Afua Awo Twumwa

Hiyi! I’m excited. Well, it’s Thursday and the weekend is coming soon. Also, guess what I found – Trailed! I wrote this story, a sequel to Trapped (that story I started on my Facebook page and shared here), and gave it away for Christmas in PDF. If you didn’t get to download and read it, here it is. Quite lengthy so take all the time to savour. And oh also, I’ll be sharing another story from that Christmas package next week. Sit tight.

“I paid for this stand sir.”

A beautiful brown woman stood raged behind the stands coordinator for the Fashion Train Takoradi edition.

“Sir.” She hurried past the man and blocked his way. He stared back at her determined face. “Sir. I was talking to you.” He exhaled and stood. “Mmhm?!”

“I was telling you that stand you just gave out to a popcorn seller has already been paid for by me.”

“Alright. We’ll relocate you.”

“No sir. I don’t want to be relocated. I booked that spot three months prior to this event for reasons best known to me sir. I won’t permit you to just wrestle it out of my grasp, because you are the coordinator, for a woman you are definitely lusting after and want to impress.”

She swallowed hard and looked away from the man’s eyes. She had clearly said too much. She should apologise, but she isn’t a tyro to events like this. Apologizing means you risk losing even a stand out of view. She has to stick to her rage and apologize later.

“Lady” The 5 feet 7 man ogled her, shocked to his last nerve. “I won’t call you out for an unfounded insult. Please go and speak to the fashion designer who owns the show.”

“And where am I supposed to find that person this night, the night of the show?” She felt her mind spinning. The desperation of her life choked on her next words. “He could be anywhere on such a night.” She paused, her heart beating with the last of the resolve she has inside of her. “You don’t understand these things, do you? I am a mother. I need this stand at the right spot tonight.” She allowed the words she hasn’t spoken the past month out, reinforcing the fear soaring in her soul. Her look stayed glued on the man. His demeanor spoke of no change in resolve.

“Great.” She murmured and stood, her palms grasping her head.

“Gerald” A voice, deeper, called from her direction. So his name is Gerald. She thought. Good. She’s disliked the name since her junior high. Her sitting partner was a Gerald. He was a handful. They never became friends. Teasing and name calling from their classmates didn’t change the fact. Funny, the teasing worsened the conflict. Being a kid was amusing.

But you are a mama now.

She reminded herself and stiffened.

Gerald hurried to meet the man. She stood, her back to them, her ears with them. She thought he sounded just like a man in her past. But she let it slide. Jones, from the last she heard of him, sold his businesses and left Accra. The whole industry knows who caused it – she, Ayorkor.

“Who is she?”

She heard the man ask Gerald.

“A complaining client. She wants a change of stand.”

Gerald grumbled. Ayorkor fumed. He lied with so much ease. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to barge into them and cry foul. She needed the stand at a good spot so bad. The good Lord knows that. She breathed in and rubbed her eyes. Starting a craft shop at Takoradi is normal but when she started to bring in clothing from the big names across the world, her job became abnormal. And so did her income stream. She almost gave up except she couldn’t give up. She had her passion to keep alive, her heart to give a reason to still hope and a son to nurture. All of her different selves told her she should pack and go home. She was going to do that, apply later for a refund. She took three hesitant steps and then felt a hurried tap on her shoulder. She tensed. She felt a tinge race through her. One that is only one man’s touch could cause – Jones’.

Ayor, he can’t be here. Should he be, he’s your past.

“Please I’m told you have a concern. I’m the organizer. I would want us to sort you out.”

She smiled and turned. Finally, someone was behaving human. Her face slowly fell on his and they both froze in their tracks. Jones spoke first.

“Ayorkor Naa Nortey?”

He said, every word escaping his lips filled with disbelief. Ayorkor nodded. Jones laughed in short gasps.

“You are alive.”

Ayorkor raised her shoulders and dropped them, pursing her lips.

“You didn’t think I’ll die this young.”

“Yeah.” Jones laughed again, as he did before. “Silly me. I am amazed perhaps to have met you.”

“I am too.”

