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At least, this second part of it was.
She was turning seven on the same day Kokou was turning thirty-five and I wanted it to be special for both of them. Finding out she shared the same birthday as Kokou made her positively giddy and she told everyone who would listen.
The first month of the vacation was spent in Nigeria. That happened after news hit the airwaves that I wouldn’t be returning to hockey. Myself, Angelo and Andy began getting phone calls from major teams wanting me to reconsider and play for them for at least a year.
I turned them all down and changed my phone number.
I was certain not all teammates were like the ones I had been playing with on the Rebels. But I couldn’t take that chance.
There were very few people I knew I could trust, and I was happy with the few of them.
Kennedy enjoyed Nigeria. The six—almost seven year old—enjoyed the food, especially the ones she got to eat with her fingers. If we allowed her, she’d eat Jollof Rice every day.
Egusi soup was her second favourite.
Kokou took her shopping and bought her the most colourful clothes—dresses and skirts. She’d even gotten Kennedy her own little headwrap which my daughter wore with such pride, I almost cried.
Since arriving in Santorini, we’d spent a lot of time touring small markets and on the beach. I realized that seeing Kokou in a bikini was aphrodisiac to me.
If it was permissible, she’d wear nothing else.
Most of the time, I sat on the blanket under our umbrella and watched her in the water with Kennedy. I loved the care she took of my child, the tender way she advised her, the soft sound of Kennedy’s laughter as she rode on Kokou’s back and was hit by a large wave.
Leaving Kennedy with Kokou didn’t scare me—not once.
What did that mean?
That night we had dinner on the beach. Kennedy caught us kissing again.
“Dad.” She called softly when we were having dessert.
“Yes, my love.”
“Is Abi going to be my new mom?” She wanted to know.
Kokou had choked on her food.
“Um…” I looked over at Kokou as she patted her lips. “Would you like her to be?”
“Abigail told me that a mom takes care of you.” Kennedy rationalized. “Makes sure no one hurts you.”
I nodded.
“Does that mean, Abi is already my mom?”
“Only if you want.” Kokou explained. “I’m not here to force you to call me mom.”
“What if one day I wanted to call you mom?” Kennedy pressed. “Could I?”
Tears welled up in Kokou’s eyes and toppled down her cheeks even as she nodded and hugged Kennedy.
“Until you’re ready, you can just call me Abi.” Kokou framed Kennedy’s cheeks. “How about that?”
Kennedy nodded and shoved some gelato into her mouth.
And just like that, my daughter was settled, and everything was right with her world.
I woke early the next morning before both of them to the smell of the ocean and sunlight streaming in through the window. I rolled over to the most beautiful sight—Kokou’s dark skin matching perfectly with the white sheets, and I almost passed out.
