by Adwoa Badoe
“Little wife,” said Dr. Kusi.
I wasn’t sure how to answer so I laughed.
“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”
So I got into the car and shut the door gently. It was such a beautiful car. The seats were made of black leather, soft and deep. The dashboard was jet black with red and green lights blinking. Lionel Richie’s “Stuck on You” played softly as the air-conditioning bathed us in cool air. I lay back against the headrest, glad that the windows were darkened.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“To youth meeting at the Redeemer Baptist Church.”
Dr. Kusi drove fast.
“When does the meeting start?” he asked.
“At six o’clock.”
“When does it end?”
“Eight o’clock. Sometimes I go earlier when we have band practice.”
“There’s enough time to show you something interesting.”
The car rode smoothly along the road from Bantama to Asafo, and we gained speed as our single lane road gave way to a dual-carriage highway.
“On the right is the university,” he said. “Next time I’ll bring you here to show you around. That’s where most of the doctors at the complex studied.”
He fiddled with some knobs on the console, and Lionel Richie gave way to Daddy Lumba, who sang of betrayed love.
“I love Daddy Lumba,” I said. I sang along, and Dr. Kusi’s voice joined mine for the chorus.
“Lovely voice,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“What did you buy for yourself?” he asked when the song ended.
“I got a T-shirt and jeans.”
“You look good in jeans,” he said. “I like those ones you wore for the Anansekrom show.”
“Did you really watch?”
“Sure. Your band was the best.”
“We haven’t practiced for a while, but we will have to work hard if we want to be professional. Then we will record our own CD,” I said.
“You’ll need some sponsorship, hmm?”
“That’s what Simon says.”
“I’ll see what can be done about that.”
Wait until I tell Simon, I thought. Then it occurred to me that Simon might not be that excited after all. Simon liked me.
“Those jeans you bought, you should wear for me sometime,” he said.
I nodded. I didn’t tell him he’d already seen them.
“Like I said before, if you need anything at all, just ask.”
“Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t used to asking. I had only ever taken what I was given.
We drove out of town and the music played, soft and gentle. We drove past some villages and kept going.
“Where are we going?” I asked. It seemed as though we were traveling to Accra.
“Right here.”
He turned into a dusty driveway. For a moment I thought we were headed into the forest. I remembered the stories I had grown up with about handsome men turning into snakes in the forest and eating up foolish young women who thought they were in love.
But we didn’t enter the forest. What stood before us was a beautiful building.
“It’s a new hotel. I wanted to buy you a meal and spend some time with you.” He stopped the car. “Do you believe me when I say I love you?”
I nodded.
“Do you love me?”
I nodded.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“I love you,” I said. I was completely overwhelmed by all the emotion between us.
We drew closer. I felt drawn to his eyes and I couldn’t look away.
“Say my name,” he said.
“Dr. Kusi.”
“No. Call me Kwabena.”
“Kwabena,” I whispered.
“Say, Kwabena, I love you.”
“Kwabena, I love you.”
Tears filled my eyes and my voice broke for no reason at all. He engulfed me within his arms. He kissed me for an eternity.
“This love between you and me is like magic. It’s made in heaven, but if you tell anyone before it is time, it will break and disappear.” His voice was so solemn, so serious. It seemed as though he might cry from the fear of our love disappearing into thin air. “I give you my heart, Gloria. Keep it well. I give you my confidence. Keep it well.” He took my hand and placed it on his chest, where his heart was beating furiously. “See what you do to me?”
I nodded, overwhelmed.
We ate Chinese fried rice and spring rolls. He drank wine but I drank Sprite as usual.
Then he took me to a room. The bed was perfectly made with clean white sheets.
“Come,” he said, lying down.
I went and sat on the edge of the bed, but he drew me down beside him.
I closed my eyes. Then I remembered the man in Accra who had grasped my wrist in his hand. How fast I had run then. But now I felt cornered by Kwabena Kusi’s gentle words.
His hands were stroking me. Then suddenly I felt his weight on me.
Too late, I thought, feeling very small.
“I love you,” he whispered hard into my ear.
Perhaps he really loved me. It was all I could hope for. I clenched my teeth and stilled the fear rising in me.
•
“See, I wore a condom,” he said afterward. “I won’t get you pregnant. I won’t get you into trouble. Trust me, hmm.”
I looked at the funny-shaped plastic thing. It was not appealing. I wondered at what I had done. I tried not to think of Daa as I pulled my dress down.
“I look forward to when we can do this freely. I look forward to our babies one day. I look forward to a home with you.” His voice was so tender, I wanted to cry. I hoped God would understand. One day I would become Mrs. Kusi and this would be made right.
Dear God, help me, I prayed silently.
We drove back in silence while Lionel Richie played. From time to time, Kwabena Kusi would reach for my hand and hold it. Then he would let it slip gently.
He dropped me outside the church at seven o’clock. When I went inside, I felt sin on my back like a dirty shirt.
