The character of Ayitey was loosely based on my long-time friend and confidant Ob Abenser.
Strangely enough, when I started posting up the story I made a friend called Gerard Nartey who is exactly like Ayitey.
I didn’t start out the story to be biographical but none of my friends believe for a second that it’s not. I guess it is true that writers write what they know.
I had no idea where the story was going when I started still didn’t know until the last episode.
The story officially ended on episode twelve but I technically ended it in episode eleven making Episode Twelve something of an epilogue.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
A CYNIC’S GUIDE TO GETTING HITCHED – EPISODE 12
The Secret And The Big Joke
I drop the phone on my bed as it starts to vibrate again and Nunya’s face stares up at me from it. I never changed his personalised ringtone and every time it rings I am thrown back a couple of years. He’s been calling three times a day for 3 days now and my heart has been in a state of flux all the while. I feel light headed because of the over time it’s putting in.
For some reason, I can’t bring myself to take his calls. I don’t know what to say or what he’s going to say and the fear of not knowing has me paralyzed. Picking up the phone and getting to know will, of course, get rid of this paralysis but I suppose there’s a break in transmission between my brain and my limbs.
It stops ringing and I stare at it till the display goes dark. He has been trying for days, he must know I see his calls but he hasn’t tried any other means of communication; no texts, no social media messages. Why?
And why at this time? He has almost become a distant memory I’m starting to accept that being alone is something I should do. These enemies of progress; always pulling a good person back.
The phone begins to vibrate again. This time I answer it and my throat is so dry, my “hello” is almost inaudible.
“So it turns out the world will go on after all,” he says simply. No hello, no explanation. That was how we used to do it when we were together. But that’s when we were together. He gave up the right to start a conversation from a random place.
“I’m at our place; you want to come meet me here?” He continues and it strikes me that there’s no remorse in his voice. This despicable man is actually going to act like almost two years hasn’t passed since he left wordlessly.
I hang up. I’m too surprised at his glibness to muster a response. I let the phone slip out of my hand unto the bed and I stare at it unbelievably as if it was Nunya himself. Life certainly has a dark sense of humour and today, the joke’s on me.
***
I meet up with Ayitey two days later for lunch at The Republic. Nunya tried calling every day since I hung up on him but I don’t answer. I need a sounding board; someone to bounce my thoughts off in the hopes that they may make sense.
“He asked you to meet him? Maybe he was planning to explain when you got there,” Ayitey reasons.
“So you think I should go and see him?”
“I didn’t say that, and you know I never tell you what to do, but today I’m telling you point blank, do not go and see him.”
I’m taken aback by Ayitey’s assertiveness. I recover enough to ask why.
“I’m going to tell you something, I need you to be calm, and just know that what I did, I did out of love.”
If my interest wasn’t piqued by his unusual firmness it certainly is now.
Ayitey takes a deep breath and begins,
“When you two were still going out I ran into him on one of my wedding shoots. He was the groom’s best man and that in itself was a point of contention for me because I thought, if you two were together, why wasn’t he there with you? Then the groom, during his speech, mentioned that he met his wife when Nunya and his long-time girlfriend introduced them at a party. He also said Nunya and his girlfriend’s relationship was the blueprint that they were going to build their marriage on; that any couple who have lasted as long as them were a beacon. Nunya’s girlfriend was one of the bridesmaids and they kissed right after that speech. The bride even handed the bouquet to his girlfriend saying that by all means, it was their wedding she would be attending next.
“Nunya saw me, of course, and throughout the event he was uneasy. During the dance, he came up to me and begged me not to tell you. I agreed only on the condition that he leave and never contact you again. I had no idea you were so into him and his leaving was going to affect you so much. You were always so detached from your relationships; I thought this was the same. When I saw what it was doing to you, I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know whether it would help or make things worse.”
My mouth is slightly open, I’m staring blankly at Ayitey and my heart is beating loudly in my ears. All those tears, wasted on a lying, cheating douchebag like Nunya. Then I begin to laugh. I thought the universe was playing a trick on me before with Nunya showing back up in my life just when I decided that I was going to remain single but this… this is the punch line I it was missing. This is the reason why instead of laughing at the joke, I was worried about it.
