“How are things with Kai?”
“Here we go …”
“You’re surprised I’m asking?”
“I’m shocked it took you two days.”
Her laughter filled the enclosed area. “I was respecting your need for space.”
“You and Kai share boundary issues. He’s texted me several times both yesterday and today. I like my alone time and space.”
“And Kai likes you,” she said, smiling. “And he knows what he wants.”
“It’s the man who’s the issue.”
“Don’t you like him?”
“I do.”
“Hmmm …”
Closing my laptop, I waited for her to continue. She stared into the dark garden for a few moments.
“I’m trying to figure out what the issue is. Give me a clue,” she said.
“Besides the lying, and the wife? And the daughter?”
“He told me yesterday he’d come clean with you. Finally.”
“He did. Kind of. He told me about Anita and when I met her she mentioned having a daughter.”
“And having an ex-wife and child is a deal breaker?”
“They have been in the past.”
“Selah, honey, do you really want to be with a man with no past? Not sure there are very many virgins in your age group.”
I chortled.
“Right, you’d eat a virgin alive.”
“I can’t imagine starting from scratch.”
“Perhaps a lapsed priest?”
“Probably a virgin.”
“True. You could find a nice missionary, one who could be easily tempted into corruption and lust.”
I giggled at her suggestion. “That’s all kinds of wrong, Ama.”
“I’m highlighting your options for a man without baggage.”
“I get it.”
“Don’t let Kai’s past define him. He works hard, loves his daughter, and is easy on the eyes.” She fanned herself with her hands. “Plus, he’s demonstrated he can commit long term. Sounds like a catch to me.”
“And the lying?”
“Did he lie, or omit?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?” I asked, incredulous.
“Not at all. Have you told him about your lovers and fear of commitment? Or those smutty pirate books you write?” She gave me a pointed look.
I rolled my eyes. “No, but—”
“But nothing. Men become stupid when they fall in love. Boys tease; men do stupid things.”
Men weren’t the only ones who did stupid things.
“You’re not defined by the stupid things you’ve done, or not done. Don’t apply rules and expectations to that wonderful man you won’t follow yourself.” With a pat to my leg, she stood up and straightened her skirt.
“Gotcha.” I pouted.
“Don’t stay out here, sulking and getting bit by mosquitoes,” she called out, walking to the house.
A telltale buzz near my ear reminded me I hadn’t put on bug spray. I tracked the flying insect buzzing around me until it landed on my leg, where I promptly killed it. Ama was right about the nasty little buggers. She was probably right about the other things, too.
I sent Kai a quick email asking about his plans for the rest of the week.
My inbox burst with unanswered messages from Maggie and Quinn. I opened the oldest one and found a picture of Maggie, Gil, Quinn, and Ryan with Lizzy, smiles wide, and in Lizzy’s case, drooly. Despite my dislike of babies, I smiled. The joy evident on my friends’ faces superseded my cynicism. Lizzy’s fat cheeks and dimpled arms reminded me of the little faces in the Kente village. Her life was blessed from birth in ways she would not understand for a long time. If ever.
OVER A BOX of dusty sculptures on the following Monday, I shared my thoughts with Emmanuela about the weekend visit to Cape Coast. Surprisingly, she’d never visited either Elmina or the Cape Coast castle.
“Why do I need to visit a place to know its history?” she asked. “History is carried in the minds and souls of people.”
Her words echoed my own thoughts before I stood on old stones in sunless rooms and let my imagination run wild. Not my memories, but the thoughts and ideas my mind conjured up about experiences I never had.
I touched the miniature sculpture in my glove-covered hand, running my finger over her curves and pointed breasts. Picking up my notebook, I wrote down the catalogue number and set aside the sculpture to be photographed.
“Dr. Elmore?”
“Yes?”
“What is it about these sculptures that speaks to you?” She frowned, looking down at an Akuaba fertility figure I’d set aside earlier.
