by A. D. Koboah
When I walked into the canteen in search of Nicola, it wasn’t yet lunchtime but the canteen, which was the social nucleus of the college, was still bursting with people and noise. A large area in the corner was filled with large sofas that were occupied with students either sat or strewn over them, their bodies gravitating towards a small television that was fixed to the wall above their heads. Most people were seated at tables by the food counters. Some were playing cards, others were simply sitting around talking. I passed a few girls who were dressed more for clubbing than college. They were watching a group of boys by the vending machines and I noticed that one or two of the girls didn’t even attend the college. I scoured the canteen until I saw Nicola at a table with her fan club.
The other change that had occurred within those six months was Nicola. She had been acting strangely ever since I began seeing Mohamed, and as I walked toward her and her fan club, I noted the way her eyes narrowed as they flickered over me. They carefully washed over my baggy jeans and tight pink top, carefully searching my face and no doubt noticing I was wearing make-up for a change. As I sat down, her gaze lingered on my hair, which had been blow-dried straight and hung to my shoulders.
“Hey, Nic, how are you?”
“You relaxed your hair?”
“Nah. I just blow-dried it. What do you think?”
She paused, an unreadable expression on her face.
“It looks all right,” she said grudgingly.
“It looks wicked,” the teddy bear fan commented as he reached over and touched my hair.
“Yeah, you’ve got nice hair, man,” the skinny, light-skinned one who was sitting beside Nicola added.
“Thanks,” I said shyly.
They normally didn’t even seem to notice I was alive and I felt slightly uncomfortable at the sudden interest they were showing in me.
“So how’s it going, Nic?” I asked, turning away from them and to Nicola.
She stared at me for a few moments, then started up a conversation with the skinny fan.
Her expression grew stonier as she talked and saw his gaze keep wandering from her face to my chest and the cleavage the low slung top I wore revealed. He eventually brought me into the conversation and I was puzzled by the fact that Nicola, who always had a way of dominating every social setting, was silent as we talked. I kept glancing from them to her, expecting her to join in, but she didn’t and instead sat watching me with that unreadable expression on her face.
Later on that day I was still thinking about Nicola’s odd behaviour as I stood waiting outside Mohamed’s front door with two large pizzas he had asked me to buy for him. She had stared at me silently whilst I had talked to her ‘fan club’ and then got up and walked out of the canteen, leaving the three of us exchanging puzzled glances. I had tried calling her a few times when I left college to go and see Mohamed, but her phone had rang and then abruptly cut to voicemail.
I sighed, wondering why she was acting so strangely when the door opened and all thought of Nicola disappeared. I smiled in anticipation of seeing Mohamed and felt a warm fuzzy glow spread across my chest. My smile widened, froze and then vanished when my eyes fell on a tall, slender, fair-skinned man. He had rows of intricate plaits running down his head which came to rest at the nape of his neck, his complexion was a light shade of honey and he had the chiselled features and bone structure of a male model.
“Y’all right?” he murmured, pulling the door wide open and letting me into the house.
“H-hi, Jason.”
He was Mohamed’s closest friend which I sometimes found hard to believe as they were like night and day. Whilst Mohamed was talkative, friendly and extremely easy-going, his friend was quiet, aloof and had cold watchful eyes I found unnerving. I followed him up the stairs, groaning inwardly when I heard male voices raised in laughter coming from the direction of Mohamed’s room.
I was never comfortable around his friends who were boisterous and sometimes rude. The only exception was the quiet one, who although was always polite and respectful, was the one I found the most intimidating.
“Hi, Mohamed,” I said when we entered the room. I placed the pizzas on a small table by his bed next to his two other friends who didn’t even look in my direction. I wondered fleetingly if I should ask Mohamed to reimburse me for the pizza as money was a bit tight that month. But I had never done so before and felt awkward about asking.
“All right, Peace,” he said dismissively, his attention on the TV screen as he punched furiously at the games console in his hand.
The other reason I didn’t like being around him and his friends was that he behaved differently when they were there.
“Get us some drinks,” one of his friends said to me as he reached for the pizza.
Not sure of what to do, I looked to Mohamed for guidance.
“Bring some ketchup up as well,” he said, not even looking up from the television screen.
I left the room and ventured down the stairs, not sure where the kitchen was as the only part of the house I had been in on my many visits so far was his bedroom. I walked into the living room, stopping to glance at some of the framed photographs of who I assumed were his parents and another one of a little girl who was probably his younger sister. My eyes lingered on one of Mohamed before I left the room, eventually finding the kitchen and getting a bottle of Coke, ketchup and some glasses before heading back to the bedroom. The only person who said “thank you” when I returned and distributed the drinks was the quiet friend.
“I thought they’d never leave, man,” Mohamed said as soon as they had left, returning quickly to the Mohamed I knew and was smitten with.
“Same here,” I said walking over to his bed.
He put his arms around my waist and buried his head in my chest.
“Is this top new?” he asked, his voice muffled under my heavy bosom.
“Yeah, do you like it?”
“It’s nice, but it needs to come off.”
I laughed as he pulled me down onto the bed.
