Chapter 20 Ofosua
CHAPTER 20 OFOSUA
ADINKRA SAYING: (Denkyem) Adaptability and cleverness.
SAMUEL ADDO: Spend less time listening to what you should do and more time listening to your instincts and you’ll be fine.
Two weeks later and I was going to the wedding alone.
I could do this. I could. I wasn’t scared. It was just a wedding.
I’d done how many of these? God, hundreds now.
Ghanaians loved a party. Surrounding birth of a new baby, funerals, and getting married. The funniest thing was that people didn’t really celebrate birthdays like that. That was a strictly Western kind of thing. So our birthdays were ignored as merely the ordinary passing of a year, with a small token celebration, but the big things got celebrated like nobody’s business.
When I knocked on my parents’ door, they weren’t ready to leave on time, and my mother was pulling her usual shenanigans of “Eh, why are you people rushing me?” And because I didn’t want everyone to see me being late, I headed off to the wedding venue on my own. I texted ahead to Kukua, telling her to meet me at the door so at least I wouldn’t walk in by myself.
I felt good about the decision to attend Yofi’s wedding alone, and Cole was a large part of that. Bolstered by an outfit that was so shockingly expensive, it was a status symbol more than fashion, I felt strong and powerful. Well, at least that’s what I told myself.
All day I’d been feeling that prelude to a racing heartbeat. But I had been practicing my breathing, following all the things I knew would lower my stress and my anxiety. My phone buzzed.
COLE:
You’re going to do great.
I typed back a quick response.
OFOSUA:
Thanks. I got this. No big deal. Attending my ex’s wedding, by myself.
He sent back a crazy face emoji and it made me laugh. I tucked my phone back into my bag and sat back against the seat in the car. I could do this. The one thing I had learned over the last nine months was that I could survive anything. And that I had to learn to embrace the unexpected, because if I hadn’t, I would not have an imprint. Cole and I wouldn’t be friends now. We wouldn’t be working together. I wouldn’t have this warm, gushy feeling every time I thought about him. Or my own imprint.
When the car pulled up to the church, I inhaled deeply. What was the worst that could happen?
I stepped out, knowing I looked like a million dollars. Today I’d chosen vermilion red. My favorite color. No matter what, I would stand out in this sea of white. For weddings and all sorts of celebrations, everybody liked to wear white lace. Not the Western kind of lace, but a larger, broader, sturdier pattern of lace.
Beyond the expected white, there was a sea of periwinkle, black, and ivory. Mainly in the decorations, balloons, ribbons, and the lettering on the programs. And of course the family and wedding party had dressed to impress in the same colors. Some with custom dyes and traditional cloth. Periwinkle. Black. Ivory. Those were the exact same colors I had chosen for my white wedding to Yofi. This Pamela woman had taken my entire wedding design—groom included—for her own. I knew her only a little, but I was surprised she didn’t want to plan her own wedding. But congratulations to her: she’d gotten a bargain on wedding planning.
Kukua stood at the top of the stairs, grinning like an idiot as I marched up toward her, loving the way my vermilion-red Giambattista Valli high-low skirt flowed in the back. It only came to mid-thigh in the front, fluttering a little with every step and showing off my mile-long legs. The bodice of my Christie Brown corset was fitted tight, the sleeves poofed out at the shoulders, and tiny adinkra symbols adorned it. Kukua gave me a slow clap as I approached.
“Oh my God. You are a vision. Is that Valli I see?”
“Good eye. The top is one of ours. Christie Brown. The skirt is off the Valli runway, and the shoes are Blahniks, as you do.” The bodice had embroidery on it with some balls stamped all over it in a shade that was one off from the vermilion. So you had to get up very close to notice each of the adinkra symbols.
Kukua took my hand and we started to march into the back of the church. But as we approached, I could feel that familiar feeling beginning to take hold as the bottom fell out of my stomach. “Um, you go on in, pick a seat in the back, and I’ll join you in a minute.”
“Hey, you’re doing great. Look at me.”
My stomach roiled. “I need a minute.”
All around us, guests stepped in, eager to find a seat right away. There were a few curious glances at me. Some whispers. I really didn’t want to be here. Why was I doing this to myself? For what purpose, to save face? Prove something to Yofi? Prove I’d survived the humiliation?
“Do you want to get out of here?”
I frowned at her. “I can’t run.”
“Sure you can. We turn right back around and hightail our asses out. Valli and Blahniks and all.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not going to run.”
“Hey, I don’t think you know what you look like. You look ill. Really, really ill.”
“I feel fine. I just need a minute.”
“Okay, come on, why don’t we use the bathroom? You can freak out in there.”
I laughed as I let her pull me into the bathroom. “What would I do without you?”
“Good thing for you, you’ll never have to find out. Now tell me what’s happening.”
“I don’t know. I saw the aisle, and I imagined seeing Yofi walking down it, and I sort of felt like my world was tilting a little, I guess.” The more I spoke words to it, the more I could own all the feelings. “It feels like everything is spinning and spinning, and I can’t get off this ride, and I want everything to stop for a minute.”
“That’s how it goes sometimes. You’re going to be okay. You’re amazing. I couldn’t do this.”
I stared at my cousin as I eased onto the settee in the bathroom. “That might make two of us. But let me just catch my breath.”
Suddenly, the tight rein of control I’d been using to hold my emotions in all day snapped, and the dam finally broke. “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t. I absolutely cannot. I’m sorry.”
I was sorry. I shouldn’t have come here on my own, ruining my cousin’s night.
She put a soft hand down to the intricate braids on my head that led into an Afro. It was a style similar to the one I’d worn for my traditional wedding. “When are you going to learn? You have nothing to be sorry about. Emotions are normal and good. No one expects you to be perfect all the time. You’re allowed to have a bad day. And just so you know, I bet you anything he’d come.”
“Who?” As if I didn’t know.
“You know who,” she said gently.
“No, please don’t text Cole.”
She already had my phone in her hand. “Yeah, well, it’s too late. I’ve already texted him. And something tells me he cares that you need him, and he’s going to come running. That’s the kind of man you need in your life. Are you finally going to accept some help?”
I could feel my heart racing. It was either run or go out there and face the music. And facing the music alone, despite what I told my mother, was not an option.
“Okay. I need someone. Maybe him.”