Mistress of the Game

by Asabea Ashun

  Chapter 9:

  Sept 10, Toronto, Canada

  Jason stood in line at Canadian immigration, marveling at how much he had missed order and quiet after a few months of living in Ghana. He stepped out of Pearson International Airport and hailed a black cab. It was clean, didn’t spit out noxious fumes and there were no street hawkers clamoring for his attention. It was good to be home.

  The cab carefully inched its way up Highway 401 and the smoothness of the ride allowed Jason to be immersed in his own thoughts. He’d received a call from Sarah a few weeks ago telling him that Philip was doing poorly and could he come over for a visit? Although he was neck deep in work, he didn’t need to be asked twice. The land deal with Nana Bosompra had been sorted out but he had to contend with periodic visits by the four wise men and numerous other ‘concerned citizens’ who took turns warning him that he was treading in very muddy waters. He really didn’t care. The school was going to be built in Mangyea, a small fishing village near Axim and the previously unused warehouse, a relic of more glorious times was going to be renovated for use by KM Gas. In only one year, Jason had worked hard to establish a presence in a village that for several hundred years or more, been comprised of thatch huts built on the sand. Most of the inhabitants of the village were fisherman and it was not unusual to see pigs wandering the village often stopping to eat garbage. There was definitely no electricity and when KM’s scouts had identified the village as one to assist, it was easy to see why. Its chief was averse to foreign ‘help’ although he knew his people needed it and despite its remote location, Jason was surprised to hear that the chief was aware of some of the ills that were usually wrought on oil producing regions – the crime, corruption, prostitution, AIDS. However, after much negotiation – with the help of Auntie Maggie – Jason had crafted a deal that was acceptable to the Mangyea sub-chief as well as Nana Bosompra.

  All these thoughts ran rampant in his mind as the black taxi arrived in Oakville, just outside Toronto before seven in the evening. Jason walked out and looked up and down the street wondering where everybody was. Why was Canada so quiet? He walked to the door marked 208 and pressed the doorbell. After a few minutes, he heard footsteps. A most familiar face opened the door.

  “Jay-Son!”

  “Hello Auntie Maggie” he laughed at the thought that he had seen Margaret in Ghana just a few weeks ago before she left to come to Canada for her 2nd visit in less than 4 months!

  She pulled him in – literally – while yelling at the top of her voice:

  “Sarah, Sarah, Jay-Son is here ohhhhh – come downstairs!”

  Jason smiled as he realized that it could be very quiet outside but wherever there were Ghanaians or Africans for that matter, there was bound to be an air of life demonstrated as noise. Philip had to be alive in this noise…he had to be. Jason took his shoes off and proceeded to get himself a drink from a kitchen he knew well. By the time he’d taken his first sip, Sarah was in the kitchen.

  She looked lovely. She’d lost a little bit of weight but still looked healthy. Her hair was short and in twists, making her look quite funky and retro in a disarming way. She smiled broadly, revealing teeth that now did not seem unusual after all the white teeth he’d seen on Ghanaians amidst dark faces. He smiled at her and gave her a hug.

  “You look wonderful Sarah.”

  She laughed heartily, slapping him lovingly on the shoulder while hugging him back.

  “Stop it Jason you bad boy! It’s so good to have you back…Philip can’t wait to see you!”

  They walked softly up the beige carpeted stairs onto the first floor bedroom. Sarah motioned for him to be quiet as she gently eased the door open. Jason couldn’t wait – he peeked in, craning his neck to see… and felt the blood drain out of his body.

  Philip had become emaciated to the point where it was difficult to see him in the big king-size bed. Sarah looked sadly at Jason and stepped aside for him to come through. Jason took very laboured steps into the room and stood at his brother’s bedside. There were no words he could summon. He just held Philip’s bony hand in his and rubbed gently. He felt a hand on either shoulder and turned to see Margaret on his left and Sarah on his right. He smiled wistfully.

  That evening found Jason at the Fox & Fiddle, the pub he used to frequent in between trips abroad. It was at the corner of Hurontario and Burnamthorpe Roads and although it was about twenty minutes away from Sarah & Philip’s house, he really needed to get away from the morbidity that was engulfing them all. Sarah’s forced frivolity on seeing him had given way to a pensive busyness – she was cleaning everything in sight and he was darned if he thought anything needed cleaning. He wanted to avoid Margaret also, and from past experience, that could be a task akin to that given Jason and the Argonauts. Only one way out and that was to escape to a place that Margaret would not visit. A pub was as unchristian as they came so he relaxed at the bar. Maybe tonight, he could drown himself in his sorrows…hey maybe he could list them. He started making a mental note: (1) his beloved brother was dying, (2) he was in love with someone he met while she worked as a prostitute, (3) he was tired of politics – American, Canadian, Ghanaian, Chinese, World – everything, (4) he had thought he couldn’t wait to leave Ghana but coming back to Canada, he couldn’t wait to leave to go back. What the hell was wrong with him? Couldn’t anything just be a bit straightforward in his miserable life? He chugged another glass of Hennessey and motioned for the bartender to fill it up. He’d drink till he forgot his name.

