Ipods in Accra (17 page)

‘No, you'll probably bump into him. Sorry, Makeeda, Sod's Law.'

I knew Bharti was right. We walked into the coffee shop and ordered our drinks. I was grateful that it wasn't as packed as usual. Most people just wanted to buy their stuff and walk around in the sun, but Bharti and I needed to talk.

‘So Nick still hasn't called or anything?' Bharti asked.

I shook my head.

‘Do you want me to call him?'

‘No way!' I said, horrified. ‘This is my mess, I'll sort it out. What's going on with you and Rafi?'

Bharti's face lit up. ‘Mum said she'd had enough of this argument and made me choose. She said, as long as I was aware that Nana-Sunita would never ever accept Rafi and that I'd probably be cut from her will, then it was OK with her and Dad if I continued seeing him. They wanted to meet him first
though. Makeeda, you seem shocked.'

‘No, I'm really pleased for you, Bharti!' I said, but couldn't stop my mind from drifting back to Nick. ‘I'm just glad one of us has a love life that's working out.'

‘Well, yours will too. You can come with us to the prom,' she said kindly.

‘Thanks, but I really don't want to be
that
girl,' I said.

‘What girl?' Bharti asked.

‘You know, that girl who goes everywhere with her best friend and her best friend's boyfriend.'

‘Excuse me, what do you think I did last year with you and Nelson at the end of term party?'

‘Yeah, but that was different.' I replied. ‘We'd been together ages – you and Rafi haven't been going out for long.'

‘Oh shut up! You're coming with us and that's that!' Bharti said defiantly. ‘I'm sure Nick won't stay mad much longer,' she said, putting an arm across my shoulder. ‘Hey, why don't you text him your maths result?'

‘OK,' I said.

Me:
I got an A for maths, thx for all your help. Hope U R OK? X

I stared at my mobile phone for a good ten minutes, hoping and praying that the envelope symbol would appear at the top of the screen. It didn't, so I stuffed my phone in my bag. I was beginning to hate having a mobile phone. It just seemed to symbolise my disappointment and failure.

‘You seem heartbroken …' Bharti said in a faint whisper.

For some reason this angered me. I didn't want to be a victim in anyone's eyes!

‘I am
not
heartbroken!' I said, louder than I would have liked.

‘OK, OK,' Bharti said, holding her hands up. ‘So you're not heartbroken.'

‘I'm not a wreck like those girls who think boys are everything. I've just got a chip. It's a small chip that's fallen from my oversized heart. Nothing's broken and nothing's beyond repair.'

‘Uh huh,' Bharti murmured, sipping her drink.

‘I just reckon hearts should come with a guarantee or something, because sometimes they can take a lot of battering.'

‘Yup,' Bharti said.

‘Thing is, because they don't, we should probably take better care of them,' I went on.

Bharti nodded.

‘I just wish someone had told me the truth.'

‘What truth?' Bharti asked.

‘The fact that, if you get too many chips, they can lead to cracks and eventually a broken heart.'

‘OK, so is that what you've got?' she asked.

‘No, you're not listening,' I said.

‘Oh I am, and so is everyone else in this place.'

I glanced around and it looked like I had the attention of everyone in the café. People who were five, twenty and even forty years older than me were pretending badly to not be listening. An elderly woman looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Well, go on then, dear.'

‘The thing is, a broken heart isn't easily mended. We'd need
industrial-strength glue, or just a lot of time … and chocolate cake,' I said.

Bharti stared at me for some time and the silence between us seemed to be echoed throughout the café.

‘Ohmigod, Makeeda. Did that come out of a magazine or something?' she said finally.

‘No, but I really wish it had. Then I could pretend that it was something I'd read about and didn't really feel,' I said quietly.

Silence enveloped us again, for five long minutes. It was only broken when the sales assistant placed two slices of chocolate cake on our table.

‘We didn't order this,' I said.

‘No, that old lady did, and she said she hopes you don't get any more chips.'

Bharti and I looked up just in time to see the elderly lady leave.

‘Thanks!' we chorused.

She smiled and waved. ‘You're welcome.'

‘Wow, you should go all weird on me more often, if it means we get freebies,' Bharti said, tucking into her cake.

I smiled and our conversation turned to the upcoming prom. We both had our outfits, although Mum was going to surprise me with mine tonight, as she and Tanisha had ordered it for me from America.

I got home to find my new dress. It was a dark-green sleeveless kind of fifties style, except a strip of Kente was around the waist. I even had matching shoes.

‘Mum, it's beautiful!' I gasped.

‘I know. You'll look fantastic. I'll call Tanisha so you can thank her,' Mum said, disappearing to get the phone.

Even though the dress was stunning, I was about to go to a prom that my ex-boyfriend was DJing at and I didn't have a date. In fact, I was probably the only girl going with her best friend and her boyfriend, instead of her own.

‘Here she is,' Mum said, handing over the phone.

‘So what do you think?' Tanisha asked eagerly. It was as if our row in Ghana had never happened.

‘It's really lovely. Thanks,' I replied.

‘I know, and you'll fill it out in all the right places now. It wouldn't have looked so good if you'd been slimmer; you haven't lost any weight or anything, have you?'

‘Nah, I'm still the same me with additional curves,' I said.

‘So what's up?'

I told her how I still hadn't heard from Nick.

‘Have you thought about writing to him?' she asked.

‘Yeah, I emailed him a while back. I just told him to contact me as soon as he got back from his trip.'