An hour later, I sat up and looked down at him as he slept, stroking his smooth dark skin which felt like velvet. I let my fingers trace his soft full lips and watched the even rise and fall of his chest. I was blissfully in love with him. So blissfully and blindly in love that I didn’t see any of his imperfections or how one-sided our relationship was. I didn’t see his selfishness or his weakness. I only saw what I wanted to see and thought I was getting in return what I gave to him; my total and unconditional love.
I eventually pulled myself away from him and crawled off the bed to retrieve my scattered clothing. I turned to him again when I was fully dressed and found him awake and smiling lazily at me.
“What time is it?” he asked and yawned, stretching like a large cat.
“Five-thirty.”
“Right,” he mumbled. “You know my mum will be back soon, innit?” he added, his way of letting me know I would have to leave soon.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, wondering why I hadn’t met any of his family in the six months we had been seeing each other. “I need to get a few more things for my holiday.”
“Oh yeah, you’re going to Ghana in a couple of days.”
“Day after tomorrow. I’ve still got some more shopping to do, but I can pass by tomorrow evening.”
“Don’t bother,” he said yawning into a pillow. “I’m going out with the boys tomorrow evening.”
“C-can’t you go out with them another time? I’ll be gone for two weeks and I really want to see you before I go.”
“I can’t.”
“But, Mohamed, don’t you—”
“Allow the moaning, Peace! I hate it when you get all clingy on me,” he interjected sharply, leaving my heart hammering and my stomach flipping sickeningly as it did every time he grew angry at anything I said or did. He turned over to lie on his stomach. “You’re only gonna be gone for two weeks.”
He lay his cheek against the pillow and closed his eyes.
/> I swallowed my feelings of disappointment at the fact that I wouldn’t get to see him before I went, put my coat on and tidied up my hair. He was already half asleep when I finished. I sat on the end of the bed and watched him sleep for a few more minutes, already experiencing the tightening in my chest I felt whenever I wasn’t with him. Kissing him softly on the cheek, I crept quietly out of the room and left the silent house.
In the months and years that followed, I always wished I had never taken that trip to Ghana, especially since that holiday came to be dominated by a seed of worry that sprouted during the first few days and tainted the rest of those two weeks like drops of blood seeping into a glass of water. That seed had quickly blossomed, and by the time the plane left the hot tarmac bound for London, fear at the knowledge that my monthly visitor had failed to arrive had completely overwhelmed me, leaving me unable to eat or sleep.
I had spent the plane journey back home staring out of the cabin window so that I could avoid speaking to my sister Barbara. I took refuge in the notions my vivid imagination threw up when I looked out at the sky, imagining buildings and celestial cities in the white downy clouds in a place where Heaven seemed to meet Earth. But every time the plane shook with turbulence, I was torn away from that place and reminded of the turbulence that was starting to rock my world and would no doubt tear it apart, leaving me to plummet down to fear and uncertainty.
Chapter 6
I landed back in the present with a clang. Shaken even now by the memory of the turbulence I had sensed bearing down on me during that plane journey, I quickly turned my attention to the calming visage of Eva who was sitting next to me. She was staring at an elderly white lady who had just boarded the bus we were on. The seats near the driver were occupied and we saw a black boy of about eighteen years old vacate his so she could sit down. She went to sit down as the bus lurched forward and promptly fell on him, giving him no option but to steady and help her onto the seat as she thanked him repeatedly.
“Is it just me or did she look like she was enjoying that a bit too much?” Eva murmured.
“What?”
“Oh come on! You must have seen the way she practically jumped him just now and I’m sure I saw her hand reach up and feel up his bottom!” I was laughing now and she joined me. The two of us must have looked like mischievous schoolgirls as we sat giggling away. “Look—look! Can you see her eyeing him up?”
I discreetly looked over to the woman in question who was wearing a powder blue coat zipped up to her neck and had grey hair sneaking out from the scarf which was tied under her chin. She did seem to be taking an overt interest in the boy who was about the same complexion as Eva and had a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose. I saw her glance down at his trainers before she looked up into his face, and with a twinkle in her eyes and a cute little smile, she said, “That’s a lovely pair of trainers you’ve got there, young man.”
I saw his face register surprise and then a movie star smile appeared on his face as he began explaining what brand they were whilst Eva and I sat sniggering as quietly as we could.
“Look at her trying to chat him up, what an old perv!” Eva exclaimed in between her giggles.
“You’re just vex ’cos she beat you to it.”
“You’re damn right I’m vex she beat me to it. He’s really cute… Look, he’s getting off now. She must be pissed. I bet she was getting ready to ask for his number.”
We quickly descended into another fit of giggles that were slow to subside.
We arrived at the flat around fifteen minutes later, stepping into a hallway that had been transformed by sunshine-yellow walls. No carpeting was in any of the rooms yet, but a pale blue runner had been placed in the hallway which did its best to hide as much of the tacky black tiling as possible. The living room contained a blue, second-hand sofa along with royal blue curtains, a large blue rug with a yellow sunburst design in the centre and my television which had been placed in the corner. It wasn’t much and we still had a lot to buy, but the flat felt warm and homely, especially since Eva spent most of her time here with me.
