The Marriage Transaction

Convincing

The change in Joyce's room was striking. The walls of the room were stark and bare, except for large picture of Jesus. Majid Michel was nowhere in sight. Everything in the room was neatly arranged, and unlike the last time, no books were strewn around; they were all perfectly arranged in the bookcase. Not a single hair was out of place in the room, causing Kwabena to be fearful of touching anything in case he disturbed the delicate balance of order. 

Joyce sat by the desk in her room and gave him a weak smile. Her face seemed to have hollowed out since the last time, making her large eyes more prominent. The spark in her eye, the personality that he had been so attracted to was absent.

"My parents send their greetings. Especially mom. 'Tell that sweet girl to call me'", he said in a falsetto to mimic his mom, as he sat gingerly on her bed. That earned him a bemused look from Joyce.

"How are they?", she asked politely. She looked at him for a second, then looked away. Was that shame he saw in her expression?

"Up to their usual shenanigans. They are in Las Vegas as we speak, doing God knows what. When I informed dad that Vegas was a den of iniquity also called 'Sin City', he response was, 'God's grace will see us through'". This time, Joyce cracked up at the imitation, her eyes lighting up and crinkling at the edges.

"Your poor parents. How did they survive with a son like you mocking their every move?", she asked, watching as he walked over from the bed to sit on her desk.

"I try not to do it when they are around. Mom has a mean right hook. Catch her in the wrong mood and she will unleash her inner Tyson on you. I learned to watch my mouth very early on, though I play with them more these days since they can't hit me any more." Joyce feigned shock and horror on her expression.

"Why would anyone hit such a well-mannered, well-behaved son?", she asked with mock incredulity.

 "Never have I been accused of such things" he quipped.

"I know", Joyce responded. "I heard some of the stories". Kwabena looked up sharply. He wasn't aware that his childhood indiscretions had traveled so far from home.

"From mom, I bet. She is quite the talker sometimes". Joyce nodded in agreement.

"Especially with my mom. I don't think those two have any secrets from each other after all these years". That gave Kwabena the opening he had been seeking.

"It was mom who told me about Koku. I am so sorry. I can't imagine how you feel". He looked up to see that Joyce had gone perfectly still, and was staring at the floor. When she finally looked up, a haunted expression on her almost gaunt features.

"Kobs, I beg you. I do not want to talk about it. It has been difficult enough with my parents tiptoeing around me, and looking at me with pity. My friends treat me like a glass that will shatter at the slightest touch. The grief is painful enough without this kind of treatment". Kobs nodded slowly. He had to proceed very delicately here if the relationship had any chance of proceeding.

"I will make you a deal. You don't mention any of the stories you heard about my childhood to anyone, and I won't bring this issue up again." Joyce shook her head in mock amazement, but her lips crinkled upwards. She extended her hand and Kwabena shook on it. Then he flipped her hand over in his and examined her palm. "Kwe, you have the hands of a laborer", he said, feeling out her callouses. She snatched her hand away self-consciously. "A hard-working hand, I wouldn't have expected that", he continued, sensing she was uncomfortable that he noticed.

"So, I need some help. I am visiting my friend who has two boys, and I want to get something for them, but have no idea what children would like. Can you help me with a few suggestions?" Joyce gave him a quizzical look.

"What makes you think I would know what children like?", she asked. Kwabena could recognize a trap when he saw one, so he chose his next words carefully.

"Oh you don't? Must be the halo effect in play here. I have constructed a mental image of you where you know everything". Her eyes narrowed at him, and he knew she saw through his bs. "Well, I have a few nephews, so I know a bit", she responded. Kwabena sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. "How old are they", Joyce asked?

"Seven and five."

She considered for a minute. "And how close are you with your friend?"

"He is basically my brother. I met him when we moved to Taifa in my teens, and he spent all day in our house, when we were not roaming around town causing trouble." This earned him a slight chuckle.

"So, getting his boys a drum set would be ok"?

Kwabena grinned. "You are an evil genius. How did I not think of that? Remind me never to get on your wrong side".

For the first time since he barged into her room, Joyce gave him a face splitting smile, one that caused the edges of her large brown eyes to crinkle. "Oh, I did it to a friend of mine. She curses me to this day about it". Kwabena feigned shock and pretended to collapse on the floor.

"Such a little devil." "As much as I would love to torment Arnold, his wife is awesome. She will have to deal with all the noise the boys will make, and I can't do that to her. Any other genius ideas?"

"Guns are always a safe purchase for boys. Unless you know if they are into a particular sport, or passionate about something."

Kwabena thought for a second, but came up empty. "Is there a children's store around where I can walk around and hope to get struck by inspiration?"

"Yeah, theres a couple on Oxford street."

Kwabena reflexively grimaced when he heard the street. "Not that tourist trap", he lamented. "Anywhere else?". Joyce pondered for a second.

"There are other places, but a burger like you will struggle to find it".

Kwabena stood and stretched out his long legs. " Ok, then. Lets go". He turned to walk towards the door, ignoring the look of panic on Joyce's face.

"Lets go, where?" Joyce's voice was tinged with panic.

"You said yourself that I wouldn't find these places on my own. You are the expert, both in children's toys, and where they are sold. So please, help me out. Take me to these places."

Joyce looked everywhere, but at him, while shaking her head vehemently. "I can't. I have too much to do. Mom is out, and I have to get dad his food, and other things".

Kwabena remembered the look on Mr. Asare's face, and decided to ignore the pleading note in her voice. "Joyce, I really need this. It is the second time I am meeting the boys. The first time, I was stupid enough not to bring them anything. I can't screw up two times in a row. What kind of uncle will I be?". This argument seemed to resonate with her, so he pressed his advantage, lowering his voice for effect. "If I can convince your dad to release you from the food obligation, would you come with me?", he whispered, batting his eyes furiously in mock flirtation. He got another chuckle from her.

"You are an odd one, Kobs. Yes, I will".

Kwabena rubbed his hands in exaggerated glee. "Let me go work my charm on your old man", he said walking out of the room. "Meet me downstairs when you are ready". He hurried back down before she could change her mind.