Tell me, why does Kusi’s wahala captivate you so much? Is it because you’ve lived it, or you easily could? What do you think, does the childhood sweetheart win over the impending bride? This week’s piece clarifies things more. But just a reminder on where we left off;
After week one, Kailie and I hit it off like it we had never been apart. But I never really liked her, it was Afua, it had always been her and at the time, I didn’t know it’ll always be her. Because of Kailie, Afua and I got to speak once in a while, then it became more frequent till we could have ten-minute conversations on our own. She was delicate and intricate, sweet and obstinate, so strong willed, so…so…Afua.
I didn’t have to wait a whole year to return to Newark, Aunty Kay wanted me over for the Christmas break too. It was impromptu, but I was delighted to go. Kailie wasn’t expecting me till the next summer, and I guess the chilly winter made allowing Calvin Safo privileges seem like a smart thing to do. When I found out, I was hurt, naturally, but not devastatingly so. It was that vac Afua and I got really close.
* * *
I secretly thanked Kailie for her blunder and savored every moment I spent with Afua. Fortunately, they had had some girl squabble and weren’t on good terms, all the better! Things were fast-slow with Afua, I mean we were very close, but she wouldn’t let me in (I don’t meant that literally!). She was full of life and knew at thirteen that she wanted to be a top lawyer with a major New York firm. She was so intelligent, the first time I heard the word ‘evasive’ was when she used it to describe me. She couldn’t grasp how I always managed to dodge her serious questions, and there was something she just couldn’t figure out about me. In retrospect, I guess that’s what kept me on her mind.
Her mum and mine had gotten pretty close, and along with Aunty Kay, had become a trinity of sorts, all the better! On my last day, when she realized she wasn’t going to see me for another six months she gave me a hug so intimate, so pure I wouldn’t trade it for all the kisses I’ve had since (countless, with most meaningless). That’s why if you ask me, I don’t think the sweetness of a hug is proportional to how foamy the lady’s chest is. Read the rest of this entry »
.
Loading ...