by Adwoa Badoe
“You got it!” Bea exclaimed.
“Christine got it for me,” I lied. “I’m wearing it on Saturday.”
“Will you let me wear it sometimes?” she asked.
“Okay,” I shrugged.
“I want to dress up, too,” she said.
“I can’t give you Christine’s clothes.” Make-up was one thing, but I didn’t want to open Christine’s wardrobe. Bea pouted.
I was wondering what to do when the doorbell rang.
“It must be Simon,” I said, running to open the door.
But it was the doctor who had asked my name twice. Dr. Joe’s friend.
“Good evening,” I stammered.
He stood for a moment staring.
“Good evening,” he replied. “I have forgotten your name.”
“Gloria.”
“Ah, Gloria. Where is your madam?”
“My sister’s gone to Accra.”
“Do you know where I can find Joe?”
“Dr. Joe has also gone to Accra,” I said.
“That explains it. He hasn’t answered my calls.”
I stood at the door respectfully.
“So you have the whole house then,” he said with a smile.
“I’ll be staying at Sistah Mimi’s,” I said carefully.
Then as he turned away, he said, “If you need something, just come to me. I’m in Block E — E6. My name is Kusi, Dr. Kwabena Kusi.”
“Thank you,” I said.
As soon as I shut the door Bea came from the dining room.
“Was that Dr. Kusi? I hear he’s so rich,” she said.
“So?”
“What do you mean, so? Do you think Dr. Kusi likes you? You’re so proud, Gloria.”
“I’m not like that, Bea.”
“Yes, you are. You think you’re so pretty just because Simon and Faisal fuss over you. And just because Christine got you a T-shirt and jeans you think you’re something. You can pretend she is your sister, but nobody believes you. You do all the work and she pays you nothing and all you keep saying is she’s your sister.”
“She is my sister,” I shouted. “You’re just jealous.”
“You’re just stupid,” she said. “And besides, I saw all those class one books on your bed.”
“They are Sam’s,” I lied.
Bea just laughed. Then she walked out of our apartment and slammed the door.
Tears flooded my eyes.
“I’ll never speak to you again,” I shouted. But she was already gone.
I changed out of my clothes and washed my face. I tidied Christine’s vanity and swept her room. I thought of all Bea’s hard words and remembered that I owed Faisal 400,000 cedis that I had no means of paying.
What was I going to do?
The doorbell rang again. It was Simon. Even though I was very unhappy, I sang through every song. I had been looking forward to his visit but now I had no joy.
“What’s wrong? You’re so quiet,” he said. I knew he wanted to stay longer. We’d never had a whole room to ourselves before. But I was not in the mood and I shrugged his arm off my shoulder.
“Bea and I have quarreled, so she won’t be dancing with me,” I said. “I don’t want her in the group.”
• TWELVE •
I woke up nervous. I put it down to the quarrel with Bea but I knew it was also the show.
What if I forgot the words or sang off tune or missed my cues? What if I let our band down? I wished Bea was going to be with me after all, just as we had practiced.
I went downstairs to Mimi’s apartment in the morning and we had breakfast together. She fried eggs and afterward I helped her tidy her house. Then I went back to our apartment to get ready for the afternoon.
By one o’clock I was all dressed up. I wanted blue eyeshadow for my eyes, but I couldn’t find Christine’s so I settled on green. Bea and I had planned to meet the guys at two at the cultural center, but I left by myself, carrying uneasiness in my belly like a hundred worms. The show would start at four.
I stepped into the bushes to make room for the car behind me, but instead of passing, it slowed to a stop, its engine purring like a cat.
It was a red Passat. The front passenger window went down as if by magic.
I looked through it. It was Dr. Kusi.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “I’ll give you a ride. Hop in.”
It was good to get a ride in an air-conditioned car at two o’clock when the sun was at its worst. I told him I was singing with my band at the Anansekrom at the cultural center.
“Wow, then I’m coming to watch.”
I wondered if he meant it. Neither Mimi nor Julie was coming as they were both on duty.
“It starts at four,” I said as we whizzed through town. He stopped at the gates of the cultural center and let me out.
“You’re looking good,” he said. “So beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“See you then.”
Outside a crowd was building up quickly. It was a sweltering hot day and even the flies were slow and fatigued. Thankfully I found Osi and Jima right away. Then Simon came through the gates and led us in to the back of the stage where all the performers were gathering. The F Block guys were all dressed in black T-shirts and jeans.
“You’re looking handsome,” I said. There were high fives all around.
“Wo ye blade,” Jima said.
“Yes, you’re sharp,” said Osi. And Simon gave me a hug.
We waited our turn at the sound check while the other bands tried the microphones and the stage. Meanwhile, the crowd assembled on the grass. It was rowdy at the gates as ticket holders struggled through the dense crowd of people wanting tickets. I wondered if Dr. Kusi had made it.
By the time the show started it was about five-thirty. Our MC was Wonder Mike, the popular radio DJ with the put-on American accent, with slurred r’s and a nasal twang. The crowd was going crazy. Then the bands began to play.
