by Skylar Ward
Sam ran his hand across Efia’s cheek. “You are all grown up.”
Efia placed her hand over his. “It is called taking responsibility for another person’s life.”
“I wish you the best, Efia.” Sam gazed at Efia, his brown eyes, appearing dull. “I will always be here for you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you. I can smell mom’s delicious food. I don’t know about you, but I am hungry.”
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Efia and Sam entered the dining room to the sight of piping-hot Waakye—a rice and beans dish. Kelewele, commonly known as spicy fried plantains, a heaping platter of beef stew, and fried red snapper.
“Are you expecting company, Mom?” Efia asked.
“I made enough, so you don’t have to eat take-out during the week. You can carry some of this with you.”
Efia smiled, knowing that whatever circumstance she found herself in, she could always count on her mother. Grabbing a slice of plantain from the handmade, black buffalo horn bowl, she popped it into her mouth. “Thanks, Mom.”
Rosina slapped Efia’s hand. “You came over here on the subway, go wash your hands.”
When Efia and Ashley headed toward the bathroom, Rosina turned to Sam. “Are you staying?”
“No, Mrs. Kwateng,” Sam said, staring after Efia. “I should call it an early evening. I am headed back to school tomorrow.”
“Thank you for stopping by,” Rosina said. “And thank you for giving me a hand with Efia’s room.”
“I am glad that we ran into each other at IKEA,” Sam said. He moved toward the exit and Rosina fell into step with him. “Tell Efia that I will talk to her some other time.”
“You are an honorable man, Sam.” Rosina patted Sam’s face. “I am sorry it didn’t work out between the two of you.”
“I still can’t believe she would do something like that, especially with a …”
“It is called love,” Rosina said, cutting Sam off. “Find yourself a wife, Sam. My daughter is never going to compromise her heart for the sake of tradition. You know, it is one of the things I admire about Efia.”
Sam regarded Rosina for a few seconds before kissing her cheek. “Goodbye, Mrs. Kwateng.”
“Goodbye, Sam.” Rosina closed the door and headed back to the dining room where Efia and Ashley were seated.
“Thank you, Mom, for having my back. I will move my stuff in next weekend. However, you must promise me when the time comes for me to move into my own place, you won’t make me feel guilty.”
“Child, it is my job to make you feel guilty.” Rosina laughed. “Come on, let us eat.”
“How is your dad?” Efia asked Ashley.
“That is part of the reason I am home,” Ashley replied. “Candice left Dad.”
“Nooo! How is he taking it?”
“Not well at all,” Ashley said. “Now that you are moving back here, I will give up the apartment and stay with my dad whenever I come home.”
Efia squeezed Ashley’s hand. “That is a good idea. Your dad will be happy to have you around.”
“I am glad Candice is gone. But it breaks my heart to see my dad in pain. He deserves someone better than that woman.”
“Your dad needs a grown woman,” Rosina said, dishing out the Waakye into white buffalo-carved bowls. “A church sister, his own age. These foolish, old men think they can satisfy these young women when they can’t even satisfy women their own age.”
Hoping to keep a straight face, Efia turned away from Ashley, but it was in vain, they both grabbed their stomachs, breaking into gut-wrenching laughter.
Chapter 29
Boston, Massachusetts
Ace affixed his signature to the final document and slid the stack across the mahogany conference table to his attorney, Dexter Sawyer.
Dexter, a well-dressed, middle-aged, short-statured man, received the documents, slipping them into his briefcase. “Leyland should be released in a couple hours.”
“Dad, we can’t keep cleaning up Leyland’s messes.” Ace’s gaze went to Steven, who sat at the end of the long conference table. “We have to put a stop to this, or someday Leyland is going to take all of us down with him. He should be in rehab.”
“Poor, Leyland,” Steven sighed. “He used to be such a good kid before his mother died and my brother embraced the bottle.”
“Uncle Elliott should never have been allowed to keep Leyland,” Ace said. “He ruined Leyland’s life.”