Hanging up our coats on the coat hook in the hallway, I was on my way to the kitchen to help Eva cook when the doorbell rang out intrusively.
“I’ll get it, Eve,” I called out, making my way to the door.
I pulled it open to see a familiar stranger standing before me.
The five years since I had last laid eyes on him had done nothing to take away the power of his mere presence. He had the same tall, muscular frame, cool dark complexion and strong proud features, was well dressed in a dark blue wool coat and I could see a white shirt and tie peeping out from under it. The only major difference physically was that his head was now clean-shaven and he was sporting a goatee beard. If anything, the last five years had left him even more handsome, devastatingly so after all that had occurred between us.
“Is Peace there?” he asked, smiling the arrogant smile of a man who was accustomed to the favourable attentions of the opposite sex.
Looking beyond him, I could see the aloof, quiet friend Jason staring at me, a small flicker of recognition in his eyes quickly spreading to the rest of his features. He was dressed in similar attire to that of Mohamed’s and was no longer as slender as he used to be but was now powerfully built and probably more muscular than Mohamed. The plaits were gone, replaced by a smooth smattering of hair shaved close to his head.
“Mo,” Jason said softly.
Mohamed turned to look at him briefly before turning back to me.
“What do you want, Mohamed?” I asked stiffening, my tone as devoid of emotion as I could manage whilst my heart beat a wild, violent rhythm in my chest.
He paused, shot a glance back at his friend as if seeking some kind of confirmation before he returned to me. His eyes widened.
“Peace?”
“Yeah, what are you two doing here?”
Jason looked to Mohamed who was still staring at me with his mouth hanging open.
“Don’t mess around, Peace,” Jason said slowly after an awkward silence. He came up to stand directly behind Mohamed and I saw that the last five years hadn’t softened his cold gaze. “You know why he’s here.”
“Y-yeah,” Mohamed added, regaining his voice. “I’m here to see my son.”
“Your son?” I spat out, laughing a short humourless laugh that stemmed from rising hysteria rather than humour as I tried desperately not to yield to the dark pool of emotions those words had unleashed. “You don’t have a son!” I said with as much control as I could muster and slammed the door shut, feeling my heart thumping so hard it felt as if my chest was about to explode.
I turned to see Eva standing a few feet away, looking almost as shocked as I had been to see Mohamed at the door.
“You have a son?”
The doorbell started ringing almost as soon as I closed the door, making me sweep past Eva and into the bedroom.
“Peace, you have a son?” she cried, following me into the bedroom and then out again as I left it and entered the hallway. “Where is he?” she asked.
I ignored her and put my coat on, picking up my handbag.
Looking into the bag and not seeing my phone, I rushed into the living room feeling hysteria rising in my chest. The piercing tone of the doorbell was starting to sound like the screams of angry, vengeful spirits that were chasing me all around the house as I went rushing from room to room in search of my phone with Eva close on my heels.
“Peace, stop. Just stop!” she cried and caught my arms as I turned out of the kitchen to go back into the bedroom. “How could you not tell me you’ve got a son?” she cried. “I thought I was your friend, how can you keep something like that from me?”
Feeling guilt adding to the apparitions that were all around me, I pushed past her.
“I can’t deal with this right now. I just need to find my phone. Where the hell is my phone?”
I was almost screaming now, my voice rising to a crescendo as I
whirled from room to room, feeling the urge to scream and let out all my frustration, anger, guilt and pain. I wanted to scream and scream above the piercing sound of the doorbell when it ceased, making my quick heavy breathing the only sound in the now quiet room.
I reached into my handbag again and found that the phone had been there all along.
“E-Eva, I need you to go and see if they’re still there.”
“Peace, talk to me.” I heard quiet anguish in her words and felt the weight of guilt on my shoulders again.
“Eva, please!” I said softly, the shreds of composure I was hanging onto starting to slip away from my grasp.
She sighed before she walked out of the room and disappeared down the corridor. I heard the front door open and then close before she returned to the living room.
“They’re gone.”
“Th-thank you,” I whispered as I stepped past her and rushed out of the house.
I pulled out my mobile phone and when I had gone far enough to feel sure no one was watching or following me, I dialled his telephone number.
“Yeah?”
“Daniel,” I said fighting with disgust, shame and anger at the sound of his voice and the thought of what I was about to do.
“Piss—?”
“Dan,” I said, cutting him off. “I…I need money.”
Chapter 7
I tumbled out of a cab at two-thirty in the morning and let myself into the dark flat. Feeling my stomach heave violently, I lurched my way to the bathroom where I stayed for the next few minutes until the torrent abated.
Passing by Eva’s handbag in the corridor, I walked into the living room and switched on the light, illuminating her small, fragile frame sitting on the floor by the window. She had her legs drawn up so her chin was resting on her knees and she watched me in silence as I stumbled to the sofa and collapsed on it. I was careful to avoid looking directly at her, at her eyes which looked as if they had been rubbed raw.