Ayorkor said and fell silent. She couldn’t get her tongue to want to say more. She took a quick glance Jones’ way and after much internal conflict freed her eyes to explore him. For fifty, he was still handsome. His goat beard was greying strand by strand. His hair was still kept bald. He had his boyish face that kept her attracted all the seven years she was with him. She kept her eyes on his. She wondered if he still had the charm, the ability to completely draw her in.

“So you own a boutique?”

“Yes. Yes.” Ayorkor passed her hands over her hair. “Actually it’s a craft store with clothes.”

“I see.” Jones twitched his thumb. He was edgy. What was he to say next? How disappointed he is she never thought of connecting with him all these five years? Or that he’s not the old Jones she knew? Or whether she really kept their baby?

“So I’m getting my stand?”

Ayorkor grinned. She was praying he’ll say yes. Her income is going down and she hoped this Christmas runway show will pull in more affluent customers she doesn’t come across daily in the ordinary streets of Fijai. Anaji is the neighbourhood in Takoradi for shops like hers. But she couldn’t afford to stay a single night in one room of any of the buildings lining the golden streets of the town. Not with a five year old son to feed. The five year old between herself and Jones Quaye.

“For old times’ sake.”

Jones winked. Ayorkor laughed.

“Still cheesy.”

Jones curtseyed. They both chortled. After standing for a full minute of dead silence talking in both their ears, Ayorkor extended her hands to Jones for a handshake.

“Thanks so much Jones.” She smiled politely. “I’ll have to go set up now. My buyers will be arriving anytime.”

“Fine.” Jones stuttered. “I mean sure. But at least I can have your number and give you a call before the show wraps. It’s only running for this night.”

“Why not.” Ayorkor handed him her phone. “Dial in your number and save as Jones. I’ll call or text so you have mine. And by the way, I have a stand and no stand assistants so I’ll be over at the first stand till it wraps.”

“I forgot that.”

Jones giggled, embarrassed.

“I’ll go.”

Ayorkor said and hurried away. She glanced back once and lowered her eyes. Jones was on his phone.

“I have to go before I hug you and confess how much I missed you all these five years. I missed you so much so I never got past two dates with any man who cared. And I missed you so much I was angry you wouldn’t just accept a baby, accept to be a Christian and give me a forever after like Ruth’s.”

Ayorkor whispered to herself as she jogged over to her stand. The popcorn seller was gone.

Thanks Lord.

She said and kicked the air with her balled fist, a silent yes on her lips. She set up her stand and within an hour, she was ready for whoever will love to buy. She looked on her phone. 7 pm was a good time to be ready. She had a whole hour before the show will kick off. Guests may arrive thirty minutes from now. Her little Jones should be joyfully shouting ‘mummy mummy’ anytime soon. Her heart danced at the thought of him. She was forever grateful for that day she was stuck in traffic in Accra. She never will forget the small stirring of desire that led her this path. She always told her heart never to. Jones’ excitement crowned her day every single day on the calendar. His rushed I love you mummy between giggles made her labor and sometimes shed tears pure joy. She was glad to work for him. And every moment with him opened up to her the depth of God’s love – more precious than that of a mothers. She has that verse in Isaiah woven into the threads of her soul.

Will a mother forget her nursing baby? Even if she does, I’ll never forget you.

She rubbed under her eyes and grinned at the young boy sprinting towards her. He jumped into her arms.

“Uncle David brought me. Uncle David bought me yoghurt.”

He smiled, the two of his front teeth gone made him look funnier than he sounded.

“And what did we tell Uncle David?”

“Thank you Uncle. The Lord bless you.”

“Great!”

They high-fived and he sat against her.

“Mama.”

Jones was gazing out straight. His face spelt content.

“Yes sweetheart.”

“I love the beach mum. The water outruns each other and then just rests. And I love sweetheart too.”

“Me too.”

Ayorkor said and swung her arms around him. She quietly listened to his gentle heartbeat. He was everything like his father and everything like her. She threw her eyes on the sea. She also loved the breeze and was very pleased when she heard the runway will be here, at the Abusua beach resort rather than the usual boring parks or rent spaces or hotels used for such events. She leaned on her son’s hair and kissed him. There wasn’t a time she didn’t dot on him. He was her only family. Well besides her parents who won’t talk to her again because she left Jones and denied them their regular income.