All along, he being out of my life was the best thing to have happened to me and I was mourning it. I’m laughing so hard I almost fall off my chair and Ayitey is embarrassed. I’m laughing so hard I almost choke and Ayitey has to get me some water from the bar.
The joke’s on me but it’s a bloody hilarious one. Kudos, life; this is your show stopper. When I run out of mirth, I take a deep breath, still clutching my belly which hurts a little from all the laughing. Ayitey seems relieved that I’m not mad at him.
“You poor thing, you kept this secret all this while. What it must have been doing to you.” I sympathise with him.
No single event can bring one lasting peace but I think this one paves the way for the chain of events that might. I am feeling quite good. I send Nunya a message and tell him to stop calling because he is no longer a part of my life. The phone calls cease and my disposition lightens. I thought for a long time that it is only my getting Nunya back or finding someone else like him that would make me happy. But I was wrong. All I needed was closure; the loose end that I needed to tie up and this is a neat knot if I ever saw one.
THE END
I drop the phone on my bed as it starts to vibrate again and Nunya’s face stares up at me from it. I never changed his personalised ringtone and every time it rings I am thrown back a couple of years. He’s been calling three times a day for 3 days now and my heart has been in a state of flux all the while. I feel light headed because of the over time it’s putting in.
For some reason, I can’t bring myself to take his calls. I don’t know what to say or what he’s going to say and the fear of not knowing has me paralyzed. Picking up the phone and getting to know will, of course, get rid of this paralysis but I suppose there’s a break in transmission between my brain and my limbs.
It stops ringing and I stare at it till the display goes dark. He has been trying for days, he must know I see his calls but he hasn’t tried any other means of communication; no texts, no social media messages. Why?
And why at this time? He has almost become a distant memory I’m starting to accept that being alone is something I should do. These enemies of progress; always pulling a good person back.
The phone begins to vibrate again. This time I answer it and my throat is so dry, my “hello” is almost inaudible.
“So it turns out the world will go on after all,” he says simply. No hello, no explanation. That was how we used to do it when we were together. But that’s when we were together. He gave up the right to start a conversation from a random place.
“I’m at our place; you want to come meet me here?” He continues and it strikes me that there’s no remorse in his voice. This despicable man is actually going to act like almost two years hasn’t passed since he left wordlessly.
I hang up. I’m too surprised at his glibness to muster a response. I let the phone slip out of my hand unto the bed and I stare at it unbelievably as if it was Nunya himself. Life certainly has a dark sense of humour and today, the joke’s on me.
***
I meet up with Ayitey two days later for lunch at The Republic. Nunya tried calling every day since I hung up on him but I don’t answer. I need a sounding board; someone to bounce my thoughts off in the hopes that they may make sense.
“He asked you to meet him? Maybe he was planning to explain when you got there,” Ayitey reasons.
“So you think I should go and see him?”
“I didn’t say that, and you know I never tell you what to do, but today I’m telling you point blank, do not go and see him.”
I’m taken aback by Ayitey’s assertiveness. I recover enough to ask why.
“I’m going to tell you something, I need you to be calm, and just know that what I did, I did out of love.”
If my interest wasn’t piqued by his unusual firmness it certainly is now.
Ayitey takes a deep breath and begins,
“When you two were still going out I ran into him on one of my wedding shoots. He was the groom’s best man and that in itself was a point of contention for me because I thought, if you two were together, why wasn’t he there with you? Then the groom, during his speech, mentioned that he met his wife when Nunya and his long-time girlfriend introduced them at a party. He also said Nunya and his girlfriend’s relationship was the blueprint that they were going to build their marriage on; that any couple who have lasted as long as them were a beacon. Nunya’s girlfriend was one of the bridesmaids and they kissed right after that speech. The bride even handed the bouquet to his girlfriend saying that by all means, it was their wedding she would be attending next.
