“And I’ve shown you mine. Or one of them.”
After removing my dress, he slapped my ass. “What are we going to do with you?”
“Have sex with me in the shower?”
“I meant in general.”
I laughed and stepped into his oversized shower, away from his swatting palm.
“I have ways of making you share.” He towered over me, trapping me against the cool tiles.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” I kissed him, knowing soon it would be my turn to reveal my skeletons.
KAI MOVED OUT of his hotel into a rented house shortly after our return. Located inside a gated community, the nondescript house could have existed in Florida, or any other suburban sprawl with a warm climate. Houses of variations on a theme lined a newly paved street, alternating between one and two stories, each with a gated, short driveway and yard. By standards at home, some of the homes even qualified as McMansions. TNG owned the house and provided it for employees during their tenure in Ghana. It would be home for Kai for the next two months.
I kept my room at Ama’s in name only, slowly filling a drawer or two in the bedroom at Kai’s and keeping a second set of bathroom supplies under the sink. However, my need for alone time hadn’t disappeared. When Kai traveled to Volta or other areas of Ghana, I slept in my little room and had dinner at Ama’s.
Everything fell into a happy routine.
Until Kai took me to visit the Ga coffin makers in Teshie.
A stranger date never happened.
Unless a dating site for single morticians existed. Even then, would they bring a date to the office, so to speak?
I balked when he told me his plans.
“This is the worst idea for a date. Ever.”
“Is it a date?” He grinned at me from behind the wheel of his Rover.
“You asked me to join you, it’s a date.”
“Excellent point.” After parking on the shoulder, he pointed at a row of carnival animals and decorations lined up along the railing of a second story veranda. Past the cheetah, monkey, elephant, and lion, I spotted a shoe.
Shoe?
Carnival shoe?
“Is that a shoe?”
“Yes, it’s a shoe.”
“Wait! Are those the coffins?”
He grinned. “They are indeed. Come on.”
I scrambled out of the car and followed him up the steep wooden steps to the veranda. At the top, rows of fantastical sculptures, I mean coffins, filled the open space. Airplanes, Star beer bottles, peppers, and even a cell phone—each colorful creation designed to hold a body.
“What the actual hell?”
“Not hell, heaven, Mah mee,” a young man said from his chair in the corner. “These are the best coffins for the best kind of people.”
He reminded me of my friend Abraham Lincoln. I blushed, embarrassed he’d heard me.
Kai greeted him with an expert handshake, snap and all. “My friend has never seen these types of coffins,” he explained.
Our young guide, Kojo, described how the Ga tribe used these fantasy coffins to represent an aspect of a person’s life, believing they helped transport the spirit to the afterlife.
“If you had to choose one coffin, which would you pick?” Kai asked.
“Are we buying my coffin today?” I looked at him from the corner of my eye while Kojo revealed a hot pink satin lining inside of a chicken. “Cause that’s really morbid.”
“Not if you believe in the afterlife.”
“I’m not sure if I do.” Talk of death and afterlife sent a shiver down my spine, like someone walking over my grave. I knocked on the wood top of a pepper casket for luck. “What would you chose? Perhaps the black dress shoe?”
“It can also be a vice or a passion, not someone’s profession.” He opened a beer bottle and slipped inside.
The image of him inside a coffin, even a ridiculous one, sent another cold chill down my spine. If you could taunt the universe, lying down in a coffin had to be one of the biggest no-nos.
“Get out,” I whispered down at him.
Opening one eye, he peered up at me, arms crossed in Dracula pose. “I want to suck your blood.”
“Stop. Please. Get out,” I begged.
Seeing my discomfort, he hopped out of the bottle faster than a genie, engulfing me in his arms and pressing my cheek to his chest.
“Oh, sweetheart. It’s silly. It’s only fun.” He hugged me tighter.
My breath caught in my throat, causing me to hiccup. “I know.”
Warm hands rubbed along my back while I composed myself. “I didn’t mean to upset you. For the record, I’d never be buried in a beer bottle. Hideous really.”
I hit his chest with my fists while he shook with laughter. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t. If you did, you’d be fine with burying me in a coffin in the shape of a tilapia.”
