Walking to her father’s car the area was dark. Unable to resist the temptation I tried to scare her which astonishingly worked.

“Really Darriann? That was so predictable.” She said seemingly unimpressed, I gained a very notorious reputation of loving clichés.

“It made you scared though and that reaction was the predictable one I wanted.” I replied in an arrogant tone. “Let’s go back to playing pool, this time I’ll teach you how to cheat, Miss A.” I said sarcastically.

“I hate cheaters Darriann, in any and all its forms.” She replied to me with a scowl on her face. Though a fledgling to understanding woman, her expression seemed tied to a past event in her life. That topic I shied away from since I saw the heartache she seemed unable to let go of.

The hours ticked away as though father time was playing a cruel joke on me. Before long, there I was hugging her as she was travelling back to Kokstad. We exchanged phone numbers, and expectedly, I couldn’t wait till I phoned her.

Back in Estcourt I was, 3 January 2013. A perfect excuse soon aroused. I passed matric! So did she. Besides, my reason to phone her was more than that. I walked ignorantly of the consequences, through a thunderstorm just to buy airtime to phone her.

My body was saturated with nerves, my breathing became erratic. I felt light headed and dizzy as I dialled her phone number.

“Sawbona,” came a reply – oops! Wrong number I dialled. While redialling again, this time I knew not to confuse three with eight.

“Hello,” said that ever gentle voice, Andria answered. Quiet I remained as just her voice made me happy.

“Darriann?”

“How you knew, are you psychic?”

“Well now you know my secret. I have to charge you; my service isn’t free.”

“Andria, is this a perfect time to talk?”

“Yeah I’m just sitting with my dog Bobby, say hello to Darrian.” She said while mimicking the bark of a dog saying my name.

We laughed so hard, my eyes became teary in the process.

“Andria . . .”

“Yes Darriann?”

“I love you,” while the cliché in the conversation sounded dull and insipid, I really hoped the result was just as predictable. She’d say, “Yes” and happily ever after we would live.

“Oh Darriann, unfortunately I got a boy-friend, but you and I can be still be friends.” She said, my heart felt like there was a hole in it. The pun this time – I’m guilty to say is intended. However, I fail verbally to describe the pain of loving someone and they feel not a damn thing for you.

Gutted like a fish, my intestines felt rotten. Cupid where are you?! A love doctor to hire! Try witchcraft and voodoo on her! Visit a sangoma! Any help just to get Andria to love me. While wars are waged, I’m at war with my own heart.

In the darkness of my room, I felt a sanctuary and comfort zone of some kind. Meticulously, I was so as to prevent any suspicious thoughts from my mother, knowing how astute she was of how I felt. Like all wounds, time shall inevitably heal it, though a callous memory will remain. A hole in the heart, love alone can fill so while my wounds healed, the hole in my heart got wider.

I was told that in life we will always fall-in-love with someone who doesn’t love us. Trust me I can validate that statement. Being friends with a female, I always knew meant being a punching bag for her to lament her frustration upon.

“Friends… is fine,” I forced myself to say, while gulping down the pain lodged in my throat. Externally I had a fake smile, internally I had real tears. The only way to be near her was to become the Roman god Janus. Though hypocritical in nature, I had to wear a mask in front of her, all the while being bitter within my true self.

I should have expected such an outcome. She was a veteran in the field of love, I was but a neophyte, a novice wet behind his ears.

We ended the call after speaking for two hours. Instinctively by some unknown force I began playing love music.

***

Tell us what you think: Do you think being friends with someone you’re in love is a good idea?