‘It doesn’t matter.’ Nella waves one elegant hand in the air, but Anika continues.
‘It does.’ She sips her coffee, then puts the cup down and looks into her mother’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t pretend it wasn’t tough back then, but it’s not like you don’t know that. You absolutely did the best for me. I took it for granted, but I wouldn’t be here without you, Mum. I want to make sure you know that I’mgrateful. So, so grateful.’ As she finishes, tears well up in her throat but she picks up the coffee cup again to swallow them down with some of the rapidly cooling liquid.
Nella looks down at her lap, unused to such heartfelt conversations. ‘All I have ever wanted is to provide the best I can for you. I know it was difficult when it was just you and me. It was tough, let me tell you no lie. I wanted … Well, you were a gift, that is certain. I did not have a chance to give you a brother or a sister to keep you company.’ She shakes her head. ‘And then Clive was not a man to be a father. If things with your own father and me had ended up differently? Well …’ A long sigh. ‘But he gave you a brother, not so? Someday maybe you two could become closer.’
Anika regards her mother, surprised. ‘There’s a lot I need to fix there.’ She’s quiet for a moment. ‘Mum, I basically just wanted to say – you were all I needed. You’ve always been there for me and now … well, now at least I have a chance to show you how much I appreciate it.’
Her mother gives a slight shrug, but her eyes shine with emotion. ‘We cannot move alone in this world, that is for certain.’ Smoothing a hand over her skirt, with a sly look she adds, ‘I saw Cameron’s mother when we went to the concert last week, you know.’
Anika was jealous of her mother going to see the legendary Anita Baker perform at the Royal Albert Hall – she’s not at all surprised that the place was crawling with aunties, though. She looks away at the mention of Cam. ‘Oh, right.’
Nella’s voice softens. ‘Have you spoken to him?’
Since everything that happened after Anika’s collapse, Cam has been checking in with Shamz to find out how she’s doing, but they haven’t been in touch directly. She’s been scared to reach out to him, telling herself she’s giving him some space.
‘When you are ready, you can see how things are,’ Nella says.‘You will have plenty time. Plenty, plenty,’ she adds, like another manifestation.
They’re interrupted by the bleeping ringtone of her mother’s ancient mobile phone. She places a pair of reading glasses back on her nose to better study the name of the caller on the screen. ‘Ah!’ Nella murmurs in recognition, then answers. ‘Maggie? Ehh, Maggie! How are you? Yes, yes, she is all right … Mek ah call you back …’ Anika realises it’s her aunty calling from Sierra Leone, hence the unnecessary and alarming volume at which her mother is speaking as though her voice might carry across continents.
‘Mum! Take it out to the lobby, yeah?’
Nella tuts at her daughter but complies. But the sibling camaraderie she hears echoing away from her cubicle reminds Anika of something she’s been mulling over the last few days. She tried sending Kwesi another message a little while ago, but it didn’t go through. Anika hasn’t been sure whether to accept that her brother has blocked her – worst case – or to hope that there’s some other explanation, some reason that didn’t involve him never forgiving her. She desperately wants to believe that there’s still hope, but she knows it’s a relationship that is hers to repair.
Picking up her phone, she opens Instagram, where she’s bookmarked Kwesi’s band page. It’s a long shot, especially with the risk that his bandmate Rita is the one running the account, but it’s the only means Anika has. She definitely isn’t comfortable with trying to get in touch via Eloise. Honestly, she’s slightly ashamed of how she’s been towards Kwesi’s mum, too. Anika can see the green dot showing someone from the account is online, so she types out a brief but hopeful message in the band page’s DMs, and waits. After a few moments, she sees one word underneath her message.Seen.
Come on, Kwesi.Anika pleads silently. To her surprise andrelief, right at that moment, three dots come onto the screen indicating someone is typing. Her silent plea is now that she’s not told to fuck off.
Hey. Yeah, OK. Would be nice to talk sometime. Was in Amsterdam, lost my phone and had to get a new one.
The message is followed by his new phone number. Looking at the words on her screen takes her precipitously close to fully bursting into tears. Trying to control such emotions was something for the Anika that came before, though, and so she allows the tears to spill down her cheeks as she begins to type a reply – but then she backspaces until the cursor blinks in anticipation again.
She’s done writing things down for now.
The phone rings five times before she hears Kwesi’s deep, gravelly voice on the line. ‘Yeah?’
‘Kwesi? It’s … it’s Anika.’
She hears him pause, then suck in a long breath, possibly a yawn. He sounds like he’s just woken up even though it’s half eleven, but then Anika remembers her brother is a student, not to mention a musician. ‘Oh. Hey.’ He sounds puzzled at how quickly she’s utilised the number he just gave her.
‘Hey. Uh, thanks for messaging me back. You really didn’t have to – I get that.’
Kwesi makes a non-committal noise, then clears his throat. ‘No worries.’
‘Listen,’ she begins, but she’s not sure what she wants him to hear. She settles on honesty. ‘I want to apologise to you, Kwesi. I’ve been an absolute arsehole to you. None of what happened – with the money, or with you getting … getting to be a family with Dad – none of that was in your power to control. You were just a kid. Like,obviously. I was the immature one. I let jealousy getthe better of me and I failed to … to think about how amazing it would be to have a brother in my life. Especially someone as incredible as you. I know I don’t know you like that, but I know for sure that’s true.’ Realising she’s been speaking in a rush, Anika inhales slowly, and then repeats the most crucial part. ‘I’m sorry, Kwesi. I’m sorry about what happened at the bar and about everything before that. You’re so, so talented. And I just want to have a chance to get to know you.’ She swallows. ‘If you can’t do that, then that’s totally … I’d understand.’ She hears him clear his throat again and waits, her heart thumping.
‘Anika … I appreciate that.’ The length of the pause is excruciating. ‘Look, I’m willing to try it, OK?’
A sob rises up to her throat the minute he says it and she covers with a cough, trying not to make the situation even more awkward than it already is.
‘I mean, I’m just knocking about today,’ Kwesi continues. ‘You’re south too, yeah? Maybe we could finally get that coffee?’ He chuckles a bit and even over the phone Anika can sense the younger version of her brother, the boy who just wanted to be family with her. How had she pushed such a sweet person away?
She tries her best not to berate herself more, drawing in a deep breath. ‘Well, I’d love to but … I’m actually up at the hospital today.’ Aware that the news will be a bit of a shock – certainly given how they lost their father – she gradually explains what happened, not sugar-coating the word cancer, but leading him up to it carefully.
‘Fuck. OK,’ Kwesi says when she’s finished, then repeats the words again quietly, before adding, ‘That’s intense.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Are you … I mean obviously not, but are you doing all right?’