“Mummy see.”

Jones pointed to a few guests who were walking towards the stands. They had to go through to get to the event proper. Ayorkor smiled and turned her son to face her.

“Stay here Jones. Mummy is going to get you snacks. There’s your bed and big blanket for when you’re sleepy because we’ll be here for long. I’ll be right back. You don’t follow strangers, allow them inside or go near the sea. Especially not near the sea Jones.”

She gave the instructions with every motherly instinct she could wield. Her son is also curious like his father. She found a snack stand three stands away from hers. She spotted Jones’ favorite, kit-kat and picked four. She could perhaps afford to spoil him now that she had a better chance of being noticed and her items purchased. She sauntered the beach, wishing her shoes were off so she’ll feel the sands between her toes and sing like she had no care in the world. She sighed and stared at the stars. She had a sense they were brighter today, happier, more hopeful like she was.

“Jones. Mama got you KitKat.” The stand was quiet. Ayorkor rolled her eyes. Was he so tired to have already fallen asleep? She was gone barely ten minutes. She opened the door slowly and crept inside. She smiled the biggest as she blabbered to herself.

“Always like his father. Leave him by himself and he’ll be sound asleep the next second. I don’t have to Miss Jones with you here.”

Then she sat, threw the KitKat her son’s way and noticed he wasn’t there. Not him. Not the bed.

“Jones!”

Ayorkor screamed her qualms and rushed towards where she had put his bed and blanket. Her abdomen tightened. She started feeling pangs. She felt she was in labour all over again.

“Jones!”

She rushed out of her stand and sped towards the shoreline. She squinted for traces of a small boy’s foot tracks. They was nothing. Nothing. The word echoed in her whole being. She sensed her insides weakening.

“Ayorkor please don’t cry.” She chided herself, sweeping away tears from under her eyes. “Find the security. Take your phone and call a friend.” A friend. She pondered. David drove back more than an hour ago. She didn’t have a friend nearby to call. She stood helpless for a moment.

There is Jones.

The thought sprang at her.

“Yes.” She pulled out her phone. “Call Jones.” Her phone was on her ears immediately. “Hi Jones.”

“Hey.”

Jones’ voice came through.

“This is Ayorkor.”

“I know.” He laughed and cut her off.

“You do.” Ayorkor hesitated awhile. “Jones I’m sorry I’m calling. I need a bit of help.”

“I’m listening.”

“Alright.” Ayorkor swallowed. “I can’t find my son. I left him alone at my stand. I know I shouldn’t have. He’s just five. But I was going to get him some snacks. When I came he’s gone. His bed is gone too.”

“Is he Jones?”

“Yes, Jones.”

Ayorkor responded amazed.

“How did you know?”

“Because he’s here with me, telling me all about how his mum used to catwalk.”

“Oh. I’m coming.”

Ayorkor jogged lightly towards the runway. She halted when she got close and traipsed. She spotted the entrance to backstage. Nostalgia filled the air for her as the cool breeze rubbed against her braids. Ten years ago, she was with Jones at the La Palm conference hall, outdooring the Ayorks clothing line. She could still remember his breath as he hugged her and led her on stage.

Snap out of this Ayorks. Snap.

She flickered her eyes as one would when waking from an engaging dream.

“Ayorkor.”

Jones whispered.

“Yes.”

She spun around.

“Walk inside already.”

He said, still whispering.

“Oh yes.”

She smiled and walked quietly into the large changing room. She took a spot behind Jones on one of the bar chairs they usually used backstage. He turned her face away from his back. The place was divided into three, Jones’ makeshift office and two changing rooms. She assumed it’ll be one for fitting on clothes, the other for make up before you hit the waiting room. She listened to every chatter, sound, gasps and laughter. She could imagine the story behind every movement that was going on backstage. She always said she was born for the runway. She did believe it too. She did until she got pregnant, got born again and moved to Takoradi.

