Peace

by A. D. Koboah

  I began to squirm and took my hand away from his face.

  “Jason...I don’t...”

  He lifted up my chin with his fingers and gazed at me. Then he captured the hand I had let drop from his face and kissed the fingertips. When he bent his head down and kissed me on the lips, it started another rollercoaster ride that led to places I had only ever dreamt of, leaving me trembling in sweet ecstasy when the ride ended.

  A few hours later he was standing at the door with his clothes back on, looking at me as if he didn’t want to leave.

  “I’ll bell you later on so we can talk properly, yeah?” he said and then pulled me into a long, slow kiss. He held me tight for a few seconds before he left the flat.

  I closed the door behind him and leaned my head against it as I tried to gather my thoughts and bring sense to what had just happened. I eventually forced myself away from the door and into the living room.

  Although he had given me his mobile number and diligently taken down mine, I was no longer naïve enough to think he would really call me and I had to rein in my renegade feelings and look at what had just happened without rose-tinted glasses.

  But it was proving hard to think clearly.

  His presence, or more accurately, his absence seemed to have taken over the flat.

  The sight of the crumpled money discarded by the living room window brought heaviness to my stomach and I avoided looking at it as I sat down on the sofa.

  When my phone rang later on that night and I saw Jason’s name light up the screen, a sliver of fear snaked into my chest.

  Looking at the screen lit up in blue by his name, there was the promise of something better, of a dream that could be realised.

  Was this dream worth chasing?

  I lay the phone down on the bed and turned away from it, no longer wanting to see his name or be lulled into another false sense of security that would make me chase yet another dream that would de-materialise right before my eyes. I had known too much pain in my short life to allow myself the luxury of dreaming and I wasn’t going to put myself in a situation I wasn’t firmly in control of.

  But as I lay awake that night still able to smell the faint smell of his aftershave on the bedclothes, I saw for the first time how messed up my life was and that I only had the illusion of control. Things had spun out of my control a long time ago and I merely existed amongst the rubble of confusion my actions had created. It didn’t feel as if I was a part of the real world and in fact felt as if I had been cast out of it a long time ago.

  For the first time in a long, long, time I yearned to be a part of life, yearned for a semblance of normality; yearned for what everybody else took for granted.

  Chapter 15

  One sunny September morning, I left Dante in my mother’s care and took my first step back into the real world when I began my first day at university.

  I remember the alternating feelings of excitement and anxiety I had at the start of the day. It all passed in a disorienting whirl of activity as I rushed around the enormous university campus, trying to make sense of timetables and the complex maze of corridors that needed to be navigated in order to get to a lecture. But unlike everything else I had done over the past two and a half years, I hadn’t done it alone. I had done it in the company of other students, who like me, were on the onset of a three-year journey we all hoped would build a solid foundation for our futures.

  At twenty-one, I was older than most of my classmates and my circumstances were drastically different from theirs. And I suppose it was that fact that made me cherish the time I spent in their company. Through them I got to see glimpses of a life that was now a distant wish for me. A life in which the biggest obstacle for some was whether or not they could get a last-minute appointment at the hairdressers, or find shoes to match a dress they wanted to wear over the weekend.

  Monday morning was always the best part of the week for me. I would sit captivated whilst they recounted events at the clubs they had been to and whatever dates they’d had that weekend. University was a much-needed change to my life and for the first few weeks I was happy and optimistic about my future, sure I had made the right decision to start studying again.

  That optimism didn’t last long. Two months later, I was on a bus on the way to collect Dante from my mother’s house, thinking about my day and the amount of work that needed to be done. I was also thinking I had maybe made a huge mistake when I decided to go to university.

  Although the days and weeks had sped by, I was left at the end of each week feeling even more overwhelmed than I had felt the week before. I had been away from study for over two years and during that time I hadn’t even done so much as pick up a book. So re-learning study skills I hadn’t used in years was turning out to be a lot harder than I had previously thought.

  Every moment that I’d had to spare over the past few weeks had been spent agonising over an assignment that was due to be handed in the following day. But I had yet to finish it and didn’t even feel I had a firm understanding of the subject matter.

  Sighing heavily at the thought of that assignment, I rubbed my aching temples, and letting my thoughts turn to Dante who was never far from my mind, I allowed myself the luxury of a small smile at the image of my beautiful little boy.

  When the bus came to a stop, an elderly white couple had boarded the crowded bus and came to stand directly in front of me.

  “Excuse me, would you like this seat?” I asked the woman and smiled when she turned to me.

  The smile had quickly disappeared when I saw the contempt emanating from her icy blue eyes. She shook her head, tightened the grip she had on her handbag and took a step away from me.

  I shrugged and looked away, but could feel that her gaze was still on me. I was relieved when the bus reached my stop and I exited the bus, thankful I was free of that old woman. But the weight of her prejudice was like a lead weight that hung round my neck and I felt weary as I walked to my mother’s front door.

  Would a day ever come when we ceased to be seen as inferior by them?

