Man Down (Mr. Otua) … 2
contd. from part 1
Frema pulled away, still smiling. “Hey, you.”
“Hi,” he breathed. Bursting with a renewed confidence, he wrapped his arm around her waist and turned to the guys.
“You were saying?”
Akoto raised his hands. “Bossu!”
“Baako p3!”
Frema headed towards them, arms held out. “Were you talking about me?”
They returned her hugs. “You make fine o, Yaa baby. Your skin and hair all dey glow.”
“Is that why you dogged us yesterday?” Dino stood Akimbo.
“Yesterday? What are you talking about?”
“Guys,” Amoako pulled her to his side. He wasn’t going to spend their first few hours together grilling her. “You’ve all overstayed. Leave me alone with my girl.”
They laughed, calling him a sissy before recounting the events of the day, taking time to expound on how miserable he’d been. Frema was clueless. It turned out she had been so preoccupied arguing with her friend that she had been completely oblivious to her surroundings. Dino squinted his left eye. He didn’t believe her.
“So, you were scared?” Frema asked after they left.
Amoako shoved both hands into his pockets, “I was just confused. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Seeing you with that guy, I thought maybe …”
“I’m sorry.” She took his hand, leaning closer.
“Let me go and bring a proper chair so we can talk.”
“Okay.”
He ran to the back of the house where his father kept their plastic chairs. His father. Amoko couldn’t wait to tell him, and everyone else. They were wrong. The city hadn’t changed Frema.
She had come back to him.
Frema
The pot of water on the fire was no closer to boiling than it had been ten minutes ago. Frema snatched a cardboard from the box of charcoal and fanned the coal pot furiously. The switch from a gas cooker back to its primitive cousin would take some getting used to. Back on campus, she would’ve already finished her breakfast of noodles and fried egg, not battling with this fire-resistant charcoal.
“Akua Frema!”
“Maaaa!”
She intensified the movements of her hand for a while before running into the house. Her mother was in the living room, stringing beads from a basket, her eyes glued to the T.V set.
“Your husband is here. Is the food ready?”
Frema parted the thin curtain behind her mother. Amoako was headed towards their house, a machete in hand, and a humongous palm fruit on his head.
“The water hasn’t boiled yet. I’ll go help him.”
“It looks heavy. Call your brother.” Auntie Comfort gathered her materials into the basket and shuffled towards her bedroom. Frema watched Amoako.
Your husband.
It wasn’t news that she was practically betrothed to him. He had made his intentions known to her family long before she even permed her hair. She was the flower he had seen in Agya Anamoah’s house. He had only been waiting for her to finish school. And now, that day was upon her.
When she stepped out, Paa Kofi was already helping to relieve him of the huge load. The muscles in Amoako’s arms flexed with the effort. He was every bit the man her father thought him to be—hardworking, generous and humble. He wasn’t classically handsome, but his clear brown eyes made all the difference on a face which had aged prematurely.
Frema went up to him. “Did you carry that all the way from the farm?”
He wiped the sleeve of his tattered ‘farm shirt’ across his forehead. “I knew you’d want to taste some palm-nut soup as soon as possible. We were in town the whole of yesterday so I decided I had to deliver this morning.”
“Thanks, sweety. Let’s go inside.”
Amoako relaxed under the breeze of the ceiling fan while she brought him a sachet of water from their fridge. He gulped it down greedily and asked for another. Frema pulled a chair and sat facing him. The qualities her father saw were what she once looked for in a husband. Back then, she didn’t notice that when he drank water, some trickled down a corner of his lips, and the fact that he belched without covering his mouth didn’t bother her. It did now. “I talked with my uncle yesterday. We got the schnapps. I want you to get the list from your father as soon as possible so we can go into town and get the rest.
“Really?” She reached for the tray and set it on her laps. “That’s … great.”
“Yes. We want to make sure everything is in order.”
Frema sucked in air and exhaled. If she didn’t address this soon, things would get out of hand. Before she knew it, she’d wake up one morning to find his ring on her finger, a baby in her arms and … she shuddered.
“Sweety, don’t you think we’re rushing this?”
“Rushing?” He shook his head. “No. I made a promise to you and I have to keep it.”
The promise she had forced him to make. What was I thinking?
“I know. But maybe we could wait for a while. You know?”
He frowned. “Wait for what?”
“Well … for instance, have you considered … maybe … someday … going back to school?”
It wasn’t the way she had planned to bring the subject up. But now that it was out, she was relieved. Amoako’s eyes narrowed. He was confused. Of course, he was. She was going back on everything they’d agreed on.
“Go to school for what?”
“Ha … what are schools for?”
“I’m not an illiterate.”
“Yes, you finished J.S.S . But it’s not just that.”
“And I already have a job.”
“Sweety, you don’t plan to just farm for the rest of your life, do you?”
He shrugged. “I plan to add other things. Pig rearing is profitable these days. Akoto also brought up poultry farming yesterday.”
Frema sighed. He wasn’t going to get it unless she spelt it out for him. “Okay. What if I wanted you to?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Well … yeah. For instance, the university offers lots of experiences that you can’t get anywhere else. It changes the way you think, makes you better.”
Amoako shifted forward, interlocking his fingers. “That’s why I have you. With your degree in Agric, we can run a bigger and better business. And whatever I don’t know, you’ll teach me.”
Frema nodded, guilt ripping through her. How many lies had she spun so far? It didn’t matter. She could talk Amoako into doing just about anything. But going back to school, the place where he’d been most humiliated in his life, wasn’t one of them.
She took his hand. “You’re right. Forget I brought it up.”
They stayed quiet, the voices from the television filling the silence. Frema twirled a strand of synthetic hair around her finger. She had to do it. He had given her no choice.
“Some of my friends from school are in town. I’m meeting them tomorrow evening at Obolo spot. Can you go with me?”
Amoako scratched his head. “Friends from your school?”
“Yes, coursemates.”
“Um … I don’t know …”
“Nooo.” She sat on the arm of his chair. “These are my boys boys. I want them to meet my boyfriend.”
“They’re guys?” She didn’t miss the alarm in his voice.
“Uhuh.”
Amoako leaned into the chair, shifting uncomfortably. Frema pulled out her bottom lip. “Pleeeease.”
He forced a smile. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“Frema, my pot is burning!” her mother yelled.
She kissed his cheek. “Thanks. I’ll be right back!” Running outside, she refilled the pot, stoked the fire, and then made a call. She’d hoped there was a chance she could compromise, make things work. He’d just confirmed what she feared: he was the same man from four years ago, and she wasn’t.
“Hi, Patrick. It’s tomorrow.”
Thanks for reading. Same time next week. 🙂 Have a good weekend.
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