FICTION: Chapter 3- Adwoa

                                                   

Adwoa had no business being here.. It was late and she was walking a drunk man she hardly knew to his residence… Apart from the the fact that he was heavy and he smelled of fried fish and beer, her high heels had become almost unbearable to walk in.. Just my luck, she thought.. I’ll kill Babs for this.

That’s why she never did hook ups. The pretence was heavy and silly.. Never mind that she had been sexless for three years . It is my choice! Her own thoughts screamed at her..
Even if it wasn’t, it was much better than being saddled with a heavy set drunk who could barely string two words together.. And was he..?
“Hey.. Hey! Are you- oh shit! For the love of God!, she yelled as the man that keeled over with vomit on the side walk. There was no version of life a date could go this wrong. 
No version at all. 
Why did she agree to this? She never did hook-ups. Simply a waste of an evening if you ask meI could be home catching up on Scandal… Better way to spend my Friday night.she thought.
“I’m..I’m sorry..” he managed to say.. choking on his words. Looking on helplessly it was easy to tell that the man was tired  “i think i need to sit a minute”, he said sounding weaker, but clearly.
“Ok, I know our date was brief, but uhm…where you already drunk before you came? Because this is just.. i mean.. we are standing outside your apartment. It is freezing cold out here,”
In all of her six years of living in America, Adwoa could still not get used to the Cold. How impersonal and callous it felt. The cold cared not if she was unhappy,angry, lonely. It blew right through the soul and around it. Everyone walked briskly by in the streets pulling their coats tighter around them in a hopeless effort to keep in the warmth they thought existed. No one looked up to smile or ask how your days went. Why would they? The emptiness of it all frustrated her.

On days like this she would normally turn on the music in her ipod;play Daddy Lumba or Kojo Antwi on her way from work. How familiar. Like she was back at home.

They were all so very proud of her two degrees, her galls to start an on-line business that was doing quite well, a apartment and some okay friends. Okay friends who had decided to hook her up with a complete drunk on a Friday night. She thought angrily, “This is the last time I’m doing this”

“If you leave I will completely understand..” A deep voice caused Adwoa to start. His voice was throaty and low. He sounded as tired as she felt but firm..  It was her date. He was still crouched on the side walk. It was clear he was refusing to look at her. His voice compelled Adwoa to listen. It made her still.

“This isn’t exactly my best night” he continued. ” Let’s go in ill call you a cab”
“What? I can’t-” she started. No matter how compelling he sounded,she was most certainly not about to follow him into his house.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I know I’m a stranger, but considering how I am all over the place..” He gestured, pointing his ruffled up look,”There is hardly a chance of  anything happening.”
He somehow managed to look at her with a bored and expectant look. “Well?” We can’t stand here forever.”
 

 

SHE is a collection of short fictional narratives that represent different (love) experiences of Ghanaian women

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