Today was the worst day of her life. It was only 7 a.m. but Hope didn’t need to live through another minute of it to know just how bad it was going to be. 

She adjusted her small back pack as the matatu neared her stop. She’d drowned out the riddims blasting through the speakers with the help of earphones and the playlist on her phone. The shuffle playlist that had somehow picked up on her mood and was playing one sad song after another. She knew moping wasn’t going to help and the music was probably making her sadder. But she couldn’t bring herself to change it. 

Daddy was gone. 

It hurt to even think it. She kept waiting for her phone to start ringing and his caller ID to appear on her screen. Deep down inside she knew it wasn’t going to happen. But she couldn’t bring herself to accept that he was really gone. Accepting it felt like a cruel betrayal. As though holding on to hope could somehow bring him back. Ha. Her mental and emotional state could very well be in question but at least she was living up to her name. 

Her sisters would be furious with her. Especially Harriet, who on most days was more of a mother than a sibling. She was supposed to have arrived a few days earlier but she’d intentionally delayed coming. Yet another act of defiance to the truth. She was nowhere near ready to embrace a life where Daddy no longer existed. She’d been so close to telling him her big news. Telling all of them. Now it was too late. 

She got up and made her way towards the matatu door putting on her armour with every step. In hindsight, it wasn’t such a great move to arrive on the same day they were laying Daddy to rest. Harriet and Hailey probably thought she was skimping out on helping with the funeral arrangements. Being the irresponsible last born. As usual. But they didn’t know even half of what had been going on with her in the past six months. No one did. 

With her final layers of defence in place, she disembarked into reality. As the matatu drove off, she braced herself and turned. Memory after memory pummelled her as she began the short trek towards her father’s grocery shop. Playing with her sisters and their neighbours’ kids till it got dark and Daddy had to instruct, command, plead and finally bribe them – in that order – to come home. Stopping by the store after school to regale him with tales of what she’d learned that day. Running errands with him when she was too young to go off on her own and then for him when she got older as did he. So much of her childhood had been spent at his heels. In every way she was Daddy’s girl. Or at least she had been. Now who would she belong to? 

With a sigh she turned the final corner that brought the store in sight. One of the advantages of stopping by this early was that none of the other shops were open yet. Chances were few of them would given it was only two hours before the start of the funeral program. Her father was well known and loved. But she wasn’t sure she could handle any of the fussing that was sure to come from the neighbouring store owners who were family in all ways but blood. They had practically helped her father raise her and her sisters after their mother died. No doubt she looked stoic on the outside but she was starting to wonder how long her defences would hold with so much turmoil raging on the inside. 

It was a compulsion really. To come by and see the store. There was nothing for her to do here. But she felt close to Daddy here. Close enough to feel the comfort she so desperately needed but without the suffocation being in their family home was sure to bring. She went round to the back of the store where there was a grassy patch of open space. Everything was exactly as she remembered it except for one thing that stopped her dead in her tracks. 

Someone had started a carpentry business next to her father’s store. That much was clear from the sign at the front. But back here, there were two chairs on the verandah of Daddy’s store. One was Daddy’s old rocking chair. All three sisters had been rocked to sleep many a time in that chair. But the chair next to it was new. Foreign. Strange even. It’s fine level of detail and engraving spoke of an unusual level of craftsmanship especially around here where function was often valued more than aesthetic. Her father was a people person, yes, but he only ever came out here to sit on that chair when he needed time to himself. It was a sacred space for him and they all knew to let him be when he was here. Who on earth did the second chair belong to? She hadn’t been home in months, a reminder which made a wince as another layer of guilt circled her heart. So the chair and the carpentry business were a relatively recent addition. 

A muffled noise came from inside from the grocery store cutting short her internal inquiry. Was it one of her sisters coming to pick something up? A family friend checking on things? No. It couldn’t be. Not with Harriet’s planning that was so efficient it bordered on being more machine-like than human. She would have ensured that the only thing anyone needed to do today was get through the funeral. Given the lack of sleep since Hope got the news of her father’s death a week ago and the fact that even before then, she’d barely been sleeping, she couldn’t rule out that the noise was nothing more than a figment of her overly tired imagination coupled with her nerves that were on edge. 

