Man Down (Mr. Otua) … 3
Contd. from part 2
Their wellington boots crushed the dried leaves and branches in their path. Amoako swung his machete across the Guinea grass that bracketed the narrow route from his farm to his house. Dino followed behind, whistling a tune he’d been stuck on all morning. Amoako thought of telling them about his plan to go to school, like Frema had asked, then decided against it. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on his life choices.
“So what time are we leaving, again?”
“She said eight so maybe seven. You know it might take a while to get a taxi.”
“And you still want to go to town before that to buy a new shirt to impress her highness?”
Amoako shook his head. “I could get you one too.”
“No, thanks. Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to doll up just to impress some university brats. Maybe Akoto will take you up on that.”
Amoako turned, stopping Dino in his tracks. “You told him?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”
“Well, you know how Akoto is. He might embarrass himself.””
Dino frowned. “You mean embarrass you.”
“No. I just …”
“Yeah, Akoto is loud. His English is severely crippled, and he hasn’t read Courtesy for Boys and Girls. But he’s your friend. And like my father told me, the minute you start putting a woman above your friends, you’re at the beginning of your end.”
They walked the rest of the way back in silence. Amoako knew there was some truth in what his friend was saying. But he couldn’t think of that now. He had to make sure everything was perfect tonight. He could only focus on that.
Frema
Frema ran a pencil over her eyebrows. Patrick had called thirty minutes ago. He was on his way with Mark and Ekow. “I really don’t think you should do this..”
She turned to Dela, her best friend. “What are you talking about? You taught me how to do this. It’s too late to renege.”
“This guy sacrificed everything for you. It’s not right.”
“I don’t have feelings for him. Should I just string him along? Would that be right?”
“No. But you should’ve cut the cord four years ago, not wait till you squeezed him dry.”
“That’s not fair. I did love him.”
“But that changed some time after second year. And you still continued to use him, took his money. To do this now , like this, would just be insulting.”
Frema shook out her wig cap. She’d thought this through. This way was better for both of them. “Edna, you’re behaving like you haven’t done this before.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to do it too. Not to a guy like that. I mean, what would he do if he figured out what you were doing?”
“He’s not going to figure it out. He’ll make the decision on his own, give me my freedom, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”
“Or he decides to do something crazy.”
“Oh, stop exaggerating. This is nothing and you know it.”
“Yeah, giving mankind another reason to buttress the ‘women are wicked’ slogan is nothing.”
Frema rolled her eyes. If she knew Amoako like she did, she’d know there was nothing to worry about.
Amoako
Amoako turned down the collar of his blue Lacoste shirt and raised his head. The image reflected could pass for a young man who’d just arrived from the city. Perfect. He was ready.
His phone rang. He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled it out.
“Hello.”
“Hi. Am I speaking to Kwesi Amoako?” A female voice asked.
He locked the phone between his head and shoulder, fumbling with a gold watch he’d worn only once. “Yes. Who’s this?”
“My name is not important. I have an important message for you.”
“Okay …”
“Your girlfriend invited you to a night out with her friends, right?”
He clasped the watch and held his phone. “How do you know that?”
“Tell her you can’t make it. Then end it with her.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“It doesn’t matter. Do this so you can save yourself.”
Amoako didn’t like where this was going. Who was this person and how did she know Frema?
“Save myself from what?”
She sighed. “She doesn’t want to marry you. She never did. But she doesn’t want to be the one to break it off. Tonight is just about putting you in a position to do that for her.”
Amoako popped two shirt buttons and turned on the standing fan. But the air did nothing to calm the heat racing through him. He lowered himself unto his bed.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Whatever doubts you have will be erased in a few hours, if you decide to go. I just wanted to save you the pain and humiliation those guys are going to inflict on you.”
He ran a hand over his forehead. Suppose any of this was true, what exactly did that mean?”
“Does she … Is she seeing someone else?”
He waited.
“You don’t want to know.”
The line went dead.
He’d heard this before. And all it’d taken to cement his fears was a call from a stranger. So maybe he did know all along. He dropped his head into his hands. His world was crumbling around him. He’d made plans, told family, friends. What was he going to do? How was he going to live in this town. He stared down at his trembling hands. Out of nowhere, a body flashed in his mind. Amoako swallowed.
