So, the other day I met an old friend. It’s been a while since
we talked. When we met, I cancelled all the plans I had in the afternoon and
off we went to Javas to question ourselves on why we had chucked each other and
what plans we had for the future.
Somehow, as we talked and sipped on the cup of coffee we
were sharing, the conversation drifted to an unfinished discussion we had had a
few years back about the two of us making one or two babies together. I have
always tried to avoid this discussion but she keeps bringing it up anyway.
And I don’t even remember how we got there but in my heart I
was like you must be kidding me.
“And you know that for us to make babies, something has to
be done under the sheets” I contended.
“Yes of course” she cut in, “What’s wrong with that? We are
both adults.”
“But even if we have the child” I retorted “how are we going
to raise the child because you know that it’s impossible for us to get married
right? At least we have discussed and agreed our different religious
affiliations can’t allow us to.”
“If we can’t agree on how to raise the child,” she countered,
“then we shall take the matter to the parents and they will decide.”
Naye girls can be sharp, she knows that she can get away
with this because well, her family and ours have been close since time immemorial.
Surely, my parents wouldn’t mind their friend’s daughter who is a consenting
adult mothering their grandson. Perhaps, she also hopes that with a child in
the picture, I can relent and accept to get married to her despite my
reservations on marrying non-believers.
My response was a stern look and I thought I should become a
little more frank.
“You know what Shamina, back in the day, I would have
married you, perhaps if you had insisted like you do today. But now, even if you
convert, I can’t. And I wouldn’t love you to convert just because you want us
to get married. I want you to convert because you have believed Christ as your
personal lord and savior.”
“I don’t know but it seems like the more I grow up, the more
principled I become.” I jabbered or so she supposed.
“So let’s just forget about the past and move on. It is not
possible that there can ever be anything between us. You also know it.”
By then, I noticed tears welling up in her cavities. It is
not the first time she was about to cry. The first time it happened was back in
the day when she said she loved me and I said I loved her too but was constrained
by the religious considerations at hand to take matters beyond the platonic
friendship or the confessions we shared. That day she was on phone unlike that day
when I had to face her and wipe the tears but also stand by my word.
Meanwhile she was seething with a controlled rage and
accusing,
You know what Zak you’re a coward.
I tried to explain and put in the defense of having to
remain true to my Christian calling but she wouldn’t listen.
“You also know you are a coward, don’t even argue about it.”
She insisted
“Well, if refusing to have babies with women I am not
married to is being a coward, then I am okay with being a coward, at least for
now.” I reasoned in my heart
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