Then she heard it again. Louder and more distinct this time. There was definitely someone or something in the store. The mystery chair occupant? She shook her head trying to clear the cobwebs of fatigue that were starting to cloud her thinking for the umpteenth time. The chair’s owner was something she could easily find out from one of her sisters later. Right now she needed to find out what was going on in the store. 

She almost said His name. Almost. It was at the tip of her tongue when she remembered how long it had been since they talked. Was there anyone she hadn’t cut off these past few months? It wasn’t that she didn’t need them. The opposite was in fact true. She needed her family…Him…more in this season than any other. But she couldn’t bring herself to talk about what was going on with her with anyone. Not even Him. 

Yet another stream of noise from the store reminded her that this was a terrible time to get in touch with her feelings after months of ignoring them. She moved to one of the windows careful to stand on the side so that whoever was inside wouldn’t see her. A hurried peep didn’t tell her much. But her increased proximity to the store confirmed that someone was definitely rummaging through things inside. The back door was slightly ajar and slightly splintered at the lock. Someone had done a rather impressive job of breaking in with minimal damage to the door. Something she would have observed earlier if that chair hadn’t so utterly distracted her. She dismissed the thought of calling for help because there was no one to call in the deserted complex. Ignoring her internal alarm that warned her danger lay in wait, she placed her backpack beside the door, held onto her small umbrella – the closest thing to a weapon in her possession – and crept in. 

A big bulky shadow was hunched over the cash register. Whatever tendrils of fear that had begun to creep up in her gave way to full blown rage. Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! On the day they were going to bury their father – the man who had spent the past two decades working himself to the bone in this store to take care of them – some idiot decided this was the perfect time to steal from him?! Couldn’t he at least have waited till Daddy was in the ground? Didn’t honour among thieves extend to recently dead people? 

She was halfway to him before she even registered her own movement. He noticed her presence too late as her umbrella landed right in the middle of his thick skull. The black ski mask over his head did nothing to shield him from the blow and he yelped in pain. Served him right stealing from her father on the day of his funeral. How dare he? Howling like a banshee she continued her assault pouring all her pent up rage and frustration into the blows she was inflicting with every limb she could throw at him. So driven was she in her attack that the gun lying by the register completely escaped her notice.  

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Today was a hard day. 

For most of his adult life, Dean had never been one to dwell on emotions but a lot had changed in the last year. He had changed. No, that was an understatement. He was a completely different man. 

He parked his car in front of his carpentry shop though his destination was next door. He needed a minute to compose himself before heading to Harry’s grocery store. Even though he’d only been doing business here for a few months, Harry had taken him in like a son. His death had left him reeling with the loss of the closest thing to family he had these days. 

A week had already passed since that horrid day but the weight of the loss still sat heavy in middle of his chest making it hard to breathe. His only escape had been doing as many errands for the family as they’d let him and working on wood at his home workshop. His 3 a.m. attempts at distraction would have driven his neighbours crazy if he hadn’t soundproofed the room before he moved in. Just one among many of the long list of things he’d done at the Lord’s insistence and been grateful for in hindsight every single time. 

That history was the only reason he was here instead of on his way to church for the final requiem mass. The Holy Spirit had been on his case from the moment he opened his eyes. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why it was so paramount that he pass by the store but he knew enough about the Him to know He never fussed over nothing. 

This was the first time he had come by the store this week. Too many memories of Harry here that his heart simply wasn’t ready to deal with. Even now, he could feel the persistent ache of grief growing stronger. 

“Ok. I’m here. Now what?” He asked out loud standing in front of Harry’s store. 

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a piercing howl rent the air. A distinctly feminine howl. Was one of Harry’s daughters in trouble? They were the only ones he’d imagine being here today. The employees had been given some days off as the family figured things out and there was no way the shop would be open today of all days. It had to be one of the daughters. Harry had talked his ear off about all three of them but he’d only met the first two. The hollering sounded like it was coming from inside the store but the place was locked up tight here up front. So he rushed to the back where he found a black back pack lying next to the splintered back door. 

