The door banging steadily grew more angry and violent and eventually the door forced its way in. And on the other side of it was a white capped man, standing proudly in a sky blue shirt with law enforcement insignia; night stick at the ready. Behind the mammoth police officer, a gargantuan jungle green clad corporal stood there with his notepad and firearm teasing its way through his spilling waist.
Taabu was rocking his wife in his arms back and forth, muttering something under his breath in a snotty mess. It took the police officer with the night stick, beating a response out of him, to respond.
“Ndiyo ofisa, ni mimi?”
“Nini imetendeka hapa?”
Taabu was in a daze; his lips moved nothing came out. He slumped back to the kitchen floor Kanini now sprawled on the floor. The corridor outside his door was now filled with nosey neighbours hunting for story fodder. There were gasps laced with, “Ngai, mwathani!” ‘Woi Jesu!” And “Nilijua!” with headshakes and accusatory glances at him.
Taabu said nothing, a fleet of police officers swarmed his house, they collected Kanini’s body and left. The door hung awkwardly gripping on the hinge. It looked like someone doing plunges. The police walked away, residents staring in awe at what was unfolding before their very eyes.
Taabu sobbed his eyes fixed on where Kanini had lain. That was 50 weeks ago. Taabu was cleared of all charges, but no one knew what the cause of death was. The note that Taabu was now glancing at communicated nothing, if at all that was a supposed suicide note from Kanini. “Goodbye.”
Taabu asked himself again, “Goodbye?” It was a surprise that he still had his book deal intact. “You could write a story from this experience Taabu! Creative genius blossoms out of pain and tragedy.” His publicist told him. Taabu had attempted to adjust to normal life about 3 months ago and resume his book after the case ended and ruled out suicide, with no suspects in line for murder.
Taabu snapped out of his 2 hour long day dream and began to type, “Ugly people finish last.” He smiled and continued,
“Ronney, Andre, Miguel and James were the college studs. I was the geek with the unattractive name who knew my only survival in this earth was the books. That changed when I met Kanini, the other person I met who unlike me, may have had a queer name, was beautiful. She made college worth my while. For the first time with my congenital facial deformity that underwent repeated botched reconstructive surgery, I felt worthy of love. But I should have known that the love wasn’t natural for a man of my looks. It may have been genuine, but it wasn’t to last…
Taabu’s cursor blinked as he ceased typing, head hung, tears streaming down his cheeks and he fell back in to his day dream.