The One Who Holds Me (Sovereign Love #4)

36. Alex

36

ALEX

THEN

I tossed and turned throughout last night and it had nothing to do with the A/C or the fact that there was a funeral going on in the opposite compound with loud music and singing.

It had everything to do with the fact that my own mother has shattered my heart into several pieces and I don’t know if anything or anyone can put it together again.

I wish I had listened to my parents or Kwame about how hasty my decision was to come here. Maybe that conversation wouldn’t have hurt so much if Mom and Dad had confronted her with me. They would’ve stood up for me and been a shoulder for me to lean on when she spewed out those venomous words from her mouth.

But it’s too late now. I’ve already been exposed. I can’t turn back the hands of time. I have to live with the consequences. I was supposed to find myself here, connect to my roots, and figure out my identity. But how do I do that when the same woman who birthed me treats me like a plague?

You were a mistake.

I rub my sore eyes and swing my legs over the bed so my feet touch the warm floor. I woke up every hour for the last eight hours, and now that the sun is up, sleep is completely gone.

Slipping my feet into my flip-flops, I drag myself to the bathroom, brush my teeth and take a quick shower, hoping to feel more awake. I put on a polo shirt and pants before heading out to the balcony to get a good view of what’s going on outside.

The compound opposite us where the boys were playing football on my first morning at this apartment now has a crowd of mourners, dressed in black and red, with matching black and red frame tents pitched in all the corners of the compound. But not even the dancing people, the beautiful music from the talking drums or the commotion can distract me from the dark thoughts drowning me.

How could she not want her own son? Her flesh and blood. The child she carried for nine months and brought into this world. How could she look me in the eye and say she wished I’d never been born?

Alex, My beloved.

I close my eyes and try to whisper a prayer to God, but I’m too defeated to even form the words. What do I say? How do I start? It’s one thing to accept that I’ve failed at this, but how do I face my parents or Kwame? How do I face Olanna?

Tears blur my vision as I lower myself onto a tub chair at the balcony and sob into my hands. I’m not sure how long I let the tears run for, but a few moments later, the sound of the doorbell forces me to wipe my eyes. After washing my face and drying it with a towel, I open the door for Stephen.

“ Mema wo akye,” he greets as he enters and I only nod without saying a word. He respects my silence and follows me into the living room.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Aren’t you going to have anything?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not hungry.” I glance at my phone, reading the text message notifications from Mom and Dad on our family group chat. They asked me to let them know how the meeting went and to call them, but that’s the last thing I want to do. I need to gather my thoughts first so I don’t break down in front of them. I don’t think I’m ready to relive that conversation yet.

“Come on, Alex. Are you going to sit here and sulk all day?” Stephen’s voice presses into my thoughts. “I promised you I was going to help you experience Ghana, remember? You have a lot to see.”

I clear my throat and lean back on the couch. “I think I’ve seen enough, actually.”

Stephen plops down on the couch opposite me. “Alex, will you really let what happened yesterday ruin your experience in this beautiful country?” He waits for my response, but when I give him nothing, he continues. “Okay, how about this? Why don’t I take you to a place that I think will help you clear your thoughts and enjoy nature? If you still don’t find it helpful, then I’ll leave you alone.”

I sit up in my chair. “Where is this place?”

“Are you agreeing to go?”

“I don’t know, man. I think what I really need is some time alone.”

“ Herh . So you’re going to stay here alone all day? With the funeral going on next door?”

Okay, he’s got a point there. I have no idea how long the dancing and singing is going to take.

“Fine. You win. I guess I could benefit from some fresh air.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

After a twenty-minute drive, we arrive at the busiest beach in Ghana—Labadi Beach, one of the top places on my list to visit. Although it is a public space, we still had to pay an access fee at the gate. Before getting to the beach, we walked past shops selling souvenirs, clothes and even swim suits for those who forgot to bring theirs.

I’m only here to enjoy the view, the culture, and to distract myself from the war going on inside my head. Stephen and I make our way to the beach, packed with people as I expected. There are several colorful beach umbrellas and chairs along the shore, with some people walking along the beach and others horseback riding.

We take a seat under one of the beach umbrellas as I enjoy the view of the Atlantic ocean while also bopping my head to the music playing behind us. The cool breeze brushes my face and I inhale the scent, closing my eyes and hoping to clear my thoughts.

Stephen orders some food for us, but shortly after digging into my french fries and chicken wings, Olanna pops into my mind and my heart wishes she was here with me. I take out my phone and scroll through our messages. She still hasn’t responded to my last text message and now I’m convinced I’ve messed everything up.

I place my chicken wing back on my plate as a lump builds in my throat and my appetite disappears. Tears blur my vision, but I’m determined not to cry in front of Stephen. So I push myself away from the table and excuse myself while Stephen finishes his meal.

The white sand wedges between my toes as I near the water. I walk past a Ghanaian flag standing erect on the sand and I run my fingers on it before walking further along until my feet enter the water. The waves crash into my feet, cooling it while I stare at the large body of water and the clouds hovering above it.

Being here is a blessing, and I appreciate everything that is God’s creation. But I’m sure I would’ve appreciated it more if I had come out here a few days ago. The damage has already been done and my heart feels numb. There’s still so much I want to see and experience, but I can’t keep forcing what isn’t there. My time in Ghana has come to an end.

“So, my big plan didn’t work?” Stephen’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts and he pats my shoulder.

“I’m really sorry, man.”

“Ah, sorry for what? Hw? abarimaa yi. Don’t be sorry, please.” He laughs. “At least I dragged you out of the house, so I count that as a win.”

“Yes, you did.” I smile. “Thank you for everything, Stephen.”

“Please, tell me you will come back to Ghana?”

“If God wills, then I definitely will.”

“Amen to that. And you promise to keep in touch?”

“Always, my brother.” I hug him and we pat each other on the back before returning to the car and driving back to the apartment.