NYSSA
I get to leave the house after spendin’ weeks in it. But under the supervision of Kazmir who has been nothin’ but sweet since I got back from the hospital. It was another mornin’ and a bath had just been taken, while I walked out to see Kazmir all dressed for the outin’ in advance.
“You’re dressed…” I commented, walkin’ to the wardrobe and takin’ out one of the clothin’. “I’ll join you shortly.” I promised and he kissed my cheeks shortly before leavin’ the room – although with an instruction that I joined ‘im at the diner when I was done gettin’ dressed.
After gettin’ dressed, I sat opposite ‘im at the dinin’ table. Kazmir looked at the screen of his phone while I ate from my plate, with a wish that of course, I’ll be given a phone also.
“Kazmir?”
He looked up. “What ’bout my phone?” I asked. “Didn’t I have one before the accident?”
“You did,” he acknowledged with a nod. “You just lost it in the accident.”
“And my parents?” I asked. “Friends or relatives. Someone who cares ’bout me before the accident. Don’t you know any?”
He shook his head.
What does that mean?
He was the only man in my life?
Was that – what he meant? “What do you mean?” Unable to hold back my words, thoughts, and questions, I let ’em out. “Are you sayin’ I’m homeless?” I sat up, abandonin’ the meal finally.
“You keep forgettin’ who you are, don’t you?” He chuckled. “I didn’t know anybody before our weddin’. A bad home, you said. I asked ’bout your parents and you said you don’t know where they’re Now I wish you told me ’bout ’em.”
In moments, myself and my husband were walkin’ out of the penthouse. We hopped in the car and the man I may love or not, drove out of the compound and we began our journey to the mall to get a few things.
While Kazmir waited outside in the car, he gave me his card and pin, while I went from section to section – pickin’ up items I believe were needed in the house.
After a while, I was done with makin’ my selections. My legs now led me back to the car after calculations and payment at the desk. “Is that all we need in the house, wife?”
“Yes, husband,” I dumped the nylon bags at the back of the car and gave a nod, smilin’ as I handed back the card to ‘im. “Can we go home already, Kazmir? I’ll love some sleep.”
“Not yet,” he said with a chuckle, handin’ back the card to me. “We have not shopped for your clothes yet. I think we need new ones added to the ones you have at the house, yunno.” He mouthed and started the engine again, headin’ to a dress store and all I did was fantasize ’bout clothes I’ll be pickin’ upon our arrival.
At the shop, I finished selectin’ the clothes I believe I will be needin’. But there was a lady who watched me from afar, with a smile on her countenance. Did she know me? I walked up to her with the cart, smilin’ as well. “My name is Nyssa, hello. What’s your name?” I moped at her with a wish that everythin’ I needed to recall would come back.
“Ember,” she said. “My name is Ember,” she repeated and we shook hands. “Did you come to shop? I came to shop also, but I’m lost on what exactly to pick. Would you mind helpin’?”
I didn’t get her point, not for one moment but I helped. Stayin’ alone in a penthouse from day to day was enough torture already, and now that there was a woman who liked me from a far distance – I knew I could be friends with her at that instant.
“Thank you so much, Miss,” she greeted while walkin’ next to me, and together, we paid our bills and walked out of the shop with Kazmir who was behind us with the nylon bags of clothes.
It was a shockin’ thing that he didn’t mind me talkin’ to a woman – considerin’ the fact that he didn’t want his sister next to me. How is that even possible?
“How ’bout you keep in touch with my wife?” When we were ’bout to part ways, Kazmir offered. “She just recovered from an accident and has amnesia. We both know she needs all the company she can get, but I’m not always around her to do that. Do you want to help us out, Miss Ember?”
Ember smiled.
She looked at me and smiled. “I’d love to, Mr. Draven,” she let out. “Unless of course, Nyssa doesn’t want me around.”
What was she sayin’?!
“I want you around, Ember,” I cried and hugged her out of nowhere, feelin’ a connection I could not understand.
Was it ’cause we clicked from the onset when we saw each other in the shop? Is she connected to my past? I wondered when I let go of her – doubtin’ my thoughts ’cause she would have tried to at least make me recall who she was if that was the case.
“This is my card,” Kazmir, with a smile, handed a card. “The house address is in it, and the house number also. Please, don’t misplace the card.” He begged and we parted ways after another hug, with me thankin’ Kazmir who had done more than enough since we left the penthouse.
Back at home, I waited for Ember’s call and there was nothin’ like it. What was keepin’ her from callin’ the house line? Or did she lose the card? The thought of it alone made me want to cry, but I was hopin’ she would call soon – hopin’ also that the few distractions in the penthouse would do a good job until the day came.
Whene’er Kazmir left the house, I stole the key to the art studio and went into it.
So far, it has been helpin’ me little by little, but not yet completely. How I suddenly wanted to be in this art studio was somethin’ I could not understand. Was I-an artist in my other life? I thought on this day while seated on the painter’s chair that faced a board.
The board.
The paint.
The art on the board.
All of ’em looked familiar, but I couldn’t place my hand on what it was. Now I got on my feet and paced the room, feelin’ a spark inside of my head.
In a corner of the room was a bag, starked up to its brim with art – painted by a painter who could be Kazmir, or maybe not ‘im.
Why didn’t he show me this part of the house? I walked to it and unzipped the bag, wantin’ to feed my eyes with the beauties all lyin’ in it.
One by one, I took ’em out. “This is good.” I murmured with a nod of relief, relaxin’ on the floor where I sat, and scatterin’ the bag in total. All the pieces were on the floor, and somethin’ suddenly caught my attention.
“This-” I murmured, takin’ the portrait in my hand. It dawned on me at this point that I could be the painter, and this could be my art.
But how? When did I paint this? I was worried with a look on my face, and my leg standin’ from the floor while I walked to the mirror corner.
It was a self-portrait I made, but didn’t know when and how I made it.
Since I stepped foot in the penthouse, there was not a paintin’ I had made. How possible is this? I was still lost in my thoughts when the door to the room flung open.
Kazmir.