“Just keep drinking it, wai. Everything will be fine eventually.”

“Hmmm, okay,” Nana Asor responded quietly, tapping her fingers on the table while she stared at the steaming mug filled with clove water. Another Monday had arrived, Bruce had left for work, and she was on the phone with her mother, who was giving her tips on what to consume to help her out.

“And my dear, listen to me. Don’t let this thing put you down. Just keep doing what you and Bruce are doing. Remember that ultimately, it is God who gives children, and His timing is always perfect. I know it’s not easy having to deal with this disappointment month after month, but remember, God sees the bigger picture. I know God is going to let me see my grandchildren, I have no doubt about that. Your father knows it, so he’s not stressing. Your brother Nanabenyin knows it. We all know it’s just a matter of time. Just take it easy and do what you need to do. And enjoy it, my dear, enjoy it! Coz it’s sweet papa! Or am I lying?”

Nana Asor couldn’t help but giggle. Typical of Madam Bernice Ewudzi to get naughty with her speech every now and then.

“Oh yeahhh, I enjoy it. The thing dey sweet pass!” she replied slyly.

“Exactly! So please, keep your focus on just enjoying it and adding these small things, like the clove water, the watermelon and the likes. Eventually, it will come. And listen, don’t let anyone come and be stressing you about when you’re having children and whatwhatwhat. Those witches should go and burn the sea! Like that Kweku boy. As for him, eh, the day I get my hands on him…”

Nana Asor stifled her laughter. Kweku, one of her cousins, had once tried going down that route, making comments that suggested she was waiting too long to have children. He made the mistake of making one of such comments in front of Madam Bernice one day, and the response that followed was so savage, Kweku withdrew his intrusive stance immediately.

“Oh, abi he’s stopped now. So that one diɛɛ, it’s not anything to worry about,” Nana Asor mentioned.

“Still. He’s lucky I didn’t slap that foolish head of his. Ne kwasia bi! He’s talking about you keeping too long, na he, does he know how to keep a girl for long? He that every two months biaa, new girlfriend, he’s coming to say some? Tweakai!”

Nana Asor laughed out loud. Madam Bernice going savage mode in Fante was always a riot. “Ei, Mommy! This one diɛɛ, you’ve meant the boy paaa! I beg, wai. Relax! Don’t worry your head about that boy. I’m going to keep my cool and focus, wai. No more worrying. God will speak at the appointed time.”

“That’s all! God will speak, and it will be beautiful, eh. We will wear white and dance to the glory of God and thank Him for His goodness. You’ll see. All this worrying will now be like a bad dream that is over. And as for that Kweku boy, he’ll still be struggling to get a girlfriend! Toke bɛlɛ like him!”

“Ebei, Mommy! He begs, wai. He begs!”

***

“Bruce! Bruce!”

Another day in Sandfeld Ghana, and Bruce was busy at his desk, signing some documents as directed by his direct boss, Mr. Bortey. It had been a quiet and uneventful Monday so far, with everyone going about their usual duties. The usual ambience in a working environment at the beginning of a new working week.

That ambience was broken immediately the name of Mr. Aforo was called by that familiar voice tinged with Spanish flavour.

Bruce heard his name, and upon hearing who it was that called him, instantly felt his blood run cold.

Lorenzo Martinique was looking for him. And the tone of voice suggested that, as usual, something was wrong.

“Oh boy, what has Bruce done now?” he heard one of his colleagues groan.

Before he could react, Lorenzo entered the office.

One look at the Caucasian middle-aged man of moderate height, a full beard and an unsettling exotropia, and nobody needed to suggest that he was annoyed about something.

Something which involved an envelope full of motor certificates, which he held in his hand.

Bruce squinted at the big envelope. Wait a minute, Nathan hasn’t sent these documents? Didn’t I give them to him last week Thursday to have them sent?

“Bruce, I thought you were supposed to have sent these certificates to Menson House last week. What are they still doing here?” Lorenzo demanded.

Bruce shook his head. “Sir, please, I gave them to Nathan, he was supposed to have sent them…”

“Well, he didn’t! Now the MD just called me, complaining that one of their drivers has been arrested! Why can’t you do things right? Huh? It’s as simple as making sure these documents are delivered on time! How can this be too hard for you to do? Now look at the trouble a client’s got!”

Bruce looked up at the man before him, his mouth agape. Delivery of such documents was not a part of his job; Nathan and the other underwriters were the ones supposed to see to that. How in God’s name was he catching flak for someone else’s mistake?

“But-but sir, I gave it to Nathan to Thursday-“

“That doesn’t matter, for Pete’s sake! What matters is that it wasn’t done and now unnecessary problems have come up because you failed to do what was needed! Get these documents delivered! ASAP!”

Dropping the envelope on his desk and giving him another deathly glare, Lorenzo huffily walked out of the office.

Bruce covered his face, the rage in him already starting to boil over.

Another day, another opportunity for this man to just torment his life. Even when someone else messed up, Mr. Martinique would find some way to pin the blame on Bruce and rip him apart.

And he was tired. Even those around him were tired.

“This guy kraaaa, wey Spanish witchcraft this? Ahh!” he heard his nearby colleague wonder out loud. “Chale, Bruce, Bruce, take am easy, wai.”

Bruce simply shook his head, still covering his face as he tried his best not to blow up.

A minute or two later, and the door to their office opened. The underwriter who slacked in the first place, Nathan, stood at the doorway, looking aghast and horrified.

“Bruce! Bruce! My guy, I’m sorry! I beg you, I’m really sorry!” he pleaded as he walked over briskly to Bruce’s desk in a remorseful manner. “Boss, I’m sorry. I just rushed to his office to apologize and that it’s my fault, but he’s still doing those his things. Chale, I should have known this alukumi Spanish wizard will twist things and come for you. I’m sorry.”