There was a knock and his door opened. Dino and Akoto stood outside.
“We’re ready.”
He ran an arm over his face as they made a fuss over his clothes, grateful for the dim lighting in his room.
His name was Seth, the man whose body they found floating in the river. Seth had married from a different town, against his families wishes. He’d married for love. Two months into their marriage, his younger brother visited. Four weeks later, Seth’s wife was pregnant. It was five years before he figured out the sequence of events was no coincidence. That his only son was his nephew.
“Cheers!” Frema called out, raising her glass.
They clanked their glasses together. There were seven of them around the table: he with his friends one side, Frema’s guys on the other and her highness at the head of the table.
Amoako had questions then, about how a man could take his own life over something like that. That question ran through his mind now as he watched the unfolding charade. Whoever had called him certainly knew Frema, and whatever it was she had planned.
The guys didn’t waste any time going into offence, slinging abuses every chance they got, casting derisive looks at his friends, snickering each time he said something, anything, and poking fun at the fact he was a farmer. And to think he’d thought his friends would embarrass her.
It didn’t take much to get Dino riled up. Frema came in each time, playing her part as the offended friend, shaking her head at Dino, asking him to calm down.
Amoako watched in silence, filling his glass with beer, emptying it in gulps.
She didn’t expect him read meaning into the fact that her friends were telling him he wasn’t good enough for her. He was just a dumb farmer, nothing compared to the tall, clean-shaven guy on her left. He didn’t have an American accent, didn’t wear crisp shirts soaked in expensive perfume, so he wasn’t supposed to notice when his girlfriend stole glances at another man, or that she held his hand under the table when she thought he wasn’t looking. Maybe that too was part of her master plan. Amoako emptied his fourth bottle and wrapped his hand around the glass. If he had come here tonight without any foreknowledge, he’d have been crushed by their words, believed they were right. He would have considered it, letting her go, if that would make her happy. Which proved that he was the idiot she saw him to be.
“Hey Best Farmer.”
He looked up at the guy, Patrick.
“That’s glass, not a calabash. You grip it any harder and it breaks.”
Amoako stared at his hand, at the veins straining against his taut skin.
Dino pulled back his chair and rose. “Akoto let’s go.”
“Oh c’mon.” Ken raised his glass. “You know this is the last chance you’ll drink at a place like this.”
Dino threw a fist then. It landed on Ken’s face. Akoto latched unto Dino’s arm, preventing another blow headed the same way.
Amoako watched Dino and Akoto leave. Patrick’s freinds rose.“Frema, we should leave too. We’ll call you.”
They held Patrick up and stumbled out of the bar.
“I’m sorry about that. He just had too much to drink.”
Amoako filled his glass. His head ached with a dull throb.
“I hope you don’t hold any of that against me.”
He studied the twinkle in her eyes, the way her hair framed her face. He didn’t feel any warmth or a rush of emotion to do whatever she wanted. What he felt was a blaze of rage that would burn her to ash if she came any closer.
“Let’s go to my place.”
Frema glanced at her watch. “Isn’t it a little late?”
“We need to talk.” It was what she wanted after all.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They headed out the bar. Frema held his hand, smiled. He smiled back. While she talked, his mind wandered.
Given a choice between living in monumental humiliation and losing his life, a man chose the latter. That was a truth enshrined in the fabric of their culture. So that explained why Seth took his life.
But it didn’t explain murdering his wife.
What would drive a man so mad that he could take another person’s life? The same rage rushing through his body right now.
They were at his house. He gave her the key. Frema opened the door and entered. Amoako headed to the shed. A steady hum rang through his head, mixing with the heat crawling through his skin. He blinked to clear his clouded vision. It was there, just where he’d left it that morning.
“Sweety, where are you?”
Amoako wrapped a hand around the machete, searching his mind for a sense of hesitation, the repulsion he expected would accompany the thoughts running through his mind. There was none.
“Coming, love.”
The End.
Thanks for reading!
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