“Humans have the same genitals and secondary sexual characteristics no matter where on the planet we live, yet each culture depicts them differently. Or fetishizes them different, I should say.” I pointed at another fertility doll. “This is for fertility, right?”
She nodded.
“Yet what’s the biggest thing on the figure?”
“Her head.”
“Shouldn’t it be her breasts or hips, the typical symbols for female fertility?”
She shrugged.
“Her head resembles the round moon, another representation of fertility, but I’d prefer to think her big brain is the focus.”
“And this interests you?” Doubt and confusion tinted her question.
“It does, very much.”
“But many of them look silly.” She held up a male figure with a long penis pointing vertically down.
“Exactly the same as real humans,” I said with a straight face. I held up another fertility doll with a large, round bottom and pointed at my own hips. “See? Even in something fairly abstract, we can find ourselves.”
She giggled. “Are your students very interested in your classes?”
“I think most take it to look at naked bodies. A few are serious about studying art, but not many.”
“Most people do not realize the importance of museums.” She gestured around our cramped workspace, lit from older lamps and a single dusty window high in the wall. “The same as the castles, they’re important for our history.”
“Even if no one visits them?”
“Yes. We know they exist and the objects exist. That’s enough to remind us of our history. We don’t need to live in the past to remember.”
EMMANUELA’S WORDS ECHOED through my mind while I walked down the road to Kai’s hotel. He’d returned earlier in the afternoon and invited me for drinks.
I sat in the shade by the pool, sipping an icy cold orange Fanta with real ice cubes. Entitlement had its perks. A warm hand lifted my hair from my neck and lips brushed the exposed skin. I jumped even though I’d know his touch anywhere.
“Did you think your waiter was acting fresh?” His voice sounded light, jovial.
“The waiter smells of musk and peanut butter.” I leaned up to kiss his cheek, but he moved to kiss my lips instead. A week apart had only deepened my hunger for him. Apparently, the same was true for him.
Kai glanced around the patio. “Should I order a drink?”
“Unless you want to skip the drink and go directly upstairs?”
The words had barely left my lips when he tossed too many cedis on the table and grabbed my hand, lifting me out of my chair.
Alone in the elevator, he pressed against me, kissing me breathless. His spicy scent invaded my senses. When I reached for him through his pants, he arched his erection into my hand.
“God, I’ve missed you,” I whispered into his neck, nuzzling the curve where it became his shoulder, the place where his pheromones were strongest. “You were wrong, you know.”
He buried his nose in my hair. “About what this time?”
“About absence.”
Leaning away, he stared down into in my eyes. “It took only a week?”
“A week was enough.”
Once in his room, I knelt at his feet, tugging at his belt and unzipping his fly. I hungered for the feel of him, the taste of him on my tongue. He stroked my hair and tucked a strand behind my ear. Lust and passion reflected back at me. I pushed his boxers down over his hips, exposing all of him.
Kneeling allowed my hands to be free to roam and explore his skin. One hand snaked around to squeeze his ass. He moaned and tightened his muscles. My other hand encased his cock at the base, stroking in rhythm with my mouth. I explored him with a single, slick finger, finding the hidden place to drive him wild. Instantly, his fingers tightened in my hair, making me hum at discovering another way I could excite him.
It didn’t take much before he warned me, “I’m close.”
Heady with the power of pleasuring him, I continued, rather than pulling away, until he stilled and exploded down my throat.
His shuddering breath and unsteadiness on his feet made me smile.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked.
“I have secrets of my own.” I stood and headed to the bathroom to clean up. I didn’t mention Quinn told me about prostates years ago during one of his “how to please a man” speeches over cocktails—emphasis on cock.
He kicked off his pants and boxers, then trailed behind me wearing only his shirt, which he unbuttoned along the way.
“What kind of secrets?” he asked, starting the shower while I washed my hands.
I smirked. “Girl secrets.”
“I’ve told you mine.” He pretended to pout while his hands reached for the zipper on my dress.