“I’m alone, and of course you can come in.” I open the door to make room for her to step through it.
She exhales as if she was holding her breath. “Thank you. I’m sorry to drop by like this.” She slips past me and takes her black, pointed toe flats off and lines them up neatly next to the pair of basketball sneakers I left there a few hours ago.
I gaze down at them side by side and like the way it looks. She clears her throat, and I look up to find her watching me. I even pretend that I’m sorry she caught me and my smile deepens.
Her eyes narrow “What are you smiling at?”
I shrug. “Just…you’re here.”
She quirks her pursed lips and shrugs. “I know I asked for space but I really needed to talk to someone, and it’s you.”
Flattered and happy doesn’t begin to describe how it makes me feel to hear those words. “I’m glad you came. I’m just cleaning up after dinner. Do you mind hanging out in the kitchen?”
“Sure.” She looks down, and I follow her gaze to her bare feet. She wiggles her cute pink-tipped toes, and I have to rip my eyes away and swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.
She clears her throat, and I drag my eyes back to her face. Her brown skin is glowing despite the cold and her dark brown eyes are limpid in this light. I wonder if she’s remembering the same thing I am, but know better than to ask. “Do you have an extra pair ofchale wotes? I hate being barefoot.”
I nod and smile at her use of the Ghanaian colloquialism for flip-flops. “Then you’ve come to right place. I do, too. Excuse me.” I point to the wall panel behind her. “I need to get in there.”
“Sure.” She ducks her head and steps aside. I press the wall with the flat of my hand. The top panel springs open to reveal a cabinet full of house slippers in every color and size. “Take your pick. I ordered a dozen pairs in every size when I was in Ghana last.”
She stares at the wall long enough for me to wonder if she heard me. I’m about to repeat myself when she takes a step toward it.
“Wow, a secret panel full of shoes…I thought I’d have to die and go to heaven to see something like this,” she says and pulls out a black pair covered in a gold and white pattern made up of the Adinkra symbol my parents used to create our family crest, and that adorns everything with his name on it.
She murmurs something under her breath as she inspects them.
“Will those work?” I ask.
“Yeah, this is Bese Saka.”
“My mother had it embossed on her stationary. It stands for affluence, abundance, and unity.” I smile despite the wistful pang in my chest.
“Talk about manifesting your life.” She waves her hand around the grand room.
“Except she never really got to enjoy it. This was her dream house…and she never lived in it.” I laugh like I’ve made a joke and turn away from her before I say more. The slap of the rubber shoes hitting the floor is followed by the shuffling of her soles.
I make my way without waiting for her, but she catches up with me in a matter of steps. “So, she left it to you?”
“Yes. She wanted me to make it a home. She loved it.”
“I see why. It’s beautiful,” she says, her head swiveling to take in the cavernous, furniture-free living room and dining room. “Why don’t you have any furniture?”
“I have everything I need. Just…haven’t gotten round to decorating.”
“If I lived here, I’d never leave. It’s gorgeous.”
It’s funny how differently we see this space. I realize that I haven’t actually looked at the parts of the house I don’t live in. She’s right. The rooms have two-story-high windows that overlook different ends of the massive back lawn.
“I work a lot. But maybe I should—”
“Oh my God,” she gasps as we step into the kitchen.
“What?” I ask, looking around for what could have elicited the sound.
“This kitchen, it’s beautiful. It’s a dream.” She walks over to the first island and runs the flat of her hand over the white, grey and gold counter tops and shakes her head in awe. “Wow, I’ve never seen stone like this.”
“It was made especially for the house in Ghana. Much like everything else they purchased for the renovations.” That pang of wistful regret is back. I hate that my mother never got to live in this house that she built with so much care.
