Читать книгу Praise Song for the Butterflies - Bernice L. McFadden - Страница 13

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The summer Ismae’s sister came to visit, Abeo was an impressionable five-year-old. Serafine Vinga was six years younger than Ismae and possessed the same cocoa-colored complexion and lush hair. But unlike Ismae, Serafine was curvy—bottom- and top-heavy. She favored clothing that accentuated those attributes: miniskirts, low-cut blouses, tight jeans, and high heels. Serafine drank and smoked and had a wantonness about her that made other women—including Ismae—uncomfortable. Her years of living in America had imparted in Serafine a twang that made her sound like a buckruh—a white person.

She loved music—Ghanaian highlife, Ukemban pop, American R&B, and disco. That year, she came to Ukemby with a black case full of cassettes which she played one after the other, raising the volume on Wasik’s stereo higher and higher until the sound filled all the rooms of the house and could be heard out on the street. During those times, Serafine would grab Abeo by the hands and the two would dance until their limbs ached.

Abeo was enchanted with her aunt.

“One day, Abeo,” Serafine tweaked her nose and announced, “I am going to send for you to come and spend a vacation with me in America.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh, and I’ll take you to McDonald’s and Burger King—”

“What is that?”

“You don’t know?”

Abeo shook her head.

“Well, they’re wonderful restaurants that make delicious hamburgers and milkshakes!”

Abeo licked her lips.

Ismae snorted. “That food is garbage. It’s American trash and I won’t have my child eating it.”

Serafine and Ismae looked at each other and something passed between them sharp enough to cut the air.Finally, Serafine returned her gaze to Abeo. “So, tell me, do you have a boyfriend?”

Abeo made a face. “Yuck!”

Serafine laughed. “So you don’t like boys?”

Abeo shook her head.

“Don’t worry, one day you will. One day you will love them.”

* * *

Months after Serafine had returned to her life in America, Ismae realized that she was feeling more drained and lethargic than usual. She was severely anemic and the disorder had always played havoc with her menstrual cycle, so she didn’t think anything was wrong—or in this case, right—when two months passed and she still had not seen her period. It was the light-headedness and the nausea that washed over her whenever she smelled cooked meat—that and the unmistakable flutter deep down in the pit of her belly—that finally alerted her.

Ismae had had so many false alarms in the past that she dared not say anything to Wasik before she was 100 percent sure. When Dr. Jozy confirmed that she was indeed with child, she sat blinking and mute for ten whole minutes.

That evening, when she shared the news with Wasik, his face lit up like a candle.

“Are you sure?”

Nodding, Ismae wrapped her arms protectively around her midsection.

Wasik pulled her into him, hugging her tightly. “I can’t believe it.” His words were choked with happiness. “After so many years, finally, God has answered our prayers.”

“I always knew that He had not forsaken us,” Ismae said.

“All in His time,” Wasik whispered into her neck.

Agwe was born in the spring—a round brown boy with pink gums and sparkling eyes. Wasik finally had a son; he could not have been more proud. His family was complete.

Abeo spent most of her free time staring at Agwe. He was the most wondrous thing she had ever seen. “I love him more than crisps,” she chanted joyfully. That said a lot, because crisps were Abeo’s absolute favorite treat.