Anytime I went home to visit my mom, she asked about my girlfriend. The default answer was, “I don’t have anyone.” With time, she changed the question from “When are you bringing your girlfriend home?” to “What type of woman do you want to see before you get married.”

I was thirty-four. I saw myself as a young man but unfortunately, my mom thought I was old enough to get married. He compared me to my dead father; “When your father was your age, we were married. If you think you’re young, you’re not.”

I told her, “We live in different times and different times mean different love stories. When I get the woman I love, I will bring her home.”

One day I heard she was sick so I rushed home to see her. She looked weak but had a sharp tongue. She said, “Good you’re here. You need to meet Serwaa. You’ll like her.” “Ah, I came here because you’re sick and all you want to do is give me a woman? Concentrate on getting well. I will find my own woman.”

Serwa came walked in and said hello. I looked at her from hair to toe before responding to her hello. She told my mom, “I heard you wanted to see me.” My mom responded, “No, I’m not the one looking for you. The gentleman there.”

After saying that she left the room for the two of us. I was smiling. Serwaa was also smiling. For several seconds we didn’t know what to tell each other. I broke the silence; “What did she tell you?” “She said she had a son who wants to marry me. I asked how her son got to know me and she said she showed you my pictures. She calls me daughter because she’s my mother’s best friend.”

My mom lied to her. She never showed me any photos. She could lie but when I was young she screamed at me; “What I hate in  my life is a child who tells lies.”   

I asked Serwaa, “Don’t you have a boyfriend? I mean a man you’re getting married to?”

She looked at her feet before shaking her head. I said, “Good to know. We’ll talk.”

I took her number and she left. I stood at the corner of the room looking at the tip of my shoes and laughing to myself. “How did she know my taste? Such a witch!”

When she returned to the room she asked how it went and I told her it didn’t go anywhere. She said, “There’s another one. More rounded and prettier. She looks like your father’s ex. The one who left your father broken until he found me. If you’re like your father, you’ll like her. If you sleep over, you’ll see her tomorrow.”

I didn’t sleep over because I had no intention to see anyone after seeing Serwaa.

We talked for a week, me and Serwaa. One night I asked her, “So what are we now?” She answered, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

A year later, we were married.

It wasn’t a smooth road to marriage but we had the support of my mom. She was always there to do the dirty job for us so we could focus on what was important to us. On our wedding day, my mom was there. She told me, “I didn’t force her on you. I only showed her to you and you said yes. Don’t give her problems. The day she runs to me, you’ll have me to contend with.”

I’ve Thought About How To Blame God

We’ve done three years already. There’s a child, there’s love, there’s grace and there are troubles but she hasn’t found any reason to run to my mother yet. I count it all joy, where we are now but when we look back at how it all started, we laugh and say to ourselves, “Boy, we have a story to tell our kids someday.”

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—Freddie

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