Chapter 26 Cole
CHAPTER 26 COLE
ADINKRA SAYING: (Ese Na Tekrama) Friendship.
HELEN ADDO: Do you have a husband? No? Then why waste your time with these obroni boyfriends?
It was a beautiful night. Clear and balmy. While the moon shone bright, the stars were nowhere to be seen, so we’d have to make do with the skyline. I told myself it was going to be okay. After all, I’d already met her parents at the wedding. This was an exhibit and dinner. I could survive dinner.
The exhibit for her cousin Kukua was being held at the Lestin Center for the Arts, in SoHo. All through the night you could bid on Kukua’s paintings. I’d already bought a piece for my apartment, Village Shores . It was bright and vibrant and so colorful. It reminded me of how Ofosua talked about home.
Next to me, I could practically feel Ofosua vibrating. “Would you stop?” I said. “You’re making me nervous.”
She turned to face me, hands grazing my shoulders and down my arms on my suit jacket. I watched as her pupils dilated, and then I smirked down at her. “We probably should have done that before you got dressed. I’m likely to rip your dress if you keep looking at me like that.”
She lifted a brow and bit back a smile. “Look, no sex eyes, okay?”
“What are sex eyes?”
“The ones you’re looking at me with right now. Also, no touching. Don’t touch me in front of my parents.”
“Okay, so I’m not supposed to look at you like I normally look at you or touch you.”
“Yes. No. Show interest, but not too much interest.”
“Okay, relax. It’s going to be fine. And I’ll show as much interest as I like, thank you very much.”
“My parents will eviscerate you. Well, really my mother.”
“Look, your dad and I already talked about soccer. I can bring that up again. As for your mother… Well, everyone finds me charming, so don’t worry about it.”
She blinked at me. “This isn’t funny.”
“Look, I got this. Let me impress them. Give me a chance. I’m a good boyfriend.”
She softened then. I could see it in the small uptick at the corners of her mouth. Her shoulders loosened, and gently, I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip. “Ah, there we go. There’s my Ofos. We’ll go inside, we’ll eat, and I’ll buy another one of Kukua’s paintings for my office at work.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You let me spend my trust fund how I like, okay?”
Even as she shook her head, she whispered, “Cole, are you sure about this?”
The elevator pulled to a stop, and I tugged her close, kissing her forehead. “I’m sure. I’m not worried. I don’t want you to worry either. No matter what happens tonight, I walk out of here with you. No one is chasing me off.”
“Are you sure? That’s pretty much my mother’s specialty.”
“Leave it to me.”
The exhibit floor was exquisitely decorated. Long chandeliers hung from the ceiling, electronic ones that changed light levels and shapes by remote control. The lights within them reflected adinkra symbols along the ceiling. They were exquisite. Obviously custom-made by someone.
All along the walls were paintings in varying sizes. I hadn’t realized Kukua was so prolific. When Ofos told me her cousin was an artist, sure, I’d looked her up. She’d had some gallery openings in New York and Los Angeles. Atlanta too. But I hadn’t realized she’d also exhibited all around the world. A lot in various parts of Africa, but Paris and London as well. Kukua Addo was a wunderkind.
Kukua ran up to us with a squeak, gave Ofos a tight hug, and then enveloped me in one as well. For someone so tiny, she was surprisingly strong.
I hugged her back. “This is amazing. I’ve already got something for my apartment, but I think I need something else.”
She shook her head. “No. Don’t buy from here. The gallery tacks on an exorbitant price. Tell me something you like, and I’ll have something similar in storage. This shit on the walls is for rich pricks who I don’t mind fleecing.”
I leaned forward conspiratorially. “News flash, I am a rich prick. Let me buy it from here, give the gallery their commission, and they’ll be excited to have you again.”
“In that case, buy away.”
The three of us chatted amicably until we heard the faint chime leading us toward the dining tables. So far, I hadn’t seen Ofosua’s parents, and, despite what I’d told her earlier, I was a little nervous.
I wanted her to be happy. For once in my life, I needed to actually impress with real shit. Not just the surface nonsense. This time it mattered.
We found her father, and he shook my hand amiably as we made small talk. Helen finally joined us, giving her daughter an appraising glance before narrowing her eyes at her clutch. “Oh, that isn’t the one I would have chosen for this outfit.”
