I Was with her even before Paa Kwesi, her first boyfriend came into her life. I remember the day she called to tell me Paa Kwesi had proposed to her. A little piece of me died but she was a friend so I was happy for her. She called me ‘brother.’ She told me, “If my mom ever had a son, he would have been you. All my life I’ve never met a friend like you, not even my girlfriends.” She never stopped calling me a friend and she never forgot to remind me at each moment of our lives.
Yes, I had something for her and on so many occasions I wanted to risk it all and propose to her but there was never the right time to do that. Paa Kwesi dated her for a year or so and he was gone. I was the one she shared the happy news with so when the sadness came, she rushed to tell me; “I don’t know what I did wrong to deserve that. I loved him with everything in me but he had other plans. He used me and I’ll never forgive him.” I looked into her eyes and said, “It’s alright. This is not the end of life. We are young and tomorrow belongs to us. Let’s look to the future.”
For a whole month and more she cried on my shoulder. She was always with me, looking for an escape. I did what she would have done for me if I were the one in her position. I tried to be funny. I bought her her favorite things. I took her out and stayed with her throughout the night when all I ever wanted was to be home watching movies. I needed her back at her best, then maybe I could tell her how I truly feel. I didn’t know when she got healed. She never told me she was ok and I didn’t assume. Just when she was smiling enough and hitting her bubbly self, she came with another love announcement; “There’s this guy I met during last year’s retreat. He’s been giving me a lot of attention recently. I think he likes me.”
A week later, she sent me a message; “I told you that guy likes me, didn’t I? He just proposed to me?” She sent me a screenshot of what the guy said. I responded, “Do you feel the same way?” She said, “Hmmm he’s a good guy. I don’t mind giving him a chance.” Then he asked what I think. I answered, “I don’t even know his name.” “Edem. That’s his name. He’s called Edem,” she responded.
For the next weeks or so, it was all about Edem; “I was at the beach with Edem.” “Oh, Edem said I should visit this weekend. So all weekend, I would be with him.” “I’m trying to get Edem a gift for his birthday. What do you suggest?” “You can’t imagine what Edem did to me yesterday. That guy is a hunk!” “We are just three months into the relationship and he wants me to meet his people. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
Eight months or so later, the excitement began to fade. The tone of the questions begun to change; “He’s not responding to my messages as he used to. Do you think I should worry?” “He asked me to come over only to call at the eleventh hour to tell me he would be busy. Is he hiding something from me?” When I called around 11pm last night, it was call waiting. I didn’t mind but he didn’t return my call. I called him this morning and he said he was sleeping. Don’t you think that guy is cheating on me?”
Through all the incessant questions, I remained hopeful that things would work out between them eventually. All love stories go through phases. It might be a phase, I believed. Until one morning, she sent me a message, “Would you be home today?” I answered, “Yeah, as usual.” Not too long afterward, she was with me. Barbra is a peacock when she is in a good mood but that day when I saw her, her colors had faded into black and white. I knew something was wrong. Her first word was Edem. “Edem isn’t who I thought he was.”
Again, I became the pillow for her restless head. She cried and swore never to fall in love again. I listened. I really listened to her. I said to myself, “This might be my time.” Two months later she called; “Patrick, guess what?” I responded, “You’re in love again.” She asked, “Am I that predictable?” I answered, “The only time you asked me to guess is when love is knocking.” She laughed and said, “This one would be my last. If it ends, it’s all over.” I told her, “You said the same thing when you met Edem.” She said, “Ok, let’s say Francis is going to be my last last.”
She was so engrossed in Francis that when I fell in love with Benedicta, she didn’t notice it. She wasn’t even listening to me anymore. When she called, it was something about Francis. When we met, it was about Francis. When we chat, it was about Francis. She wouldn’t listen to anything about me. That was the period I also grew my relationship with Benedicta. She didn’t need much to be happy and I didn’t need much from her to be happy. We were both shy of each other at first, and then we grew used to each other, so much so that our true colors came shining in. I was so busy with Benedicta that I saw Barbra less and less. Sometimes Months will pass us by without saying anything to each other.
It was a sign that the relationship with Francis was indeed working. I saw her status every day and it was all about the happy vibes. I would comment on her status, she’ll see it and say nothing back. When I was lucky, she would send me an emoji. The only day she said something to me was when I sent her my wedding invitation. She sent the emoji with the wide-open eyes and asked, “Since when have you been in a relationship that you didn’t tell me? Who is she and where did you meet her?” I answered, “I’ve told you all about her but you were not listening.” “That same girl?” She asked. I responded, “That same girl.”
Two days later, she came to see me. Again, she looked faded and tired. She forced a smile. She said, “Congratulations. I should be happy for you.” I said, “Thank you.” She stayed with me for a long while. I knew she had something to say but I didn’t want to ask her until she started talking; “I told you Francis was going to be my last Last right? It looks like I’m forcing him to be. Two years in a relationship, I’ve caught him cheating three times. He had been abusive, physically and emotionally. Currently, I’m competing with another girl for his attention but through it all, I always forgive him because, in my mind, he should be my last Last.”
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I sat and watched as she spoke. She cast a sad figure but I wasn’t going to interrupt her until she finished talking. I asked her, “So for how long are you going to forgive and stay with him?” She said, “I’m walking out today. How long did you date your girl before thinking of marriage? He doesn’t have anything good to offer so he can’t be my last Last.”
Then she dropped the bomb.
“When Paa Kwesi left me, You were the next person I thought of. I did everything for you to know I would say yes if you proposed but you didn’t. Here you are, marrying someone else when I had always been available for you.”
“Are you serious right now? Or you’re saying this to make me feel bad? How would I tell you anything when you kept calling me brother and a friend? How would I propose to my sister?” I asked. She responded, “I thought you would see through the charade and say something but you never did. It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s move on.” I didn’t know what to say again so I asked the silliest question; “Why didn’t you propose when you realized I wasn’t? If you loved me that much why didn’t you propose?”
“Me? Propose? Patrick, are you serious?”
Like she rightly said, it didn’t matter anymore. There was no going back to right all the wrongs. We could only go forward. I married Benedicta and the rest became history. It’s been four years already but each time I go down on my knees, I pray to God to give her the desires of her heart so she could finally rest.
