Читать книгу The Wolf at Number 4 - Ayo Tamakloe-Garr - Страница 12

5

“WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?” ASKED MY mother that Saturday when I told her about Junior’s invitation. “You, you think you’re growing younger, eh?”

Of course I couldn’t tell her about Addison, so I just said, “I wasn’t interested, Ma.”

“Love can grow. Love grows with time. Even sometimes you have to fake it small.”

I switched the receiver to my other ear and sighed. “Yes, Ma.”

“You be there and ‘Yes, Ma’ me. Don’t you know that people like that don’t get married? You shouldn’t be so choosy and picky. Haven’t you seen Auntie Dorothy? You see the way she has become?”

“Ma, ah!”

“Be quiet. You, you don’t think about the future. You don’t care about me koraa. How can my mind rest when you’re not married? You better find someone you’re interested in. Or me I will look for one for you. I’ve said my own. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Ma.”

I limped back to my bedroom and threw myself into bed. The cramps were awful, as they always had been ever since I was nine.

My mother just didn’t understand. She imagined I was waiting for some knight in shining armor to come sweep me off my feet. And while that would be nice, that wasn’t it. Half of the men I met cared more about themselves than me. And the other half cared more about me than us.

I hadn’t even made myself comfortable when the phone rang again. I hauled myself back out of bed and to the living room.

“Hello?”

“Sweetie, good morning.”

“Who is this?”

“Ah, so you don’t know my voice?”

“I’m sorry. Please who are you?”

“Herh, sweetie, I shock give you oh. So you don’t know my voice. I’m offended.”

“I said I’m sorry. Just tell me who this is. People sound different over the telephone, and I’m having a bad—”

“You have to make it up to me, sweetie.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Make it up to me, sweetie, and I’ll tell you who I am.”

“Fine. How?”

“Call me darling.”

I kissed my teeth. “No. I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, wait! Okay I’ll tell you. It’s me, Gerald.”

I almost banged the receiver. “What do you want, Gerald?”

“Ei, can’t I call my sweetie and fine out how she’s doing?”

“Gerald, I’m not your sweetie. Stop it. How did you even get my telephone number?”

“You too you’re stubborn oh.”

“How did you get my number, Gerald?”

I heard him laugh. “I have my ways. And wherever there is a will, or I should say a desire rather, there is a way.”

I sighed. “Okay, Gerald. So what do you want?”

“I just called to check up on you and see how you’re doing.”

“Okay. I’m fine. I’ll see you on—”

“Wait! Do you know what I’m calling you on? It’s not a landline.”

“A payphone?”

“A mobile phone.”

I could imagine him grinning smugly and foolishly. “That’s good for you.”

“My auntie in Germany sent it down.”

“Okay.”

“I paid one million just to get the sim from Kasatel.”

“Wow.” I wasn’t at all impressed.

“Yeah, but how you go do am, chale?”

“Yeah.”

“So what are you doing this evening? Let me go and spread you, eh? I’ll do you like butter.”

“No, please, Gerald. I have no plans to leave my house.”

“Oh, why?”

“I’m not well.”

“Oh, then I will come and take care of you.”

“No. Gerald, don’t. I’m okay. I don’t need help.”

“Come on, tell me where you stay.”

“I won’t. Your time is important. Don’t worry about me.”

“No, sweetie. You are important to me. I want—”

The conversation had gone on long enough.

“There’s someone at my door. I have to go. Bye.”

I slammed the receiver.

After taking three tablets of paracetamol, I went back to bed.

It was late afternoon when I awoke. Feeling much better, I took a shower and settled in front of the television. To my amazement, I could catch only GTV. They weren’t showing anything worth watching, so I poured myself a glass of wine and started to mark some test papers.

At about half past six, there was a banging at my door. I got the door without any idea that I would find Gerald standing there with a black polythene bag in his hand.

“Sweetie!” he exclaimed with a ridiculous grin he imagined was alluring.

“Gerald? How did you find my house?”

“Wherever there’s a desire, there’s a way,” he said, taking my hand off the doorpost and walking in. “Ei, you still haven’t unpacked. See all these suitcases.”

I just stood there, hands on hips.

“So you had a party and didn’t call me,” he said, picking up an empty bottle of Cabernet Franc from a stack near the door.

He looked at me and I glared at him. He then relaxed himself in my seat and started going through my test papers.

