Chapter 2
Ana was up before morning broke. She had been doing this for the past decade so it had become a part of her. Toasted bread with fried egg was all her busy day permitted. In the kitchen, while breakfast was not ready yet she would go through her mail on her MacBook on many occasions.
At times, she wished a day was about thirty-six or forty-two hours, so that she could accomplish many tasks before retiring to bed. She was too much of a workaholic that many a time she would grudgingly succumb to the inarguable power of sleep with complaints of unfinished work on her lips. She would wake up and the first thought on her mind was work.
Joe, the fetus she nearly aborted sixteen years ago, came to the kitchen in his training kits. He pecked his mother good morning and went for the fridge. Ana rolled up her eyes and pouted her lips. He had not brushed yet.
Joe was her pride and joy.
Ana could not help but complain about the fumes that left his mouth in the peck. They had been living under the same roof all their lives. He was used to her grumbles. He smiled as he gulped down some cold water. He was about to go jogging.
'Why do you always conceal the truth?' Joe teased.
Ana smiled and bit her lip. She knew what her son was insinuating, and it was one trait that was characteristic of Joe's late father.
Back then, when Joe's father met Ana, he could tease the beauty out of her until she was blushing uncontrollably. She always complained that she did not like being teased, but always had a smile on while she tossed and hopped around sheepishly in her blush.
Joe turned around, expecting a grin on his mother's face, and there it was, as wide as their frying pan.
He had been teasing his mother for a long-time. He says that she blushed anytime he gave her a peck, and that he was growing suspicious of her. He had suggested dating sites for her on countless occasions, most especially when she came home totally exhausted, but she would turn the offer down a million times because 'it's preposterous,' she always said. Ana would rather have a walk with pappy, her dog, than spend a few hours with one politician who did not know what to make of tax payers' money.
Rising through the ranks, she had had countless offers from business gurus who promised her the Osu Castle but she turned all of them down.
'Heartbreakers, cheats, once I slip on a banana peel and fall open legged on their groin, I'll be of no use to them.' These were her words.
After the disheartening incident with her late husband, her weakness to love again had gone into hibernation. A quantum of pain difficult to fathom, had been brewing in her still-assembling heart after her first love remorselessly shattered it.
She admired her son with pride as he squatted to lace his Nike. She had single-handedly taken care of him for sixteen solid years. What an achievement that was, taking into consideration how reality sunk her during the aftermath of the emotional misery.
Ana, before she landed her first job, would be the first to arrive at the premises of a company during the day of interview. Countless times she would perform outstandingly well at the interview but would not allow the final phase that most CEOs wanted, sex. Persistence has never broken a bone in the history of mankind, after the uncountable questioning, evaluation, and conferences, eventually, she landed herself a job. It was at no other company than one of the largest companies in Accra. Naturally hardworking, she caught the eye of the owner of the company. Years later, with the old man's help, Ana began her own.
Initially it was difficult, but Ana was a fighter. At one point she nearly sold her mansion to pay for some losses incurred. She was fortunate to survive the droughts and dips of the endeavour. Years later, she began seeing signs of fruits. Those signs were more invigorating than anything.
Competition was tough, especially for Ana. Females hardly roamed certain corridors of power, but she did, which paid off handsomely.
She now had them in her pocket after weathering all their storms. Nothing succeeds like success, once she reached up the social ladder, the right people came her way. She was a smooth talker who could persuade anyone to perform what she wanted, this she used to her advantage. For the suitors that came her way once in a while, she gave them zero tolerance. If a man loved Ana and stood before her, before he could talk she would have already read his mind. She would tell you it cannot happen.
Back to the kitchen, Joe mocked her with a wink on his way out. A wink that said earn for yourself someone who would love you. Ana could see Kwame waiting in the compound. They had been jogging together after knowing they were both Manchester United fans.
During one weekend, after a match that they won, Kwame could not help but put up a Manchester United flag out in his window. It was there that Joe knew they were on the same side of the pitch.
Kwame lived next door. He was an up and coming writer, with his first novel currently halted because the suitable agent was hard to find. He was not interested in self-publishing, though he had all the needed resources. He prefers radio to television, because he claims the radio stimulates more imageries in the mind than the tele.
He was older than Joe but younger than Ana.
Kwame's father, who now resided in the States due to medical reasons, bought the house a few months after Ana moved into hers. They had been good neighbours for a long-time. Kwame was born to Ghanaian parents but schooled in the United States. After school, he began helping his Uncle run his father's companies in the States whiles his father oversaw those in Ghana and other West African countries, but when his health started failing him, an exchange was necessary. Too much cigarette and vodka, his heart was failing him by the month. Before he left he told Ana a lot about his son. Ana needed not be clairvoyant to know that it was a tactful way of saying kindly keep an eagle eye on my son when I am not around.
Ana watched Kwame and Joe walk out the gate. She smacked her laptop, shove it into her hand bag, and went for her car.
If you could share my work and vote, I'll be eternally grateful.