  I rang the doorbell and moments later heard footsteps and voices along with a giggle that Dante just couldn’t manage to hold back. When the door was finally opened, I suppressed the smile that was hovering around my mouth, and replacing it with a puzzled frown, I stared deliberately ahead of me.

  “Mummy!”

  I allowed the frown to deepen and glanced behind me in search of the mystery voice.

  “Mummy! Mummy!”

  I finally looked down at the toddler dressed in jeans and a blue jumper. “Dante!”

  The giggle he had been trying to suppress broke free and I scooped him up, planting about half a dozen kisses on his head and face whilst he shrieked with pleasure.

  His complexion had darkened to the colour of roasted coffee beans and his eyes, which were still the colour of a starless midnight sky, were looking at me with mischievous intelligence, intelligence that was way beyond that of the average two-year-old. I tickled him under his chin when his laughter started to fade and it burst out again, his small, pearly white teeth dazzling against his dark skin. Even though he looked a lot like Mohamed, Mohamed was nowhere near as beautiful as the toddler in my arms and I thanked God every day that I had chosen Dante over him.

  When I stepped into the hallway, I saw Barbara hiding behind the door. It was part of a little game we played with Dante. Whenever I came to collect him either my mother or sister would hide behind the door and open it whilst I would act surprised at finding him standing alone in the doorway.

  “Hi, Barbara,” I said coolly as she closed the door behind me.

  “Hi, Peace. What have you done to his hair?”

  She was referring to the neat cornrows I had plaited for him the night before.

  “I did it yesterday. Don’t you think it makes him look cute?”

  The real reason I had decided to plait his hair was because I was on a very tight budget and did not have the money to take him to the barbers
every week.

  “I don’t like it,” she said.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes as I walked down the corridor toward the living room.

  “You’ve made him look like one of those ghetto children with no dads.” I winced, surprised by the tactless comment, but then again, her insensitivity never ceased to amaze me. “Make sure you get his hair cut, Peace, it looks awful like that. Peace, did you hear me?”

  I ignored her and walked into the large living room.

  It always felt as if I was walking into the past whenever I entered this room and I felt more like a child instead of the adult I had become. The grey carpet and wine-coloured three-piece sofa unit were the same ones I had grown up on and had lasted as long as they had because of the meticulous care my mother had taken of them over the years. The mahogany display unit that had been pushed against a wall was the same but the photographs it held were now dominated with images of Dante. I placed my rucksack by the coffee table, and with Dante still clinging to me, sat down opposite the painting of a benign-looking Jesus who looked out over the room with a serene smile. As a child I had always imagined His smile was maybe a response to the unyielding love and devotion that the woman sitting on the sofa under the painting had held for him for most of her life. She looked away from the television when I entered the room and a smile lit up her eyes. She always smiled like that when she saw me. She smiled as if a ray of sunshine had walked into a dark room and washed it in colour and light.

  “Hi, Mum,” I said, and with one last kiss, placed Dante on the floor.

  He immediately clambered back onto my lap and clung to my neck. I always felt guilty about the time I spent away from him, especially when I returned to collect him and he would cling to me as if I had been gone for years.

  “I’ve missed you too, babe,” I said with a sigh and nestled my head against his, stroking his soft skin and inhaling the rich, sweet smell of cocoa butter I always used on it.

  Barbara, who stood waiting in the doorway for an answer to her question, watched me for a few seconds before she kissed her teeth and walked out of the living room and into the kitchen.

  “Hello, Peace. How was university?”

  “It was good. Everything’s going really well.”

  My mother was really proud of the fact that I had decided to go back into full-time education and I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing that I was struggling with the course.

  “Come, Dante,” she called softly.

  Reluctant to have his attention drawn away from me, he had looked up at her suspiciously. But on seeing she had taken a sweet out of her pocket, he was quick to scramble off my lap and in the direction of the treat.

  “Mum, he’s not allowed sweets, remember.”

  “It’s just one sweet,” she said and put it into his mouth.

  “Mum…” I began and then grew quiet.

  She undermined me constantly, but I had to remind myself that I wasn’t in a position to moan about silly little things. She did a lot for us and had recently cut down her full-time hours at work so she could look after Dante when I was at university or work. They also saved me a lot of money as they bought him a lot of clothes and toys I simply couldn’t afford. My university loans barely covered my rent, so the financial support they gave me was invaluable.

  But feeling like the child I had long ceased to be, I left the room to retrieve Dante’s coat and buggy from the cloakroom.

  I didn’t notice the hideous thought that followed me into the soft gloom of the cloakroom straight away. It seemed to sneak in unnoticed as I heaved the buggy out into the hallway. And it was only when I went back in to search for his coat that I realised it was there.

  I was thinking about the new friends I had left behind at university who were probably sitting in the smoke-filled student union bar, straining to be heard above the loud music that was no doubt being pumped through the air all around them. They had invited me along, but it was more of a courtesy invitation by now as they knew I would have to say no. As I reached out and lifted his coat off the coat hook, I felt a sudden weariness that was beyond my years and the sense that life was passing me by. I wished in that moment that I was there with my new friends and not here. I also thought about how different things would be, how much easier and better life would be for me if I hadn’t had Dante.

