I took a taxi to the Kwabenya estates where Aseye lived. I was so numb that all I wanted to do was sleep. Her neighbourhood was still largely in the process of being built. Construction work was going on on many plots of land. It would look nice when it was finished but for now it wasn’t where I’d want to live. I wondered how Aseye survived. Her house itself was not fully constructed, but the family had had no choice but to move into the partially constructed house instead of renting accommodation somewhere else. There were two heaps of sand and one of gravel in front of the house. There was no gate. Cement blocks had been arranged beneath a neem tree. Masons were mixing cement and laying blocks on one of the neighbouring plots. Carpenters were busy on a third plot. There was dust everywhere. Mr

Worsonu was at home. He met me at the door. Mr Worsonu was an older version of Aseye. No one had to tell you they were related. He was fully dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, black trousers and shoes that were so black and shiny that I could see my reflection in them. He was all dressed up with nowhere to go. I felt sorry for him but not as sorry as for myself. There was a man out there who was a male version of me but to him as well

I was ‘a mistake’.

“Hi, Buerki. We didn’t know you were coming. Aseye just went to buy prepaid credit.”

“Can I wait for her?”

“Sure. She’d love to see you. She keeps complaining that there’s nothing to do here.”

I didn’t blame Aseye. I wondered how she could stand all the noise from the construction work.

“Why don’t you wait in her room? We haven’t unpacked our furniture yet. Are you okay? Mr Wosornu asked after taking a second look at me.

“Allergies,” I said as I followed Mr Wosornu through the living room to Aseye’s room.

The living room had been converted into a storage room. Boxes, trunks, books—just about everything had been unceremoniously dumped there.

Aseye’s room had been painted cream. Her room was not furnished either but a wardrobe with a dresser in the middle stood by one wall.

Her trunk and chopbox stood in a corner of the room and her mattress was on the floor. In another corner, on top of a wooden table, was an open suitcase. Aseye was packing for school. I dropped my bag and lay down on the mattress. I had spent many holidays with Aseye when we both lived at Roman Ridge. I knew her parents wouldn’t mind if I asked to stay with them for a while. After Mama died—after Asi died, Mrs Wosornu had asked Pope to let me stay with them for some time, but Pope had declined the offer. He’d said Nene needed me. I think what he’d meant was he himself needed me. I think he’d wanted us all to be together. Now with me out of the way, he and Naadu could have the family they deserved.

Aseye’s slam book was by the side of her mattress. Almost everyone had written “Boys a brɛ” or “Girls a brɛ” as their favourite saying.

I had filled the first page. The first page was always filled by the owner’s BFF. I read through what people had written and laughed. Had it just been five months since we finished school? I felt a pang. I would miss Aseye. I’d always thought we’d be in the same university together. We’d even agreed to share the same room in a hostel. We’d had plans. I’d be the one who drove us to the lectures when I got my license at eighteen, and Aseye would be the one who cooked our food. Now she, Sedem, Jennifer and even Lamisi would be in the same school. I closed the slam book and dropped it back to the floor.