When Helen turned her gaze on me, I could feel her careful assessment. I looked impeccable. She knew it and I knew it, and she couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Instead, she pursed her lips and said, “Oh, Colten, good to see you again.”
And so we began. “Mrs. Addo, I’m thrilled to see you again. It’s Cole, actually.” I handed her the Persian lilies that I’d brought for her. “These are for you. Thank you so much for inviting me tonight.”
She lifted her brow at the flowers and gave me a polite smile. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes these obroni names are hard for me to remember.” She did, however, pause and sniff the flowers, and I could see the corners of her lips tip up for real. She may be tough, but I had just scored a point. I would take them wherever I could find them.
She was playing for keeps, and I had better learn to keep up. Still, though, I found her amusing. Ofos just looked mortified.
Kukua went to greet more of her guests, and I found our names at the table. I realized I was seated next to Helen and someone named Emanuel was sitting next to Ofos.
She frowned at the name card and deliberately switched them as I pulled out her chair for her. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know who Emanuel is, but I have a feeling it’s not going to be good.”
When Helen sat down, she frowned at the switched name cards. A guy about my age strolled up to the table, dark skin, trim beard, killer suit. I would have to ask who his tailor was.
“Did I hear my name?” he said.
Next to me Ofos ground out, “Cole. I’m so sorry. My mother has—”
Emanuel took a seat next to Helen, then lifted a brow at me as if he knew he was meant to sit next to my girlfriend. To add insult to good-looking injury, he looked like he liked to work out too.
I frowned at him. Maybe he was a brother I didn’t know about?
The hell he is. That, you dim fuck, is the competition. Ofosua’s mother was playing to win. So I did the only thing I could. I marked my damn territory like a caveman. “Hello, I’m Cole, Ofosua’s boyfriend.”
Emanuel’s brows lifted. “Boyfriend? Ofosua, your mother didn’t say anything about you having an obroni boyfriend. I wish you had mentioned it when I met you that night at your place.”
I lifted my brow and Ofos leaned in. “Mum surprised me with him the night I got the invitation.”
Oh, I remembered that night. I was beginning to see that Ofosua hadn’t exaggerated a bit about her mother. The woman was impressively devious. “What does ‘obroni’ mean?”
She winced. “It means ‘white person.’?”
Emanuel gave me a smile that was all teeth. “It’s not a nice way of saying it.”
I nodded. “Okay, then.”
Ofosua turned to me. “I am so sorry.”
I shrugged. “If I can’t survive this discomfort, I don’t deserve you.”
Once we were seated and dinner was served, I recognized almost everything on the table because Ofosua had been teaching me the ways of Ghanaian cuisine.
When the bowl was passed around for us to wash our hands, I even knew what to do because Ofosua had taken me to Gold Coast, a West African restaurant in Queens. Her mother stared at me when I washed my hands and then dried them on the handy little towel provided after passing on the bowl.
Her father raised his brows at his wife. Ofosua squeezed my knee, and what I really wanted to do was drag her off to the bathroom for a kiss or something so I could feel connected to her and reassure her that I wasn’t going to embarrass her.
Dinner was upscale kenkey, jollof, gari, or plantain. There was also a red stew I didn’t recognize, but would try. There was tilapia with what looked like fresh shito on top. Ofos had given me shito to try before. There was the black shito, which was made of dried shrimp, onions, and scotch bonnet peppers. The fresh shito was onions and scotch bonnets and tomato.
All foods I’d seen so far and knew how to eat. If I made any other choice but the kenkey I felt like I’d fail some kind of test. Her mother wanted to see if I knew how and if I was willing to eat with my hands.
It might not be pretty, but I did, in fact, know how to do that.
When I dove in, her father hooted. “Heh, this obroni has been taught our ways. Ofosua, well done. Well done.”
I could feel Ofosua breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. She was practicing her exercises, and I prayed to God she was not in the midst of a panic attack.
Emanuel was not thrilled by my presence. I thought the toughest questions would be from Ofosua’s parents, but of course, I hadn’t even considered that there might be a backup boyfriend at the table as well.
“So, where do you work again, Cole?”
I opened my mouth to address him, but Ofosua rode in. “Emanuel, why are you even here? This routine is not impressive to me. In case I wasn’t clear when we met, I’m not interested.”
Helen Addo was not having it. “Ofosua, I didn’t teach you to be rude to our guests.”
“Oh, really? You could have fooled me. You’re being rude to Cole by inviting… What is he supposed to be? A spare date?”