“Nunya saw me, of course, and throughout the event he was uneasy. During the dance, he came up to me and begged me not to tell you. I agreed only on the condition that he leave and never contact you again. I had no idea you were so into him and his leaving was going to affect you so much. You were always so detached from your relationships; I thought this was the same. When I saw what it was doing to you, I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know whether it would help or make things worse.”
My mouth is slightly open, I’m staring blankly at Ayitey and my heart is beating loudly in my ears. All those tears, wasted on a lying, cheating douchebag like Nunya. Then I begin to laugh. I thought the universe was playing a trick on me before with Nunya showing back up in my life just when I decided that I was going to remain single but this… this is the punch line I it was missing. This is the reason why instead of laughing at the joke, I was worried about it.
All along, he being out of my life was the best thing to have happened to me and I was mourning it. I’m laughing so hard I almost fall off my chair and Ayitey is embarrassed. I’m laughing so hard I almost choke and Ayitey has to get me some water from the bar.
The joke’s on me but it’s a bloody hilarious one. Kudos, life; this is your show stopper. When I run out of mirth, I take a deep breath, still clutching my belly which hurts a little from all the laughing. Ayitey seems relieved that I’m not mad at him.
“You poor thing, you kept this secret all this while. What it must have been doing to you.” I sympathise with him.
No single event can bring one lasting peace but I think this one paves the way for the chain of events that might. I am feeling quite good. I send Nunya a message and tell him to stop calling because he is no longer a part of my life. The phone calls cease and my disposition lightens. I thought for a long time that it is only my getting Nunya back or finding someone else like him that would make me happy. But I was wrong. All I needed was closure; the loose end that I needed to tie up and this is a neat knot if I ever saw one.
THE END
Monday, February 23, 2015
A CYNIC’s GUIDE TO GETTING HITCHED – EPISODE 11
Happy Endings...
The sun comes up, teasing my eyes open. In the first few seconds of wakefulness I forget where I am and what’ going on in my life. A wave crashes on the rocky shore and reminds me.
“Oh,” I murmur, my throught dry from the lack of water. “Hello world.”
And just like that; just the way I up and left my apartment four days ago, I up and leave the beach and head back ot my apartment.
When I get there, I take a long shower and brush my teeth. As I brush, I go to stand naked infront of the full-length mirror I had installed in my bathroom. I eye her skinny frame (my four days of involuntary fasting did a number on my weight) I’m not too worried about it.
I’m jolted out of my mind by a frantic knock on my door. I roll my eyes. Wonderful! back to intrusive people.
I open the door 5 minutes later to find Ayitey and Mansah standing at my doorstep. Mansah immediately falls into a rhetoric about people disappearing with no thought for their friends as she pushes past me. Ayitey stays on the landing staring worriedly at my emaciated frame. He doesn’t say anything just stares. I stare back at him. Somehow, I know that he knows I’ve had a rough few days. And I know him well enough to know that he knows better than to ask me about it. I’m grateful for that.
Then he finally says, “Don’t let her talk your ear off, I’ll be back.” and leaves.
Ayitey comes back 15 minutes later holding several white plastic bags. The scent of fast food wafts through my small apartment and suddenly, I feel like eating. As I hungrily chomp down the food I look over at Ayitey and thank goodness for small mercies.
After spending the whole day there, avoiding the topic of my four day disappearance due to Ayitey’s side eyes every time she tries to bring it up, Mansah takes her leave. She has to get back to her husband.
Ayitey stays. Wordlessly, he cleans up and tucks me into bed. He makes himself comfortable on my couch but I’m sure can’t fall asleep for worry. I listen to him restlessly moving about as I close my eyes. Knowing he’s just a call away comforts me and I immediately fall asleep.
The next morning, he waits till I get out of bed at 7:20 am.
“Are you ok?” he asks. I nod and he gathers me in a long hug.
“I have to go to work. I’ll check on you throughout the day.” With that, he leaves.
I stare at the closed door long after he’s gone. Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with him? Maybe I’m one of those women who stays single all their lives. Perhaps this is how I should live. I certainly won’t be the first person to live like that. Maybe what the universe is telling me is simply this; “stop trying, it’s not for you”.
