My dream was to stay in the corporate world and work up the ladder until I get to the top. Her dream was to have a shop that sells women’s stuff—creams, clothes, wigs, makeup tools, and any other things a woman would love to spend money on. When I met her, she had already started doing it on a small scale. She didn’t have a shop so she went around with the items in her bag, peddling them around like drug dealers peddled their illegal stuff. She sold to friends and family. Sometimes on credit. Later, she realized that selling things to families on credit is the same as giving bananas to monkeys. They take and run away with it without paying for it so she stopped selling to families and instead concentrated on friends and strangers.

 When I met her, I decided to help her achieve her dreams so she could be self-dependent. She had already built the foundation in her bag so it was easier to continue from there. She got a shop and we paid for it. It cost me a kidney’s worth to be able to provide that financial assistance. But what’s love without sacrifices of such nature?

I was doing it for her but I was doing it for the future of us—We would marry someday and everything we had toiled for while dating would become legacies of our love affair. After the shop was secured, we started getting the items one by one, little by little like the way the chicken drinks water. A year and a half later, the shop was fully ready for her to start operation. Her shoulder finally found rest from the huge bag that always hung on it. No longer moving from one place to the other dealing in human hair. When you have a shop, even a bald man can walk in and buy a wig for a girlfriend who already has full hair on her skull. What men won’t do for the women they love? It’s the same love that pushes short men to buy high heels for their tall girlfriends. The irony of life.

Two years after, her shop was doing very well. She rendered an account every weekend and she made a lot of profit. We talked about expansion and talked about having branches. One day she said, “A year from now, I want to be traveling to China and Dubai to buy my own things. I learned it’s cheaper that way.” I said, “With God on our side, everything will work for our good.” 

We started talking about marriage. She was hyped about it and I was happy she was happy about marriage. We had come very far—five years in a relationship. We had gone through troubles and had conquered. We were so sure that we were meant for each other. 

She called one day and told me, “God is answering my prayers. A man came to the shop and we talked. He’s into export and import and is ready to help me travel to china to get my own stuff as we discussed. He is even ready to give me numbers and locations of trustworthy wholesalers I can buy cheap from.” It’s happy news but I was measured in my happiness. I said, “Great. What does he want in return for the help he’s going to offer?” She answered gleefully, “Nothing. He just wants to help.”

 Men don’t “just want to help.” It’s not in our DNA. My father helped my mother to carry her load because the woman was suffering. He said, “I just want to help.” By the time my mother realized, I was on her lap crying for breast milk. When I raised concerns, she called me jealous. When I told her I couldn’t trust a man’s help, she told me to trust her instead. I said, “The bible was specific in Psalm 146; “Do not put your trust in a son of man.” It didn’t say a daughter of a woman. It said, men.” She responded, “I’m a grown-up woman. I know danger when I see one. Look at how far we’ve come, do you think I will turn my back on you? Let’s give him a try. When I see the snare, I will jump before it goes off.”

She closed from work and told me everything the man had told her. She’ll conclude, “You see, he’s not like the kind of men you know. He wants to help.” I asked one day, “Does he know about me?” She said, “Oh yeah he knows you. I told him about you from day one. If you’re ready, we can meet him one day.”

I was at the shop when he came around in his white saloon car. He stepped out wearing a very beautiful kaftan that looked like it cost him a lot of money. His wedding ring gleamed as he walked towards the shop. He smiled when he saw me. The introduction went like this; “Ebo, meet Sarkwa. He’s the friend I spoke to you about. He stretched his hand and we shook hands. After that, the conversation didn’t include me. They laughed and talked about nothing meaningful. When they didn’t want me to hear something, their voices went low. Anger was eating me up but I tried to keep my composure until he was gone.

I asked, “What was that about? Why did you introduce me to him as your friend?”

“He knows you’re my boyfriend already. There was no need bringing all that up again.”

“He knows I’m your boyfriend but I don’t know that he knows I’m your boyfriend.”

“Sarkwa, what is this all about? Why don’t you drop your jealousy so we get things going? Drop it. It’s not healthy.”

She stopped talking to me about Ebo. I had to ask about him before she gave me a lousy answer like, “He’s there.” It bothered me but there was nothing I could do. One morning, she sent me a text message, “I’m traveling. I would be back in a week’s time.” I called her, “You’re traveling to where? When are you going and why didn’t we discuss it before?” She said, “It’s because of this plenty of questions that’s why I don’t want to tell you when I want to do something. Always asking plenty of questions.” I said calmly, “You’re my girlfriend. Is it not right that I know about your movements before they happen?”