“What about your dad, little man.”

Ayorkor heard as Jones asked her son. She tensed. She had promised Jones a relationship after she walked away from the love they shared. But she didn’t find the strength to. She never told him anything about his son. The years she found the courage to reach out, Jones Quaye was gone. Her few friends in the industry she kept contact with didn’t know if he was still alive. His friends were reluctant to give her any information. She just gave up and told her son what every mother will.

“Maa said daddy is called my name, Jones Quaye. She said he is so busy but promised to come home on Christmas when I turn five. And guess what, I’m five!”

Jones’ eyes filled with tears. She looked Ayorkor’s way. She shot her head away. Her throat instantly dried up.

“You have a nice daddy Jones.”

“Mummy always says the same thing sir.”

Jones laughed.

“And mummy is right behind me.”

Jones moved and pointed to Ayorkor. Ayorkor waved.

“Oh mummy.” The boy sprinted to her. “Myself and Sir were coming to find you.”

“I found you first.” Ayorkor pinched his nose. She sobered and stayed on her son’s face. “Jones, you got mummy worried too. Don’t ever run off when I tell you to stay put.”

“Ok mummy.” He dropped his mouth. “I thought you were getting late so I walked out and I saw the tall lights and I wanted to see it.”

“Alright Jones. But if Uncle didn’t find you, you may have been in trouble by now.”

“Yes mummy.” Jones hugged her mum’s knees. “Mummy.” He looked up into Ayorkor’s eyes. “Sir looks like me from the mirror.” He said and dashed through the partition to the next room. Ayorkor stared after him.

“I told him he could go say hi to the guys.”

“I see.”

She folded her hands and looked around Jones’ office. The place was arranged just like he liked his makeshift office spaces. Tall chairs and a large mirror to the immediate right of the entrance. A desk with a laptop to the far end and a comfy settee to the immediate left of the entrance, about half a meter away. Except there was no large Ice chest with beers.

“Ayorkor.”

Jones called for her attention.

“Jones.”

She faced him. She knew that look in his eyes too well. He is coming to ask her about what Jones had said, the fact that they bear the same name. She decided to answer before he asks.

“He’s our son. Jones Quaye. He was born exactly six months after I left at a friend’s home. She is a midwife, married to a doctor. They are here at Takoradi. They took me in. I tried to reach you but when I found the courage to, none of our friends in the industry knew where you were. The few who did wouldn’t tell me.”

“That’s not what I want to know.”

“You…sure. Go ahead and ask.”

Jones bit on his lips and licked them.

“When you told him I’ll come at Christmas, did you know I was the organizer?”

Ayorkor shook her head.

“I didn’t bother to dig into the info for the show. David told me about the posters in town. He picked the number and I called to secure a stand.”

Jones bit on his nails.

“I’m not lying Jones. I’m not on a social media besides WhatsApp. I wouldn’t have known you are coming. I won’t set you up like this.”

“I know.” Jones said, calm. “I’m just wondering about the coincidence. And about my son. We’ll both turn when we hear Jones. I’m excited…” he looked around his office. “…inside.” He added and sat down.

“Jones the opening is over.” Gerald stuck his head from the guys’ dressing room. He glanced from Jones to Ayorkor.

“Good work Gerald.” Jones said, not looking in his direction. “Get the guys around and pray. Tell Juliet to do same with the ladies. I’ll be over in the waiting room in a few minutes.”

“Taken care of.”

Gerald glanced at Ayorkor another time and got lost from the compartment.

“You pray?”

Ayorkor asked Jones.

“We do. We walk only modest clothes too.”

“Wow.”

Ayorkor rubbed her palms together and walked to the entrance so she could see Jones’ face for the last time tonight.

“I want to go Jones. My stand needs an attendant. Please get Jones for me.”

“I already sent an attendant.”

Jones joined her.

“I have a story of my own I haven’t told you Ayorkor. But let’s just say I was so mad after you left I became an alcoholic, handed my business to Yaa.” He paused. “You remember Yaa, the designer I worked on Ayorks with.”

