Chapter Five
Kimberly remembered only a few minutes before Hussein parked the car by an unpainted house that she had not seen any restaurants in Mapungi on all their recent tours. And so far, he had made no mention of a restaurant. She was curious about what he had in mind.
“Where are we,” she asked.
“You’ll find out soon,” he said mysteriously. He got out and opened her door for her. “This place is very special to me.” Even though it was dark all around them, she saw a light come into his eyes as he spoke.
They went around the house and Hussein unlocked a door with a key from his pocket. “This is the back door,” he explained. Kimberly gasped at the sight before her. There was no electric light in the room. Instead, it was awash with candlelight.
A round table covered with linen gloriously sat in the middle of the room. On it were covered plates from which wafted the aroma of delicious food. On either side of the table was a chair.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered. Then she turned to him and asked, “did you do all of this?”
“Yes,” he answered, “for you.” Then he pressed a small remote and the room was filled with soft music.
“Music!” She laughed with pleasure, but there were tears in her eyes. In all her twenty plus years of life, no one had ever done something like this for her. Yes, she had been to dates in the fanciest restaurants in the city, but they had all been so impersonal and felt more like business diners than romantic dates.
Looking at Hussein and what he had put together for her made her believe that she was truly special.
“Hey,” he said softly as he cupped her face in his palm and wiped a stray tear with his thumb. “Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she answered quickly, “you haven’t done anything wrong. In fact, you have made me feel very special tonight.”
“You are special, Kimberly, never doubt that. Everything about you is special. But tell me why you are crying.”
She looked at his handsome earnest face and knew instantly that she would carry this moment, this memory in her heart forever. “No one’s ever done something like this for me,” she said simply. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you for allowing me the pleasure to do this for you. And please, no more tears. I want you to enjoy yourself and the food that I’ve prepared specially for you.”
“You did?” She was pleasantly surprised.
“Yes, and not to brag but you’ll find I’m an excellent cook once you’re seated and eating.”
Kimberly laughed as he led her to one of the chairs. “I am kind of hungry.”
“Good.” He grinned as he sat down on the other chair. “Let’s pray first,” he said and was rewarded with a look on Kimberly’s face that he wouldn’t have traded for anything else. “Surprised?” he chuckled.
She nodded. “Hussein Mubarak doesn’t sound very Christian. Wait, I said the same thing to Jessica fifteen years ago when we first met in school.” Amused now, she laughed out.
“We get that a lot.” Hussein grinned. “You’ll be surprised to find out that more than eighty percent of the people of Mapungi are Christians. The names make no difference to them.”
“I have noticed,” Kimberly said.
“My mum especially was very particular about our Christian life. Being his only son, she did everything she could to make sure that I grew up in the faith. Now, I am grateful that she did. It is what has kept me so far.”
Kimberly said nothing to that. There had been a time when she too had been staunch in her faith. But when the problems began, her God had not listened to her prayers. Now she only lived a day at a time. After Hussein finished saying grace, Kimberly eagerly uncovered the plate before her. “Hmm this smells wonderful”
“It tastes even better.”
She dug her fork into the food and filled her mouth with a forkful of the spicy food. “What is this? She asked in awe. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything like it before.
“It is Kapoanu. Do you like it?
“Yes, it’s heavenly.” She sighed a little and noticed that he was not eating. He was staring at her so intently that she became instantly self-conscious. “You are not eating,” she told him to hide her uneasiness.
“I’d rather watch you eat,” he said truthfully. She made even the simple act of eating so attractive with her little sighs and slightly closed lids and how she savoured every flavour before she swallowed the food. He wondered what those flavours would be like if he tasted them from her mouth. He was already valiantly fighting images in his head. God help me, he prayed silently.
“It does not speak well for your food,” she laughed to hide her nervousness.
“Unfortunately.” Hussein grinned and filled his mouth with a forkful before he could say –or do –anything drastic.
“How did you find this place?” She changed the subject.
He studied her carefully. How would she react if he told her that he liked her hair? That he fantasised about losing himself in them. That they reminded him of the silk that his grandfather had bought from foreigners years ago when he was still a boy.
“It’s my house,” he said.
The fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
Then he told her something he had never told another person. “I started designing it while I was still studying architecture. At first, it was going to be my own haven. Some place I could escape to when the Big House was too noisy.” A faraway look entered his eyes and Kimberly realised he was sharing a small part of himself with him. She listened quietly.
“Then as the Big House became quieter with every death, with every person that went away, I realised I did not want this place to be just my haven. I wanted to share it with someone who wouldn’t leave. I wanted to share it with a family of my own. So, I added more rooms, made some extensions. I haven’t figured everything out yet.”
“Why haven’t you?” she did not clarify her question but he understood.
“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Maybe it’s because I never found the right person to start a family with. Maybe I didn’t look hard enough. Or maybe I just stopped looking.”
“And while you were looking, did you ever look at Grace?”
Hussein had to laugh at that. “Now, why would you ask a question like that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m curious.”
“I don’t believe you for a second.” But he was smiling which made Kimberly believe that she wasn’t far from the truth.
“So, did you?”
He was quiet for a while. “Yes,” he answered softly. “I did, and for a while I thought she was it but she wasn’t.”
“What happened?”
“It’s what didn’t happen. I didn’t love her.” He did not add that Grace had wanted to go to bed with him. That he had been tempted. That it was his mother’s voice in his head, on her deathbed, telling him, “Don’t take a woman to bed if she hasn’t got your ring on her finger,” that had stopped him. The next time he touched a woman, he wanted it to be legal and out of mutual love.
“You believe in love?” Kimberly asked incredulously.
“Yes, I do. My parents had it and so did my grandparents. I never met my great grandfather, but from the stories Mati used to tell us, I’d say they had it too. I want the same thing for myself. Do you believe in love?”
“For myself, no. I stopped believing.”
“Before or after Newton?”
“Before.”
“Why? What happened?” He wanted a little more insight into the woman in front of her.
“I want to see the rest of your house. Can I?”
He took a while to answer. “Sure,” he said. If she didn’t want to talk about it now, he wouldn’t force it. He could be very patient when he had to be.
He led her through the kitchen to the sitting room. The floor was padded with dark teak in different shades. There was no furniture, only huge brown boxes
He showed her his office just to the living room. It was large and airy. The walls were lined up with empty bookshelves. There was a huge mahogany desk close to one of the walls. She walked over to it. “This looks Greek,” she commented.
“It is,” Hussein replied, impressed by her good eye. “You do a lot of travelling?”
“No,” she said.
He led her to the bedrooms. When they got to the master bedroom, he paused in the doorway.
“What?” she asked, trying to see past him through the partially opened door. When her face lit up with surprise and amusement, he knew that she had seen what he was trying to hide from her. With a little whoop, she pushed past him into the room. She stopped by the bed in wonderment. “A canopy bed.” A wide smile stretched across her face.
“I always wanted one as a boy,” he said by way of explanation.
“Me too,” Kimberly said quietly. “Can I touch it?” He nodded. She moved slowly as if she was approaching a sacred ground. She put one finger on the bedpost then another. She trailed her fingers along the post to the mattress. “This is beautiful,” she whispered softly. Hussein stood aside watching her quietly. If he had only slightly guessed that this would be her reaction upon seeing the bed, he would not have wasted so much time on the other rooms.
She sank onto the bed with a little sigh. “I love your bed,” she said happily.
“It can be yours too,” he nearly said, but he knew that would just bring back up all her defences or at worst drive her away. So he kept quiet and watched her fawn over his bed.
