I met her at a funeral. The first time, she was crying and looking miserable. The second time I saw her, she was serving food at the reception. I looked at her critically and saw something I didn’t see the first time. She was beautiful. No makeup, no wig, no slang, just natural beauty.
I called and asked her for a drink, and she respectfully asked which one I wanted. I said anything. She went in and came back to tell me the soft drinks were finished. Only beer and hard liquor were available. I said, “Give me beer.”
My plan was to get her number, but she came with a man directing her where she should send the drinks. She was in a hurry, so she gave me mine and continued to the other places that needed her.
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A few hours later, before the reception came to an end, I was going to use the washroom when I saw her in a corner drinking beer. I said, “My sister, are you stealing the drinks?” She smiled shyly and said, “Oh, I’m not. This is mine.”
In my head, I would use the washroom, come back, and ask for her number. When I returned, she wasn’t there. I blamed myself. I called myself a coward. I cursed my stars for the missed opportunity. But the universe always knows how to bring what we want back our way.
Around 6 p.m., at the funeral grounds, I saw her dancing and singing heartily to the song being played.
I stepped onto the floor, stood behind her, and started dancing too. When I held her waist, she turned to look at me. She said, “Eii bra, you’ve caught me here too?” I responded, “This time you’re not stealing drinks, so it’s alright.”
She burst out laughing, and we continued dancing. She didn’t push away from me. She didn’t swat my hands off when I touched her or held her waist. When I pushed until my flap touched her behind, she also pushed in hard, and we danced like we were happy someone was dead.
Before I left, I took her number. She told me she was Aboagyewaa. I said I was going to call her. When I settled at the hotel where I was lodging, I called her. She was happy and laughed through it all. I said I wanted to know more about her, and she couldn’t stop talking. Later, she said, “I’ve said everything unless you have a question to ask me.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked.
She retorted, “Nooo, I’m single. The last one I had nearly killed me. I’m done following boys.”
And then she burst out laughing. She asked me to tell her about myself, and I told her my name, my work, and where I stayed. I told her I had come to the funeral from Accra and would return after the thanksgiving service. She asked, “You’ll go back to Accra? Are you driving? I want a lift to Accra to see my sister.”
I said assuredly, “Then you’re welcome to go with me.”
Sunday after service, she sat next to me, and the journey started. We talked about everything. I was driving but couldn’t take my eyes off her. She had grace. She had the kind of calm that was so innocent. I was in love.
I proposed to her right on our way. She smiled and looked away. “I told you I don’t like any man again. See the trouble you want to put me into. You want to tell me that a man like you is not married?”
I swore I didn’t even have a girlfriend. Just like her, I’d loved and I’d been burnt. I didn’t swear against love because I love to be in love. She said she didn’t trust me. I asked what I should do to prove it. She responded, “I don’t know, but I can’t trust you.”
When we were about to get to Accra, I told her, “You can go home with me and check if I have a wife there. I’m single.” She responded quickly and gleefully, “Let’s go. As for this one, I’ll go with you. Seeing is believing.”
We got home, and I showed her around. I asked her to make herself comfortable while I cooked something for her. While eating, she asked if I was the one who prepared the stew or if my girlfriend prepared it. I was honest with her. I told her I bought the stew so I could make yam and rice with it.
“Stew? You bought stew?”
Then she burst out laughing. Where she came from, they don’t buy stew, so she was surprised. I explained how it was done, and she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll do some for you before I leave.”
So the conversation sauntered into passionate territories, and by the time I knew it, we were both naked and panting. She spent the night, and the next day when I was going to work, she told me I should leave money. She would like to replace the stew she ate.
“Are you not going to your sister?”
She answered, “She doesn’t know I’m coming, so I can spend a few days here.”
Days rolled into weeks, and weeks into a month. She was still with me. At some point, I got worried.
“Or she’s a ghost?” I asked myself.
When I asked why she didn’t want to go to her sister, she said all she needed was a job. There was no need to go to her sister.
She’s an SHS graduate, so finding a job for her was very difficult. I asked her to go to her sister for a while and then come back. She said no. By the time I realised, she had been with me for two months and was pregnant.
That’s where the problem is now. I’ve known her for only two months. I don’t know her family or even her friends. She’s always home, cooking, washing, and cleaning after me. I’ve asked her several times to take me to her sister. She says it’s not important to see her sister because her life is in her own hands.
When she knew she was pregnant, she didn’t tell me. I had to find out and ask her. Even then, she denied the pregnancy until she finally accepted that she was pregnant. She said I would ask her to terminate it, and that’s why she didn’t want to tell me.
I love her. My feelings towards her haven’t changed, but to live with a woman, get her pregnant, and not know any member of her family sounds strange. No matter what I say or do, she tells me she doesn’t have a family worth meeting. It’s her life, and she’s happy I’m in it, so let’s enjoy.
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“If I want to marry you right now, you mean we’ll do the wedding without your family?”
“I don’t have a family worth meeting. If you want to marry me, just go ahead and marry me. I will appreciate you for the rest of my life for doing that, but forget about family.”
Brothers and sisters, I’m dating a ghost, right? Or I’ve gotten a reincarnated human pregnant? I’m scared sometimes. If I wake one dawn and see her wearing a white boubou to the toe, I’ll scream ghost and run and never come back.
This is strange!
—Ephraim
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As I read your story, I did not see where you went to the hospital for STDs check before you starting sleeping with each other. Eiii bra! Ask for the sisters number or any other family and let them know she is with you. All else, if something bad happens to her, you will be in hot waters.
Find a way whatsoever to reach out to any of her family or probably confirm if she truly has a family (you can try going through her contact list if you have access to her phone) because it’s an unwise and dangerous decision to be cohabiting with someone you don’t know about her family background or anything about her family.
I doubt there was ever a sister in Accra. Sounds like she marked you from the start.
I don’t think she has a sister in Accra; she only played it smart to get into your space. I advise that you go and find out about her from her hometown since you have been there before to know more about her. I will advise you to get two elderly people to accompany you as a sign of respect and seriousness on your part.