If you haven’t read the first part of this story, here’s the link. Kindly read it before starting this one.

He was eleven when my mother died. He understood the weight of the moment but could do very little to help himself. Taking care of him solely brought this sense of urgency within me to tell him the truth. I wanted to but I didn’t want to do it anyhow and leave a psychological scar on his mind. I thought of asking my pastor to do it. I thought of bringing my mother’s senior sister in. I thought of some other funny alternatives but the harder I thought of it, the difficult it became for me to do anything.

When I and his father got connected through Facebook, we didn’t stop talking. We didn’t talk all the time but he said hello sometimes and I responded. He asked about life and I told him how I was doing. He even asked me about my love life. I told him, “I have love in different places and in different people. That’s enough for me.”

He sent me a message one Sunday morning while I was in church. Immediately my phone beeped, I read what was in the message. He said, “I will be in Ghana next month, will you be available to meet me at the airport?” When I lifted my eyes off the screen all I heard the pastor say was, “Forgive so God can also forgive you. Don’t hold on to a grudge when you can simply let go.” I heard echoes. I was like, “Is the pastor talking to me?” I picked up the phone and replied to his message, “I might not be able to meet you at the airport but when you come around, I’ll see you. We need to talk.”

He responded, “That’s ok. The ‘we need to talk’ part got me scared but I know you won’t kill me.” I didn’t respond to that. A few weeks later, he sent a message again that he was in town. He said, “So when am I going to see you?” I said, “Settle down first. I’m always available.” He kept calling and asking me to see him. I wanted to see him too but I wasn’t sure it was a good idea until one Saturday afternoon I called him and asked if he was free. He said, “Yeah I’m free. Where can we meet?”

Hours later we were together. He looked at me and I looked at him. He had grown. He looked like someone who had found sense after a long senseless journey through life. He saw the boy with me and asked, “Is that your brother?” I smiled. I said, “Look at him very well. He looked at him again. His eyes tracked back to my face. He said, “No.” I said, “Yes, but this is not the right time to talk about it. There’s so much I need to clear in my life. This is the first hurdle. You and I will clear the rest.”

I realized he wanted to talk so I asked the boy to excuse us. He ran off to the open space with the drink in his hand. He asked, “So you lied to me?” I said, “I didn’t lie to you. It’s you who ran from the truth for so long. When you saw me on Facebook and you asked that question, were you expecting me to tell you that you had a son with me?” If you knew you had a son with me then why did you vanish? Why did you run when you knew you had something with me? You don’t deserve anything from me but a son should have a father that’s why I decided to let you know.”

He was quiet for a while, thinking and all the while looking at the boy from the distance. I asked him, “Now that you know, what are you going to do?” He said, “Do I have to do anything?” I said, “Now let’s go to the main reason why I even decided to tell you in the first place. He doesn’t know I’m the mother. My mom wanted me to concentrate on my education while she took care of him. When we had to tell him, we didn’t until mom died. He’s grown now and it has become difficult to say it. Now that you’re here, we can use the opportunity to break the news to him.”

He said, “Give me some time.” I said, “You have all the time.”

I didn’t hear from him again until two weeks later. When he came, he came with his Father and one of his Father’s brothers. His father apologized to me and even insulted his son right before me. He said, “We can’t just appear here today and claim ownership of the boy. We have to follow traditions. We have to come and see your family and perform all the necessary traditions so we can officially be considered as family.” It was that same day that we broke the news to him.

I told the boy, “You see that man there? That’s your father. The one I told you that he had traveled. He’s here now.” He coiled suddenly. He didn’t answer anyone’s question. He was just standing still. I said, “Won’t you say hello to him?” He didn’t move. He stood still until his father got up and pulled him along. Surprisingly, when he was told that I was his mother, he acted indifferently. Like it wasn’t something new to him. He was rather looking at his father all the while without blinking.

Later that evening, he said, “Mom (my mom) told me some time ago that you’re my mother but I shouldn’t call you mother because you’re not old enough to be called mother.” I asked, “She told you that? When?” He said, “We were going to church and she told me. She said also that my friends will laugh at me if they get to know that you’re my mother.” I wanted to cry but I held back the tears. I didn’t want to cry in front of him.

He asked, “So that man you said is my father, is he coming to take me away?” I said, “No he isn’t. He’s here to introduce himself to you. That’s all. You’ll always be here with me. Or you want to go with him?” He shook his head.

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The hurdles I dreaded most were off my way. All of a sudden there was this kind of joy in my heart that I didn’t know the source. I felt lighter. I smiled a lot and those smiles hit the deepest end of my heart. I was like a bird set free but just when I thought it was all over, my son’s father came with a proposal. “Why don’t we get back together again and raise this boy as one family?” I didn’t even think about it. I said, “No, that’s not possible. I can’t do it. He can be your son without me being your wife. It works that way too.” He insisted. I said no.

For the rest of his days in Ghana, he tried all he could to get me to accept him. I told him I couldn’t because there’s someone else in my life. “He had been there for me all this while that you were away and not thinking about us. Saying yes to you means saying no to him and that’s not possible.” Clearly, that was a lie but it was a necessary lie. I loved him when I was a girl but that young girl who loved him and was ready to put her future on the line for him is no longer alive.

I’m grateful he takes care of his son. I’m grateful he’s trying his best to build a relationship but most of all, I’m grateful that my son knows both of his parents and also enjoying life. I won’t trade that for anything. Every now and then he sends me a gift. When I call to say thank you, he will tell me, “The biggest thank you I will ever receive is you saying yes to me.” But as I said, I will do everything for this moment of my son’s life to last forever. I’m not thinking of love and I’m not thinking of rekindling old flames. I’m content. I leave the rest to God.

–Maame Aba

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