“I’m traveling. When I return, you’ll know where I went.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Three days later, a friend of mine sent me a picture of my girlfriend and said, “Your girl is chilling ooo. The money come abi?” The picture had a foreign background. It looked more Dubai-sh than China. I asked my friend, “Where did you get this photo?” He said, “It’s on her status.” I said, “Arrrhn ow, I forgot she posted it.” I said that just to hide from the shame of not knowing the whereabouts of my own girlfriend until an outsider points it out to me. I went on her status to check and I didn’t see anything. Your guess is good as mine. I called and the feedback tone I had got a foreign vibe to it. She didn’t pick but later sent me a message telling me she saw my missed call. I asked her, “Where are you?” She said, “I’m in Dubai.” I asked, “Do I mean anything to you at all?” She answered, “Please don’t come and spoil my mood. Must you have negatives about every good thing that’s happening in my life?”

Every loser knows the point where they started losing. It’s not magic. You just know it. If they carry on, they carry on just because they ought to or the rule of the game requires them to finish it though they are losing. I knew I had lost it. I’ve dated her long enough to know the differences. When she peddled wigs in her handbag, she never talked back at me. Not once. Now she tells me not to rain on her parade because she’s on a high place where she receives salutes from marching soldiers. 

When she came back I didn’t ask questions or interrogate her decisions. She apologized for not telling me. She advised me to trust her so she could open up to me. I assured her that I’m ok and will do my best to support everything that she does. I went through her phone. I read the messages but didn’t see any messages between him and Ebo. I went through her pictures. She was in Dubai with Ebo. They had a lot of pictures together in swimsuits. They were drinking fancy drinks that had a tiny umbrella stuck in the middle. I said, “So because I can’t buy a drink carrying an umbrella, that’s why this girl is treating me this way?”

I picked Ebo’s number from her phone. I didn’t even know what I was going to do with the number but I picked it anyway. I thought of calling him and warning him to stay away from my girlfriend but it sounded defeating. Plus I knew it wasn’t going to yield any results. For a whole week, I couldn’t sleep. My heart was on fire and the fire was raging through my intestines. 

“Ebo is married, right? I have to find his wife.”

His Whatsapp had his full name so I checked it out on Facebook. He was there but hadn’t posted in years. I went through his photos and saw him tagged in a photo where he was on a holiday with his family. Three adorable kids and a wife who didn’t look like a woman a man would cheat on. I sent her a hi and she didn’t respond. Three days later I sent one of the Dubai photos to her and wrote, “I want to talk to you about your husband.” It took me a week before I got a response from her. She said, “I’m not usually on this App so I just saw your message. Please call me on this number and let’s talk.”

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My message was simple. “Your husband had been going after my girlfriend. The picture I sent you was the two of them in Dubai. Your husband had opened a very big shop for her around town and goes there every evening after work.” She asked, “Can you show me where the shop is?” I said, “I can, why not?” She asked, “Can you send me all the photos you have of them?” I pushed everything I had to her. She said, “Thank you.” 

One afternoon, the woman went to the shop to give a little bit of display. The display drew in people who usually love to discuss things of such nature. Soon there was a scene. I wasn’t there so I can’t say much about what happened. The woman later spoke to me and told me what happened there that day. She said, “I’m not done with her yet. She likes married men. That’s ok. She can keep my husband and keep whatever that comes along with him.” It got to a point I felt bad for being the reason but hey, we all deserve what comes to us. 

One afternoon she called and insulted the hell out of me. She screamed, “So what did you gain after doing all that? Enemy of progress. You can’t even stand to see me shine so you went about peddling lies about me. Show me what you gained!”

“Deal with your karma. That’s what you gained.

Our five-year-old relationship got severed because of her greed. She was too embarrassed she couldn’t go back to the shop again. Maybe it was because of the woman’s threat. She threatened to follow her everywhere until the world hears about her. Or she simply couldn’t face the finger-pointing after the incident. But she didn’t stop the business. That’s one thing I like about her. She doesn’t give up easily on her dreams. She now has a shop on Instagram and on Facebook. When you buy, she delivers it to you. She was happy the last time I saw her. I only hope it’s not a facade. I hope her smiles go as deep as she wanted me to see.