Shoot. There was no telling what lay in store inside but he didn’t have time to worry about it or even come up with a plan. He just rushed inside figuring if the Holy Spirit was crazy enough to get him into this, He’d figure a way out for him too. It was the least He could do. But when Dean’s eyes landed on the source of all the commotion, he realized that nothing would have prepared him for the sight in front of him. 

Damsel in distress? Not from where he was standing. If anything, it looked like the masked man needed his help more than the young woman did. She was holding her own with – was that an umbrella? He barely held back the laugh that was about to burst out of him. It wouldn’t have mattered if he let it out anyway. They seemed too engrossed in doing battle to pay him any attention. He was almost tempted to creep back out and wait for her there as she handled business. But there was no way he was missing out on watching any of this go down. He’d give her another minute. Another rapid succession of thwacks landed on the thief’s face. Ouch. Make that several minutes before he stepped in and got the intruder off her hands. 

“Thanks for the laugh, Lord. You knew I needed it today,” he whispered from the corner. The woman had somehow managed to perch herself on the man’s back. She was using one hand to hold on for dear life as he tried to shake her off and the other to land as many blows with her umbrella as she could. She even periodically dug in a few kicks into the man’s abdomen using the block heels on her booted feet. 

Dean’s humour dissipated instantly as he felt the moment tables turned before he watched it happen. The man tensed suddenly surprising the woman on his back into stillness as well. Before Dean could take a step forward, the man then heaved to the side, which sent the woman flying to floor. Dean cringed at the thud and he must have voiced his protest out loud because cold, brown eyes glared right at him through the black mask. 

“I don’t want any trouble. But I think it’s time for you to leave,” Dean said holding out his hands as he tried to prepare himself for a fight he was in no way ready for. They were about the same height but the masked man had a few kilos and a lot more muscle on him. At least, the woman was momentarily out of harm’s way with all the masked man’s attention on him now. She wasn’t moving and with her face away from him, he couldn’t tell whether it was a wise move on her part to stay out of harm’s way or the fall had knocked her out. 

“Buda, hii si vita yako. Jitoe kabla nikutoe.” The demand for Dean to leave was made with a chilling tone. He sounded cocky, too cocky. As though he knew something Dean didn’t that made his victory a guarantee. Did he really think Dean was just going to walk out and leave him alone with an unarmed a ridiculously armed woman? The man turned and his hand moved back to the register. He  gathered his stash together not at all concerned by Dean’s presence. Apparently he did expect Dean to just walk away. Arrogant idiot. But now was not the time for a game of egos. Dean needed him gone so he could attend to the woman who still wasn’t moving.  

“Staki vita. Chukua pesa uende,” Dean spoke looking around for anything that could serve as a shield or a weapon. Dodging fists wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time. He made furniture for a living for crying out loud. Furniture…that’s it. He inched closer to one of the chairs he had made for Harry a few months back. It would suck to have it broken but better the chair than any of his bones. 

“Who said I was here just for the money?” The masked man asked as he turned and waved a shiny object menacingly in Dean’s direction. Not just any shiny object. A gun. A gun? The man’s eyes went to the woman and Dean didn’t like the interest in his eyes. The woman had clearly made an impression on both of them. 

Drats. Lord, You could have warned me he had that with him. 

Would you have come in as fast as you did if I had? 

Are you kidding me? Now you want to talk? Now when I have a gun pointed at me and a woman I need to somehow save? 

Not just you. Us. I’m here with you, remember? 

Yeah. Us. 

Deep breath. 

How do You want to play this?

The gun won’t fire. When it doesn’t, tackle him like you used to in the field. Let him go when he runs. She’s the priority. 

His eyes moved back to the woman and something suspiciously warm tugged at his heart. But before he could decide what to make of it, he found himself staring at a gun barrel pointed straight at his head. 

Talk time was over. 

The man’s finger pressed the trigger and Dean fought to keep his eyes open and his heartbeat steady. He needed to focus. 

When the gun failed to discharge, the man got distracted by his surprise. It was now or never. Dean got in position and ran straight for him. He slammed the man back into the long table that held the cash register and other knick knacks. Thankfully, it was made of heavy wood sturdy enough to absorb their weight without tipping over. 

