FORGIVE ME PAST: Fate’s Bright Side

I cleared my throat to get the man’s attention. I didn’t succeed. He continued his survey and added something to the list he was making. Shit, I thought. I then picked a paper from a bowl at the extreme end of the writing surface and nailed my sight onto the fixtures again. I didn’t have a pen to write anything down.

“Help me with your pen, sir,” I requested audibly. He handed me the pen but without sparing me even a glance. I was fine with that. Actually it gave me the opportunity to look through his list to guide me on how to place the bets. I didn’t understand most of it but at least I saw ‘win’ and ‘draw’ and that made sense to me. I first looked for the teams I knew and I bet on them. “Man U will win, arsenal will win, Man City will win and Chelsea will draw with Liverpool,” I murmured.

“Pen,” the man demanded, displaying his palm to show the urgency. I handed him his pen and made my way to the counter. I gave the paper to the attendant along with 1000 shillings after learning that others were doing so. It didn’t take the young man even a minute to place my bet. “Only 4400 shillings!” he wondered.

“What?” I asked, indirectly begging for more explanation of what he had said.

“You can do better than this, man,” he said cunningly, handing me the paper and the money back. I gave him an inquisitive look, holding my paper and money. “Add more teams for more money, man,” he enlightened me. I nimbled back to my spot where the other man was, still making his selections.

“Excuse me sir,” I said, “I need your help on how to select teams that will win money for me.” He chuckled.

“How many teams do you want?” He gave me his attention for the first time.

“I don’t know but I need a lot of money,” I replied.

“I’m not sure which ‘a lot’ you mean but let me select for you some matches. How many had you selected?” he asked, simultaneously picking the folded paper from my hands. “Only four…”

“This is the first time I’m doing this, so I don’t know anything,” I interrupted, declining the familiar hidden insult.

“Oooohhh… Okay, let’s have a look here.” He fixed his eyes onto the fixtures and noted down something every after a few seconds. Within two minutes or so, he’d finished making my selections. “It is not a guarantee that the receipt will win,” he tried to kill the unrealistic expectations I had already nurtured but I didn’t pay attention to that. He’d completed the only job I wanted him to do, so I believed all the rest was mine to find out.

The selections were twenty-one, including the four I had made. I wondered why mine took him a very short moment yet his needed ages but I didn’t say anything on that matter. “So, how will I know I have won and from where will I get my money?” I asked the last question.

“You just have to follow up the matches and bring your receipt back to the counter for a payout,” he replied. That didn’t satisfy me but I didn’t want to bother him so I thanked him and headed for the counter, going through the matches he had selected for me. Most of the things were abstract to me: 1x, x2, DnB, over, etc. However, I didn’t change anything whatsoever. The young man at the counter was happy to see me again.

“That was quick,” he began. “Let me hope you’ve made your fortune now.” I don’t know why that statement sounded sarcastic to me. He placed the bet and handed me the receipt that was about 36 inches long. “You see that’s 2.6 million,” he announced. I looked through the long receipt and at its bottom I saw 2,632,400 shillings. I smiled, folded and pocketed the receipt as I sauntered out of my new ‘bank’.

Sleep evaded me that night. I was dying to know how my receipt was performing but I never wanted to put on such a show infront of the other three. They were obviously in the same situation as me—they placed bets every weekend—but at least they had learnt how to tame their anxiety. For me it seemed like the next day was never going to reach. I pictured myself leaving the betting house with a bag of money… Okay I know that’s exagerated but what else could I think of?

Stone continued to snore. He’d maintained the form I’d found him on (I returned a bit late that night, just as I’d adopted for the past weeks, to find Ronnie either asleep or at least in a low mood). None was awake. I finally switched on my phone I had been massaging under the pillow.

I turned on the radio at a very low volume and placed it on my left ear. The Chelsea versus Liverpool match was on. It was in the 86th minute and Liverpool was leading with one goal to nil. I swallowed an ocean of saliva as my pulse went up. I continued following the match nevertheless.

In the first minute of added time, a Chelsea player named Hazard scored the equalizer! I went crazy. I jumped off my bed and celebrated in silence, as though the match meant the whole ticket had won. For the first time, I tasted how it felt what my fellow male experienced while supporting football. I felt as though I had already won the bet. But this was only one match, so I cut off my moment of joy and returned under my lean blanket. The match ended 1-1, and the countdown of the crawling hours to sunrise began. The night took centuries!

The bright rays of the mid-morning sun shot through a tiny hole in the roof and onto my left eye. I cracked it open to find out the author of my discomfort. My mind rushed away to the main event of such a red-letter day. I was already late to begin on the journey to the house of miracles. I hadn’t yet known the result but I had that feeling of optimism wallowing in my soul.

After taking a brief moment to let myself fully transit from the unconscious to the world of reality, I left my dusty beddings and did my morning chores. Of course Gerald and the rest weren’t around. It was a Sunday morning and the betting house was the place to be for all of them. This time round, that applied to me as well.

Within a few minutes, I had reached the entrance of Dimes Sports Betting doorway. The presence of the three on the inside delayed my entrance. I stood outside, still figuring out how to get to the counter without them learning about it. The bad thing was that all seemed to have no plans of leaving soon. I’d seen Stone entering the casino, Ronnie watching and betting on the virtual games, and Gerald making selections from the fixtures.

“Did it win?” The man that helped me the previous day asked.

“What?” I asked, awaking from my absent-mindedness. “Yes it did,” I lied because I wanted him to help me find out from the counter.

“Eh, so you’re not even going to buy me a bottle of beer to thank me?” I had him. He had fallen for the bait.

“Of course I have to, my friend,” I affirmed. “But you’re going to help me get the money from the counter,” I finally popped the request. His face brightened and his wrinkled forehead became ironed when he heard that. I think he saw it as an opportunity to get a big portion of the amount.

I expected him to ask something like ‘what makes you to think I’m trustworthy?’ but instead he asked, “And what’s my share of the big sum?

“You will get 500,000shs,” I replied, making eye contact with him. He immediately asked for the receipt, obviously happy about the offer. “You have to give 100,000shs to the young man at the counter and tell him the 2.6 million was finally set free,” I finalised and let him make his way inside.

I remained peeping through a slit of the red curtain to see the progress of my new friend. If he wasn’t given any money, I had made up my mind to disappear and save myself from whatever he’d do to me if the receipt had lost. My eyes melted when I saw him being handed the money. The receipt had won! My heartbeats became louder and faster. I saw him coming my way with a smile on his face.

“Why didn’t you want to get it yourself?” He asked immediately after displacing the curtain. I didn’t answer at first—it was the money that had to talk first. He handed me two bundles having exclusively notes of 50,000shs and I immediately pocketed them even without knowing the sum. I didn’t even ask for the 32,400shs remaining since I was now a millionaire.

“I will tell you but let me make a call first,” I finally replied, dialing a number as I made it down the stairs. He followed behind me. “Hello beautiful,” I saluted Rachael who was on the other side of the line.

“Don’t start,” she began. “You forgot all about me and now you’re calling me beautiful!” She was right because it had really been long but this wasn’t the time for a court session. It was a time to celebrate.

“I’m sorry dear for all but this isn’t the time to fight,” I said softly. “I’m coming to see you today, and we’ll talk about everything.”

“Okay.”

“See you. I love you.” I said. She terminated the call without reacting to my final words.