She Was the Variant I Didn’t See Coming
Ghosted, Blocked, but Definitely Not Forgotten!
This story is just one juicy part of a bigger picture. Read the intro here to get all the tea!
There he was: my covid crush, standing just a few feet away, completely unaware of my presence. I had rehearsed every possible insult, from A to Z that I would unleash at him if we ever crossed paths again. But when the moment came, I choked on my own words. I was flooded with mixed emotions. Anxiety was right at the top.
I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him, to seek closure, ask him where he disappeared to. I should have walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, demanded an explanation, but I didn’t. Some ghosts aren’t meant to return to the living.
As I stood there, frozen, memories of us came crashing back. It’s as if it were yesterday. No. A few years back, yet it felt quite recent. The emotions remained raw. I met a man, or did he meet me?
From our very first date, I knew he wouldn’t leave my thoughts. He was everything that I ever wanted. A complete package. His beard felt like a cushion. His hands were soft and tender. He was a bit advanced in age, and his way of thinking leaned old school. He said I intrigued him and filled his life with adventure.
Then boom! COVID happened. The pandemic didn’t just kill people. Its death toll was far more devastating-it killed relationships alike.
"If we continue to behave nomari, this disease will treat us abnomari"
Mutahi Kagwe(1958- ) Kenyan politician
You see, disaster always strikes when you least expect it. I had no issues with those words from the former Health CS, but what followed was the real nightmare. Following the surge in COVID cases, it didn’t take long before county-to-county lockdown was imposed. He had gone back to the village to do the usual one-two-three when the restrictions kicked in.
I was stuck in Nairobi. We hadn’t moved in together, but at least when he was in the city, we saw each other often. He just didn’t know my name, he knew me in depths unimaginable.
The so-called “social distance” couldn’t tear us apart. What could possibly separate me from the love of my life? (Social)distance? No. Lockdown? No. Masks that might have made him unrecognizable? Definitely not. If anything, we grew even closer despite the miles between us. He was always in my ears, his sweet voice filling the silence.
And then, just like how COVID crashed into our lives, things began taking a twist slowly, then gradually.
The frequent calls, the sweet nothings: “Baby I miss you so much”, “I can’t wait for the lockdown to end so that we can be together again” started dwindling. Three calls a day became two. Then one. Then occasional. Then random, like the unpredictable Nairobi rains. What was happening to my sweet, loving, and caring man?
At first, he said he was broke. Times were tough. I understood. The lockdown had wrecked many people’s finances. But even after the ban was lifted, he still didn’t come. He kept telling me “Kuna deal flani nategea iivane and then I will come. ASAP.”
I waited. And waited. Annnnd waited. Kwani alikuwa anachoma makaa?
Then, a few weeks later, out of nowhere, the texts started coming. A new number. A new nightmare.
“I knew I would find you. Hebu leave my man alone you stupid girl.”
“Mjinga wewe. So, you are the reason he’s been ignoring us huku nyumbani?”
“His one-year-old daughter is starving because of you!”
Wait...His one-year-old daughter? Us huku nyumbani? What in the plot twist was this?
Okay. Okay. Okaaay! So ‘my man’ had a whole child stashed somewhere in ushago? News to me. All this time, I thought maybe my man was self-quarantining; staying home and staying safe. Little did I know he was safe in someone else’s bosom.
I wanted to ask him if all those allegations were true, but his phone was “mteja”. And on those rare occasions it went through, guess who picked up? That woman, armed and ready to insult me like a young kid.
I couldn’t trace him. Days passed, and I kept hoping he’d resurface. Lakini wapi? He vanished like a ghost and not even Halloween could lure him back. Maybe that’s why they call it a crush because... because, oh boy, did my feelings and castles come tumbling down.
It was evident that the virus had infected more than just bodies; it had infested our relationship too. What else could I do but to social distance myself from that mess?
Remember that thing I alluded to the first and only letter of Paul to the Romans? What will separate me from the love of my man? Shall COVID, or social distance, or masks? Now that I am wiser, I know the answer. I am persuaded that neither COVID, nor social distance, nor masks could have separated us.
But another woman from ushago – the mother of his child did the job just fine. Arggh! She was the special variant I didn’t see coming!
Now, here I am, staring at this ravishingly handsome man who still has the audacity to give me goosebumps. My body seems to defy my mind, acting on its own will. The spirit is so willing, but damn, the flesh is weak. I open my mouth, ready to call his name but then I stop. What would I even say?
“Hey, remember me? The girl you left wondering during lockdown?”
No. That’s not me anymore. I’ve evolved. Matured. Maybe I don’t need answers anymore. Maybe some stories are meant to remain unfinished.
No. Hapana. I’ve lied. I need answers.
Honestly, I can’t help but wonder. Was it the pandemic that tore us apart? Or did a metaphorical meteorite cause the last disconnection? Crashing into our love? Or maybe, just maybe, like Jolene from Dolly Parton’s song, another woman stole him away?
What remains now is the ghost of his memories. Perhaps, in time, the ghost will feel less haunting and more like a quiet, cherished part of my story.
So, I let him stay in the past where he belonged. I turned and walked away. And for the first time, it felt like I was the one disappearing.
For now, the only drug I need is Medicine from Bensol
About the authorSamara Munene is passionate about poetry, life's philosophies, traveling, dancing, culture, and storytelling. She runs a blog called Samara's Blog Journey where she writes about poetry, life's adventures, real-life experiences, fantasy, and romance.
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Next: So It Was, Or Is It?—when the past keeps knocking like an unpaid debt: Hustler Fund.
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Absolutely captivating! 📌
His beards felt like cushion 😂😂, nedakogeithia.