“I begged Elliott to let us raise Leyland until he got over his grief, Elliot refused. By the time Leyland was fifteen, they weren’t father and son any longer, they were drinking buddies.”
“I know,” Ace said.
Dexter stood. “You can’t force Leyland into rehab. Why don’t you cut off his cash flow? I have seen it work wonders for other clients.”
“Believe me, I have tried,” Ace replied. “Do you have any idea how many payments I have made to loan sharks on Leyland’s behalf?”
“You shouldn’t pay them,” Dexter said.
Ace and Steven squinted at Dexter Sawyer as though they were watching an alien.
“Leyland is our flesh and blood,” Ace said. “We can’t allow someone to kill him for cash when we have plenty of it.”
“Hopefully, he comes to his senses and seeks help,” Dexter said. “If he continues on the path he is going, he will end up face down in the Housatonic like his old man.”
“We have had a lot of loss in our family.” Ace stood, his face strained. “Leyland will never listen to any suggestions from me, Dad. You have to try to get through to him.”
“Right now, Leyland has a fairly decent relationship with your mother. I will ask her to see what she can do.”
“Hope it works,” Ace said.
“What time are you headed back to Vegas?” Dexter asked.
“Later this evening.”
“You like it out there, huh?” Dexter said
“It is growing on me,” Ace said. “The municipality has a way of keeping me grounded in the present.”
“Must be the bright lights,” Steven added.
“Okay, gentlemen, I am going to take my leave.” Dexter shook Steven’s hand. “I will be in touch.”
Ace accompanied Dexter back through his office and out to the receptionist area. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”
“This is what I do,” Dexter clasped Ace’s hand. “Until next time.”
Ace knew from experience the probability of a next time was almost a certainty. He couldn’t shake the feeling Leyland was creating havoc just to taunt him.
Damn it, Leyland, you are thirty-two-years old, Ace thought as he made his way back to the conference room. Grow the hell up and take responsibility for your own life. I gave up Efia Kwateng who was the best thing that has happened to me in years. We are all hurting. I can’t babysit you.
When Ace entered the room, Steven glanced at his watch and stood.
“I have to meet your mother in forty-five minutes,” he said.
“Say hello to Mother, and thanks for getting the ball rolling, yesterday.”
“Not a problem, son,” Steven responded. “Judge MacDonald had already clued me in on your whereabouts.”
The color drained from Ace’s face. “Can I go any place in this state without someone prattling to my parents?”
“There is no need for embarrassment.” Steven gazed off into the distance. “I saw how grief sucked the life from my brother. It is good that you are enjoying yourself.”
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Lexington Avenue, New York City
Monday morning The Biltbury Hotel was rather quiet as Efia sipped ginger tea and read through the night manager’s reports. Sensing another person’s presence, she glanced up from her computer to find Viktor standing in the doorway.
Viktor Nilsson, a Swedish transplant, appeared to be in his early forties. One could easily have assumed that he was an exercise enthusiast from his physique. Efia had often wondered where he found
the time to work out on their limited time off.
“Hi, I didn’t realize you were in,” Efia said.
“May I see you in my office?” Viktor said, matter-of-factly.
“I will be right there,” Efia said. Let me save this report.”
A few minutes later, Efia entered Viktor’s office and took a seat.
Viktor cleared his throat, and his eyes pierced Efia’s face. “First, thanks for handling the incident on Friday. You used good judgment.”
“Thank you,” Efia said, cheerfully.
Viktor swung his attention to his keyboard while simultaneously focusing on the computer screen. “I received your email.”
Efia folded her hands and smiled.
“Did you know you were pregnant when you took this job?”
Efia flinched at the bite in Viktor’s voice. She had heard that accusatory tone before from Maria, and frankly, she resented it more now than back then.
“Yes, I did,” she replied.
Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”
“It was too early in my pregnancy to share the good news.”
The scowl on Viktor’s face was reminiscent of someone sucking on lemons. “I need employees here who are available to work and want to work,” he said. Viktor typed something into his computer. “The human resources department will contact you.”
