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"Oh God." Porsha mutters and then she scoots away from me. I watch her for a second, as she covers her nose with her scarf and tucks herself into her corner of the car.
"What?” I laugh, “Porhsa, you're such a princess, " I tease before I turn to face the boy.
But instead of just him standing there, there are at least a dozen people. All of them jostling to shove their wares in my face.
"Roasted corn, miss. It's delicious" A young pretty girl smiles at me.
"Oh, I have some nice pineapple for you." Another, slightly older woman pushes her aside to show the huge, bright yellow wedges all bagged up and ready to be handed over to me.
"All of you go away," Ken yells. My window rolls up, and for the first time I feel grateful for his booming voice. All of the people jump away from the car in surprise right before the window closes on their hands. Before I could feel badly about the little boy who lost his sale, they all rushed off to the car behind us whose passenger had his hand hanging out the car with a Cedi bill, Ghana's currency, dangling from his fingers.
"You can't roll the windows down like that, especially when we're stuck in traffic. They'll never leave you alone and every time they see this car, they'll surround it." Porsha says.
"So you don't ever buy anything from them?"
"Yes. But closer to home. And usually water when we're stuck in traffic for hours."
"For hours?" My eyes bug out at that. The congestion in Accra was always bad but, we’d never been stuck in traffic for hours.
"It's only like that at Christmas when all of you people who live in America and Europe descend on the city. It took me four hours to get home once last year. It's usually a twenty-minute trip. You picked a good time to come actually."
"Sounds like it. Though, we're all traveling to the UK for a wedding right after Christmas, and I'm not really looking forward to that."
"Oh, you're traveling to the UK? Are you going to tell Harry? I mean, you could see him again."
The thought sends my stomach lurching and then my phone buzzes. I know it’s him. He always texts or calls as soon as I think or talk about him. It all feels so serendipitous.
"Hi. You here yet?" Those butterflies started waking up at his greeting. Nothing excites me as much as the start of all of our conversations. I never know where they'll go. But since we started talking every day, they are the best part of my day.
"Mm hmm." I say, smiling at him even he though can't see me, I know he can hear it and feel it. That thought makes everything inside of me flutter and float.
"Can I see you tonight?" He drawls into my ear.
"Absolutely," I answer immediately and he laughs. It’s a happy, ri
ch sound that makes every cell in my body sing with anticipation.
"I miss you, too." His voice drops to a whisper and I giggle. I’m as giddy as a fool and I love it.
Porsha groans. I stick out my tongue out at her. She makes an annoyed sucking sound with her mouth and looks away.
"Tell me where you're staying. I'll come for you." Harry’s soft demand pulls me back.
"Oh, um..." I shoot a glance at Porsha who's busy texting on her phone. "I don't think that's going to be possible. I'll have to come to you. And I'll have to leave the house with Bambi. I'm staying with her mother."
"Stay with me." He says, all of that invitation and promise sets me tingling.
"I can't, Harry," Before I can finish, Porsha has snatched my phone from my hands and is putting to her ear.
"Harry, hello!" She says cheerily.
"Hey, I was talking," I yell at her.
She ignores me, "So, we need to plan our time. We'll come to you, but not until after dinner and we'll need to be back in the house before my mother wakes up.” She says and then she sighs derisively. “Don’t shout at me. Those are the rules. Don't worry. You’ll get plenty of time to do your dirty business--" and at that I snatch the phone back.
"That's enough," I snap at her before I wipe the smear of her chocolate brown make up off my screen.
I hear Harry's laughter as I settle it back on my ear. "So we've got to be like teenagers this week?" He asks sounding like he finds the idea pleasant.