Five weeks later, I'm standing on the beautiful lawn at the Little House on The Hill, a hip destination wedding hotel. I look around at the dozens of white and red hibiscus bouquets decorating the scenic venue and I feel the slightest tingle of happiness.
It’s a big day and even though I vowed vowed never again to be in a wedding, this one I have no choice but to join.
The guests are almost all seated and the piano guy is tickling out a melodious ode to love. I turn to my left To look at Ayitey standing beside me. He smiles at me. I smile back and reach out to straighten his neck tie after which he reaches out to straighten my bowtie. We are dressed identically excpet for the ties.
“I have never seen a best man look so good in a suit.” He reiterates for the umpteenth time.
I laugh just before the piano man starts to play the Wedding March. The bride is ready to walk down the isle. I take a step back to stand behind Ayitey as he turns to face his bride who is being led down the petal strewn red carpet on the grass by her father.
Ayitey grins from ear to ear, I would too if I were him, Joy is a vision in her sheer, pearl, mermaid wedding dress.
The ceremony is short and sweet and the reception starts off with a bang. They play old favourites and there is food aplenty. Everyone is joyous.
I smile occasionally but I don't join in the festivities even though I am unquestionably happy for Ayitey for tying the knot and I watch the couple as they dance. I don't know Joy that well and therefore don't know of any uneven spots in her past but I fervently hope, for the sake of Ayitey’s happiness, that she is clean.
My mind wanders to Deladem’s wedding which is taking place at this very instant across town. He asked that I come but I was spared the ordeal by being best man at Ayitey’s wedding.
So how does a cynic get hitched? They don’t. They can’t get past their distrust long enough to let anyone else have the satisfaction of winning them over. Anyone else, of course, but the person who proves to them beyond all doubt that men cannot be trusted. Sure, there are men people scattered all over, but none of them will make it into a cynic’s life to stay because they won’t let them; they drag their feet and second guess and let them slip away. But then again, if they leave, then they weren’t meant to stay in the first place, or were they?
Cynics don't believe in happy endings because there are no endings until you are dead. And until you die, even death itself is one of the shitty surprises waiting for you at the turn of every corner.
I feel my phone vibrate in my jacket pocket. I take it out to check the caller ID and almost pass out. I stare at the phone, unable to answer it so it rings until it cuts and the picture of Nunya stops flashing.
The sun comes up, teasing my eyes open. In the first few seconds of wakefulness I forget where I am and what’ going on in my life. A wave crashes on the rocky shore and reminds me.
“Oh,” I murmur, my throught dry from the lack of water. “Hello world.”
And just like that; just the way I up and left my apartment four days ago, I up and leave the beach and head back ot my apartment.
When I get there, I take a long shower and brush my teeth. As I brush, I go to stand naked infront of the full-length mirror I had installed in my bathroom. I eye her skinny frame (my four days of involuntary fasting did a number on my weight) I’m not too worried about it.
I’m jolted out of my mind by a frantic knock on my door. I roll my eyes. Wonderful! back to intrusive people.
I open the door 5 minutes later to find Ayitey and Mansah standing at my doorstep. Mansah immediately falls into a rhetoric about people disappearing with no thought for their friends as she pushes past me. Ayitey stays on the landing staring worriedly at my emaciated frame. He doesn’t say anything just stares. I stare back at him. Somehow, I know that he knows I’ve had a rough few days. And I know him well enough to know that he knows better than to ask me about it. I’m grateful for that.
Then he finally says, “Don’t let her talk your ear off, I’ll be back.” and leaves.
Ayitey comes back 15 minutes later holding several white plastic bags. The scent of fast food wafts through my small apartment and suddenly, I feel like eating. As I hungrily chomp down the food I look over at Ayitey and thank goodness for small mercies.
After spending the whole day there, avoiding the topic of my four day disappearance due to Ayitey’s side eyes every time she tries to bring it up, Mansah takes her leave. She has to get back to her husband.
