Hold. Michael Donkor
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to control her quaking thigh. Her plan seemed to work until she started fidgeting with the ketchup’s lid instead. She rattled the can of Coke and watched Mary push Red-Red around her plate.
‘Finish all, Mary, to grow up big and strong, eh?’
‘You know Red-Red it always take me a long time to eat because –’
‘Mary – eat not talk, wa te?’
Mary wriggled off her seat. She began bouncing the ball Priscilla had convinced them to buy from the gift shop, along with mugs, rubbers, T-shirts, posters, bracelets, catalogues and sun hats that were all stored in heavy bags that spilled at their feet.
Boing. Catch. Boing. Catch. Boing. Catch.
Belinda considered taking the ball away, though the waitress who delivered more serviettes appeared undisturbed by Mary’s playing. And now Mary bounced it on the vacant table opposite. The ball knocked over a pot of salt. Mary ran to tidy up, then continued to bounce it on an empty seat.
Boing. Catch. Boing. Catch. Boing. Catch. Pleasure shone across Mary’s face.
‘You are not hungry, Mary?’
Boing. Catch. Boing. Catch.
‘Mary?’
Two old men sat to the right of Belinda, one much larger than the other, both engrossed in Oware. They lifted and dropped the grey counters delicately. Each of the bigger man’s moves began with a chuckle. Arching forward, his competitor hummed. Belinda noticed the piled pesewas between them. A group of white tourists pointed at the game. There were five of them, possibly students, nibbling boiled groundnuts off a large map. She heard them talking about how friendly the ‘locals’ were. Mary’s rhythm slowed as she threw the ball at the ceiling, zigzagging around the fans.
Boing. Catch. Boing. Catch.
Belinda shovelled steaming rice into her mouth and saw the slimmer player getting up from his seat and pacing around the table, checking his lot from different angles.
Boing. Catch. Boing.
Mary, at the counter now, made the cat screech. The waitress hummed. Belinda cracked two knuckles. Mary got one of the white tourists to his feet. His blond hair flew up as Mary threw the ball and he followed it.
Ta. Ta. Tap. Boing. Catch. Boing. Catch.
‘When you came from your mother’s vagina,’ Belinda heard, ‘it is pressing hard on your own head and making your brain stupid – too easy for me to win this!’
The slimmer man bobbed around, his fat challenger flaring his nostrils.
Boing. Catch. Boing. Ca–
The student leapt forward now, his loose, tie-dyed shirt inflating as he picked up Mary and chucked her into the air. The ball rolled outside. The mad cat pursued it.
‘MARY!’
Mary landed. Everyone stopped. The white man stood still. The old men forgot their game.
Heat ran across Belinda’s chest. ‘Come. And. Eat.’
Mary apologised to the student, who blushed and shook Mary’s hand.
‘Where’s the ball gone?’ Mary asked as she sat.
‘We can get another one, eh? For now, you just eat.’
‘OK, OK. I don’t know why you talking all rude and quick to me.’
‘Sorry. I don’t mean to. I don’t mean to at all.’
‘Hmm.’
‘And that, my friend, is a win!’ the fat man roared.
‘Is Oware in a way same like our Connect 4 only different? Do we have an Oware at Aunty and Uncle’s that they may let us borrow? My father use to –’
‘Mary, you are nearly a grown-up now, aren’t you? Almost twelve years?’ Belinda began, with false brightness.
‘I can stand up to anyone who is even trying to come close to fighting me. I will even beat seventeen-year-old you if you try. If that’s what you talking about?’
‘Part of it. Part.’
‘What else are you meaning then?’
Belinda flattened rice on the plate. ‘Being a grown-up is about needing less then less. As you get older, things get taken away. But you are OK with it. With losing the things, because you can sort of – you can make up for the lost thing yourself. You can be looking after yourself. The teddy bear goes. The mum and dad go. And is not problem.’
‘I don’t know if I really understand it, Belinda. And – from your face – I don’t think you do either.’ Mary wiped orange grease from the corner of her mouth. ‘Can’t we go back for one more ball?’
‘No we cannot. We cannot.’
‘But, Belinda –’
‘You won’t always get your own way. As adult, you won’t always get your own way. Wa te?’
‘The opposite. Adults have –’
‘You get strong by being disappointed sometimes. I know that is a truth.’
‘What?’
‘It is for best.’ Every part of Belinda’s body readied to run out of the canteen. She denied each one. ‘This Nana who has stayed in the house for some weeks now?’
‘What of her? I told you: out of ten, I think I would give her about five and a half. She’s OK and I really like all the nice dresses she wear and her nice lighter face, but she also a bit weird? I know she is a Ghanaian truly, but is as if all those years over in the Great Britain for working like Uncle and Aunty did something crazy-crazy to her mind. She keeps looking at me with a funny eye when I’m only offering her more Supermalt or something. Or maybe is even only because she is getting old and that is the reason she cannot hang on to all of her marbles.’
‘She and the husband have said for me to travel from the house. They will take me to their London, eh? You, you have it? Aunty and Uncle, they say yes. They know is a great thing. I will not come back. You. You will not see me. It is for the best.’ It was right that the words came out slowly.
‘Tomorrow? You leave tomorrow, eh?’
‘No. We wait for papers – they have to pay someone at the Embassy. Something like this.’
‘I. I knew that we would not be forever. I knew one day it will happen, but.’
‘Aane.’
Mary stopped to fish ice cubes out of her Coke, then looked up. ‘You? You, you’re RUBBISH, hearing me?’ Mary stood and pointed. ‘You so … RUBBISH! And you right, I don’t need you. Not only because I’m adult. But because I’m better than you.’
‘Mary –’
‘So go take your stupid self to London. You go do it, I don’t care. I’m not even crying one tear.’
The white man came over. ‘Is everything cool here?’ He fingered wooden beads at his neck.
‘Perfect and fine. Please, good day.’
‘I was only …’ He shuffled back to his muttering friends.
‘I am not clever enough for London, or something, eh? My letters and number not so excellent like yours. Eh? Not pretty enough? My hair is too rough for London?’ Mary grabbed the baubles on her head, tossed them, loosened the two bunches. ‘I am sorry Aunty and Uncle did not pay for me to go to hairdresser to get nice plaits like you to show off at Nana and the husband. I am sorry no one is giving me shiny dress to wear!’
Belinda reached towards her.
‘You don’t come near.’
‘We –’
‘I