“I have to pack,” I said.
“Of course. Can we talk when you get back?”
“Okay.”
“Everything at a pace you’re comfortable with.”
“Yes. Please call Rose. Thanks.”
Be married to Robert again, even a Robert after therapy? If I went back surely it would be trying to force my new shape into an old mold. I had become a woman who traveled alone, who confronted ex-dictators, who could make her way in the world.
Perhaps if I’d forgiven him his affair, he would have gone off with that other woman who could walk confidently on a beach in a string bikini, but I asked him to move out. First, he lived with the mistress, then he left to live on his own. Rejection was a sort of goad to Robert. He’d never met a “no” he wasn’t bent on turning into a “yes.” I wonder how many sessions of therapy it would take for him to make this discovery.
I unzipped my suitcase and gathered my things. I was going home with dirty clothes and no story, just a few episodes with Kofi that added up to little. Perhaps Rose was right: this trip was born out of cowardice. I had wanted to flee to Bamana instead of deciding where things stood with Robert. The intercom. I let it ring until it was almost too late.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good afternoon. Sule speaking.”
“Hi, Sule.”
“Sir Kofi’s son is holding a small gathering this evening and he has asked me to invite you.”
“Which of his sons?”
“Kweku. Kwabena lives abroad.”
“Am I allowed to meet his children? After what happened with Afua?”
“They are your brothers and sisters.”
“Half.”
“There is no such thing in Africa. What shall I tell him?”
“Why not. How will I get there?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Kweku’s house was on the beach. The ground floor had floor-to-ceiling windows and you could see the guests from the road, like exotic fish in an aquarium. I was wearing my market dress. I walked close to Sule. I brushed against strangers, against fabric, not skin. Waiters circulated with canapés and flutes of champagne. Jazz poured out of hidden speakers. The women wore heels. The men wore jackets. There were a few non-black faces sprinkled through the room, frosting on a brownie.
“Kweku, allow me to introduce you to Ms. Anna Graham.”
He turned to face us.
“Afua didn’t say you were beautiful.” He studied me openly but with no malice in his gaze. “I see why they thought you were Papa’s mistress. I didn’t get to see the picture myself. They took it down so fast. Welcome to my small gathering.”
Kweku was the center of the party, a roving sun. I felt the eye of the room shift to me.
“Thank you for inviting me to your lovely home,” I said.
“Pardon? Let’s go outside. It’s noisy here.”
Even with the ocean only a few feet away, Kweku had a pool in his backyard. He was extravagant like our father. There were smokers flicking ash into the water.
“Use an ashtray,” Kweku said. He did not have Kofi’s authority. No one moved. We sat away from the smokers on cane chairs with armrests that curled like vines.
“Let us begin again. Welcome to Bamana. I hope the country is to your liking.”
“It is.”
“So, we are siblings.”
“Half,” I said.
“We don’t have that in Africa.” He leaned back in his chair. His manner was relaxed, almost slothful, in contrast to Kofi’s rigidity. “How did my father meet your mother?”
“As a student in London,” I said. “He was my grandfather’s lodger.”
“He doesn’t speak much about those days. Who would have guessed he left behind a love child?”
“I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just wanted to meet him. I’m returning to England tomorrow.”
“If you’d been a boy there would have been trouble. You would be the oldest son instead of me, an heir who can’t control his appetite.”
Kweku was the fattest Bamanaian I had seen. When he was not speaking, his lips remained parted so he could breathe. He wore rings on four fingers. Apart from that, he was simply dressed in black.
“What was he like as a father?” I asked.
“Kofi Adjei. The great Daasebre of Bamana. He had very high standards. Me, I dropped out of trying to meet them once I turned about thirteen, but Afua, she’s still competing for his approval. I understand her reception was not very warm.”