• FIFTEEN •
Dr. Joe was gone for a month. When he returned, he brought me a white dress with blue roses, and I loved it. But he was different. Quieter. He no longer laughed from his belly, nor did his smile reach his eyes. Christine said that Joe and Doyoe had broken up for good because Agnes’s family had pressured Joe into an engagement. Agnes was the other girl, the one we had met at the clubhouse.
“You should see how she wears her belly proudly, like an ornament,” said Mimi.
“What do you expect when a guy walks around with his macho on his chest?” said Julie. “Don’t blame the girl. They deserve each other.”
Dr. Julie had no pity, I thought. I was broken-hearted for Doyoe.
Julie was unlike any of the other women doctors. It wasn’t just her short hair. She also did not follow Kumasi fashion trends and she didn’t go to church. Julie had her own thoughts about everything.
The Saturday came for Agnes and Joe’s engagement, and our compound was buzzing with activity. All the doctors were traveling to Agnes’s town to present the marriage drinks. All the trainee nurses were going as well. Dr. Joe’s colleagues carried crates of minerals and beer over from the apartments to the waiting cars. Christine said Kwabena Kusi was going to be the spokesman for Joe.
I wanted to go, too. I had never been to an engagement. But mainly I wanted to se
e Kwabena Kusi perform as okyeame for the occasion.
Christine wanted me to stay home with Sam.
“Let her come,” said Julie. “Then she can dream about her own marriage one day.” Julie had the funniest ways of saying things.
“Don’t put thoughts into her head. Marriage is a long way off,” said Christine.
“In the village some people are married at her age.”
“This is the city,” said Christine. “Here she is still a child.”
“Is she?” said Julie.
I watched the doctors pack themselves and their girlfriends into their cars. Christine was driving her Corolla and every seat was taken. Kwabena Kusi packed his car full of his colleagues. His car was easily the best — brand new and shiny. A woman I had never seen before took the front seat where I had twice sat. She was light skinned with silky curly hair. She reminded me of Mrs. Kotoh at the tennis court. I watched quietly.
Kwabena Kusi looked up, saw me on the balcony and waved. I smiled and waved back.
The woman with the curly hair said something to him. She was probably asking who I was. He said something back. The car doors slammed shut.
I’d let others take my seat until I was old enough. I would never break the magic of our love by speaking too soon. I only wished I could tell Effie everything. She would understand.
With most of the doctors gone the complex was quiet. My scalp itched. My extensions were old and messy. I spent the afternoon taking them off while Sam slept. I washed my hair with Christine’s shampoo. I was careful not to pour a whole lot. She didn’t mind when I used her things but I was careful not to misuse her generosity.
I was stunned at the new length of my hair. One day I would straighten my hair with Ultra Sheen crème relaxer and style it any way I wanted. But not yet — not until I was earning money or married.
I dried my hair and twisted my locks into three-twisted braids. Christine always used her extensions just once and threw them away, but I had taken mine out carefully and washed them. Perhaps next Saturday Ayele would be free to put in new extensions.
Sam woke up. I fed him mash yam and palm nut stew. He stained his shirt with palm oil, so I soaked the shirt in Omo detergent and water. Bea came by wondering what we could do. I had no ideas and I didn’t want to go to the clubhouse.
“There’s no one there anyway,” Bea said. “It’s so dead.”
I put on a video for Sam and warmed some milk for him. We spent an hour looking through Christine’s photo albums. In England, even the buses were two stories high.
“Christine says in England, it can get as cold as our freezer,” I said. I opened the freezer and put my hand in there for a few minutes just to feel the winter she talked about. Bea scraped some ice off the sides of the freezer and licked it.
“I want to go to America some day,” she said.
“Christine may be going to England soon,” I said.
“Will she take you?”
“I hope so.”
“You have all the luck.”
I didn’t tell Bea that Christine did not want to go. “I’m hoping JB agrees to come home soon,” she had said. “Europe is not the heaven some make it out to be. It’s cold and unfriendly, particularly to Africans. They look down on our skin color and are sometimes very mean toward us.”
I didn’t believe her. Everybody wanted to go abroad. The people who traveled to Europe came back with good things like clothes, cars and money. In our church back home the monthly all-night meetings were filled with powerful prayers for visas and tickets and scholarships, all for traveling abroad to Europe and America. We hoped our turn would come one day for God’s prosperous blessings.
“Do you want me to braid your hair?” Bea asked.
“Can you do Rasta?”
“Yes. Do you have hair extensions? I’ll do it for you for free.”
“Thanks,” I said. I sat on the kitchen stool while Bea braided my hair. It took three hours in all but it was a good job.
When I next saw Bea, it was Monday afternoon. She had on gold eyeshadow, even though she was in her school uniform. Bea told me that her party had been postponed to the end of term in December. She said she had her dress already. She had bought it from another boutique with better things than Jeans-Jeans.
•
JB was coming to visit for two weeks. I was so excited. Every day I talked to Sam about his dad. Every day we walked around the living room. I pointed at the pictures of JB and we sang songs to him.
