Short Stuff and short fuse.

"I'm pregnant," Short Stuff said. Her statement caught me off-guard. 

“What did you just say?” 

“I’m pregnant, as in manufacturing a tiny human in my belly.” I leaned forward and looked at her belly as if I had X-Ray vision like Superman. “How’d that happen?”“The way it’s always happened the world over, I suppose. No Holy Spirit has been involved in any other conception as far as I recall. Do we need to go through the birds and the bees?” “I mean, weren’t you on the pill or something?”“Or something.” She looked at me. I was expressionless. On the inside I was throwing fists in the air and doing my happy dance. I always wanted to have a baby girl with whom I could “bake” mud cakes, play in the grass, read books under a tree, teach her how to shoot guns, ride motorbikes and punch disrespectful boys in the neck. I was over the moon. “Sooo, what next?” I asked, looking her straight in the eyes.

“If you want to be in this baby’s life- your baby’s life-  you’ve got to be there 100%, no halfway dad shit. Either you’re in or you’re out. You know I can take care of the baby by myself.”“WTF!? You’re kidding, right? We can’t get married, let alone live together and raise a child. One of us could end up dead and by one of us I mean me. Why are you doing this?” Poker face again. I couldn’t let her see what was going on in my head. For the first time in a very long time I felt like throttling someone.

“Well, it seems you have a decision to make. I’ll be at The Old Kings for the weekend. You can call or drop by any time you like.” With that she left the table and walked out of The Address, leaving her coffee untouched.  Two hours later, I was still seated at The Address nursing a cold Guinness while waiting for Njoro, a boda guy, to deliver a pizza from Church Rd. I wasn’t really hungry but I had woken up that day craving pizza.  Mwanasiti passed by my table several times while serving other patrons. On her way back, she stopped and looked at me. She was always in a sunny disposition. Always smiling and laughing. “Are you okay?” 

“I am, thanks.” I lied.  Mwanasiti...