I dialled a number I’d been made to memorize when I was three years old and held the phone to my ear.

There was a lot of static when I finally got through.

“Mummy? Mummy?”

“Gyi-?”

The static was terrible. I could barely hear her and maybe it was because I felt so small and helpless but I couldn’t stop crying, “Mummy please come home. I need you. Please come home.”

I was home alone. Dad was at the church and Sarfoa was in school. I’d just finished doing the laundry when my phone rang.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. You’re not the one I’m angry at,” Chidi said. There was no video this time.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s just that, I don’t know what I’ll do if this round of chemo doesn’t work.”

“It will. It has to.”

He sighed and remained quiet.

“Are you in the hospital?”

“Yes. They’re setting up.”

We were both quiet for some time until he said, “Will you do me a favour?”

“Anything, just ask,” I said.

“If anything happens . . .”

“Chidi don’t . . .”

“Gyikua please let me finish.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Just listen okay?”

I sighed. “Okay.”

“If anything happens will you please look out for my dad? He wouldn’t have anyone. It’ll be just him. Will you call him and invite him to your graduation and wedding and things like that? And during the holidays, could you call him and wish him ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy Easter’ and stuff?”

“I will, I promise,” I said. My throat had begun to burn.

“Thanks. And promise me that you’ll live. I mean really live. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Have fun. Take time to see the beauty around you. Life isn’t all about Sudoku puzzles, you know? Be spontaneous. Make every moment count. Be nice to people.”

I swallowed the lump that had built in my throat.

“I don’t regret coming to Ghana. I don’t regret meeting you. You’ve made these last months bearable. I only wish I’d met you sooner. I really, really wish I’d met you sooner.”

I wanted to say something to him as well to comfort him, but I didn’t have the right words. I didn’t want to say some meaningless cliché.

“I love you, Chidi.”

“Really? He sounded shocked and I could hear the smile in his voice. Even though I couldn’t see him I could picture the twinkle in his honey-coloured eyes.

“That was the second thing on my list for this year. I didn’t dare hope you loved me back. I’ll beat this thing Gyikua. I’ll beat it for us.”

I was curled up by the TV pretending to watch re-runs of ‘Ghana’s Most Beautiful’ when the truth was I didn’t care who won the competition. I’d spent most of the morning praying for Chidi.

Dear God please let him get better, don’t let him die was on an endless loop in my mind.

The front gate opened. I glanced at the wall clock. It was just 1p.m. It was too early for Dad and Sarfoa to be home.

I opened the door and stopped in my tracks. Mom was dragging her suitcase in. She was back! I ran to her and threw myself in her arms and we both just started crying.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I could but I shouldn’t have gone.”

Tears were streaming down her face. “I mean I had to go but I shouldn’t have stayed as long—”

“It’s okay Mummy. You’re back now. That’s all that matters.”

“Is everyone okay?”

I nodded.

“Dad and Sarfoa?”

“They’re fine. Dad’s at work and Sarfoa’s in school.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “I was so afraid when you called. It just became clear to me what I had done, what I was doing.”

She took a deep breath. “I abandoned you guys. I just left and. . .” She hugged me tighter, “Gyikua, I’m a mess right now. I need to get help. After Ntiriwa died, I had to do something, accepting it felt like I’d failed. I’m not sure I’m making sense but going to look for her was something I had to do.”

I nodded though I didn’t understand what she meant and I carried her suitcase inside.

“What happened that day you called? I was so scared.”

I told her everything. From school to gono to Chidi and WASSCE and to Chidi’s latest call.

She didn’t say anything. She just pulled me in for a hug. After a couple of minutes she said, “I used to think I had the answers.”