Suddenly we were mounting the steps to the stage. Simon was strapping on his guitar, Osi was fingering his piano keys, and I found the microphone and worked it off the stand. And there was Bea suddenly, in blue jeans and a red Diva shirt just like mine.
“Sorry about yesterday, Glo,” she said. “I don’t want to let the band down.”
Then I heard Simon’s voice on the microphone.
“Hello Kumasi, hello Anansekrom, this is F Block of Bantama Kumasi with our first song, ‘Push It.’ One, two, three, four.” And we charged into the first song with everything we had. Bea and I performed a flawless choreography between verses of rap carried by Simon and me. The crowd joined in the chorus with shouts of “Push it hard, push it right, push at it with all your might.”
The rest of our show passed like a blur. I didn’t want to stop.
This was it! Show biz! I wished Effie could have seen me. Afterward we hugged each other. It felt like we would never let each other go.
•
Christine returned with Sam Wednesday afternoon on the bus. I thought they were coming back with Dr. Joe, but Dr. Joe was on leave for a whole month and had left Accra for London, England. He hadn’t even told me that he wasn’t going to be back for four whole weeks.
Christine was tired. She didn’t talk much even when Julie and Mimi came over for her news. I had fresh squeezed orange juice chilling in the fridge and served it up in tall slim glasses.
“Have you heard? Glo is our local star. I hear she was wild at the Anansekrom. Kwabena Kusi saw her. He says it was kra be whe,” said Mimi.
“Does KK still go to these teen things?” asked Julie.
They laughed, but Christine only managed a ghost of a smile. Her friends caught on that she wasn’t feeling sociable and left soon after.
Christine’s phone rang.
I guessed it was JB.
“Sam, time to bath,” I said. I picked him up and held him against my hip. “You’re getting heavy.”
“Heavy, heavy,” he chanted.
I opened the door to the bathroom. Christine’s voice sounded as though she was having an argument.
“I don’t mind coming for a holiday but I won’t be staying. We agreed on one year and I did two. Now it’s time for you to come home.”
I shut the door quietly. Sam pointed to his yellow plastic ducks and said, “Ducky-ducky.”
“I missed you, Sam,” I said. “Kiss-kiss?”
He hugged me with his wet arms and kissed me on the cheek. He had missed his Go-go.
I waited for Christine to give me news from Accra, but she didn’t want to chat. She said she didn’t want a meal so I made sandwiches and tea for supper. Soon after, she took Sam with her to the bedroom. Sometimes she lay by him until he had fallen asleep. Then she would return to the living room to finish some reading or watch TV.
I waited, but Christine did not come back and when I checked on her, she was fast asleep, still dressed for the day. I’d wanted to tell her about our concert but she’d seemed so preoccupied. I also wanted to hear about my family.
Christine was gone all the next morning. She dashed home briefly just to check on Sam and then she returned to work. Her team was on duty and she was responsible for the polyclinic. Only one doctor managed all the walk-ins and all the wound suturing. Usually she had this arrangement with Joe where she went to assist him on his duty days and he assisted her when it was her duty day. But Joe was gone and Christine had to do it on her own.
Sam and I got ready for a walk. Sam wanted to wear a new T-shirt they had brought from Accra.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
“Dadada.”
“Fine shirt, Sam. So handsome,” I said.
“So handsome,” he replied gleefully.
I dressed him up in the orange Donald Duck shirt and khaki shorts they had brought from Accra. He also had a brand new pair of sneakers. Then I dressed up, too, simply in a skirt and blouse and my favorite shoes that I wore to church. We walked hand in hand along the driveway to the clubhouse.
It was four in the afternoon and there were not many people there yet. I ordered Fanta at the bar. Then we went to sit outside beneath the umbrellas. I had Sam’s no-spill beaker, and we shared the bottle between us.
Two women were playing tennis. The women who usually came to the clubhouse were young and dressed to kill, not to sweat. All they did was talk and laugh between sips of ice-cold drinks, groundnuts and kebabs. Watching them closely, I had learned to sip my drink slowly, too.
The doctors were arriving for the afternoon’s tennis with their young ladies in their high-heeled sandals and colorful tops and skirts. The two women on the court were playing hard. They were dressed in white shirts, white miniskirts, white socks and white sneakers. They looked middle-aged but they seemed fit. One of the women was fair colored, the kind people called half-caste, with silky curly hair. The other one was fully African.
I didn’t know African women played tennis.
I heard one of the men shout a greeting to the curly-haired woman.
“Mrs. Kotoh, how is the good doctor?”
“He’s fine,” she shouted back. “He’s on duty today.”
Mrs. Kotoh? I stared at her. It had to be Bea’s stepmother. She was such a pretty woman. I remembered Bea had said she was German. She should have said half German.
“Gloria.”
The soft voice belonged to Dr. Kusi.
“I saw your show at Anansekrom. You were fabulous,” he said.
I smiled. Sam was trying hard to get off my lap. I bounced him up and down to amuse him. It wouldn’t do to have him running on the court.
