This week, I met two ladies who were super excited that I had started a new series. They also wanted to know why I had stopped writing earlier. I can’t exactly explain why I stopped, but I can tell you why I have started writing again. A few weeks ago, the most amazing CPR gave me a pep talk about how it was unfair to leave my readers hanging without new content. He reminded me that when I was juggling school and work and singing and a billion other things, I made time to write. If there is anyone who deserves the praise for getting me back on track, it’s him! ❤

And now to today’s episode….

‘He has been sleeping with the girls for grades oo.’

‘Who, Ansah-Akyea?’

‘Yes. There are different rates. If you don’t want a resit, it is two hours in his office. If you want an A, weekend getaway be dat! All those slay queens who were disturbing us with First Class ribbons are all suspects.’

‘Ei, that be some serious allegation oo!’

‘Oh this is common knowledge. I am surprised that you haven’t heard this. If you are a guy and you are in his class, attend every lecture, write every test and pray for a C.’

Chris cocked his head to the left, smiled quietly and looked back at his textbook.

The reading room was supposed to be quiet, more quiet than his room.

So far, he had heard about Ansah-Akyea’s intellectual brothel, the fact that the bush canteen fufu had given someone cholera, how to hack the internet interface for students and some other things he would never have known if he had not come to the reading room.

Probably better off in the room.

He impulsively checked his phone again to see if Agnes had messaged him. Nothing. His eyes hit his wallpaper, which was a picture of Agnes and the kids. He had taken it last 4 Christmases.

We used to be happy. Very happy. When she said she had landed a job with the law firm, I honestly thought that this was going to be our big break. We would have a steady source of income. We could take a loan and get a few things. I was wrong. 

The money made her pompous and working with fashion savvy, wealthy and knowledgeable men made her husband’s shortcomings even more profound. She started speaking to him in disrespectful tones. She started coming home later than usual. She stopped having sex with him. He was tempted to go to her mother with complaints but he had always promised himself never to involve any third parties in his marital matters.

Then all of a sudden, she was all over him. She came home straight from work every day. She was the one pushing for sex. She was suddenly quick to say sorry. When she told him she was pregnant, it all made sense.

‘We are going to have a baby!’

‘We are?’

‘Yes. Kwesi will become a big brother soon.’

This child cannot be mine. 

As fate would have it, neither of the two kids after Kwesi looked like him. He just knew that he was taking care of another man’s children but he didn’t have the energy to confront her. Of course, once Agnes’ maternity leave ended, she went back to her old ways.

His wife was now another man’s woman.

---

Brian’s forehead burrowed in a frown.

Kesewa wasn’t in class.

I should have checked on her before leaving the hall.

He had come to care for her. After being in the same class with her for the last two years, he thought he knew her. But moving into the room right next to hers had made him realize that there was more to her than met the eye. He had also noticed that her boyfriend was in the habit of beating her up. Why she was still with Chukwu was besides him.

He picked up an extra copy of the Insurance handout for her and stopped to buy her pineapple Kalyppo and rockbuns simply because she always bought that before she came into the lecture hall.

After his third knock at the door, she opened it just a little.

‘You don’t give up, do you?’

‘Nope. You weren’t in class. I brought you the handout and your favourite snack. Can I come in?’

‘Err, okay.’

When she opened the door wider, he immediately saw why she was hesitant.

Her eyes were bloodshot and there was a swelling above her right eye.

‘Why do you do this to yourself?’

Kesewa looked away.

‘Brian, you don’t understand.’

‘You are right. I don’t!’

---

Nii Okai kept looking at Joan.

She kept looking back.

Now she couldn’t wait for Dr Johnson to say ‘class dismissed!’ She wanted to wiggle her way to him and say hello. His eyes were too intriguing to ignore.

Her phone screen lit up.

‘I’m here.’

It was Barima. When he wasn’t dressed formally, he looked too young to be her sugar daddy. He hated that name- Sugar daddy.

‘Makes me sound like a 60 year old potbellied man with bad breath.’

He genuinely cared about Joan. He felt this need to be there for her. That was why he had offered to help her pay her fees.

She was smart, witty, honest and different. She knew not to text him when he was at home. She had the perfect balance between needy and loving. She always came when he called for her, no questions asked, which was why it was strange that she had not texted him back, ever since he came to pack in front of her lecture hall.

‘Class dismissed. Don’t forget to hand in your assignments to the teaching assistant before our next class. The handouts are-‘

The rest of Dr Johnson’s instructions were drowned in the screeching of chairs and tables.

Joan wiggled her way to the front of the class. Nii Okai was also making his way to her. He met her halfway.

She spoke first.

‘Joan. What’s your name?’

‘Nii. Nii Okai.’

She pulled his phone out of his left hand, typed her number and pressed the dial button.

‘Now, I have your number and you have mine. I have to run but call me.’

‘Expect the call tonight.’

‘I look forward to it. Nice to meet you, Nii.’

She dashed out as quickly as she came towards him and headed outside.

He stood there smiling a goofy smile until his best friend, Dennis walked up to him.

‘Why are you so happy?’

‘I just met the girl I am going to marry.’

‘Joan?’

Dennis doubled over with laughter.

‘That’s the girl God wants you to marry? Are you sure? I have heard a lot about this girl and none of it is good.’

‘God doesn’t lie or change his mind. God knows her better than you and I do and He still thinks she is the one for me.’

‘Okay oo’, Dennis said, holding up his hands. ‘If anything goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

---

‘What took you so long?’, Barima asked indignantly.

‘I was introducing myself to your competition.’

‘My competition?’

‘Yep! You are married. I should also explore my options, don’t you think?’

‘I don’t know how I put up with you. I brought you food.’, Barima said, reaching for the paper bag behind him.

She squealed with joy like a child and grabbed the bag.

‘The way to my heart!’

‘What kind of girl stuffs her face with food in her boyfriend’s car?’

‘I think the word you are looking for is sugar daddy.’

‘Chic, we talked about this.’

‘Why are you so allergic to the word? You are about 15 years older than me. You have your own family. We have sex and you buy me pretty things, give me money and make sure I am comfortable. That, my dear Barima, is the Webster definition of sugar daddy. Look it up.’

It was almost midnight when he brought her back to the hall.

‘Goodnight!’. she blew a kiss to him as he reversed and drove off.

Armed with her phone’s flashlight and loudly humming the chorus of a song that she had heard in Barima’s car, she started walking towards her room. She turned abruptly when she heard footsteps behind her, ready to scream her lungs out.

Her eyes narrowed as the woman made her way to her.

She looked familiar. Very familiar.

Probably about 34 years old. Light makeup. Expensive hair- probably Peruvian or Indian hair. She carried herself like a queen.

Then it hit her.

This was Barima’s wife. Sandra.

‘You must be Joan. We need to talk.’

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