Here lies Bruce

I first laid eyes on Bruce on a rainy Monday morning in Java, a bustling coffee shop on Biashara Street in Nairobi.   This occassion was not marked by fireworks. When I looked at him, all I saw was a middle-aged man, with a haircut that did nothing for him, wearing loose fitting, slightly wrinkled clothes, which looked suspiciously slept in. Our eyes met briefly, and in that typical Nairobi fashion, we both deliberately looked away to overtly communicate our indifference to the rest of the world. If only I had known the impact that man was going to have on my life, I would have run out screaming. 

My girlfriend Diana walked in a quarter of an hour later, just as I was beginning to feel jittery. “how are you my dear?” she said as she slid into the seat opposite me, but then her jaw dropped and her eyes popped out dramatically, making my response irrelevant.

“Bruce, hi! How are you? This is the girl I told you about!” I followed her gaze and was struck by the engaging smile emanating from Mr. slept-in clothes. As fate would have it, Bruce was one of the many influential people who had had the pleasure/pain of receiving my resume from Di over the past few weeks. Yes, he’s also the only one who had responded. “I regret to inform you that we have nothing suitable at the moment, but we will file your CV…”

Something suitable did turn up, and the next time I sat across from Bruce was in his spacious office signing a two-year contract with Gio Ltd. The following two weeks were a flurry of activity, as Bruce introduced me to clients and introduced me to the world of public relations. I was his new assistant. Up until then, I knew nothing about him, other than his tendency to look like he didn’t own a mirror. But then again, I didn’t feel the need to know more than what I required to keep my job.  

I fell in love with Bruce. I don’t know when it happened, but I know why…

“Good morning Shama, are you alright? Wanna grab a coffee and talk?” He would ask softly when I was feeling overwhelmed by an angry exchange with my boyfriend. How could he tell?

“I know this might be out of line, but what the heck. I thought you needed an energy boost, seeing as I work you too hard”. His excuse for coming back from lunch with a box of delicious chocolates.

“Hannah and I will be going out later this evening, dinner and drinks. Why don’t you ask John if he’s interested?” And that is how he met my boyfriend and I met his wife, who I liked immediately, but secretly wondered why she was unable to  get her husband to look as elegant as she did. 

Over the next few months, we grew to be close friends, the two of us. I cried on Bruce’s shoulder when John and I finally ended our tumultuous relationship. Hours upon hours of working together, yet we never mastered the art of thinking alike about advertising ideas, or promotion campaigns. However, our thoughts on life and love and art were bred in one womb.  

I now know what Hannah thought of the relationship. “Here lies Bruce. Beloved husband to Hannah.” My name may not appear on his headstone, but I don’t care. He graced my life with his presence, and that is indelible. I know that he sees me, just as I see him still. I am disfigured now, but I still feel like his beautiful Shama.  

In retrospect, this story could only have had one ending. Yes, we crossed the line. I crossed the line. And we paid more dearly than any of us could ever have imagined. I wonder sometimes… in destroying us, what did Hannah gain?