“I am available, and I want to work,” Efia said. “You just thanked me for a job well done.”
“You are here less than six months. Now you will be gone for months, how do you expect this to work?”
“Like I said in my email, I can train …”
“I spent an entire year teaching the last person to do your job,” Viktor said, cutting Efia off. “Then she up and left to be a Food Blogger. I need people here who love this industry, and are serious about working—not people who are here today and gone tomorrow.”
“I told you in my email that I plan to return,” Efia said, forcefully.
“And we are supposed to hold this job for you, is that it?”
“So far, I have done everything that has been asked of me without any problems,” Efia said, hoping to get her point across without being assigned the angry black woman’s label. “I also do plenty of your work, especially on Fridays when you drop your load in my lap and go off with your Russian friend. I don’t leave here on Friday nights until well after nine o’clock, yet I haven’t complained once.”
Viktor sat back in his chair, studying Efia. Several minutes of silence elapsed before he spoke.
“I will send an email to HR and to Marcellin,” he said. “You can train her. Your job will be here when you return.”
“Thank you,” Efia said. “Is there anything else you want to discuss?”
Viktor shook his head, his eyes never leaving Efia’s face. “That will be all.”
Efia left Viktor’s office and descended the stairs toward her underground room. She caressed her stomach. “Momma bear got her claws out, baby. Hurrah!”
Chapter 30
Friday, December 9th, 2011
Efia couldn’t believe how the months had flown by. Nine months—now here she was a day removed from her own birthday stretched out on a hospital bed. For the past three hours, her mother, Rosina acted as her coach while her best friend Ashley, filmed the scene for Efia’s YouTube channel—Life with Efia, and soon to be a plus one.
A sharp pain stabbed Efia in her lower back, bringing her thoughts back to her plus one. Efia shrieked, wishing she hadn’t insisted on a un-medicated childbirth.
Rosina squeezed Efia’s hand. “Your daughter will be here soon. Breathe slowly, my child, you can do it.”
“Oh, God, Mom, I can’t, it’s too much pain.”
Rosina rolled a frozen bottle of water she had kept in the freezer for the past couple days over Efia’s forehead.
“This is all part of the natural child birthing experience, by tomorrow, you won’t remember any of it.” Rosina made puffing breathing sounds. “Come on, Efia, breathe! breathe!”
Efia grasped Rosina’s hand tightly. “Ahhhhh, Mom, I think my daughter has a big head like her dad, she is ripping me apart.”
“It’s the pain that is making you say these silly things,” Rosina responded.
Over on the other side of the hospital room, Ashley snorted so hard the camera in her hand lowered, focusing on the end of the bed.
“Direct that camera toward Efia’s head,” Rosina said. “I don’t want to see my daughter’s lady parts on YouTube.”
“I am, Mrs. Kwateng,” Ashley said, laughing uncontrollably.
“She’s crowning,” the doctor said. “The baby is crowning.”
Efia squeezed her eyes. “Oh, my God, Mom, I am burning up.”
“Push,” The doctor said.
Efia threw her head back. “I AM! I AM!”
“Almost there,” The doctor said. “Push, Efia.”
“You don’t have much longer to go,” Rosina said.
“ARRRGHHH!”
“There you go,” the doctor said. “She is here. Your daughter is here.”
“Is she all right?” Efia asked.
“Here, she is,” the doctor said, placing the baby girl on Efia’s chest.
Tears rolled from Rosina’s eyes as she regarded her granddaughter.
“My God, Efia, she is beautiful.” Rosina waved Ashley over. “Come see your goddaughter.”
Ashley went closer to the bedside and peered over while still carrying out her videographer duties. “Ah, Efia, she is adorable.”
“I am pleased to meet you my precious Yasmine, Acelyn Kwateng,” Efia wept. “I love you so much, my child.”
The nurse quickly dried Yasmine’s skin and swaddled her. With the baby’s umbilical cord clamped and cut, the nurse put the cap on Yasmine’s head and placed her on Efia’s breast. Happy tears streamed down Efia’s cheeks as she gazed lovingly down at her child.