Ayorkor nodded.

I won’t forget a day of those seven years no matter how old I grow. She told herself and looked into Jones’ eyes.

“I then left for Kumasi. I met an old V-mate who’s turned a pastor and three years now, I’m, well, I’m a believer, Christian.”

Ayorkor smiled, resisting the urge to hug him. She should have noticed the moment they met. He looked different – in a far better way.

“I’m happy.”

She said, shaking her head gently as if she was contemplating which word to choose.

“Me too.” Jones took a step closer to her and took her hands. “I should have looked for you. But I was so ashamed to ask anyone.” He waited. “Will you forgive me?”

Ayorkor nodded. She was hard pressed for air. She was getting drawn into him.

“Jones I…”

“Please wait.”

Jones stepped back and pulled a necklace from his Lacoste.

“I don’t know what you’ll think of me but I never gave another woman this.”

He showed her the ring, glowing as a locket.

“Jones.”

“Ayorkor I know it’s too fast. I’m not asking you to decide anything. I just want you to know I’ve always kept this.”

“Alright.”

“Ok.”

Jones blew hard air and grinned. He turned to face her again. Little Jones run in.

“Mummy. They have kid’s clothes. Can I try and walk one?”

“Jones.”

She lopsided her head in disbelief. Jones walked to his son and knelt before him.

“What if daddy says yes?”

Jones looked at Ayorkor for approval. He just was already adoring his son not to mention to him he was the daddy supposed to show for Christmas. Ayorkor smiled softly. Little Jones stared hard at his dad and upon realisation turned to his mum.

“I told you mummy that daddy looks like me.”

He leapt into his father’s readied arms. He pulled away, hit his mum’s legs and swirled between the two.

“Everyone at school is going to see me and my mama and my papa on TV.” He turned to Jones. “Right papa.”

“Right Jones.”

Jones lifted him up and kissed him.

“Now hurry and go try on your attires to walk.”

“Daddy came before Christmas day.”

He hugged his mum’s knees and vanished from the room the next second. Both parents stood staring after him.

“I’m going to the waiting room now.” Jones told Ayorkor. “But before I go, what do you say about picking up one of those Ayork extras and joining our son on the runway.”

Ayorkor shook her head.

“Jones I’ve been off for five whole years. I may not get it right, ruin your show and…”

Jones touched her face and raised his eyebrows in a plea. All her resolve melted off.

“Fine.”

“Fine! I love you Ayorkor.”

Jones said in his excitement and grinned. Ayorkor felt her skin warm. She picked her phone from in front of the mirror.

“I’ll go to the ladies changing room…since there are guys.”

“Sure.”

Ayorkor was almost out of the entrance.

“Ayorkor please wait.”

Jones followed after her. She stood still.

“The hotel booked me for a week rather than a day. What do you say to a lunch date on Monday and through the weekdays and me seeing your parents with my uncle when I return to Accra?”

Ayorkor beamed.

“I think I’ll say yes to all. But I think we should start with the lunch dates.”

She typed on her phone’s notepad and still with face away from him, turned her arms. He took it and typed also.

“Yes babe. But I think we should start at your home. I miss your Banku and Tilapia.”

She giggled and bounced along. She stopped, took in the whole scenery. She cupped her mouth and cried, joy hanging on every tear that dropped. Months ago, she wondered whether her little Jones will ever meet his father. She was preparing herself to talk him through a shattered Christmas promise. She didn’t know how she was going to keep the two of them going financially. Then within less than three hours, her whole life is new.

She found the small bar by the beach and leaned on its fence. She soaked in the different sensations running up and down her whole being. One of the most difficult promises of God for her to believe fleshed out in her heart – that He knows His plans for her and He’ll do far more than she can think or ask according to His power that is at work within her.

Thank you Lord.

She mouthed and strode towards the entrance of the women changing room. Her life was only beginning.

~THE END~

PS: I wrote a letter to you as part of the whole PDF last Christmas. In it, I share with you my heart about Trailed. I’d be happy if you’ll take the moment to read it. You can here.

 

©M’afua Awo  Twumwaah 2017.