CHAPTER 9: A Strange Night

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   So should she? The thought rankled on, heeding to exactly none of her pretensious efforts at distractions. Beyond the walls of her room, someone groaned and mumbled intelligible nonsense. Anna sneered. After drinking himself silly, Bosco had slumped into the sofa and was probably just waking up, wondering in what dimensions exactly the non-existent blanket had fallen into and whether the bed had indeed been that small when he slept on it. She turned and looked at the dress spread on the bed. She reached for the hem and felt the skirt between her index finger and thumb. Wouldn't it be nice if she could be happy for once? It didn't matter how, or with whom, but wouldn't it- wouldn't it be nice to have fun? To live life and laugh out loud? Marouane hadn't bothered  returning her calls. Mad- sure, but the lack of even a sliver of concern hurt her most, the fact that he had refused to cut her some slack. Was it hard to understand that she had a sick brother? Did he think it was any easier on her to disappoint him? But wait; those were wrong questions anyway. The tasking puzzle was; did he even care about her? Did he even love her? She twisted her lips in disgust and began channelling hatred from the basement of her regular emotion home and tried directing the venom towards him. He had proven he was yet just as selfish as those schmucks he calls friends. Sam gave a low groan. She turned to him but the boy was not waking. He turned and faced the centre of the room, eyes half closed, mouth splayed open with saliva drooling down the side of his mouth, a show of how enjoyable the sleep was after a long day in the hospital. Anna reached down and parted him lightly on his side belly and cooed to his ear. Just as he had startled, he fell right back seamlessly into his peaceful sleep. She looked at him, but her thoughts had taken off. She would go. She would go to the party. She would look for Emma and Priscilla and the three would see the night through in the best possible way. She reached down for the dress in resolve-
She stood before the mirror, the koroboi held in her left hand. She looked good. Beautiful! The earrings dangling down her ears glittered in spasms, twinkling like stars fallen on. The hair, straightened and held in a bun behind her head, sheened in its pitch black shade and her radiant face glowed and her lips glistened with the mild redness of the lipstick. Beautiful! She threw on some leggings to ward off the biting chill, picked up a tiny clutch bag and threw in some other numerous effects. Then, she picked up a black, woolen jacket, pecked Sam lightly on his cheeks, blew out the koroboi and stepped out, leaving the door ajar behind her. What she didn't know however, was that the ill hand of fate was not done messing with her, that the culmination of  events coming in the next few hours would render that kiss to her brother the last.

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Excerpt from my very first attempt at a full novel writing 'The Red Hills Of Ivojo' which I'm still working on with hopes of publishing.

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