Dreams of Better Days

By Franz Owano

Benjamin Taabu had it all. Love, wealth & a flourishing medical career. By an unkind twist of fate he becomes acquainted with profound loss. When all hope was gone & the winds that guide the sails of our lives turn into storms; he formed an unlikely bond. Infusing him with a renewed zest for life. Enabling him to re-write his own story & dream of better days.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Franz Owano
• Release date: Dec 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393143536

Franz Owano

Franz Owano is a medical doctor by profession who lives and works in Nairobi Kenya.He boasts of a body of works.He has penned 6 plays,a journal,2 novellas and a collection of short stories. He enjoys reading,writting and travelling in his free time.

Book preview

By Franz Owano

Dedication

To the boy I was, the man I want to be & my oldest friend Jeff Ondijo.

*

Ben was nervous. Considering the immensity of his endeavor. Understandably so. His apprehension though not void of reason was well masked. Maintaining grace and poise in spite of impending doom.

An occupational hazard proving to be of apparent use momentarily. All encouragingly stroking the hubris of an already well-nourished ego. Dark colored but passing for almost fair in appropriate lighting. At six feet flirtatiously inching towards higher elevation, with an athletic frame well acquainted with the rigors of activity; Benjamin Owino Taabu was by most standards even for the direly critical, an impressive sight. Blessed with youth to the extent of discomfort he could easily be mistaken for a man a decade younger. His smooth baby face though lacking facial hair; a masculine equivalent of lion’s mane was compensated by an intensity not to be taken lightly. A thin inert moustache was the only evidence of his victory against the ageing process.

Ben strolled past the entrance of the Clarion Hotel and confirmed the location priorly reserved for two. He was directed toward a table situated at the centre of the expensive ball room. There he found Emma patiently waiting. All the while, he  looked exquisite under the illumination of the chandeliers. His heart skip a beat as he took a seat opposite her probably reacting in anticipation of the inevitable.

Ben dear, if you looked any more fetching it would be a crime, Emma remarked.

Barely legal I’d wager though hardly unlawful.

Your suit radiates novelty.

Hardly a week old actually, he informed her.

I see you’re taking the liberty of breaking it into maturity.

Giorgio Armani is a gift to mankind, Ben quipped. It was time I shared it with the world.

The way you wear it I’m certain the universe is grateful.

If it has any sense of style it undoubtedly should.

Regardless of all your redeeming qualities...

Which are numerous I presume, he interjected.

As I was saying. Regardless of your redeeming qualities you need to learn to take a compliment.

It isn’t my fault I naturally ooze class, Ben replied defensively.

There you go again, blowing your own raucous trumpet.

Not to be indecent but given the opportunity what would you rather I blow? He suggested naughtily.

Depends.

On what exactly?

Whether or not you will treat me like a lady afterwards.

Always, he assured.

She paused and smiled naughtily.

In that case I’m a mood to blow your belatedness out of proportion. You had me waiting for almost an hour!

Calm down. I was held up in theatre, Ben explained.

Of course, you were, Emma replied drily.

"What’s that supposed to me mean? 

Is it fair that I have to compete with your patients? Does a girl have to fracture a limb before you pay her any attention?

Speaking of, I haven’t performed a hip replacement in ages.

Sometimes I feel as if your body endures my presence while your soul drifts off to theatre for refuge, she pointed out.

Bone grafting would even be more invigorating.

BEN! ARE YOU LISTENIN TO A WORD I’M SAYING?

Of course, darling.

You doctors are a crude bunch. Orthopedic surgeons being at the top of the pile.

Not the bottom of the heap? Ben bantered.

Take your pick.

Last week you claimed I was a licensed butcher. What’s in store for me today?

I retract my former statements, Emma retreated.

Ben heaved a sigh of relief.

I’m glad.

In actual sense you and your ilk are just fancy carpenters.  

How did you come about this? He asked while hiding his irritation.

Aren’t bone saws, k-nails, k-wires and plates part and parcel of your trade? Emma elaborated.

On occasion, yes, he admitted.

Need I say more?

My dear that is a gross oversimplification. In fact, if I was to apply your reasoning it would imply all lawyers are smooth talking cut throats.

Me included? She asked accusingly.

You happen to be an exception to the rule, he clarified.

How can you tell? She probed, evidently unconvinced.

Well, he began. My throat is still surprisingly intact.

Though intending to be stern she burst out in a fit of laughter.

You are impossible, Emma giggled unabashed.

I have been accused of worse.

Not without satisfactory evidence, I’m sure.

I do apologize profusely. The hospital was a total circus, he reiterated.

You should sincerely invest in a watch.

You already did. The Cartier I’m wearing to be more precise.

I spoil you, she lamented.

I could always object but relent at your insistence.

Since when does halfhearted acceptance substitute gratitude?

Wouldn’t a well-meaning patronizing rebuff be worse?

Touché, Emma acceded.

A waiter materialized next to their table.

Would you like anything to drink? He inquired.

A bottle of your best wine?

White or Red?

White please, Ben confirmed.

What will you have madam?

I’d like to order a meal. Could I have the menu? Emma requested.

Certainly.

He shuffled away leaving the pair alone.

Ben dear, you appear to be in a festive mood. Joy is a feeling more palatable shared.

So is misery, he countered.

Let me venture a guess.

Go ahead.

Did the theatre matron refer to you as Dr. Baby face again? Emma took a wild guess.

Woman you scare me sometimes.

Is that so?

You are either clairvoyant or a witch. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d run for the hills, Ben asserted.

You have a mischievous grin plastered whenever you’re on your worst behavior. Benjamin Owino Taabu, what did you do?

I might have thrown a forcep at her as a reward for her unprofessional informality, he confessed.

The poor old woman, she commented with a grin.

Such misdirected pity. I’m the victim here.

At your age if anyone alluded to my unfair share of youth I’d be over the moon.

She wasn’t keen on flattery but more likely intent on condescension.

Knock that gigantic chip off your shoulder.

"For an old bat her reflexes were impressive. You should have