Mummy, pick up the fucking phone.

Reddened eyes follow your Father’s limping gait, feet obediently dragging in calculated care not to outperform the other.

Pii… / Pi… / Piipii… / Beep… / Beeeeeep…

‘Lord, I'm amazed, I no fit describe my feelings

Gave me all the love when I needed you

Ɔhene mese what more could I ask for?...’

Wrong question, chale.

The number

5

 you are calling

4

 is currently

3

unreachable

2

Please

1

 try again—’

Smash!

‘Daddy!’

‘That’s not her voice! That’s not her voice!’

Heavy, hesitant hands are contemplating reaching for his hunched back, sweat-drenched from worry.

Your lips part themselves to usher a warning that never arrives.

‘Sowah…’ Wet, sorrowful lenses search for yours as soon as the ‘aitch’ lands.

The AC has been purring for hours but the room has grown more suffocating and hotter with looming doom.

Your Father is already on his knees… again, smacking dangerously large palms against the floor—now painted with mangled pieces of the device, scattered like hastily spread maize seeds—over, over, over, over.

‘They’re lying, okay? Her number can be reached; it’s just the network!’

 Spank, spank, spank

Your eyebrows have not scrunched or furrowed once

Wham!

It misses your forehead by a feathered kiss

Smash!

The coffee table and louvre finally taste the hot round of medicine

‘Daddy!’

Your arms are now fisted at the sides, shaking from the odd mix of worry, anger, desperation and exhaustion.

You make the dire mistake of closing your eyes — and your memory wickedly betrays you:

‘8:00 o’clock on the dot once again, Mi Lobi,’ quick successive keyboard taps transcend time and place.

‘8:00 o’clock on the dot once again, Mi Sweeti,’ a blinding smile plants itself as you watch him completely forget the sizzling pancakes on fire with each backward step.

‘Yehowa, is that how foolish you’re going to look too?’

The question never gets old.

‘I hope so,’ your heavy hand grabs the spatula and takes his place, knowing that it would be a hot minute before Your Father remembers he shares two breathing beings with his Mi Lobi.

‘ I want that.’

‘What?’

‘What Mummy & Daddy have.’

‘I thought you said it was disgusting,’ shooting a teasing smirk her way.

‘Past tense.’

‘I thought you said ‘there aren't any good men left in Accra.’

Out of habit, you skilfully dunk  before the kitchen napkin hits your chest. 

‘You injure me p3, it is burnt pancakes that you will eat,’ pointing the spatula in warning.

‘Kwerhhh, Chef, Chef!  Anaa bopo!’

You roll your eyes and shake your head at the fan fooling.

‘What do you think Mum’s doing? Twirling herself in her office chair or walking up and down?’

His laughter ricochets off the walls in your direction in a timely fashion.

You cast each other knowing looks.

‘Probably both,’ you each chorus.

The colour of the room swirls between baby blue and powder red; it is  getting claustrophobic with the irking ticking of the imposing Grandfather clock.

259200 seconds+

4320 minutes

72 hours

You’ve been counting since

A timber-carrying tipper truck knocked your prayerful, laugh-out-loud, forehead-kissing, 5 ft 2 Mother off the bridge

Into the Sogakope river

The body first found you in your dreams;

your Father still needs to hear it from the corpse's own mouth.