  I inhaled sharply, stunned I could even let a thought like that enter my head and swiftly pushed it away.

  It didn’t belong there.

  “Come and put your coat on, Dante, we’re going home now,” I said when I returned.

  He immediately abandoned my mother and ran to put his coat on as if he were afraid I would go and leave him.

  “So you’re not staying for dinner?” my mother asked.

  “No. I’ve got an essay to finish and I don’t like taking him on the bus when it gets dark.”

  “You didn’t bring your car today?”

  I cursed silently when I realised my slip up.

  I usually drove to my mother’s house, left the car there and took the bus to and from university. But I’d had to leave the car at home as I didn’t have enough money to fill up the tank with petrol, an embarrassment I didn’t want to share with my mother.

  “No, the handbrake’s been playing up a bit lately, so I thought it would be safer to take the bus until I get it sorted out.”

  “Call Kwame,” she suggested, referring to her mechanic. “I’m sure he can take a look at it today. Now where did I put my address book?”

  “It’s all right, Ma. I’ve got someone coming to look at it tomorrow. Dante, give Grandma a kiss goodbye.”

  He obediently ran up to her and threw his arms around her. He then went scurrying into the kitchen to say goodbye to Barbara whilst I manoeuvred the buggy to the front door. He came charging down the corridor a few seconds later into my waiting arms.

  “Mummy, are you happy?” he asked abruptly after I had placed a few more loving kisses all over his beautiful face.

  He was just learning to string sentences together and was always surprising me with something new he had learned.

  “Y-yes, sweetie,” I said after a slight hesitation. “Are you happy?” I asked, tickling him.

  He squealed with laughter before answering with a seriousness that was beyond his years.

  “Of course!”

  I laughed at the look of indignation on his face as I put him in his buggy and opened the front door. I heard Barbara shout out a goodbye from the kitchen as I pushed Dante out onto the street. I shut the door behind me without answering her, still smarting at her thoughtless words earlier on.

  ***

  Night had fallen and I buttoned up my heavy wool cardigan against the cold that was sitting in the flat like an unwanted guest unaware he had overstayed his welcome. Sighing heavily, I watched the shadows created by the assortment of flickering candles dance across the walls and ceiling. I couldn’t concentrate on the book in front of me and my thoughts kept turning to the latest hurdle I had to cross.

  I had arrived home with Dante hours ago to discover that I had less than sixty pence of emergency electricity left on the pre-pay electricity meter. I sat in candlelight now, trying to use up as little electricity as possible. I looked around my bedroom, something which always filled me with gloom. The flat hadn’t changed much in the two years I had been living there and I felt like a failure whenever I thought about the empty smaller bedroom which I had been planning to decorate and furnish so Dante could have a proper bedroom; just like any other little boy. But I never had enough money for anything.

  As I sat staring into space, I heard the faint sound of footsteps against the bare floorboards which got louder and Dante, who was bundled up in layers of clothing to keep him warm, came running out of the dark corridor. He threw himself against the bed and the candles on the dresser by the bed jiggled and shadows danced wildly across the room.

  “Dante, stop that. You’ll hurt yourself. Dante!”

  He was off a
gain, running into the shadows, the sound of his footsteps the only evidence of his presence.

  “Dante,” I called out once the footsteps could no longer be heard. “Dante!” The sound started up again and he reappeared, once more charging into the bed.

  “Mummy! I’m running!” he declared.

  “Yes, babes, I know. Now come and sit down next to Mummy.” But he was gone again, his footsteps thundering down the corridor.

  “Dante, come and sit down before you hurt…”

  My warning had come too late and a cry rang out through the flat. That sound always sent a chill racing down my body and I jumped up out of the bed and raced into the dark corridor where he sat crying.

  “Dante, are you okay?” I picked him up and carried him into the bedroom.

  “I…I…hurt,” he managed to say in between sobs and pointed to his elbow.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I said in response to his tears and lay him in the bed, hugging him against me until his cries petered out.

  He lay against me for a few moments before he sat up abruptly.

  I sighed, hoping he wasn’t going to make bedtime painful today.

  “Where teddy?” he inquired, screwing up his face at the realisation that his favourite teddy bear wasn’t in the bed next to him.

  “I don’t know, hon.”

  “Where teddy, Mummy?” His words were slowly turning into a whimper and I was forced up and out of the bed. I walked down the corridor and switched on the light.

  A small white teddy bear in light blue dungarees lay abandoned on the floor in the corner. I retrieved the teddy bear and looked down at it in exasperation.

  I hated the tattered little bear. What had once been snow-white fur had grown stained and dirty, and after only one wash, its blue dungarees were now nearer to grey. Unfortunately it was Dante’s favourite toy and I knew there would be hell to pay if I ever tried to get rid of it.