Helen eyed me levelly. “Well, I know your dating history, and in case something didn’t work out, I invited Emanuel.”
I could feel Ofosua vibrating beside me. “Did it occur to you—I’m sure it didn’t—that I don’t want to get to know him?”
Helen looked like she wasn’t sure what to do. I could have jumped in and done my charming act, smoothed things over, but this was Ofosua’s play. All I could do was not let Emanuel rattle me.
OFOSUA
I clenched my jaw trying to determine the best way to commit matricide and not go to jail.
Emanuel tried to get my attention once again. “So, Ofosua, what is it you do?”
I was sure my mother would have already told him, but still, I was polite. “I’m in publishing. Much to my parents’ horror.”
Mum sucked her teeth. “Why can’t you do things like your cousins do? Your cousin Miriam, she’s now getting her PhD.”
Cole rushed to smooth things over before they got out of hand. “Dr. Addo, has Ofos updated you on her imprint? She’s managed to put together a fantastic debut list. She’s amazing at what she does. She has a real eye for literary talent.”
“An eye for talent. What does that even mean?” she scoffed.
I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. “This is not a conversation to have with guests. This is Kukua’s night.”
Cole’s hand was warm and firm on my knee. The firm squeeze told me he was there for me, whatever I needed.
“Emanuel, I’m sorry. You’ve been dragged into some kind of family situation here. I’m not single. As you can see, I have a boyfriend.”
Emanuel perked up. “I see your boyfriend, but I mean, honestly, this obroni? He’ll get bored eventually.”
“Wow, I see you think very highly of me.”
Emanuel instantly saw his error. “Oh, I don’t mean you are boring. How could you be? I’m saying—”
“Yes, I heard what you were saying.” Cole was helping himself to all the dishes. The shito on the tilapia would be hot. When he reached for it, I shook my head. “Ah, no, I don’t think you should have that one.”
He ignored me. And when he tucked in, I could see him turn red. The sweat started to bead on his forehead. He was not at all ready for that level of heat.
But instead of grabbing for his water and bitching out, nope, Cole kept eating.
Eventually, my mother and I were at a stalemate.
She knew she would finally have to talk to Cole. “So, obroni boy, what are your intentions?”
Cole stopped eating. “Toward Ofosua? Well, we’re seeing where it goes. But your daughter is incredibly talented and beautiful and smart, and I’m very much appreciating the fact that she chooses to spend time with me.”
My mother rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you white people are always saying people are talented. Sometimes it’s not about being talented. It’s about putting in the work ethic. Talent. That’s such a white people notion.”
I tensed. But again, there was Cole’s hand. Nice, steady, calming pressure. His voice was even. “Yes. You’re right. It is. Not only is she talented, but she has the best work ethic I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen anyone work harder. She deserves all the accolades.”
Every curveball she threw him to try and get him to slip up, or say something wrong, or have some kind of average reaction, he ignored, sidestepped, and deflected.
Through the whole dinner, my mother looked irritated. As if she had truly expected that her setup would work.
By the time the dessert of Ghana pancakes with Nutella and ice cream, topped with edible gold flakes, was carted out, I was grinding my teeth so hard I was in danger of cracking a molar.
But Cole remained affable through it all. Easy to talk to. And as we all stood and washed our hands again, he ignored my rule. He wrapped his arm around me, making it perfectly clear that we were together.
And all it did was make my mother raise her brows. But I knew she would hate everything about this.
Public displays of affection, his claiming of me, my rejection of her choice for me, it was all going to haunt me for years, I could already tell. And the funny thing was, I wasn’t upset about it at all.
By the time we walked out of the exhibit three hours later, my nerves were shot, Cole’s stomach was full, and I had dashed Emanuel’s hopes.
Before we left, my father stopped me and gave me a hug. “Your mother loves you. She’s only trying to do what’s best.”
“Then maybe she should learn to let me make my own choices.”
He laughed. “You know that she’s a Ghanaian mother. She’s physically incapable. But as choices go, your obroni boy isn’t so bad.”
I searched my father’s dark brown eyes. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“Besides, I know that you’re not doing the same thing you did before. Rushing to marry someone to get away from your mother.”
“Daddy, that’s not what I did.”
“You’re my daughter. You think I don’t know you?”
I laughed. “Yeah, good point.”
All along, he’d known. Which made me wonder if he also knew that Yofi wasn’t right for me all along.