“I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“I miss you even more.”
“I miss you most, Sweetheart.”
I listen to my friend Adwoa’s conversation with her boyfriend with a little envy as I braid her hair. Her call volume is just loud enough for me to hear his voice, and it occurs to me that my Kwame’s voice would sound something like this, just a little deeper, if he were inclined to be this sappy.
I try to tune out their conversation, but it is so sweet and I can’t help it. When Adwoa hangs up, she sighs dreamily.
“Romance is sweet,” I tease as I section off another line of hair to braid.
She laughs. “He’s still under probation, but it’s been a fun couple of months with him. I think I might finally let him come over here and accept his proposal to be his girlfriend.”
“I know, I’ve been hearing all the details,” I laugh. “All the good morning messages, the thoughtful little gifts, constantly checking up on you throughout the day. I’m happy for you, my dear.”
And genuinely, I am, even though it makes me feel wistful sometimes, wondering what it is like to have such an intentional man. My Kwame is a good man, though. So I know I have a good thing going.
Adwoa eyes me through the dressing mirror, shaking her head. “Sometimes, I wonder about you, Tracy.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, avoiding her eyes. I know exactly what she means.
“The way you get excited about the things my man does for me is very telling.”
I fix my eyes firmly on the cornrow I’m braiding so that I don’t give away any contrary expression. “Babe, the fact that I love it for you doesn’t mean that I want the same thing, too. I like how my relationship is. We give each other space when we’re apart and make time for each other when we can. Not every couple likes to be all over each other and that’s okay. Every relationship is different because we’re not all looking for the same thing. Love can be calm and unassuming, too. Stable, calm and secure.”
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and when I glance at her, she’s still staring at me with disbelief.
“I know that every relationship is different, but I don’t think what you have now is what you really want. I think you have convinced yourself that you like that dry relationship you’re in right now, and it irks me because you deserve better than a man who forgets about your birthday and can go days without contacting you if you don’t contact him first. And remember what he did last week? He promised to bring you to the cake party but left you stranded without a ride because he was playing FIFA with his colleagues.”
As I comb out the last section of her hair to braid, I try not to think too hard about the accusation. I know that Adwoa will never understand, but Kwame is just not that kind of man.
“Adwoa,” I begin as I start the braid, “I know you don’t get it because you’ve never met Kwame. Kwame is generally a very nonchalant guy. Every year, I have to remind him of his mother’s birthday a week and a day before. If I don’t iron his clothes, he doesn’t mind going to work in wrinkled clothing. He would leave his dirty clothes to pile up if I didn’t help with his laundry. He doesn’t care about a lot of things. Even with food, I order his lunch for him at work during the week so that he eats well. He’s very forgetful, and it’s not just with me. That’s just who he is, and I’ve learnt to love him as he is.”
She turns to stare at me in open-mouthed horror, and I regret sharing that much with her. Especially in that defensive tone.
“Ehn? You do what? Laundry, ironing his clothes, ordering his food, etc., and he still forgets your birthday and doesn’t contact you everyday? Kai, Tracy. How many times do I have to tell you not to be too nice to men? You are doing all that labour and not even getting the bare minimum in return. You are mothering this grown-ass man, and for what? When was the last time he did something nice for you?”
I pick up the hair-growth oil to get some reprieve while I think of the answer to her question. As I oil her roots, I answer my friend. “He does nice things for me, Adwoa. I don’t know why you have such a bad impression of Kwame. He’s a good man. He is God-fearing and compliments me every time we see each other. That’s all I need.”
“Complimenting your cooking all the time is not even up to the bare minimum because you cook for him all the time and your food is fire.”
I flush and insist, “I enjoy cooking so that compliment means a lot to me.”
She shakes her head. “Look at you; you’re a full package. I swear if I were a man or a lesbian, I would be all over you. You’re beautiful, you have a killer body, you’re industrious, and you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. My dear, why are you allowing a man to breadcrumb you?”
I put my braiding tools into my home service bag without answering.
“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding contrite. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad about your relationship. I’m just concerned.”
I know she is, so I meet her eyes. “I know. I understand why you don’t like Kwame, but I promise that when you meet him, you’ll change your mind.”
“Hmm…if you say so. I guess we’ll see,” she responds, admiring herself in the mirror. “Thank you so much; you always braid my cornrows so well that I get tempted not to wear the wig on it at all. I look damn good.”
I chuckle, watching as she takes some mirror selfies. “It’s because you have the head shape for it. Not all of us are so blessed.”
She rises from the chair. “I lucked out when I moved into the same apartment with you. Not just because I easily get home service instead of having to go to the salon each time, but also because you’ve been such a blessing in general. It’s been wonderful making a real friend.”
I smile, ridiculously touched by her words. “Awww, this is the nicest thing someone has told me in a long while. I love having you as a friend too.”
My smile widens when she pulls me into a hug. Adwoa is such a hugger. She was a client at my salon before she moved here, and from the first day we bumped into each other on the stairwell, we’ve hit it off.
I wait on her couch as she returns the standing mirror to her bedroom. When she returns, I tell her that I have to leave.
“So soon? I thought you would stay for us to order Pizza Hut and watch a movie on Netflix,” she protests. That is how we spend most evenings when we’re both free.
“I have a long day tomorrow so I want to sleep early today. We can do that later in the week.”
“Sure,” she says, walking me to the door. “Thanks again for making me look fabulous.”
“It’s always my pleasure.”
By the time I got to my own apartment and walked into my bedroom, I had received a credit alert. Adwoa is so stubborn. No matter how many times I tell her not to pay for these quick services, she always does and overpays too. I smile, grateful that I have such a great friend and neighbour all in one.
Two days later, my phone rings as soon as I finish fixing a frontal pixie for a client. With the special ringtone I have for her, I know that it is Adwoa.
I signal for one of my assistants to complete the payment process for the client while I pick up the call.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Tracy! I hope you’re not too busy now. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, you got me right on time. I just finished with the client I was beautifying.”
I wave at the client as she leaves, proud of my handiwork. I do fabulous work.
“Okay, great. I want to invite you out to dinner at Bosphorous tonight.”
It is one of my favourite places to eat out, but I haven’t been there in a while, so she doesn’t have to ask me twice. “Sounds good. Are we celebrating something?”
“Not really; Jerry wants me to meet one of his friends, so I thought it would be a great time for you to meet him too.”
I pause for a moment, the wheels turning in my head. “Let me guess, this friend is single and ready to mingle.”
She laughs. “He isss. Plus, Jerry says he’s a lover boy when he’s in a relationship. And really handsome too.”
“Adwoa—”
“However, that’s not the reason why I invited you, I promise! I really just want you to meet my man; I think it has been long enough for him to start meeting my friends. It was his suggestion. I just want to balance the scales by having you meet him too. His friend is a bonus I didn’t plan for. Plus, I know you love Bosphorous.”
“Okay, fine,” I agree. “When and where should I meet you?”
“6pm is great. I have some errands in the area, so I will be there well before 6pm. You could meet us there, and then we’ll ride home together after the dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
“Perfect! See you soon, Tracy. Bye!”
“Bye!” I echo, looking at the time after hanging up. I have three more hours before I have to be at Bosphorous.
