Is there a difference between falling in love and being in love? Because Nana Yaw, fell into something that seemed to have no floor. It was great and exhilarating, and at the same time, a teensy bit scary. He was never really anxious about getting hurt by her when they started dating. Loving his woman was like a work he was doing gladly, which wasn’t really work at all for him. He was comfortable making sacrifices for her. However, he got turned down by the one person he really wanted to be with. – DBM
I was paid to be in her life, to play the part she could find trustworthy. To fit the kind of man she could notice and fall in love with if possible. My job was simple: to get her to confide in me. We needed to know what she knew and how deep she could be involved in whole problem. I clearly understood my role but did not really understand what I was not supposed to do. I thought I had it all figured out before I knocked on her door that evening. I was a private investigator with the Bureau. I loved my job. I loved the different characters I had to play per case to get the desired result tasked me. I was young, unmarried and adventurous. The best part of my job was the fact that it did afford me the opportunity to have a lot of sex with a lot of women (all in the line of duty). Anything to get the job done was our motto. And we did anything, so far as it wasn’t entirely criminal. And the moment we were done with a case, we left it: no explanations given to anyone, nothing.
I knew her boyfriend wasn’t going to be home that evening. Her guy was our main object and he had been marked by a different PI from the Bureau. My mark was his girlfriend. Her name is Adoma by the way. And, she’s such a sweet affectionate lady, very open hearted and generous of nature, and she genuinely cared about her boyfriend. From the first moment I met her, I knew I could like her that easily. I recognized there was something very special about the way she smiled at me when she opened the door. It was a shy, funny smile that dazzled me that first evening of our meet.
I introduced myself and told her I worked for a fake company I had to come up with before knocking on her door. I was delivering chocolates and flowers to her. The package had just a message I had written, but had no name to it. She kept asking me who it was from and I smiled back at her in confusion. I thought she wasn’t going to accept it since it had no name to it, but she took it. I found out later she loves chocolates. The next time I saw her was two weeks after that first meet. She was on her way to work, and I was following, four cars behind her. I got to know where she worked, and made my inquiries. I visited her office that afternoon with a second package of chocolates.
This time round, she flushed with happiness. Adoma looked across her desk/table and broke into a smile. She remembered me. With a kind of flourish and a little silly grin, I handed the package across the table to her. She thanked me, and asked if it was chocolate again. I nodded and she opened the package hurriedly to take a bite of one. She gave me one to eat, and then, started to have a conversation with me. I loved the way she bit the chocolate and chewed it. Her phone rang and she answered it. She bit back a smile of amusement when she had to keep quiet to listen to whoever was on the phone. Her facial expression changed, and I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. My phone vibrated and it was a text message from her boyfriend’s mark. He was informing me about the guy’s status. Her boyfriend was at the airport and was about boarding a plane. He had been made out by the guy somehow, and was running away.
My colleague asked if my mark was on a phone call, because his was. I texted back, and switched off my phone. I saw a tear drop from her eyes. I looked up at her through the corner of my eye. For some weird reason I was thinking she could be the only woman for me. The only woman I could ever want to be settled with. Adoma glanced down as I was looking up. Our eyes met and held for a brief moment. I tried to smile at her, lovingly, but she wouldn’t smile back. And then trying so hard to figure out what was going on with her to be making her cry, our eyes met again, this time, intensely. A stare that conveyed a lot of messages without the benefit of words. At least, that’s what I thought. I got up from my seat when she was done talking on the phone to hug her so tight. The ‘I wouldn’t let go’ kind of hug, and she held on to it for a while, crying on my shoulders.
“My boyfriend just broke up with me.” She cried.
I made an effort not to say anything. I just kept on hugging her. After a minute or two, I let go. I think a very intimate communication passed between us and we both caught our breaths, staring at each other. I left her office to go sit in my car. I liked her. I really liked her very much. I switched my phone back on, and before leaving her premises, managed to get her contact number from one of the staff at her workplace. I sent her a text message to check on her before driving off. So it was through the constant phone calls and texts that got us talking. All that while I had forgotten all about my assignment and why I was to be close to her. My interest had changed.