  

  Back at 208 Georgia Drive, Sarah had just finished feeding Philip and exhausted, plunked herself down in the deep dark brown cushions in the living room. Margaret came out of the guest room like a gale force wind, holding her bible in her right hand and a cell phone in the other.

  “My dear, are you okay?”

  “Yes Ma. I am. I wonder how much time he has. Everyday looks worse.”

  “Did you slip the herb into his meal?” Margaret asked, looking around her to make sure no one was in earshot.

  “Yes I did but it’s no use mother. I’ve never known those herbs to work.”

  “You never know so just keep giving it to him.”

  By this time, she’d made her way down the stairs and was sitting by her daughter.

  “So tell me, how exactly did this whole thing come about because with what I’ve been hearing, this AIDS thing happens only with the men who sleep with men isn’t it? Is Philip like that?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Maybe he is and you don’t know ohhhh.” Margaret prodded.

  Sarah smiled wistfully.

  “I know my husband, mother…he does not like men that way and besides HIV infection can happen to just about anyone. It’s transmitted through bodily fluids, so much of sexual intercourse leaves one very much open to infection if one sleeps with someone involved in risky behaviour.”

  Sarah rubbed her temples as she finished her last sentence. This was not an area she’d talked about with anyone; even with Phillip, the conversation had taken place over a couple of weeks. Trying to find out where her husband could possibly have contracted the virus was not hard; he hardly had a social life, except through church.

  Margaret sighed and then lowered her voice an octave.

  “So how did you find out?”

  “Well, ironically enough, I narrowed it down to work and church. My natural instincts told me it was his school because he’s there most of the time and there are all these horny high school girls sending him valentines and what not. He was quick to dismiss that line of questioning though but not as much when we started talking about church.”

  “Church?” Margaret said stunned.

  “Yes. Church. You know not everyone in church is pure right?” Sarah was teasing now and the look on Margaret’s face indicated she had utterly fallen for it. She looked like she’d just stepped on a landmine and was shifting from bottom to bottom unable to keep the shock and indignation from her voice. As
expected, her response to this latest revelation was peppered in the Ghanaian ooms and aahhs and ei’s and oh’s with hands flailing around her and occasionally meeting each other on top of her head. She was clearly distraught.

  “You see ohhhhh…this is why demons and evil spirits have to be chased from the house of God even before the service begins. The devil sent an agent to lure your husband. Ei Ei Ei! Why do you think Phillip was unable to resist? Aaaahhhh….or were you not giving him what he needed? I thought I told you to make sure all his needs were being met eh?”

  Sarah tried to resist smiling. She wondered if her mother thought of her role in life as anything but a wife and a mother. For the former, her duties were to ensure her husband was well fed, clothed, cleaned and satisfied…in and out of bed. She was to make sure his home run like clockwork and if Sarah thought critically, Margaret was quite good at it. For Sarah’s wedding night, Margaret had even slipped some almond shaped seeds into the bride’s purse, whispering in her ear ‘everyone needs help’. Sarah had no idea what that meant but had heard rumors of seeds that could turn ordinary lovemaking into a love fest, replete with bodies that never tired, emotions that never plateaud along with an overwhelming sense of well-being the morning after. It was tempting but she did without the seeds for the first two years of their marriage and it wasn’t bad at all. Then one crazy morning, she fished them out of what she called her maiden suitcase, chewed them slowly in the bathroom while Philip lay half sleeping – they tasted bitter but her mother had assured her there was no expiration date…like most things in Ghana – and she walked back to her bed. What followed was hard to put into words but needless to say, Margaret was terrifyingly right. Sometimes, we do need some ‘help’.

  “Mother, I’m sure Phillip would have no complaints there if you asked him. I gave him what he wanted, how often he wanted and how he wanted it and none of it was outside of my comfort zone. I made sure his shirts were dry-cleaned, there was food at home and that our house was clean. I’m not sure what else I could have done to keep him from straying.”

  Margaret sighed again. She was running out of possible reasons and Sarah had still not divulged what she really wanted to know.

  “So, did you say you know the person?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “So who was it?”

  “A woman from church – they sang in the choir together so they saw each other about three times a week. According to Phil, it was all just friendly until one of the treatment phases I was going through turned me into an ogre and it became hard to come home to me. He’d call and arrange coffee dates with her because he needed someone to talk to and she of course said yes. One thing led to another and as they say….”

  “Please ohhhhh…what one thing led to another? Did you suspect?”

