chane the wounded


Contrary to what everyone expected, he was hurt. Perhaps it was the way he held his head at a slightly elevated angle that fooled everyone into thinking that he was okay. But deep down, Chane was sinking in despair. Those closest to him in his gang tried to console him but their words were a mere mockery to the growing ball of pain that was taking residence where his heart should have been. He didn’t have a heart, it was no longer there. She had taken it and it is now that he realized there was no hope of his sentiments being returned.

Imagine this, a fresh man, recently graduated from high school and now in university. Gained some mass from the long vacation so basically at an average size but not too bulky to leave a butt patch on your mattress if he sat on it. Technically, one would say Chane was at the prime of his youth. He still had that baby face with a mischievous look going on and perhaps some understandable wads of cash in his pocket. The next task at hand was to find himself a cute reasonable belle to get the boys off his neck. They thought that the absence of a female lover signified impotence and an inability to function as an adult male in courting a female. Little did Chane know he was diving head first in dangerous waters.

Chane and Shani, 6ft2 and 5ft6, both freshmen in the same year. These two were a power couple. Outings every weekend, spend the evening in each other’s arms, cut a few if not all morning lessons just to stay and cuddle with his girl, handle all the bills at the restaurant since it’s a gentleman’s role to feed his lady. Chane thought he had everything right. So it was most bewildering when she announced so softly that “this isn’t working”. Chane never knew at which point this angel had become his sole motivation but now, after such a crushing statement, he could barely force his chest to expand and fall so that he could continue breathing. It’s like that one day the sun fails to shine or perhaps you see the last ray of hope receding as she walked through the door and left.

He didn’t stand staring at the now closed door dumbfounded, no. Rather, he majestically went to his bed and covered himself. But within those sheets, Shina’s scent was engraved like tattoos on the skin. As he forced his eyelids shut, his traitorous brain reminisced the memories of their short lived love story. He used to call her “Shine” and she would call him “Cena”, just some small word play to spice up their relationship. Chane had not dared to deny her anything she requested. Be it his phone unlock pin, viewing his chats with other girls, what Shina wanted, Chane offered with no hesitation. But being a guy with restricted means, Chane perhaps got out competed by the guys who could buy Shina the latest smart gadget but also, take her out to paper menu cloth napkin dinner in a fancy designer dress. He had noticed some signs of her shifted interest but he thought that if he loved her more and attended to her every demand, he might be able to gain her favour back and secure her wandering attentions from other guys. But it is now that Chane realizes, this isn’t the case for all women.

Kofi was the first to hear about “shine and cena’s” demise and in an effort to try to console his friend he suggested that he should let her go and he’ll find another hottie in no time. He simply sighed and turned back to face the wall. He’d spent a little over 5 days in his room. The world didn’t make sense anymore. He was heartbroken and although Chane couldn’t admit it, he needed someone or something, maybe some kind of medicine to soothe this heartache. Clubbing with the boys didn’t help, it only fueled his anger towards the scene and himself. He hated the fact that he lost his girl because of limited means, but what more can a freshman provide?

Old man mun didn’t always have a pleasant smell and being next to him for more than a minute was equivalent to willingly inhaling tear gas mixed with alcohol but Chane didn’t care, perhaps this old smelly folk could say something to lightening the burdened he carried. He said, “Chane, my boy, right now, you are the best doctor who understands the kind of medicine that you need. But even the best surgeon can never perform surgery on themselves. So what would you like? We can sit here and talk a bit and I listen, no judgment, we can think about a way forward or perhaps, a piece of advice. What medicine do you need right now?”

Chane had heard all the advice the world had to offer, but perhaps, maybe someone listening to all these tangled feelings without judgment or telling him what he ought to have changed, might perhaps help. Also talking about other things like ideas about work would get his mind off the disaster eventually. Chane hated his mind being idle but over the past few days, he couldn’t get his mind to concentrate on anything.

“Maybe I was wrong…” Chane started to open up slowly, now that he’d been given a chance to.

To be continued…

Written by: Melissa L. Takuwa

Aka: mellow.

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