“What is that beneath the baby’s right eye?” Rosina asked.
Efia touched the red mark with a soft finger. “You have the same birthmark as your daddy, Yasmine.”
Rosina and Ashley exchanged what appeared to be sympathetic glances while Efia focused her attention on the new bundle of joy gathered against her heart. Feeling a sense of peace, she hummed, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Now that she had met her daughter, Efia couldn’t imagine loving anyone or anything else more.
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Massachusetts
The black limousine slowed before halting. The driver exited and moved to the rear door, opening it. At the same time, Ace’s cell phone buzzed. He checked the device.
Haley: Darling, I heard u r in town. Should I block off tonight?
Ace: I am tied up the entire weekend.
Ace finished the text and picked up the two-dozen red and white roses from the seat next to him. He paused before stepping from the limousine.
“Why don’t you sit in the vehicle, Dominic?” Ace said. “This will take a while.”
“Very well, Mr. Davenport.”
Taking a deep breath, Ace filled his lungs with air and strode through the cemetery’s massive wrought iron gate. He followed the paved road where hundreds of monuments, headstones, and grave markers surrounded him. He stayed on the path for a while before heading to the grassy embankment. The only sounds heard in the solemn cemetery were the flapping wings of the birds flying overhead, and the crunch of old leaves under his Brooks Brothers Red Wing boots. A large monument came into view—the final resting place of his loved ones.
Ace stopped.
He closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. After a few minutes, he traveled the short distance to the graveside where he cleared a few brown leaves from the wings of the angel on the marble monument. He knelt. He placed the roses beside the tombstone. And his chest tightened. He inhaled, wondering where to start. He was at a loss for words. He had been up all night, thinking of the proper words to say, somehow, they never came. He cleared his throat as a
couple of birds circled overhead. He leaned forward, sliding his hand across the names etched into the marble, JODI LAUREN DAVENPORT & EMMA FRANCIS DAVENPORT 2008.
“Jodi and Emma Francis, my loves.” Ace let out a jerky breath. “Where do I begin? Jodi, I can imagine you saying, how about the beginning, Ace? Just spit it out, man.”
“I am lost, Jo. I am empty without my family. On the outside, I look the same. I am a shell on the inside.” A single tear slid down his cheek. “I no longer know how to love, Jo. We had so many plans, so many dreams. Now each one is like a pile of garbage, sitting by the wayside. These past years have been the longest of my life, yet, everyone thinks I am over my grief.”
Ace closed his eyes, as a gentle breeze tussled his hair. “Most days, I fool myself into thinking that I have moved on. And there was a moment when I thought I could do just that. In the end, I gave up. I couldn’t drag the young lady through my pain.”
Ace sighed. “Today, I woke up in cold sweats. How long is too long, Jo? Tell me, how much longer do I wait before I pick up the pieces and move on with my life in a meaningful way?”
Ace paused for several minutes as though waiting for a reply. Then he kissed the cold marble slab. “Rest in peace my loves.”
When he stood and straightened his jacket, an elderly couple strolling along the path caught his eyes. Ace ran down the embankment, still unable to fathom what it was about today, Friday, December 9th, of all days, that made him feel such angst? It wasn’t Jodi’s birthday or the anniversary of Jodi and Emma Francis’s death. Avoiding eye contact with the elderly couple, Ace whispered. “Tomorrow is Efia’s birthday, maybe that’s the reason.”
Chapter 31
Lack of sleep and living under her father’s roof while he pretended she wasn’t there had taken a toll on Efia. Exhausted, she stood in her mother’s kitchen preparing bottles for one-month-old, Yasmine. With the 15k she had received from Ace tucked away for a rainy day, Efia had managed to stay on budget with her YouTube’s income.
Efia hoped to get Yasmine off the breasts and used to bottles so she could return to work in a few weeks. As she staggered around the kitchen in a daze, Yasmine sobbed from her bassinet in the bedroom.