Fake note

I gave her money. The little that I had. Sneaked out of my workplace to trek the long distance to my apartment to carry my gas cylinder to her house. Through the scotchy sun. How I would prepare my meals henceforth didn’t matter. So long as she was satisfied.

I even started imagining how our kids would look like. And what names they’ll bear. Fantasies of all the romantic things I would do to prove to her that I was different, from the rest. The wolves.

I was in charge of the contributions from colleague workers, and every now and then, I would sneak a note or two into her palms. A woman mustn’t be in need. Or, so I thought.

I had been wondering when to tell her. I think my pride clouded my vision, and made me see things that didn’t exist. Like believing she felt the same way about me and couldn’t say it.

And so, imagine my disappointment when I asked her out, and got the “I see you as my brother…you’re a good friend …but I don’t think we would make a good couple” ….response.

Walls came tumbling down. Fantasies of children we’ve already had in my mind. John. Joshua. Frederick. Frederica and Spendilove.

But why? Why couldn’t we be together ? Wasn’t I sweet? Is it true that women love monsters who would maltreat them?

Now I was deeply involved in someone who wouldn’t be mine. Now I felt like I had exposed my sweet inner self to be eaten up, and the beneficiary would walk away when I was finished. Fattening while I grew lean and gone.

Pull out. As fast as I went in. The logical thing I thought I should do. And so, seeing no reason to allow myself be milked all over again, I began the long route out.

First, I concocted a lie from which she could deduce that I needed my gas cylinder back. The lie sounded credible even to myself.

And while she prepared to return what was returnable under the circumstances, something happened.

It was the end of the month, and so our boss paid us. But when I got home, I thought of a plan: lie that I lost the envelope containing my salary. That way, the gold digger wouldn’t be expecting any financial help from me. For I had promised so many of them, counting on my meager salary to deliver. They seemed extreme measures back then, but they were a necessary evil so far us protecting my soft heart was concerned.

Then something else happened. While counting the notes in my envelope I lied was missing, I spotted a fake currency note. How it got there was a mystery. And it was the largest denomination. A huge loss. Ideally, I would have taken it to my boss. And she would have changed it without hesitation. But having lied that my salary was missing, how do I solve this new puzzle ?

Many questions were going through my mind. How did that fake currency get there? Was it deliberate or accidental ? Some people were suspicious of the source of income of the owners of our company. Were they into fake currency printing ?

I decided to act stubborn. By spending the note. At a place where the seller was unlikely to notice.

I stepped out one night. Walking further away from the neighborhood where the seller was unlikely to know me, or recognize my face after that day.

In one narrow lane leading to the second biggest street from the one beside our neighborhood, I found the perfect shop. The shop assistant looked uneducated, young, like one of those migrants desperate for jobs who got lucky to be assigned one finally.

“Good evening ! ” I greeted politely, unsure whether to fold the note while handing it to him or give it to him straightened out.

The less suspicious, the better. I first mentioned the item I was buying. A standard item. Usually, when it’s a petty item bought with a big note, the sellers are suspicious.

First, he almost added the money to the rest of his money. I watched his face, and his body movements. Seemed out of habit, he had gotten used to feeling the money he received with his hands to decide what was fake and what was genuine. Because after feeling the money with his fingers, he paused, much to my displeasure, before taking it to the light. I noticed the frown on his face.

He drew closer, muttering what I guessed to be insults in his mother tongue that I could not speak nor understand. He snatched the items he sold me earlier from my hand and gave me back my fake note.

“I should have called the police.” he said in a low tone as I walked away.

I initially tried to act surprised that the note was fake. But the look on his face made my gimmicks appear dummer than I expected them to be.

With shame all over me, I disappeared into the night.

Back in my room, I gasped at the near extinction. If he had indeed called the police, what would I have said? I had lied that I lost my salary. How would I now explain that I was paid with a fake note ?

Back at work, they believed my story that I lost my salary and tried to make some contributions to compensate me. I refused to accept, a gesture that was seen as full of pride. They said I wasn’t humble enough to take the little that they had squeezed out of their meagre salaries to support me.

But I knew what I had been through those past few days. Enough was enough!

Now that I had requested for my gas cylinder, and cut off every financial help flowing towards my colleague worker I was hoping we could go out, she concocted lies to taint my reputation. She told everyone that I was interested in her, and she proudly turned me down.

She told the story so well that it generated good giggles and memorable laughs everywhere that gospel was preached. And goodness! That sermon made converts and believers of all the lies she told behind my back.

Of course, in a small tight work environment the wind may struggle to blow. But eventually it reaches every corner. And it did reach me with news of the gossip circulating, which by this time had fermented with a hurting stench.

I went to hide in a corner, brooding over where searching for love had led me.