‘No, I don't mean email or text messages; I mean snail mail. You know, pen and paper writing,' Tanisha said.

‘What?'

‘Yeah, write him a letter,' Tanisha continued. ‘I know in all those magazines it tells you never to write letters to someone you like but this is different.'

‘How?'

‘You've known Nick all your life. Even if things don't work out, you'll still be in each other's lives because our families know
each other,' Tanisha replied.

‘OK, but what do I write?' I asked.

‘Makeeda, write what you think he needs to hear; but write truthfully and from the heart,' Tanisha told me. ‘

Is that it?'

‘Yeah, it's down to you. I don't know what's really in your heart! But you've got to get it right – you've only got one chance,' she said, then changed the conversation back to my prom. We discussed what type of jewellery she thought I should wear and how I should do my hair, but I was only half listening. I had a letter to write and hand deliver before the end of the night.

Dear Nick,
Dearest Nickolas,
Dear boyfriend
,

Even for me, that was a bit presumptuous. And weird.

Dear Nick
,

I don't know if you're still angry with me, never want to speak to me again, or just wish you'd never asked me out. I don't know, because I haven't heard from you since we were standing in Nana-Amma's kitchen, in Ghana
.

I do remember the look on your face when you left. I do remember that I was the reason you had that expression and I'm sorry
.

I want to explain why I was silent when I should have been at full volume. The truth is, I was so caught up in being
Ghanaian, that I forgot what it was like to be a friend. It was like I forgot how to treat other people. I didn't want to listen when you told me about a maid's situation being complex. I was wrong
.

I couldn't see that I wasn't the only one who had to deal with a label I was uncomfortable with. I wish I had been braver then. I know now that I don't have to prove my identity to anyone. I can just be me and be from two different parts of the world and have two different ways of seeing it. One isn't more important than the other. I can't imagine what it's like for you, having Polish, Ghanaian and British cultures – especially when other people want to label you with just one of them
.

What I do know is that I know you. You're the boy who got into a fight for me when we were in primary school, the entrepreneur who sold his smoothie recipes to cafés and shops before he was fourteen and the boy who gave up his time to teach his best friend a subject she hated
.

You deserve to have people around you who can see you for who you are: amazing
.

I know I've messed up and I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I hope we can be friends again. If I can gain your friendship back, I want to prove that I am the girl you've always believed me to be
.

Yours sincerely
,

Makeeda

X

I didn't finish writing the letter until nine-fifteen and even then
I spent fifteen minutes hunting down an envelope. I went to Nick's house and dropped it through his letterbox.

As I turned away, I hoped he'd read it and not tear it up as soon as he recognised my handwriting.

At last, it was prom night and I was actually looking forward to hanging out with Bharti and Rafi. I was about to start getting ready but first I was determined to confront Delphina.

‘What's going on, Delphy?' I asked, walking into her room.

‘What do you mean?'

‘All that stuff about forging Mum's signature, to get the funds for your latest scheme?' I said.

Delphina looked away from me and returned to flicking through
Marketing Weekly
magazine.

‘Delphy, I know you're lying, I just haven't had the time to ask you about it yet. I remember what you were like when you heard that the owner of punctuationmark.com was accused of fraud. You sold every product you'd bought from
that website! I know you wouldn't do it, so fess up!' I said.

‘OK, OK! I didn't use that money; I never forged Mum's signature. I got the money from Uncle Paolo two months ago,' she said.

‘But Uncle Paolo and Auntie Leila have been out of contact for ages. We only heard from them the day we flew to Ghana … Oh Delphy, they called us here, but you lied about it?'

Delphy just stared at me, looking sheepish.

‘Oh boy, they'll kill you,' I said.

‘Yeah, but I had to. My money is all tied up in that stupid trust fund!'

A few months ago, Mum and Dad had started to put any money Delphina earned in a trust for her education. She wouldn't get a thing till she was eighteen.

‘Yes, but you know how Mum and Dad feel about borrowing money. Especially from relatives!' I said.

Mum and Dad had had a falling out with one of Dad's cousin's many years ago and vowed never to lend or borrow money.

‘Makeeda! Hurry up! Bharti will be here in an hour,' Mum shouted from across the landing, interrupting out conversation. She was in her and Dad's room.

‘Mum, I can get ready in an hour,' I shouted back.

‘Isn't that how long it takes you to get ready to go to school?' she said, appearing at the doorway to Delphy's room.

‘Yeah.'

‘This is your prom, Makeeda?' Mum added.

‘Good point,' I said, turning to leave.

‘Delphina,' Mum said in a deadly serious voice. ‘I need to talk to you about your real investor, because he just called to say he hopes for a good return.'

Delphina's face dropped and I could see she was pretty frightened.

‘See you, Delphy!' I said, leaving the room and rushing to the bathroom. I did feel bad about leaving her alone with Mum, but I could tell this was going to take a long time and there was no way I was going to be late tonight.

I was doing my make-up when Bharti arrived. She sat on my bed in her midnight-blue dress that made her look five years older (in a good way). Her hair was pinned away from her face with jewelled hair-slides. It just proved what I always knew – school uniforms ruin people's perception of you.

‘You look so gorgeous!' I said.

‘Thanks, those dance classes helped work off a few pounds! You don't scrub up too badly yourself. I can't believe you actually have a cleavage and a proper booty!'

‘Ha flipping ha!' I said.

‘So has Nick texted you yet?'

‘No,' I said. I was trying to focus on having a good time, not thinking about Nick.