Chapter Sixty – A Business Woman and a Screwed Woman

Well, reader. It seems I have put my foot in it. My liquid courage gave me way too much courage and now I was saying things I had no business saying. Did I really say that? Did I really mean that? I mean, I kind of did. I definitely hated Aseda but did I like Boateng? How could I?

No. This is all going wrong.

“I said that?” I asked bewildered.

Boateng nodded.

“I couldn’t tell if you meant it or you were drunk. So, I figured you needed space. No pressure.”

I fiddled with the hem of my shorts as my brain worked fast. What was I supposed to say? Yes, it’s true. No, I was drunk. What was I supposed to do now? I always know what people should do in situations like these but here I was.

“What happens if I meant it?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Araba. Cause I kind of like Aseda now and I want to see where that goes. If you meant it, it kind of confuses everything all over again. So, did you?”

“I think I did. I kind of do. I just don’t know. All this is so confusing for me.”

Boateng was quiet for too long. I was lost my own thought.

“So, right now, what do we do?”

***

Mara hit the road first thing, Monday morning in search of her business supplier. The sun was beating down with a vengeance but she braved her way through it. The pedestrian walkways were crowded by vendors so buyers and cars competed for the road. Mara really hated going to the market but last night she had a vision drawn out before her.

She would start the business and it would grow and bloom. She’d have enough money for enjoyment and even sponsor outings from time to time like Boateng and Carl were oft to do. Then, she’d be able to afford a two-in-a-room so she’d no longer be the only one in the group suffocating in a crowded four-in-one.

She wouldn’t spend all the money on enjoyment, of course. She was a woman with a vision and she’d use the rest of the money to open a shop and expand her business. There was no part of this plan that could fall apart.

These lofty visions paled in comparison to the blazing sun and awful market smells.

Eventually, she emerged at the hair section of the large market and set to walking from shop to shop inquiring their prices. Almost everything was similar in price. She asked about hair extensions; all the different kinds. Then, she asked about hair accessories like combs, claw clips and ornaments.

After four hours of this tedious exercise, she’d discovered the perfect place. It was just about two cedis cheaper than the others and that was most likely because it was located in a more obscure corner of the market. Sure, a two-cedi difference didn’t seem like much but after a bulk purchase it would all add up.

Mara arrived back at her room triumphantly. Even the obscene smell of her roommate’s koobi stew did not dampen her mood. There was an interim assessment coming up tomorrow but that could wait. It was time for her to draw up her budget. How much did she need to become a business mogul?

***

Kwame’s new life as a church boy was going swimmingly. A few months ago, he thought he was a heathenous wretch bound for the gates of hell and now he felt like he wasn’t so bad after all. It did help also that he and Lara were on amicable terms. So too was his relationship with Nana Yaa.

You see, this is why I say men have it easy. He was constantly the source of trouble and yet all parties involved had graciously forgiven him and he was now on his journey to redemption. Let this have been a woman. There would be constant reminders of her faults whether Jesus had forgotten them or not.

I’m not even making this up. From time to time, Lara gets identified as the one they dragged on social media two years ago for sleeping with someone else’s man. She was still not on speaking terms with her parents after the abortion and now she was living off the generous donations of her sisters and my parents.

Choir rehearsals were over and Kwame was packing his bags to head back to the hostel for a much needed nap when he was approached by the resident pastor.

“Kwame, how are you doing?” the pastor asked merrily.

Kwame had a fondness for Pastor Dave. The man knew everything that Kwame had done prior to arriving at the church and just like Jesus he never held it against him. He only seemed to see the best in Kwame and that had greatly helped him to think of himself a little better.

Good pastors are really the best thing in the world just like how terrible pastors are truly the worst thing in the world.

“Pastor Dave, what’s up?” Kwame asked, setting his bag down and approaching the Man of God.

“I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you have a few minutes?” Pastor Dave asked, taking one of the seats closest to them. Kwame responded in the affirmative and sat next to him.

“So, I’ve been thinking about you and praying about you as well. Kwame, I think I want you to start a small fellowship in your hostel” the pastor said.

Kwame was too stunned to speak. Him? A fellowship? He was just now getting round to the idea of not being a scumbag like he’d earlier believed but he was hardly fellowship leader material.

“Are you sure about that, Pastor Dave. Given my history, I highly doubt that I’m the best person to be leading a fellowship. I don’t think anyone would want to join in that either.”

Pastor Dave was just thirty-years-old but he often took these philosophical pauses in conversations that made it seem that he was fifty. Given that he was pastoring a bunch of young and rowdy boys and girls, it definitely helped to keep them in awe and respect but from an outsider’s perspective, it looked very comical.