“These children, demma head die pass,” he said with a chuckle.

I balanced myself on the arm of my sofa with a sigh.

“Ei sweetie, so you won’t offer me water sef?”

“What do you want, Gerald?” I asked.

“I came to see how you’re doing.” He reached down and took his mobile phone out of the pouch on his belt. “See my new phone? It’s a Sony Ericsson.”

“No, I won’t, Gerald. What do you want?”

He regarded me for a while. From my eyes, his gaze dropped lower to my chest, then even lower, and then back to my eyes again. “You really aren’t feeling well.”

“What?”

“All this cold feedback I’m getting from you. You really must not be feeling well.”

“Yes, I’m not. So I’d really appreciate it if—”

He sprung up from his seat. “That’s why I brought this.” He reached into his polythene bag and brought out a VHS tape. “It’s Nana Banyin’s new movie, Mpanyins^εm. Abi you’ve heard of it?”

“No.”

“Well, you’ll love it,” he said. “You have a deck, right? Off the light and let’s watch it.”

The VCR sat right beside my TV. I had to think quickly. “It’s not working.”

But he was quicker. He had already started to insert the cassette. After setting up the movie, he flopped back into my sofa and then tugged on my arm to join him.

Mustering all the patience humanly possible, I dropped down into the seat beside him. I figured I would try to make the best of the situation by at least trying to enjoy the movie.

After less than half an hour, I was completely fed up. And not just because the movie was poorly written, poorly directed, poorly acted, and poorly produced, but because Gerald kept on placing a hand on my knee or thigh or around my shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon,” I told him.

He was too engrossed in the movie to care.

I pulled on my favorite hoodie, which I had pinched from Mike’s house, and walked out of the house into the cool night air.

I had no idea where I was going, but anywhere was better than inside with Gerald. When I got to the fork that branched off to number 4, Junior emerged. He was dressed up in a blue T-shirt folded up at the arms and black trousers held up by suspenders.

He looked in my direction, so I mouthed a “Hi” and waved before it occurred to me that he would be unable to see me.

He did manage to notice someone was there. He walked towards a now stationary me. When he got close, I lowered my hood and he said, “Oh it’s you. Hi. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. You’re looking good. Are you going somewhere?”

He grinned and looked down at himself. “Thanks. Dancing class. The one I told you about.”

“Oh yeah. You said it was on weekends. I forgot.”

“No worries.” His hands were in his pockets now. He looked about. “So what are you doing out?”

“Oh, uhm . . .” I paused to think up a lie, and just as I opened my mouth to spill it out, he started to say something, interrupting me.

He was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry. Please go on.”

For some reason, the truth rolled easily off my tongue. “I’m hiding from someone.”

He chuckled. “I see. You should pay your debts, you know.”

I could not stop myself from laughing out loud. “No. It’s not like that. He’s after something else.”

“I see. Give me a moment,” he said.

He went round the back of his house and emerged with a bench, which he set down in front of the garage door. He gestured that I join him.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” I asked as I sat down beside him.

“Oh, don’t worry. These are Ghanaians we’re talking about. You know how Ghana man time is like.”

I giggled. “Oh yes. Six o’clock is seven thirty.”

That made him smile. “Besides, ten minutes won’t make much difference.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sure after ten minutes, it would be safe for you to return home.”

My giggle turned to laughter. “This guy? I don’t think so. He’s persistent.”

“Or would you like me to go get rid of him? I have macho,” he said, flexing his muscles.

“Hoh!”

He smiled. “Touch it and see.”

I poked his arm. “Yeah, you do. And that would be so, so nice. Unfortunately, he’s a coworker, so I can’t afford to antagonize him too strongly. Let’s just wait for him to leave.”

We could see my porch from our vantage point, so we sat there waiting for Gerald to surrender my home. In the meantime, Junior told me about himself. He was an artist. I thought that was really cool.

“Yeah, but not everyone approves,” he said with a grimace.

“I think I understand.”

“The old man really wants me to practice instead.”

“Practice what?”

“I’m a medical doctor by profession.”

“Wow.” It was genuine this time.

“So tell me, Miss Desire, why you came out here.”

I was starting to tell him about my getting a job at the JSS when the lights suddenly went out.

“Oh ECG!” came a cry from inside the house.

My mind immediately went to Gerald alone in my house, and I rose.

“You want to leave?”