  “Not really. I don’t think I ever thought it was possible and besides, what with my inability to get pregnant, I was already wracked with guilt.”

  “Yes but yours was so long ago…way before you even met him.”

  “I know mother, but it’s a secret we’ve kept from him – you and I. I know I certainly don’t want to talk about the rape but what happened afterwards was equally traumatizing and may have had something to do with my present infertility problems.”

  “You don’t know that, Sarah and we can’t keep dwelling on the past. The herbalist at KwasiKrom is quite renowned and by using herbs, its not really an abortion, it’s a merciful termination. We had to do it Sarah otherwise you would have been a fourteen year old girl, pregnant with the baby of your father’s lecherous friend!”

  Margaret sucked in her teeth in vexation. That was so long ago but it brought back such raw memories. Sarah distraught after hitching a ride from boarding school with her father’s friend who’d happened to be in her school that Friday evening. Sarah refusing to discuss what had happened. Sarah throwing up within a few weeks of that ride. Sarah’s scholarship coming through for a prestigious AFS year abroad program in New York. Having a baby at fourteen would destroy their bright shining star and as with all things Margaret felt a duty towards, she started putting a strategy into place. She’d get rid of the obstacle and then she’d find a way to dispose, maim, obliterate or vanquish the person who had placed the obstacle in her way.

  She placed a protective arm around Sarah.

  “We had to do what had to be done and every year since, I’ve returned to KwasiKrom to offer sacrifices as thanks to God. These days, the place is packed with all sorts of people since they’ve turned it into a prayer camp but I still go. At some point, we’ve got to let it go, so in a sense, I can understand why you didn’t get all high and mighty in Phillip’s face when he confessed what had been happening.”

  “I had plenty to hide too and it would have been hypocritical of me…Philip is a really good man.”

  “Just as you are a really good woman.”

  Sarah smiled. Her mother would always be her head cheerleader. She gave her mother a hug and cocked her head to one side when she thought she heard Philip moving in his bed upstairs. They both sat silently for about a minute and when there was no continuous movement, they unwrapped their arms from around one another and stretched out more comfortably on the couch.

  Margaret cleared her throat loudly.

  “Tell me, when was the last time the two of you slept together?”

  “Mother!” Sarah shouted. She had swung around to look at her mother, incredulity written all over her face.

  “What? Can’t I ask my daughter a private question?”

  “Not this private – you’ve gone too far Mother!”

  She got up abruptly and marched towards the kitchen, leaving a stunned Margaret perching on the sofa. The refrigerator door slammed shut and a mixing bowl fell on the floor. Margaret got up and followed Sarah to the kitchen.

  “Listen my dear. All I want is what’s good for you. That’s why I’m asking all these questions. Philip is clearly in no state to father children at this point so you’ve got to be proactive.”

  She paused to let her words sink in.

  “What are you talking about mother?” Sarah said tiredly.

  “I’m saying you need to come up with a strategy…if Philip cannot father a child for you…well, you have to think of the next best thing…”

  “What?” Sarah stood facing her mother with her mouth wide open. Her stance was a threatening one, taunting Margaret to go on. Margaret seemed wary. She said nothing so Sarah continued.

  “Really Mother? Pray tell me exactly what you mean. Do you want me to squeeze his sperm out and freeze it? Force myself on him. I thought I was brought up to be a lady?”

  “Stop being a rude child!”

  “Me? Rude? How is that worse than what you have said so far Mother?”

  “But I’m your mother!”

  “That gives you no right to say those things to me. I’m a grown woman with a dying husband and if I’ve ever been stressed, this is it. I can’t believe you mother! We were just having a really good heart to heart conversation and then you have to bring this up? I’m almost tempted to say make yourself useful folding laundry instead of badgering me with questions that are going nowhere important!”

  And with that, Sarah left a stunned Margaret standing in the kitchen and stomped her way upstairs.

  Margaret shook her head in wonder and folded her hands in prayer. She was murmuring prayers for five minutes when she heard some creaking on the steps. Sarah came back into the kitchen, tears streaking down her makeup-less face. She ran to her mother sobbing into her bosom.

  “Sorry mother – I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. You don’t deserve it and I’m just in a difficult place right now, afraid of losing Philip and not sure what kind of a life I will have without him. Life is so unfair.”

  Margaret rubbed her only daughter’s back, smiling into her neck. Only a mother knew how to soothe her child and Margaret was going to make sure that this time around, she approached the topic with far more wisdom. She
led her to the couch again, left her lying on it and went back into the kitchen to make some peppermint tea. Bringing it back to her, she felt gratified to see a slight smile on Sarah’s face. It was time.

  “My dear?”

  Sarah looked at her mother.

