying and noticed that he had his head down, like he was reading a book of some sought.
‘Work hard and become a leader; be lazy and never succeed.’
Was he reading a self-help book of some sought? He kept on reading quotes out loud.
‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning’
Yeah, I don’t know about that one.
‘I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’
I just realised that what I had next to me was a Bible pusher of the strangest kind. Normally you see them sprucing on the side street with a megaphone but this guy had some style and pizzazz. You think he’s quietly reading to himself and only naturally, you want to hear what he is reading too so you listen in carefully and then before you know it, BAM, you receive quotes from our apparent one true God on how to seek his loyalty and forgiveness. In hindsight though this tactic could be used as a marketing tool for any organisation. Word of mouth from the one that heard the word from the mouth of the loud reader. Cheaper then a mass billboard promotion too!
‘Love is patient; love is kind
and envies no one.
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;
never selfish, not quick to take offense.
There is nothing love cannot face;
there is no limit to its faith,
its hope, and endurance.
In a word, there are three things
that last forever: faith, hope, and love;
but the greatest of them all is love.’
The timing of me coming up to my house could not have been greater. Things could have gotten violent with the Bible pusher and I if he had a few more quotes under his sleeve.

I walked in and turned on my computer. This was a natural habit of mine so I could check if I had received any emails for the day. I quickly made a cup of tea and checked my mail. A mass email from a friend who was overseas was waiting for me. I’m one of those strange people who actually takes the time to read those emails. It’s called escapism via someone else’s reality. My friend Tom was just hitting his strides in South Africa and was telling me all about his time in Johannesburg. He also had attached about a dozen pictures of himself in random bars with random people. A bottle of Castle lager was in his hands in every picture.

I made some stir fry for the night and turned on the television to find some mind numbing entertainment. I watched a reality show and then another reality show and then another reality show with a little more swearing in it. By that stage it was about eleven pm and I was ready to go sleep. I started to walk towards my room but noticed that the little light on the answering machine was blinking. Who would call me on my home phone? Everyone just either emails me or calls my mobile. Hmm. Clicking play. The recorded message was from someone who I had never spoken to before. His name was Daniel and it turns out he was the father of the friend of mine I was staying with a few days ago. Daniel had called me to let me know that my friend had just died.