“Yes, I’ve got to make sure—” I stopped. I didn’t really care. “No. I don’t actually. I’m enjoying myself here.”

The moon was a thin crescent, so the darkness was almost complete. But my eyes had adjusted to the dark a bit, and I could see the outline of a smile on his face. “Let me go and get us a candle,” he said.

“Okay.” Then I called after him, “Do you have any wine, Junior?”

“Wine?”

“Yes. I was having a glass when that guy came and interrupted me.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ve got a bottle of red wine stowed away somewhere.”

“My favorite kind.”

Soon he was back. He sat down facing me with a leg on either side. He lighted the candle and stuck it to a saucer, which he set down between us. I turned to face him while he placed a glass in front of me.

“What about you?” I asked as he filled the glass.

He shook his head. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

I took a gulp. “I rarely drink myself.”

“So you were telling me why you came here?”

“Oh yes, erm, there was nothing for me back in Accra,” I said.

“Rather? When that’s where everyone wants to go because there’s nothing here.”

My lips curled in imitation of a smile. “I lost a lot of things in Accra. My father died and we lost our property and I lost my job.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry,” I said with a shrug. I took another gulp and set the empty glass down. “So here I am.” I picked up the bottle and refilled the glass. “Besides, I don’t like city life.”

“Why? I miss Accra so much. We used to live there as well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We lived in Tema until ’88. My father then took a job as a lecturer at the university, so we had to move here.” He paused for a moment. “Shortly after we moved, my mother found out she was pregnant. It was an accident. It wasn’t planned. Well, she delivered and Kwabena was born and—”

“Sorry, Kwabena?”

“Wolfgang.”

“Oh, Wolf. I see.”

“He has managed to get you to call him Wolf, eh? That’s his new thing now. That boy, eh.”

“I like him,” I said. “Anyway, go on with your story.”

He did. “After she had given birth to him, the hospital gave her painkillers to help her sleep. They were expired.”

My mouth dropped open.

“She died.”

“No!” I exclaimed. “And what happened to the doctors and nurses? I hope they went to jail or were sacked.” My emotions had me leaning forward.

He shook his head calmly. “We gave it to God.”

I sat back and pressed my lips together. The words which threatened to come out of my mouth would not be thought of as wholesome or becoming of a lady.

“You can let your words fly,” he said with a laugh. “We’ve insulted them saah. Yours would just be a drop in the ocean.”

Even though his words moved me to laughter, my eyes watered.

“Are you crying?” he asked in disbelief.

I wiped my eyes and took a large gulp of wine. “I’m sorry. I had a . . . a brother who died, that’s why.”

“Sorry.”

“He was just a baby. Don’t mind me, okay.” I took another gulp. “Let’s change the topic.”

“Okay,” he said. “Look up.”

I did and gasped. A brilliant silver shroud was spread across the sky. There seemed to be thousands upon thousands of stars out. I had never seen anything like it before.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“You don’t see this in Accra,” he said.

“You certainly don’t.”

He put out the candle. “We won’t need this now.”

“Look, some have colors! That one is reddish.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

I tapped his thigh. “Look, look. Look at those three stars in a line there.”

“That’s Orion’s belt,” he replied. “And that red one you saw, that’s his shoulder.”

I looked back down at him.

“In Greek mythology, Orion is a mighty hunter.” He took my hand and traced the outline of Orion’s body. “And that one there, the one that looks blueish is his leg.”

“Wow.”

“According to the story, Orion fell in love with Merope, the daughter of Oenopion the king of Chios, and wanted to marry her. But Oenopion was opposed to the marriage. Orion attempted to seize Merope by force, but the giant scorpion, Scorpio, stung Orion and killed him.”

He turned me around and pointed to an even redder star. “And those stars right there, they are Scorpio. They are on opposite sides of the sky to avoid further conflict between the two.”

I was impressed. “How does a medical doctor know this?”

“My mother had a keen interest in the stars and also in the stories around them. She had many books on them. Kwabena has chewed them all and will never let anyone rest.”

“Oh, okay. That certainly sounds like him.”

“He’s a good kid. Want to hear some more?”

I nodded.

“Did you just nod in the dark?” he asked, trying to hold back laughter.

I laughed as well. “Mmai! But you saw me, didn’t you?”

He took my hand again and pointed at what looked like a small, elongated cloud. “It would be much easier to see with a pair of binoculars, but that’s Andromeda.”