  “God works in mysterious ways you know? Don’t you remember in the New Testament… if a man died without issue, his younger brother married his wife to ensure that the family line would continue. I know this may be difficult for you to accept but trust me, God sent Jason here for a reason. You need to have a piece of Philip and Jason presents you with an opportunity to do so.”

  “Jason? How so?”

  “Sarah, do I have to spell it out?”

  “Are you asking me how to seduce a man?”

  “Not really… but how do I explain it to Philip?”

  “There’s nothing to explain. You get pregnant with Jason’s child, you tell Philip he’s the father. You must have slept with Philip before you knew he had AIDS right?”

  Sarah nodded. That was in June. Nine months from June should mean a baby born sometime in February.

  “But mother, the baby if Philip’s, should have a February birthday. How can I get pregnant now and give birth in February?”

  Margaret looked at her daughter like she was an imbecile.

  “There are methods my child…there are methods. Just do your bit and get yourself pregnant this week…and leave the rest to me. Your baby will be born in February.”

  “But…but…”

  “Are you on your fertility regimen?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Then why are we wasting time talking?”

  Margaret put the forefinger of her right hand on her daughter’s lips. Motioning with her head, she bade her leave the room. Sarah fiddled with her fingers as she slowly got up to go to the bathroom. Margaret didn’t need to tell her of the opportunity Jason presented but it went against every ounce of morality she had ever had and collaboration with her mother on another secret? As always, Margaret’s endorsement was critical; If your mother says something is good for you, who are you to argue, she thought. She also knew that her family line could only be continued through her, in the traditional sense. Her brother Joseph would have children ‘for his wife’s family’ and although boys were prized in African culture, a girl carried the family line. Everyone she knew back home, when asked where he or she came from always responded with their mother’s family line, not their father’s.

  A few minutes after she left, Margaret heard the shower running and smiled. She got up and made her way to Philip’s bedroom and took his emaciated fingers into hers. His eyes were closed and he seemed deep in sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, head turned away from her son-in-law and with her voice , she said:

  “Philip, you know we all love you don’t you? And what we are doing is to preserve your legacy right? I’m sorry we didn’t discuss it with you first but sometimes, there is such a narrow window and if you don’t seize it, it doesn’t come again. I’m sure if Sarah were to bear a child with anyone, you’d want it to be Jason right? Yes, I know…you agree…which is why you must go along with this, in your spirit. Release Sarah emotionally so she can do this difficult thing ok?”

  She squeezed his hands again and planted a very soft kiss on his cheek and paused to wipe a tear that had fallen from her eye to his cheek.

  The man did not wake and she quietly sat by his bed and imagined a different life. One in which she had visited her daughter and her wonderful husband and there were three grandchildren running in between her legs shouting ‘grandma, grandma”. She’d take out some yummy bofrot from her bag amidst big whoops and she’d laugh, assured of her place as the world’s best grandma. After today, if they were successful, it would no longer be a dream; it would be Margaret’s beautiful reality.

  

  It was a blessing Jason knew the bartender at the Fox and Fiddle; he called a cab for the plastered gentleman and fished through Jason’s wallet for change to pay the cabbie. He was so creamed he had to be carried to the door of 208 Georgia where Margaret received him warmly, cluck clucking and thanking the cabbie for his help in getting her beloved son back home. The cabbie took one look at his fare, took another look at the deep throaty voice of the African woman and wondered if he’d made a big mistake. Oh well, he could be adopted, none of a cabbie’s business.

  Margaret dragged Jason upstairs as he slobbered all over her. She didn’t mind; it was a small price to pay to ensure the family had something to cheer about when Philip finally left them in sadness. She lay him on the bed in the basement guestroom and proceeded to pull his pants off. He was wearing boxer shorts with Adinkra symbols – where did he get those? She proceeded to peel his shirt off, revealing a small tattoo on his left shoulder – the word Araba. Who the hell was that? Margaret was going to find out and skin her alive. How dare she! She pulled down his boxers and smiled like a Cheshire cat. She quickly tucked him in, kissed him on the cheek and then swept out of the room with aplomb. Next stop, Sarah’s room. She quickly marched up the stairs stopping to check her hair in the stairway mirror. Satisfied, she moved on.

  Sarah was putting her hair up and smiled when her mother came in. This was like old times, she thought, conspiring together for a common good; she’d forgotten how rewarding that felt. Margaret nodded and without a word, Sarah left the room. While Margaret made her way to Philip’s room, Sarah made her way to Jason’s basement bedroom, quietly slipping in and bringing with her a trail of Cacharel’s sweet smelling Anais Anais perfume.

  Jason looked through alcohol-induced eyes to see a vision in white before him. She looked familiar but his brain could not process the information fast enough for him to react. The vision came towards him and proceeded to engulf him till he felt he could hardly breathe. His heart was racing and his body was throbbing.

  It was over in less than ten minutes and the vision disappeared.