“You did so well, I got you a gift. Come by sometime and get it.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Here, have this. Buy Sam a drink.” Just for one drink at 1,000 cedis, he had placed 20,000 cedis on our table.
“Keep the change,” he said.
I picked up the money before the wind could blow it away. I remembered Faisal’s clothes and the money I owed.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“Any time,” he replied. Then he joined his friends.
At Dr. Kusi’s table all the men wore white shirts and shorts, and they all carried white towels around their necks. They looked like they had every intention of playing hectic tennis, even though their tables were crowded with beer.
“Drink, drink,” shouted Sam.
“It’s enough,” I said to Sam. “You’ll have a tummy ache.” But Sam only shouted louder.
“Go-go, Sprite! Sprite!” he demanded.
“Don’t be wicked. Get him a drink,” said Dr. Kusi loudly from among his friends. I laughed along with them.
“Wiki-wicki Go-go,” said Sam.
“See what you’ve done,” I said.
We were all laughing when the women finished their game and returned to their table. I stood Sam up and took his hand. It was time to leave.
“Nice baby,” said one of the women tennis players.
“His name is Sam.”
“Whose baby is it?” asked Mrs. Kotoh.
“Dr. Christine Ossei.”
She poked Sam’s cheek and tried to make him laugh.
“Sam, say bye,” I said politely.
“Bye,” said Sam waving at them. Ever since Sam had discovered the wave, he was so happy to use it for everyone. He waved until they were out of our sight.
Out on the path I saw Bea on her way into town. Our eyes locked for a moment. I noticed she had blue eyeshadow around her eyes. She was wearing a belt we had seen in Faisal’s shop and a really nice dress. Even her hair seemed a little bushier.
I was going to say hello but she turned away. Had she made peace with me only because she’d wanted to sing with F Block?
My fingers curled around the 20,000 cedi bill that Dr. Kusi had given me. I hoped this was the beginning of exceeding good luck.
• THIRTEEN •
September brought in the rain. In Kumasi the downpours were heavy, drenching those victims caught outside within mere seconds of an inciting thunderclap. Umbrellas were useless, so when the rain came down, people found shelter and stayed put until the storm was over.
It was also the start of the school year and so my friends came around less. As for Bea, she no longer visited, and it seemed as if that single quarrel had wrecked our friendship permanently.
Christine brought me a pink blouse from Accra. She also brought me greetings from Auntie Ruby, Effie, Daa and Maa.
“Ah, Glo, I forgot to give you your parcel from home and it’s been a whole week,” she said as she ate the last morsel of her fried yam before going to work in the afternoon. She went back to her bedroom and brought me a bulky brown envelope. My father’s name, Mr. J.A.K. Bampo, had been crossed out and replaced with GLORIA in red ink.
Daa had sent me a Gideon’s pocket New Testament with instructions through Christine that I read it every day. Effie’s letter was in a beautiful pink floral envelope.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Christine asked as I turned the letter around in my hand.
“I will.”
“I can help you,” said Christine.
“I’ll read it,” I insisted.
The night before, I had tried to read Effie’s first letter. Although I could read some words, I had not understood her note. I had made a new goal. I was going to wait until I could read at Level Ten. Then I’d open the other letters, read them and reply to them all by myself. One day I would write a perfect letter to my friends who had gone on to senior secondary school. The thought pleased me.
There was a bit of trouble between Chris
tine and JB. That was why she had hardly spoken about her trip to Accra. Christine no longer seemed excited when he called. Her voice was tense, her sentences clipped. I thought of Dr. Joe and Doyoe, and I was very worried for Christine and JB.
One Saturday I went to the market to buy foodstuffs. I found Ayele the hair braider at the entrance.
I left my basket with her and rushed off to Faisal’s, my heart beating rapidly, my sandals flopping at my heels. I no longer wore slippers to the market. Sandals looked a whole lot better and I never carried my basket on my head anymore.
Faisal was in the shop talking to some clients. He was looking fine in dark brown trousers and an immaculate white T-shirt and shiny black leather shoes. There was a gold chain around his neck.
“Come, Gloria,” he said when he saw me. And I followed him to his office in the back.
“I have some money,” I said, opening my purse to take out the 20,000 that Dr. Kusi had given me. I reached across the table with the money. Faisal took the money and my hand.
“Thank you,” he said.
My hand was still in his. He slid his other hand up my arm and I remembered the man who had grabbed my hand when I was selling oranges, but I wasn’t afraid.
Faisal’s face was gentle.
“You wore the clothes, yes?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You didn’t come to show me,” he chided. He looked at me thoughtfully and a smile turned up the corners of his lips. “You have a boyfriend?”
I hesitated. Simon was like my boyfriend, but it was hard to say it.
At last he let me go. He opened his ledger and made an entry. Then he handed me a receipt for 20,000 cedis.
“Maybe, sometime, I come to find you,” he said.
I laughed. Then I remembered he had my address.
“You know the Lebanon Club?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know Kumasi well at all, but Bea would know for sure.
“It’s close to the hospital,” he said. “Friday afternoons we play basketball. Maybe you like to watch?”