Ayitey stays. Wordlessly, he cleans up and tucks me into bed. He makes himself comfortable on my couch but I’m sure can’t fall asleep for worry. I listen to him restlessly moving about as I close my eyes. Knowing he’s just a call away comforts me and I immediately fall asleep.
The next morning, he waits till I get out of bed at 7:20 am.
“Are you ok?” he asks. I nod and he gathers me in a long hug.
“I have to go to work. I’ll check on you throughout the day.” With that, he leaves.
I stare at the closed door long after he’s gone. Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with him? Maybe I’m one of those women who stays single all their lives. Perhaps this is how I should live. I certainly won’t be the first person to live like that. Maybe what the universe is telling me is simply this; “stop trying, it’s not for you”.
Five weeks later, I'm standing on the beautiful lawn at the Little House on The Hill, a hip destination wedding hotel. I look around at the dozens of white and red hibiscus bouquets decorating the scenic venue and I feel the slightest tingle of happiness.
It’s a big day and even though I vowed vowed never again to be in a wedding, this one I have no choice but to join.
The guests are almost all seated and the piano guy is tickling out a melodious ode to love. I turn to my left To look at Ayitey standing beside me. He smiles at me. I smile back and reach out to straighten his neck tie after which he reaches out to straighten my bowtie. We are dressed identically excpet for the ties.
“I have never seen a best man look so good in a suit.” He reiterates for the umpteenth time.
I laugh just before the piano man starts to play the Wedding March. The bride is ready to walk down the isle. I take a step back to stand behind Ayitey as he turns to face his bride who is being led down the petal strewn red carpet on the grass by her father.
Ayitey grins from ear to ear, I would too if I were him, Joy is a vision in her sheer, pearl, mermaid wedding dress.
The ceremony is short and sweet and the reception starts off with a bang. They play old favourites and there is food aplenty. Everyone is joyous.
I smile occasionally but I don't join in the festivities even though I am unquestionably happy for Ayitey for tying the knot and I watch the couple as they dance. I don't know Joy that well and therefore don't know of any uneven spots in her past but I fervently hope, for the sake of Ayitey’s happiness, that she is clean.
My mind wanders to Deladem’s wedding which is taking place at this very instant across town. He asked that I come but I was spared the ordeal by being best man at Ayitey’s wedding.
So how does a cynic get hitched? They don’t. They can’t get past their distrust long enough to let anyone else have the satisfaction of winning them over. Anyone else, of course, but the person who proves to them beyond all doubt that men cannot be trusted. Sure, there are men people scattered all over, but none of them will make it into a cynic’s life to stay because they won’t let them; they drag their feet and second guess and let them slip away. But then again, if they leave, then they weren’t meant to stay in the first place, or were they?
Cynics don't believe in happy endings because there are no endings until you are dead. And until you die, even death itself is one of the shitty surprises waiting for you at the turn of every corner.
I feel my phone vibrate in my jacket pocket. I take it out to check the caller ID and almost pass out. I stare at the phone, unable to answer it so it rings until it cuts and the picture of Nunya stops flashing.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
A CYNIC'S GUIDE TO GETTING HITCHED - EPISODE 10
Crashing Realisations
I step closer to the ebbing sea. It’s just a little past midday and the sun is merciless. The tide is way out and I need to feel something other than the searing pain in my chest even if it’s just the coolness of the sea. I stand still; wait for the waves to flow toward me again. When they do, they barely reach my toes.
It ebbs and flows again, this time it tickles my feet and pulls back again. The cool, salty water feels nice. In a few similar movements the sea, almost as if teasing me, finally reaches my ankles and pulls back. I start to feel calm as the water draws in closer each time it comes up to me.
“Come and play,” it seems to be saying. “You’ll be happy here. You came from water; this is home. Come and play.”
I look out over the horizon; water all around for miles and miles, looking more inviting than I remember it ever being. The water is much closer now, edging its way above my ankles. It occurs to me that the sea might feel my presence; that there’s some force in me that pulls it towards me. Maybe it remembers me; reads in my DNA that I used to be a part of it. All life begun in the ocean, I reason, and it is only natural I should be comfortable here.
