Written by: Nyambura

I have this memory of us. 

I am seated along the beach in Shela Island, Lamu, resting my face on my knees, my hands wrapped around my legs, and my toes pressing the sand. I can feel the perspiration on my face, taste the salty, humid air at the tip of my tongue.

I am looking out into the wide, endless blue ocean. I can see the wavelengths, the water dancing to the wind, kissing the beach then flowing back to the ocean. Manda Island is directly across from me. I can see tiny signs of life.

My sunglasses, my phone, and I think my hat or a bag, were scattered next to me. 

The beach was sort of empty. Very few people were around. And whenever any would pass me by, more often than not they would say hi. 

I remember that I read somewhere that the sight of a massive water body has a calming effect on someone. I was feeling particularly calm. And composed. There was nothing particular in my mind. But I remember how I felt. CALM. Despite the wholesome adventure that the three of us had had the previous night, that had come out of the blues.

When I closed my eyes, I could only see white, blue, and bits of red from my vision.  For a minute, I wondered what Christine* and Christian* were doing on the sand dunes, a couple of miles behind me. 

Then I turned around and looked up. I saw tiny fragments of humans. They must have waved at me or something.

But I didn’t feel particularly anxious or troubled by that. Being away from my ‘trio’.  At least what we were during the subsistence of this vacation. For some reason, Christian had made me feel so secure in my sexuality and my being. For a moment, I remembered how he had come on top of me while Christine was next to us, with his fingers inside her, and pressed his tumescence inside me. How we were so ready for each other, and how he whispered to me how badly he had wanted to do this. As he moved almost frantically inside and out, I restrained deep moans and Christine encouraged us while enjoying her own pleasure. How he shuddered violently as he came and bit my neck. His body was hard to forget.

Maybe it is his spirit, or passion. Or this insane deep connection that might not last but is present in the moment. Or whatever we were having together. I remember feeling like my soul ties and his were synched, dancing through the same melody. As the waves danced before me, maybe Christian and I were on the same wavelength, which gave me a certain high.

For a while I zoned out. There is a blank memory of nothingness. But there is the sound of the ocean. For a minute I thought of my previous lovers, one by one, seeing how their sexual energy could match with Christian’s and a special friend I would have wanted to experience the threesome with.  

Then, I felt him before I saw him, the rush of blood to my head. My heartbeat picked a bit of a pace and my palms perspired more but not from the humid Lamu weather. 

I heard their sinking feet in the sand from behind me. Christian knelt and hugged me from behind, his hands wrapping my waist, and one gently squeezing my boob, (I mean, we were on a lonely beach after all). He nuzzled the back of my neck, and gave me a tiny kiss on the cheek. I remember leaning back to him, and lifting my head so that he could fit in properly. And I felt him smile. Christine was watching us as she took a short video of the ocean and winked at me knowingly. 

He asked me, “why didn’t you want to join us at the top?” I said I didn’t have the energy to climb through the hill. My genuine excuse though, was that I wanted to sit alone for a while. I wanted Christine to go up and talk to him as they have had their own history, and I was afraid of how Christian was beginning to like me, and how after all, nothing lasting would happen, seeing as he was going back to the United Kingdom, and Christine would always be my friend no matter what, and how men just come and go in life.

I remembered something else; it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays are special days.

I will never have that subtle experience again. I wish now that I had held his hand when he squeezed me, and intertwined our fingers; maybe kissed him back. 

But he made me feel so ethereal. And uplifted. I remember watching him swim a few moments later, and Christine taking slow motion videos of him. 

I think I really liked him then. I grew so fond of his gentle figure. Of him. And when I could sit up and walk beyond the shore into the waves, I almost felt brave. When he held me again when we posed for a picture, I felt so much tenderness. 

Something my heart is not used to. It begins to effervesce.


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