A Complicated Affair - A Tale of First Love. Part 2

by M D Zigo
(Copenhagen, Denmark)

Part 2
An idea struck me instantly. My mom had bought me some warm clothes in preparation for the cold season. I selected a thick pair of socks, pyjama, a T-shirt, and a sweater. I also grabbed a warm blanket that came with the clothes and took an umbrella. I met Miss Rosaline in front of the office, where she appeared confused and unsure whether to return home.

"Good day, Miss," I greeted her, handing her the bag I had prepared.

"Good day. What's this?" she asked, puzzled.
‘’I witnessed you standing in the rain, prompting me to gather some warm clothing for you. These dresses are brand new, recently sent by my mother, along with a cozy blanket. Additionally, my grandmother prepared a special egusi pudding just for you." She gazed at me with her captivating blue eyes and made an attempt to embrace me, but quickly remembered that she was drenched.

"Let's go inside," she suggested.

Unlocking the office, we entered a small space furnished with a table and four chairs, sufficient for the teachers. Attached to the office was another compact room used for storage of items such as balls, buckets, brooms, and cleaning materials. Both rooms were dimly lit since there was no electricity, and due to the inclement weather outside, we relied on a traditional lamp for illumination. Miss Rose noticed that her dresses were dripping water onto the floor.

"I genuinely appreciate the dresses. Your thoughtfulness and intelligence are evident. I will change into them immediately," she expressed her gratitude.

She took the dresses into the storage room, but soon changed her mind and stepped back out.

"Can you assist me in unbuttoning my blouse?" she requested.
I complied.

"The zipper? Just pull it down," she instructed, and once again, I followed her guidance.

"Could you please unhook my bra?" I hesitantly obliged, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. My heart began racing rapidly. Slowly, she removed her bra and lowered her wet skirt, revealing her vulnerable state. Throughout this entire process, she remained facing away from me. Gradually, she turned around and confronted me. I attempted to avert my gaze, but she placed her arms around my shoulders and kissed me. I couldn't believe what was happening.

"You're only 13, yet you appear to be 18. And you love me, deeply," she

asserted.

"How do you know?" I inquired.

"I simply know. The signs are there. Come, let me assist you with the dresses," she replied.

The heavy rain intensified, accompanied by a thunderstorm and lightning. She walked over to the door and locked it from within. Spreading the warm blanket on the small floor, she beckoned me.

"Join me," she invited, lying down on her back and pulling me towards her. Her actions were deliberate and meticulous, as if instructing a child, wanting them to comprehend fully.

"All you have to do is move," she instructed. And move I did - a back-and-forth motion. Suddenly, she tensed up and held me tightly, her fingernails digging into my skin. In response, I tensed up as well and collapsed onto her chest. She refused to let go. As the rain poured outside, accompanied by thunder and lightning, we both drifted into a deep slumber.

We awoke three hours later, dressed and shared a meal together. She had also brought some cookies for us to enjoy.

"You must promise me that you will never speak a word about this," she cautioned.
I nodded, fully aware that I would keep my silence. I understood that what we had done was wrong, and if discovered, she would bear the blame. I loved her so deeply that I never wanted anything bad to befall her. On that day, we were unable to focus on our work any longer. Concentration eluded us, so we decided to postpone everything.

Three weeks after our affair, we departed for the Easter break. Easter in 1995 fell in the middle of April. Miss Rosaline returned to her hometown of Shisong in the North West Region of Cameroon to spend the holidays with her family.

When we reconvened at school in late April, she did not return. The headmaster informed us that she had fallen ill and would not be back for the remainder of the year. Thankfully, she had completed the necessary coursework, and all that was left for us was revision in preparation for our upcoming exams. I successfully completed the exams and concluded the school year. I returned to my parents in Douala. I never heard from Miss Rosaline again, and all attempts to locate her proved futile.

Today marks the 29th year since that encounter. I am now 42 years old.