“Paul killed and persecuted Christians and yet he wrote the most books in the New Testament, I don’t think your past matters nearly as much as you think.” Pastor Dave reassured, tapping his sheep on the shoulder affectionately.

Kwame offered no response. What was he supposed to say?

“Why don’t you think and pray on it. I don’t want you to do something you’re not led to do but at the same time, I feel strongly that this is something you are ready for.”

Mara performed poorly through her interim assessment but she couldn’t be bothered by it. She would worry about that later. For now, she was most excited about her business idea. She had determined that she needed a thousand Ghana cedis to start and after tossing and turning all night, she knew just the person to ask for a loan.

As Mara’s world was coming together, Lara’s was about to fall apart. We’d been chilling in the room, playing music so loudly that our neighbors must have been fuming. The music was so loud that Lara didn’t get the notifications of her sister texting.

Mara burst through the door in excitement, collapsing onto my bed.

“Guys, guess what? Can someone reduce the music please? I can’t even hear myself think. Okay, thanks Araba. Anyway, guess what? I’m starting a business!” Mara squealed, kicking her feet.

“What business?” Lara asked, coming to sit next to her. She had to dodge twice, as Mara gesticulated a bit too animatedly. “It’s a hair product business. So, I will be selling hair extensions, hair clips, claws, combs and brushes. Those things that don’t expire” she half-screamed.

Lara nodded. “That’s very innovative” she offered encouragingly. I was about to chime in when there was a knock at the door and Carl’s voice called out our names. “Lara, Araba. It’s me.”

I opened the door and he burst in, sitting on Lara’s bed since mine was occupied. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through it lazily before being interrupted by my asking if the other boys were coming over.

“Kwame’s at choir rehearsal so I doubt it. Boateng said he’s on his way. He went to see his mentee.”

My heart skipped at least three beats. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.

Mara saw her opportunity and inched forward so she could get Carl’s attention.

“Carl. I was hoping to talk to you about something” she said tentatively.

“What’s up?” he asked, without giving her his full attention.

As Mara began to pitch her business idea, Lara finally noticed that her phone had been buzzing and she’d missed three calls from her sister already, the current one being the fourth. She excused herself and stepped out.

“Bibi, what’s up. Is everything okay? Why are you blowing up my phone?”

Just then, Kwame and Boateng came into view. They lightly waved at her so as not to interrupt the phone call and then entered the room.

Mara had finished pitching her business idea to Carl and he’d agreed to loan her the money. The boys were excitedly chatting about Mara’s new business idea and how they’d want discounts for all their girlfriends.

“I don’t want you to panic, but daddy is in the country. Permanently. He’s been giving some government appointment. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Lara didn’t hear anything else after that. Her mind was swimming and she couldn’t focus on anything in particular. She didn’t hang up the call but dizzily walked back into the room and dropped the phone on the table. The room was spinning rapidly and she felt like the air was being choked out of her. She could barely see.

She tried to concentrate on her breathing but the more she tried the more she felt like she was dying.

“Lara, Lara” she could hear us calling, our voices fading away. She hit the floor, grabbing at her chest trying to breathe.

“What the hell is happening?” Carl asked in confusion as we watched Lara struggling for air.

I tried to keep calm but I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on. I was calling out to her but she wasn’t responding. We were all at a loss on what to do.

“She’s not asthmatic” I responded to Mara asking if that was what was wrong.

“She’s having a panic attack” Kwame finally said, “someone get some water” he added. Boateng dashed to the fridge and hastily opened a bottle of water handing it over to Lara.

After several minutes of her frantic breathing, she eventually calmed and took in the water. We were all dazed.

“Are you okay?” I asked once she was done drinking. She nodded without making eye contact. I sat on the floor close to her and just looked at her. Carl asked the next question. “What just happened?”

Lara didn’t respond. After a minute of awkward silence, she finally stood to her feet and tried to brush it off like she wasn’t just dying in front of us.

“My father is moving back to Ghana and I just panicked but it’s nothing serious” she said.

The evening was short-lived as everyone determined that it was better, we called it a night so Lara could get some rest. She’d tried to resist the prospect but we’d insisted and she finally acquiesced, opting to continue a series she had started the day before.

As Kwame walked back to his room, just like the rest of us, he was deep in thought. The way Lara just brushed off what happened meant that this was not the first time this was happening to her. Was she that badly in shape? They’d spoken a few times. Certainly not like when they were dating but at least they spoke openly as friends. There was no indication that she was in that much turmoil.

What if his pastor was right about the fellowship? It wasn’t the ultimate cure for whatever Lara was going through but maybe it could give her a sense of community and direction – something he himself had needed and found.

He had left the church dismissing Pastor Dave’s suggestion but now it seemed like a very real possibility.