He loves me not, obviously.
“Jess, I need you. Are you busy?”
I have twenty-four hours to sew four bridesmaid dresses, find a new venue for a client’s wedding, get decor for said venue done, and find time in between to free my hair of a three-month-old weave-on. But at the sound of his voice, all that goes out the window.
“Nope. What do you need?”
Idiot! The voice of Baaba, my best friend, chides. I tune her out. Ekow is a good friend. A very good friend. If I can’t put aside my personal wahala to help him out in an emergency, what kind of friend would I be?
“My mum is visiting. She’s almost in Accra, but I’m stuck at the office. Can you get to the house with a key?”
“She doesn’t have her key?” One of my apprentices holds up a lace she’s just sewn. I give her a thumbs-up.
“I told her I’d be home. And now I have a meeting till seven. You’re the only other person who has a key to my place.”
I can’t help the smile that springs up. Technically, I’m the only girl who has a key to his place. Okay, Ekow is more than a friend. To me, that is. Yes, he hasn’t said anything. But what did words matter when it so obvious he had a thing for me too?
“I’ll take care of it.”
He sighs. That sound is a blow to whatever hesitation I have left. “You’re just … the best.”
“I know.”
I end the call and check the time on my phone. Fifteen minutes to five! It’ll take at least an hour to get to Tema from Ogbojo. A trotro isn’t going to cut it. With a Taxi or Uber, I could be back within two hours. That will leave me with four hours to finish the dresses if I want to get any sleep. Plus, considering the distance, I know the cost will be way out of my budget. Ugh. I should have told him I was busy.
Right. Like you’ve ever said no to Ekow. God, why do I keep doing this?
God, of course, ignores me. We’ve had this talk before. He had a lot to say. I explained to him, or rather convinced myself that I was not idolizing Ekow. This was love, straight from Corinthians thirteen. How could He be against it?
I get to Ekow’s at fifteen minutes to six in an Uber, parting with two twenty-cedi notes. There’s no one at the door. His mother is not in. Looks like I’ll have to spend more time than I projected. I pace the small compound of Ekow’s new house, checking the time intermittently, trying to convince myself that this is worthwhile.
When I crossed paths with Ekow at a book club back in 2009, I had no idea that six years later, I’d still be so enamored of him. It’s ludicrous, really. Sometimes, I can’t believe that I, Adwoa Pinamang, let a guy get away with some of the things he does. I’m pretty sure he’s broken every single rule in the “how to treat a girl who obviously has a crush on you” manual. And yet, my feelings for him haven’t changed. Getting over it, over him, is impossible. I know because I’ve tried to, with varying degrees of failure. I’m head over heels, heart over mind, helplessly and hopelessly in love with Ekow Twumasi. And I don’t see that changing any time soon.
Seven o’clock rolls by. Still no sign of his mother. That is worrying. Mrs. Frimpong has a pretty bad eyesight. Headlights appear outside the gate and Ekow’s Chevy Malibu comes into view. When he steps out, the fine ensemble of a lean physique, captivating eyes and a boyish grin remind me again why my situation is hopeless.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” I walk up to him. “Have you heard from your mum? She’s not here.”
“Yeah, I know.” He shuts the car door. “She decided to go to my brother’s instead and come here in the morning.”
His words stun me into silence. “Wh … when did she tell you this?”
“Some time before the meeting started.”
“And you didn’t call me back because …”
Ekow pulls me into his arms. “I was in a meeting, remember? Besides, I haven’t seen you since the Python thing. Thought this would be a good chance to hang out. I missed you.”
I smile to cover the rage boiling inside. He misses me. That’s why he’ll only visit if he’s running an errand close to my neighborhood, or only call when he needs me to do something.
Okay, Ekow I have nothing better to do so sure, let’s hang out!
I don’t say any of this, because I can’t. I can’t let him know I’m angry with him.
“I have to go.”
“Whoa … why?”
“Um … I have to be at the shop.” I stroll past him.
“Wait. I’ll take you.”
I try to protest but he’s already heading to the car so I take a seat at the front. On the way, Ekow launches into one of the crazy stories that seem to be a daily occurrence at the Power Plant where he works. And soon enough, I begin my usual routine—laughing at his not-so-funny jokes. By the time we get to Ogbojo, the urge to give him a piece of my mind has waned. Because to be honest, this is my fault. I should have told him I was busy. He’s not a wizard. So he forgot to call after his mum called. What’s so wrong with that?
The fact that he’s done this a million times before.
I bury my face in my hands. Baaba is right. Enough is enough. I can’t continue to do this to myself. There has to be a way to break this power he seems to have over me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I sit up. God, help me. “So, are you going to get the dog soon?”
“I’m thinking about it. But I have to consider that I won’t always be at home.” He turns into my street and I can see my little shop.
“If I got one, would you mind taking care of it when I’m away?”
I laugh. “Are you asking me to dog-sit for you?”
Ekow chuckles and my heart does a flip. “You’re the only one I’d trust to dog-sit for me. “Another flip. “Or baby-sit, for that matter.”
My heart freezes over, all flipping halted. “Baby-sit?”
“You know.” He pulls over in front of the shop. “In the not-so-distant future, when I have kids, you’d be available to offer some baby-sitting services, no?”
He says this with an air of nonchalance, head turned to the side, eyebrow slightly raised. He’s asking me, the girl who has been in love with him for six years, if I would baby-sit for him. I’ve always been astounded by the mechanics of the male brain, how they manage to be so clueless about the import of their words.
He doesn’t get it. How does he not get it? He’s smiling at me, oblivious that he’s just crumbled my heart into a ball and stuffed it down my throat. He’s not only thinking of me as not the mother of his children, he’s telling me, sans sugar-coating: ‘I’m not attracted to you. I have no plans of ever considering being attracted to you.’
“Jess, are you okay?”
His beautiful face is scrunched up in confusion. I want to punch it, let lose all my frustration into making sure no one ever falls prey to it again. For a good part of a minute, my brain offers no words, rather opting to reminisce. All those nights I stayed up texting with him at the expense of my work, giving him my calculator when I was studying for an exam just because he asked for it, traveling ten hours to be at his sister’s graduation. He thought I was doing all that to qualify as a baby-sitter for his children?
By some miracle, I don’t feel the excruciating pain one would expect of a heart being poked with a thousand needles. In the incredulity of it all, there is a spark of humor. The spark grows stronger, together with the dawning of a stark reality: there will be an unseating. Whether today or tomorrow, Ekow Twumasi is coming off that high pedestal I set him on years ago. And he’s never going back up.
I turn to him with a half-genuine smile. “Absolutely.”
We say our good-nights and I step out of the car. When I wave at him, he waves back, oblivious to the finality of the gesture. I know I’ve failed before, but this time, there’s no going back. There will be lots of soul searching and resetting of priorities in the coming days. It wasn’t all bad. I had the chance to love someone. That can never be a bad thing. And I’ve learnt many lessons, having a sense of self-worth being number one. All that is true, but I have to face the fact that Baaba was right about one thing.
I have been an idiot.