I was looking forward to an outing with her, two months and some weeks later, to enjoy a carefree day of pleasure since her breakup. She was standing by her window when I got inside of her house. She turned away from the window and walked over to a chair and sat down. She had changed her mind, and wanted to rather spend the day with me, indoors. My mood lightened, and my eyes did not leave her face. She looked so beautiful and innocent. When she came to a standstill in front of me, I put my arm around her affectionately and held on her so tightly. A part of me wanted to lead her to her bedroom to do so many things to her, but I wasn’t sure of the timing. I gently drew her into my arms, kissed her deeply and with growing passion. I had fallen in love with my Adoma without even knowing it. And it felt so good to know I loved my lady that deeply.
Events were moving so rapidly I could scarcely keep track of them. Adoma got pregnant and I wasn’t going to raise my first child out of wedlock. I wanted to marry her and I knew she was going to love the idea of us officially joined together. For the months that followed, I walked around like a sleepwalker. She wouldn’t come and live with me at my home. She was comfortable staying in her own house, so I often would sleep at her end, doing everything routinely, as if by rote. I wanted her to feel comfortable and safe whenever I was or not around. I ensured she had an easy life and pregnancy term. I did not stress her. I cooked, I cleaned, I washed, just name it. And I enjoyed doing every chore in her honor.
I made the mistake of confiding in one of my colleagues at work, and my cover was blown. I was taken off my assignment, and was asked to re-tune myself for administrative work. A different agent was going to be assigned to my woman, and I wasn’t in agreement. I did everything to get the Bureau to back off but they wouldn’t. Adoma was eight months pregnant when she got a phone call from my employers. She had been briefed of who I was and had been warned to be on the alert. They were willing to jeopardize the whole assignment because I had fallen in love with the asset. What my employers did not know was, she wasn’t opening up about her ex-boyfriend. She just wouldn’t talk about him. The name Adoma addressed of me then, wasn’t my real name. I had been so caught up with loving on her, so much so, that I had forgotten my real name wasn’t the one she knew of me. Eventually, I had to even add it to my names, because I loved the way Adoma mentioned it whenever she saw me.
I did not hear from my woman for three weeks. She wasn’t at her home. She wasn’t going to work, she couldn’t be reached on phone. I had met her mother and sister once, but had no idea exactly where they stayed in Accra. I was at home, propping a pillow behind my back, trying to make myself comfortable – when a phone call came in. Adoma had been hospitalized and had given my contact number to the doctor, as the father of her child. I had grown to love this woman so much that, everything about her concerned me. When I got to the hospital, she had delivered a healthy looking baby boy. The doctor informed me of Adoma’s inability to speak. She couldn’t walk too. She could hear you talk, but couldn’t respond verbally. She either just nodded or would write her response on a paper by her bedside.
When she saw me enter her ward, she picked the pen to try to write something on the piece of paper for me, but then, she checked out. Her mother was by her side. She had fallen into coma or something. It was a scary scene. Her hand was still holding the pen, and she had written ‘Cy’ on it. I didn’t know what she was trying to say, because it was incomplete. We waited for her to come back to consciousness but it was taking weeks. I named our son, Cy (Pronounced ‘Sai’). Whatever that name meant. And looking at my son today, I have been blessed beyond belief. To complain would be sinful. When Adoma gained consciousness, and could talk, she turned my marriage proposal down when I asked her to consider marrying me.
“Can we just be friends?” she said. Her reasons being, she couldn’t trust me.
It felt like a punch in my stomach. Seriously, I couldn’t breathe. It felt more like, everything and everyone around me had just stopped and were pointing fingers at me, laughing.
Apparently, they were still in touch while she was dating me, and was all part of their plans to make things seem normal – for me not to suspect her of any ill deeds. The day she received that phone call of a breakup, her husband was telling her all about me. She knew everything about me that day in her office, but I did not suspect a thing. She played me so well I did not know I was being played. I also found out, I was the only one in love in our relationship, or whatever I thought was a relationship between us. Sometimes, I would want to hate her so badly, but then, when I think of our son, I’m forced to let go of the anger. I’d want to believe she loved me too, even though she’s claiming she wasn’t into me.
In actuality, Cy looks a lot like his mother. Certainly, he had inherited Adoma’s smile, her forehead, and her happy-go-to-for-a-dose-of-life nature. If he is sometimes annoying, he was, nevertheless, a good child, very obedient, always wanting to help with something by messing up something. I am currently spending time with my son in London, while pursuing my PhD in English. Adoma is married to the boyfriend who had broken up with her, and they live in Dallas. I am not married yet, but dating a nice lady I think would marry next year – when I am done with school.” – From N Y T