“I would like to bring little sister to be your flower girl,” said Jack to Doreen on the other side of the phone. Apparently, Jack is Doreen’s ex, so all these upshots are running through my mind. Why would she, of all people choose her ex’s sister as her flower girl? Okay, she is just five. I discarded the thought.
I then woke up to the realisation that it is actually normal. I had been in those shoes. I had been dating Ben during those wild campus years. He was a humble soul, the kind that laughed at the silliest of jokes.
One cold morning he had knocked at my hostel door. It was too early to assume anyone at the door had anything important to say. On opening, Ben held my hand and led me to a white Subaru Forester, parked in the hostel’s compound. “Open that door,” he told me.
I opened the car boot and there lay a large dog, nibbling on a set of bones. “He is three months old and German, take him,” he said. I jumped with excitement. I love dogs, and puppies are my favourite pets. That was thoughtful of him. I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his stiff waist.
That was the best gift that I had received from my exes combined. The affair that began with studio voice-overs at his company ended up in trips. The two of us went hiking, swimming and all those unnecessary movements that lovers make. He was the ideal guy. The girls at my hostel envied me.
At one time, I accompanied him to my home village as he had a gig to cover. It was a honeymoon of sorts. We lodged at the best of Mbale’s hotels and worked during the days. At the end of the trip, he pulled out a bundle of pink notes, split them in two halves and handed me one bundle. I was excited at the mere fact that I was earning for having a great time. This went on for sometime.
A few years later, we lost contact. He was busy elsewhere and I was not interested in finding out what he was up to. It was one of those relationships that ended without a fight. We just went silent and it disappeared through thin air.
Fast forward and both of us are doing pretty well. He has a new job that pays him handsomely; he drives the latest range rover and rides the prettiest woman that I only stalked on Facebook. Incidentally, he had been looking for me. So, Facebook reconciles us and we talk about our current relationships. Who is proud of being single? I tell him that I am dating and my supposed fiancé and I are planning to get married as soon as this year.
Ben gave a sigh of relief and proposed I join his entourage as a bridesmaid. I was hit by this evil favour. I gladly accepted and pulled over my other face (the hypocrite). I attended the meetings and contributed selflessly. I then went for dress measurements and parted with half my monthly earnings.
His bride to be did not ask questions. She engaged me in the preparations, apparently I was her most trusted maid.
On the D-day, I wore a sheepish smile. I rarely smile after all, so those who knew me were not shocked. I held the bouquet, matched in church and posed for as many photos as I could. It’s my passion after all-posing for the camera. I danced to all the songs that played at the reception and made the loudest ululations.
At the end of the day I received a thank you note, for being the most active bridesmaid, the jolliest and dancing best. I keep looking at the chit and smile. Sometimes we will be brought to this point where we shall accompany the people who were once ours and make their day colourful.
Yes, I was awarded the best maid but again brides –to- be should not forget to check their maids’ backgrounds. My reasons are; One, these girls or women are too many for nothing. Two, you may never know what their intentions are. And lastly, have you heard of weddings where there are misfortunes such as the groom laying one of the maids on the wedding eve? Or replacing the bride on the wedding night? Be careful who you choose as your bridesmaid.
ewatsemwa@ug.nationmedia.com