“True. Although, I think a rooster might be more appropriate.” I stepped away from his embrace.
The question in his eyes meant he’d missed my joke.
“Because you’re cocky.”
He grinned, puffing out his chest. “Yes, and for good reason.” He rubbed his thumb along his lower lip.
Cursed Dutch charms.
To make up for my panic attack, I bought a model of a pepper coffin for my kitchen. Kai tipped Kojo a few cedis when we left.
In the car, he turned to me before he started the engine. “What happened back there?”
My cheeks heated with a blush. “Same thing that seems to happen whenever we take one of your adventures. I got overwhelmed.”
“That was it? Are you planning to faint again?”
“I only fainted once.”
“True, but you acted woozy after Elmina. I didn’t figure you for the fainting damsel in distress type.” Beneath the teasing ran an undercurrent of concern.
“Me? Damsel in distress?” I scoffed. I might have snorted for emphasis.
“Maybe you don’t see yourself clearly. You obviously need a man to come to your rescue.”
Now he was really pushing my buttons. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap him or kiss him. Or both.
“Maybe you aren’t good for me if these things only happen when you’re around.” Crossing my arms, I stared at him.
The eye crinkles appeared and his lips twitched, fighting a smile.
“Fine,” I huffed. “Want to know what happened? You climbed into a coffin and pretended to be dead.”
“A beer bottle coffin.”
“Still. You can’t taunt death that way.”
“I wasn’t taunting death. Provoking death is doing something dangerous, like skydiving or climbing Everest.”
I glowered at him.
“Wait, you’re superstitious!” he announced as if he’d guessed the right answer in a pub quiz.
“Am not.”
“You are. You, Selah, believe in juju, spirits, and black magic.”
“I believe you put something out there and the Universe listens. Even when you’re joking.”
“Did you have a Ouija board when you were a kid?”
I did, but wouldn’t admit it.
“You did. Let me guess, tarot cards in college?”
Damn him. I nodded.
“Aha, you were one of those girls.”
“What kind of girls?”
“The ones who flirted with the occult enough to scare themselves and give their black clothing, Goth, club kid vibe some authenticity.”
“I was never a club kid.”
“But the rest is true. I should have known when you said you hung out in San Francisco.”
“Way to stereotype a city.”
He started the car. “I have the perfect solution for any bad juju I created with the coffins.”
“Where are you taking me now? A graveyard?”
“No, we’re going to Kofi’s house.”
A SHORT DRIVE later, we arrived in a smaller village outside Accra’s ring road. Kai stopped to buy a bottle of schnapps at a tiny shop. Outside the store, he phoned Kofi and spoke briefly in a mix of Twi and English.
Kofi’s sedan sat parked in the driveway of a yellow stucco house with a mango tree out front. After Kofi and his wife greeted us with handshakes and big smiles, Kai presented the bottle of schnapps. Grace invited us to sit at a table in the shade of the tree, then headed inside. She returned with an older man, who held onto her arm while she slowly walked him over to the table. I couldn’t tell his age, but his hair was nearly completely white and his eyes milky in a way that suggested cataracts. His wide smile revealed several missing teeth, but the gaps didn’t detract from the joy on his face.
Kofi introduced us to his father-in-law, Solomon, an elder in their village. Even without traditional dress, Solomon created a demand for respect in his colorful short sleeve shirt and faded blue pants, loosely held up by a thin belt.
“Maa ha. Eti sen?” Solomon greeted first Kai and then me.
“Eh ya,” we said at the same moment.
Holding my hand he asked, “Ye fro wo sen?”
“Dr. Selah Elmore.” I smiled at him and was rewarded by a pat on the arm with his boney hand.
He asked Kai something I didn’t understand, which made Kai laugh. “No, not married.” Both men looked at me. The older man frowned and Kai’s eyes crinkled before he winked.
Winking Dutch. Fuck me.
Please.
Grace brought out a tray with small glasses and a bottle of water.
I leaned over to Kai. “What’s happening?”
“I told Kofi you hadn’t witnessed a libation ceremony yet. Thought you might enjoy seeing another side of how Ghanaians acknowledge death.”