A grunt of pain came from the man but Dean wasn’t taking any chances. He knocked the gun out of his hand and landed a few punches into the man before he was able to shove Dean off him and land a punch of his own. Finding his balance he turned to face the now enraged man. Wasn’t he supposed to be running by now? 

The man looked back and forth between the money still on the counter, Dean who was standing in between and the gun on the floor not too far from him. Decision made, he reached for the gun and Dean held his breath. Getting shot was so not in today’s plan. 

“Next time,” the masked man growled as he took off running out the back door gun in hand. Dean heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed his sore jaw. And his parents thought him playing rugby had been a waste of time. Ha! Take that! 

Trying to get his breathing back to normal, he collected the few scattered stacks of money intending to put them back into the register. Unless the man had managed to sneak some of them into his pocket before he got away, there was hardly enough here to justify the trouble he’d gone to to break in. A slip of paper was tucked under the register. He pulled it out and opened it only to have his victory cut short by the barely legible words scrawled on it:

Next time, we won’t just take the money. 

The masked man had walked in here with a bigger agenda than raiding the meagre contents of the cash register. It wasn’t a crime of convenience as Dean had initially thought. So whatever this was about, it wasn’t over. If anything, it had probably just started. 

Sigh. 

He folded the note in two and put it in his pocket. The wall of adrenalin that had been shielding him from processing what was happening came tumbling down. 

He’d just faced off with a thug. 

He was almost shot. 

He’d be up against an unknown force for the foreseeable future because the thug didn’t look like the type to make flimsy threats.

And he was now staring into big, brown beautiful eyes looking at him with a cautious mix of fascination and fear. 

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Hope’s head throbbed mercilessly. The last thing she remembered was going crazy on…The masked man! She sat up faster than she should have and her head rewarded her with a sharp jolt of pain she felt all the way down to her toes. It took a few deep breaths for her to be able to lift her head high enough to look up and barely held in a gasp. 

The masked man was gone. But a well-dressed one had taken his place. Decked in a black suit complete with a matching tie he looked completely out of place rearranging the money in the cash register. Since he was putting the money back not taking it out, Hope reminded herself she needed to start breathing again to stay alive. The stranger put something in his pocket before he turned in her direction and found her looking at him. A flicker of surprise ran through his face before he toned down his expression to what she thought was supposed to cool regard. But he wasn’t quite able to hide the vivid interest he seemed to have in her. 

“Hey…there’s no need for that…I’m one of the good guys…,” he said with his arms raised up in front of him. 

No need for…? Oh…She looked down – gritting as another jolt of pain ran through her – and saw her hand tensed around her umbrella. It was way too early for everything that was happening. How did he know that her trusty umbrella was her de facto weapon? 

“Do you make it a habit to attack armed masked men with your umbrella?” He chided with a slight smile. Well, that answered that question. He must have walked in when she was busy bashing in that idiot’s head. Still didn’t explain who he was and what he was doing here. 

He moved closer slowly as though he was trying not to scare her. Too late. She’d crossed the terrified line the moment she’d walked in and found that thug here. Staying on the ground while a man twice her size loomed over her didn’t seem like the best idea so she tried to sit up. That was definitely an even worse idea. 

“You’re hurt. Take it easy for a bit.” His voice soothed over her pain. She must have really hit her head hard if a man’s voice was enough to make her swoon. In defence of her pride, she was likely suffering from a concussion. 

“Nothing a couple of painkillers won’t fix, Captain Obvious.”

“Oh…you wound me.” His hands went over his chest in mock hurt and his smile broadened to a grin. “But I may as well live up to your lowly expectations of me and point out I just saved you from a gun-toting thug.”

“Pshh…Please…the only gun that idiot had on him were the guns on his arms,” she retorted referring to the masked man’s bulky build. 

“Really?” Captain Obvious raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. Arms that also qualified as guns. Focus, Hope. Focus. “So I take it the gun he was waving at me was nothing more than the creation of my obvious imagination?”

