When my landlord increased my rent to the extent that I couldn’t afford it, I went to him and pleaded for a reduction, at least for a year. I asked him to allow me to pay for a year. He wanted two years. I couldn’t afford to pay so I had to vacate the place. My heart was heavy. Apart from the fact that it was a good apartment, it was also close to my place of work. Nothing I said was enough to convince the landlord so one early morning, I started packing out of the place.

I spent the whole week packing my things and moving them bit by bit in a very small taxi. I couldn’t afford a big truck. I didn’t disassemble my bed. The mattress was too big for the taxi to carry so I told the landlord I would come for it later when I got a pickup truck from work. I handed the keys to him and left with my heart broken.

A week later he called to ask me to come for the bed because someone had rented the place. I begged for a few days. I had arranged for a pickup at work but they were delaying. Two days later, he called again; “The man is moving in. Won’t you come for your bed?” I asked him to give me the weekend. The weekend came. I couldn’t get the pickup. The landlord called. I didn’t pick up his call.

When I was ready to go for my bed, I called the landlord. He told me he wasn’t home so he gave me the new tenant’s number to call and arrange with him. When I called, a guy with a deep voice answered. He was straight and short with his answers; “Who are?” “What can I do for you?”

I spoke like a young girl who had to plead her way out; “I’m sorry but the landlord gave me your number. I left my bed in the room you rented. I want to come for it.”

His tone changed from strict to friendly, “Oh you’re the owner of the bed. Please, sell it to me. I like the mattress.”

I giggled.  “Respectfully, I can’t sell it. It’s all I have and it will be difficult to get the same thing. If you may, tell me when you’ll be home so I can come for it.”

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He hesitated before giving me a date. He told me he worked outside Accra so he was not always at home. A day to the day he gave me, I called. His answer was sketchy. He couldn’t tell whether he would be home or not. He repeated the desire to buy my bed. I gave him the same answer I gave him the first time.

I wondered; how can a guy without a bed rent a place like that? What was he going to sleep on if he didn’t meet a bed in the room?

I went to the house to meet the landlord to discuss my frustration with him. When I got there, he told me the guy was in his room. I angrily went to the door and knocked. When he came out I asked, “You told me you wouldn’t be around so why are you here? If I knew you would be here, I would have come with the pickup.”

While I was angry and speaking on top of my voice, he stood there watching me and smiling. “What? Why are you smiling?” I asked. He stretched out his hand and said, “I’m Mark, nice to meet you.” I shook his hand and responded, “I’m here for my bed. Let’s park it in the garage. It will be easier for me to come for it.”

To date, I still think about the answer he gave me when I told him we should park the bed in the garage. He was smiling while I was frustrated about his cunning behaviour. He spoke gently, “Maybe if we get married, you won’t have to come for the bed and I won’t have to buy it. How about that?”

I stood there caught flat with his bluntness. “What did you say?” I asked as if I didn’t hear him the first time. His eyes were fixed on me while smiling. I’ve never had a man look at me the way he did. I told him to keep the bed while walking out of the house. “I can see you desperately want a bed. Keep it. You don’t even have to pay for it.”

Early the next morning he called me, “I meant it when I said we should get married. It’s no longer about the bed. You can come for it tomorrow. I will hire a truck to get it to your place for you. All I want is for you to consider what I told you.”

He was very cold when I was talking to him on the phone the very first time but quickly switched it up when I brought up the bed issue. When I saw him the first time, he looked at me and smiled sheepishly while I was speaking out of frustration. I concluded he had mental issues. To get him off my neck, I told him I was engaged and waiting to be married soon.

He kept his word regardless. He hired a truck and had the bed sent to my place. I sent him a message when the bed arrived. “Thank you for keeping your word.” He responded, “The least I can do for a woman I want to marry.”

Weeks later, he came to comment on my WhatsApp status when I posted a photo wearing my church’s clothes. He said he was also a member of the same church and wouldn’t mind going to church with me the next time. I softened up and spoke to him that day. We talked about church, discussed our pastors and talked about our childhood and how we were raised.

The next Sunday, while praying in church and soaked with the holy spirit, I felt a tap on my back. I ignored the first one until the next one came almost immediately. I turned and it was him. I was so shocked I couldn’t pray again. “How did he get here?” I asked myself.

After church, we stood at the premises and talked for over an hour. I saw him differently. How he dressed to church and the way he tucked the bible under his armpit. He spoke calmly with his eyes fixed on me without blinking. I concluded I liked the way he looked at me. He made me feel seen and heard. He asked, “So your boyfriend attends the same church too?”

“I lied,” I said while laughing.

“Something told me you were lying. I knew it,” he exclaimed while looking at me intently.

In the evening he sent a long message outlining his feelings and how far he intended to go with a relationship if I said yes to him. He ended, “I still want to sleep on that bed again but this time, with you by my side.”

I invited him over to my place one Saturday. I lived in a single room where the bed occupied the largest portion of the room. Immediately he got in, he jumped onto the bed. I didn’t have a chair in my room but I also didn’t expect him to jump freely like that. As he lay watching me go about about my stuff, it felt like home. A home he was part of. I accepted in my spirit that I should give it a go. That very day I  said yes to him.

The next weekend, I went to his place, my former house. I sneaked into his room, my former room because I didn’t want the landlord to see me. Minutes later, he went out. When he was coming back, the landlord was in tow. He said, “Jenny is here. She wants to say hi.”    

We all burst out laughing. The landlord asked if he still owed me a bed. Mark responded quickly that he owed me something greater this time. “It’s no longer a bed. I owe her commitment this time around.”

He didn’t have a bed. He was sleeping on one of those beds you can turn to a chair and also sit on it. He told me he didn’t want to buy a bed because he already had one with me.

I said yes in March 2022. In October of the same year, he held my finger and pronounced his vows while slipping a ring on it. He couldn’t wait for the pastor to say you may kiss the bride. He went for my lips even before the pronunciation. The whole place went into an uproar but he didn’t care. I didn’t care too because it was all we could have.

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It tells me of the mysteriousness of love and where we can find it. Mine was sponsored by a bed I left behind. A bed that still sits comfortably in our bedroom today. We’ve made a child on that bed but if someone told me that was how the story would be, I would have doubted it.

Maybe, the fact that we don’t know where it’ll come from is why we keep chasing, making wrong decisions along the way and having our hearts broken into pieces. But once we unravel the mystery surrounding our love story, we go like, “It’s worth it. All the struggles and hurts. And the beautiful thing about it all is that the one that would last comes with no struggles. It just happens just like we happened.

— Anita

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