The People vs. Nyamekyɛ 2
I can’t do it.
Sitting in church, sandwiched between my mum and dad, Rev. Andoh’s sermon goes through one ear and out the other. I steal a glance at my phone, checking a WhatsApp notification I’ve been waiting for all morning.
I have Missy Gold’s number. Now all I have to do is call. I swallow.
Before you do it, be 100% sure.
I stare at the text that follows. Vivian is such a —
I never should have asked her for our teacher’s number.
What do you mean? I just asked because I want to send her a gift.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Just saying.
My father taps my knee, and I look up. He’s staring daggers at my phone. I shove it into my purse, turning my attention to the pulpit. Not much has changed in our church. There’s the choir that consistently belts out guttural sounds, the stage where I developed the acting prowess I now employ on campus, and church leaders who run a tight religious ship. Behind the pulpit, by the life-size crucifix sits Mrs. Andoh, the youth group leader, who drilled the ‘keep your legs crossed’ motto into us girls. For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I’m filled with shame.
The day I saw the results of my pregnancy test, I was sure there was a mistake. Yes, my boyfriend and I had done the deed a number of times, and I had missed my period, but I couldn’t be pregnant. The lab had made a mistake somehow. After the third test, it settled in. I was pregnant. At twenty-two. A second-year student. There had been no time for shame.
But now, back in this place that taught me about sexual purity and the absolute necessity of staying a virgin till marriage, I’m confronted with my many mistakes, the least of which was believing for one moment that Derrick and I could spend the night alone at his house, in the same bed and not ….
I run a hand over my tummy. Was I one hundred percent sure I wanted to get rid of it? No. I’m not ready to be a mother. I can’t imagine walking around campus, church, showing signs of pregnancy. The stares, the questions, the gossip …. I don’t think I can take it. And yet, getting an abortion? I never would have thought in a million years that I would ever consider it as an option. Even if I wanted to, there were so many what ifs.
What if five years later, I can’t have children and I regret ever doing this?
What if there are complications and I end up dead?
What if it’s murder and that makes me murderer?
For the first time, I ponder the one thought that scares me the most:
What if, in spite of everything, I had this baby?
“See you all next week,” Rev. Andoh cuts into my reverie. “God bless you,”
In a daze, I follow my mother out to the church entrance for the usual ritual where she parades me among her friends.
“This is my beloved daughter in whom I am well-pleased. She’s smart, beautiful. Oh, and did you know she’s an architect?”
Did you also know that she’s a big, fat fraud who leads prayers at church and yet has sex with her boyfriend?
“Princilla!”
My thoughts come to a halt as I recognize the voice. Agartha Ababio? I turn, looking around the compound until I see her. I’ve heard the rumors, but seeing her now, it’s surreal. It doesn’t matter whether they’re true or not. In that moment, the confusion fades away, and I know without a shadow of doubt what I have to do.
A lot has changed since Agartha and I last met. It’s not just her looks, the hair, or the fact that her smile fades the minute she sees me. The last time she was in town, Agartha was thirteen years old and expecting her first child.
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