“I’m telling you…,” Hope began as she made a second attempt to sit up, this time successful. “There was no gun.” Another heave got her on her unsteady knees and this time when she looked up Captain Obvious was right in front of her. Even with her standing tall, he was going to dwarf her way more than she’d initially estimated. The heels that occasionally made a prison break out of her closet wouldn’t even have helped. Not that there would be any reason for him to see her dressed in heels. 

He sank into a squat that brought him to her eye-level. He was looking at her with a mix of worry and amusement. Out of all the men in the world who could have come to her rescue, it had to be one with thick, gorgeous eyelashes that rivaled the artificial ones she’d been gluing on women for the past few months. Knowing the condition of a person’s facial skin at first glance was a trick of her cosmetics trade and his was smooth. Buttery smooth. His face was clean-shaven, a recent development from the looks of things. Hope fought down the twinge of disappointment that rose when she wondered what he’d looked like with his beard. 

“Let me help you,” he asked gently breaking her reverie. He held out his arms so she could use them for support to stand. Hope was a proud woman but she wasn’t stupid. At least not most of the time. She knew there was no way she was getting off the floor on her own. Whatever little energy she had after pummelling the thug for what seemed like forever and heaving herself off the floor was nowhere near what she’d require for the next step. 

She placed her hands on his arms bristling at the contact. Feeling attracted to the opposite sex at the most inopportune moments was nothing new for her. Her crushes knew nothing of social propriety. But this was a record even for her. She didn’t even know his name. His hands – strong hands – wrapped around her arms and pulled her up with him as he rose to his feet. Being held up by him felt good. Too good. 

“I’m ok, now,” Hope whispered and she attempted to move out of his reach. He could have held her captive but he didn’t. Don’t think about it, Hope. Don’t think about it. The disappointment surfaced still. She made it three steps before her legs went out under her. Eyes closing in defeat she braced herself for yet another impact with the floor. Only it never came. 

A sturdy arm went round her waist and he kept her upright by locking her to his side. He was warm and the feel of him so close comforting. She felt herself being walked to the nearby chair that only had space for one. He’d have to let her go to get her on it. Hope wasn’t okay with that. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to explore the reason why. Despite the protest her lips barely held in, she let him let her go and settled into the chair leaning back eyes still closed. What she wouldn’t give for a few days away from her troubled mind whose ache had dulled into a steady rhythm of pain.  

She could hear rustling and movement around the shop but pain won over curiosity and she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes to see what Captain Obvious was up to. The masked man wasn’t holding a gun when she attacked him. She was sure of that because there’s no way she’d have rushed him with an umbrella if he had one pointed at her. Well, given the state she was in, there was a minimal chance she was wrong. Tiny really. But why would the good Captain lie to her about something like that? She was down for the count when the masked man had shaken her off. Captain Obvious had no reason to embellish the nature of his rescue. 

A hand resting gently on her knee brought her back to present. She hadn’t even heard him approaching her. She opened her right eye followed by her left wishing he had magically become less good-looking in the time that had passed. No such luck.

He held a bottle of water in one hand and some pain tablets in the other. 

“These should do the trick but I think I should take you for a proper check up. You fell pretty hard.”

She stared at him blankly, her brain lagging in processing what he was saying to her. 

“Are you really okay?” he asked leaning in close enough to study whether her eyes were in focus or not. 

She meant to open her mouth. She meant to lie and say she was fine as she’d done countless times in the past six months. She meant to reach over for the tablets and the water and chug them down. She meant to walk away…say thanks then walk away because though she had no clue how long she’d been in the store, it was sure to be longer than she’d intended and she had to be running terribly late. She truly intended to do these things, in a very calm and orderly manner. 

So Hope was even more shocked than Captain Obvious when she felt warm tears streaming down her cheeks and a sob finally made its way out of her chest…followed by another…and another. Until she found herself in the midst of the worst upset she’d had in recent times…which was saying a lot given the state of her life lately. At the worst possible time…because her life seemed to be doing its own thing without bothering to consult her. Right in front of a stranger who she was almost sure she had the beginnings of a crush for, which obviously meant he must be taken, probably married with two point five kids living in one of the family bungalows the neighbourhood boasted of. 

Because today was the worst day of her life. 

This edition of Telios Chapters is an excerpt from Dream Girl By Mary Kamau.

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