I start to wonder, if I lay in the water without fighting against it; if I just let the force of the ocean carry my weight would it carry me out to sea or push me back to shore? I suddenly have a strong urge to find out. At this point, what have I got to lose?
I close my eyes, ready to begin my experiment when I feel a strong hand grab my arm.
“Are you ok?”
I stand there, blinking at an older man who is looking worriedly at me. For a split second I can’t remember where I am until I spy the sand somewhere behind him but it’s so far away. Then I come to, suddenly aware of my surroundings again. I am standing in the sea, the water up to my knees and I have no recollection of the time between the water at my ankles and now.
“What are you doing?” The man asks me. “Come back to shore, do you know how to swim?”
It feels like I’m already under water because I can see his lips move, can even hear his voice but I can’t understand him. Back on the shore the man, who seems to have picked up on my intentions asks me,
“What happened to you?”
All the thoughts I was holding at bay with my contemplation of the secrets of the ocean come rushing towards me as the waves crash on the rocky shore.
* * *
THREE DAYS BEFORE
Deladem fights against his being and stops kissing me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, surprised. His shirt is off and my buttons are undone.
“We can’t do this, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Deladem protests.
“What? Why?” I’m panting; all strung up with the promise of what looked like it might be a good night.
“I didn’t come here for this, I came here to tell you something.”
“What?”
Deladem takes my hands in his and holds them to his bare chest.
“I came here to… there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What, Deladem? You’re scaring me”
“I’m getting married.”
It feels like someone pushed me from a high storey building and I crash on the hard ground below, Splat!
My bones are broken, my insides are spilling out of my nose and yet I can feel nothing but the broken rib bone that’s jabbing my heart; causing blood to spill into me, stopping my breathing and slowing my heart beat. Soon I feel nothing; see nothing; hear nothing. Silence.
I am floating on the surface of consciousness; I can hear a voice in the distance calling to me. Then I feel a sweaty palm on my cheek and I am roused awake. Deladem is looking down at me, a concerned look on his face. I fainted.
He picks me up and puts me on my bed. “You scared me,” he says and fetches me a glass of water. I drink and find my voice.
“Please leave, Dela. Please. Go.”
Deladem leaves without protest; he knows he caused harm and his presence will only worsen it.
I roll over in bed and will the tears to flow but they don’t. Tears conduct pain out of the body. For every drop, there is a modicum of pain that recedes, so the more crying is done, the better the chances of recovery. When the tears refuse to flow, then you know you’re fucked because the pain will well up in your body and fester and soon you’ll implode.
I stay awake throughout the night not even trying to sleep; what would be the point? What is the point of anything, really? Everything leads to one thing which leads to something else and then another and finally leads to death. It’ll all end so what’s the fucking point?!
I hear the birds announcing the break of dawn outside my window, chirping without a care in the world. I am wide awake when the sun rises higher and higher in the sky and heats up the earth. I’m not thinking, not feeling, just awake. The last time I heard this symphony, it gave me hope. This morning, though, it’s almost like a cruel taunting; I’m happy, you’re not.
How much pain can one take? How much rejection should one have to suffer?
What’s wrong with me? All these men who choose someone else over me can’t be wrong, there has to be something wrong with me. What is it?
Suddenly the walls start to close in and I can’t breathe. I jump out of bed with a conviction I didn’t anticipate and pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and leave my apartment, not knowing where I am headed I just walk and before I know it, I am at the beach.
* * *
The older man asks me again what is wrong. The sea breeze is getting stronger and keeps carrying away his words. He gives up and gets up to leave, earnestly admonishing me to stay out of the water.
I don’t need the water anyway, what he doesn’t know is I’ve been sleeping at the beach for three days now and every day at the same time I walk out into the ocean like I just did and always come back to shore. I haven’t had food or water. I don’t even feel hungry. I’ll just go to sleep again when the sun goes down and with any luck, I won’t see the sun rise.
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