In the evenings, I read. Christine taught me more about reading and words when she wasn’t busy. Sometimes we worked on grammar — past tense, present tense and future tense. I was reading at Level Eight. I was writing good sentences, too. I confided in Christine that my goal was to read the Level Ten book before November ended.
“Then I’ll write my sister Effie a letter,” I said.
“Go for it, Glo. I’m sure you could write your JSS exams again next year. I don’t see why not.”
I didn’t want to do JSS exams again. I dreamed of visiting England with Christine and Sam, and then marrying Dr. Kusi after I returned.
“Sistah, if you go to London will you take me?” I asked.
“Oh, Glo, if only you knew. It would be so much better if we built up our nation and stayed in it. It would be for our own good.”
•
Most Thursdays before youth meeting, Kwabena Kusi picked me up at the roadside and we went away to the hotel in the woods where we made love.
One day, Kwabena asked me how old I was.
“Sixteen and a half.”
“We’ll wait two years, Gloria. Then you’ll be old enough to marry,” he said. “It’s so hard to wait. I love you so.”
I didn’t ask him how old he was but I guessed he was between twenty-six and twenty-eight years old. It was hard for me to wait, too. I loved him and I dreamed about him all day. Sometimes I whispered his name to myself. He always filled my purse with money. Once he asked me what I had bought and I showed him a pink blouse from Jeans-Jeans. I also paid off Faisal. Then I bought a bag in the market for 60,000 cedis. I also bought a lock for the bag.
Sometimes when I cooked special food like banku and okro stew, I saved some for Kwabena Kusi. I could count on finding him at home on Mondays at noon. Once I made him corned beef sandwiches on a Tuesday, but he told me not to come to his apartment unless he sent for me.
“It is so important to keep our secret for now,” he said.
I had to be very, very careful.
One Thursday night, I slid into the youth room, late again. Simon looked at me. I smiled but he didn’t smile back. Pastor Brown was talking about righteousness.
I rested my head on the back of the pew in front of me. Ellen, a youth worship leader, prayed for all of us to make use of the grace of God to stay pure. Then I realized I didn’t want to be in church anymore.
After the meeting, Simon came up to me.
“We have to talk,” he said.
So I walked back with him while Jima and Osi went off with some friends. Simon was quiet for most of the walk home.
“Glo, do you want to quit the band?” he asked as we drew near the hospital.
“No,” I said. “I have been busy. I thought you were busy with your studies, too.”
“I have made some new songs that we have to learn,” he said. “Will you come early to youth meeting next week?”
“I’ll try hard,” I said.
“Good.”
We walked on. It felt uncomfortable between us.
“Gloria, are you my girlfriend?” Simon’s question surprised me.
“We’re good friends, Simon,” I said.
“We’re more than that,” he insisted.
I said nothing.
“So be my girlfriend.”
“Oh, Simon, let’
s just be really good friends,” I said. “Best friends.”
I took Simon’s hand but he made no effort to hold onto mine. We walked in silence for a while.
“Why, Gloria? What has happened?” he asked, freeing his hand.
“Oh, Simon, it’s complicated,” I said.
“Okay,” he said after a while. “Whatever you want.”
We didn’t stop at the kelewele seller, although I could smell the pepper and ginger in the air. There would be no more kisses in the shadows or his friendly arm around my shoulder. In the moonlight, Simon’s smile was small and sad.
• SIXTEEN •
Agnes moved into Dr. Joe’s apartment, and all the men doctors called her madam. Her belly was showing a small bulge in her dress. Joe sometimes went to the clubhouse but he never went with her. Then his laughter began to swell once more around the tennis courts.
Sam and I still went for drinks at the clubhouse. Sometimes we met Bea there. She told me the barman liked her and gave her free drinks.
Bea talked a lot about the end of term and her coming party. We went to her house once when her mother wasn’t home. She showed me her dress. It was a silky white dress with buttons down her back and a square neckline. It was gorgeous, perfectly matching the shoes and bag she had bought from Faisal.
“Did your daddy buy those?” I asked.
“I bought them myself but he gave me the money.”
“You’re lucky,” I said.
She told me about the Adaekese, the biggest festival of the Ashanti. This year it was falling on the first week of December, and Daddy Lumba, Kwadwo Antwi, Akosua Adjepong and Stella Dugan were being featured on the main stage. Lord Kenya was also releasing his new hip-life album, Nsoromma.
“You can’t miss this, Glo. Even if I have to run away from home, I’m going,” said Bea.
On Thursday, I got to the church early for practice, as Kwabena Kusi was on duty at the hospital. We practiced until five-thirty. Then Ellen, the other worship leader, came to say hi. Like me, she loved to sing, and she was taking remedial courses for failed JSS courses.
“I thought I was leading today,” she said, when she saw me with the microphone.
Osi said, “Gloria’s leading today. Pastor Brown changed the schedule around.”