Bruce simply shook his head and murmured, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

Nathan’s face relayed a sense of guilt, knowing full well his failures had ruined an innocent party’s Monday morning. He looked up at the other colleague and sighed. “Chale, Quaye, I dey feel bad pass. This one, ibi me them for dey blast ooo. Yet see.”

“Hmmm, my guy. At this rate, I tire sef. Ibi like this alukumi wizard get sef, he go blame Bruce for the bad economy and climate change all. E no dey make sense one sef. Every day, Bruce do this and that. Opana too just dey ein corner dey do ein work. Why? Wey nonsense this?”

“See, Bruce,” Nathan stated gently, turning to him, “I’m going to remind everyone downstairs to be careful from now on. Make nobody do something wey e go put you in unnecessary trouble. I promise.”

“Yeah, make you guys do wild. We no know when this man go shun this witchcraft, but make we no dey give am space, coz chale, ibi bulls**t. Absolute bulls**t.”

Indeed, Quaye and many others in Sandfeld were weary of this bullying attitude. Nobody understood why Lorenzo Martinique had it in for Bruce so much. As far as they were concerned, Bruce was one of those cool guys who did his job well enough. Of course, like any other person, he had his share of mistakes, but the manner in which Mr. Martinique behaved like he was the epitome of laziness and errors couldn’t be far from the truth.

As to why the CEO behaved that way, only he knew, and he didn’t let anyone understand why he acted that way. A few people, frim the Human Resource Manageress to Bruce’s immediate boss, Mr. Bortey, had all privately questioned Mr. Martinique why he continued to harass the young man so much, only to get swatted away in the most dismissive manner possible.

It was just a case of total unfairness toward an employee whose only true crime was trying to do his job and get paid like everybody else.

***

“… and instead of properly enquiring who was supposed to have the certificates sent, guess what he chose to do? Blame evil old Bruce, as always! Because what else makes more sense than putting the blame on one person for every single misfortune that happens in Sandfeld?” Bruce snarled loudly, pacing up and down furiously in the living room.

Evening had arrived, and he was home, but the new wounds inflicted by Mr. Lorenzo Martinique that morning were as fresh as ever. Since he had to restrain himself in the office, this was where his volcano erupted in full force.

Nana Asor watched on, the unhappiest of looks on her face as she rose to her feet and tried her best to calm her husband. “Babe, please, calm down, please! I beg you, calm down!”

“Even when he was told that it was Nathan who had to send them, he was still putting the blame on me! Nahhh, why? Why am I the one to come after? Why is it always me? Why? Why? Whyyyy???”

He was absolutely raging at that moment, deaf to the pleas of Nana Asor. At that moment, nothing else mattered but letting out the steam he had bottled inside since morning.

“Why, Asor, whyyy? Is it because there’s a sign on my head that reads ‘Big Gullible Fool’ on my forehead? Do I look like Adolf Hitler to him? Did I murder him in a past life? Coz I don’t get it! Every day, if there’s a problem, then it’s my fault! Somebody failed to deliver documents on time, it’s my fault! The office hasn’t been swept well, it’s my fault! Electricity tariffs have shot up, it’s my fault! Jesus hasn’t come yet, it’s my fault! I’m basically his bad luck charm! I’m tired, chale! Tired! Tired! TIIREEEEDDDD!!”

That last roar came out with frightening fury, stunning Nana Asor into an apprehensive statue mode for a moment.

Breathing heavily, he turned to see her. The stark unhappiness on her face was tangible, as tears stood in her eyes, totally upset at seeing her husband lose his cool that way.

Before he knew it, the rage in Bruce’s bosom gave way, and what replaced it was grief.

His face crumbled, and he sank into the couch, shaking his head. “I’m tired, Asor,” he murmured mournfully. “I’m tired. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. I’m tired. Why can’t I just work and get my money in peace? Ehh?”

“Ssshh-sshh, it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Nana Asor consoled, joining him on the couch and embracing him tightly as they both let tears fall.

For the next couple of minutes, it was silence in the Aforo home as Bruce did his best to get himself together while Nana Asor held on tight, just whispering as many ‘it’s okays’ as she could.

Bruce eventually calmed down, just breathing in and out while he lay his head on Nana Asor’s shoulder.

Silent for a few moments, he then spoke. “It’s too much, chale. It’s too much. Yet there’s no other alternative in sight as of now. Still waiting on Didayy, but nothing yet. I’m just… stuck, you know.”

Nana Asor shook her head as she wiped her tears. “Brucie, you’re not stuck. Believe me, you’re gonna get out of this. Listen, if you like, just give it another month, then quit. Forget about whether Didayy will secure something for you or not, I don’t like what this man is doing to my man.”

Bruce shook his head. “Babe, you know it’s easier said than done. If I don’t get anything, we’re gonna struggle like crazy.”

“But babe, I don’t like what this job is doing to you! It’s stressing you out way more than it should!”

“Asor, I know, but you know we need a steady stream of income. And I don’t want to throw shade on your work, but, you know you get paid on a project-by-project basis…”

“I’ll work extra hours on this my remote job, then!”

Bruce simply looked at her. She nodded defiantly.

“Bruce, I’m serious. Look, I’m your wife. We’re already having headaches with this childbearing thing. Then there’s this. It affects me as well, Bruce. My heart sinks every time I see you wake up with that depressed look on your face. My chest hurts whenever you come home and you’re upset because that idiot of a boss came to bully you for no good reason. Baby, I want nothing but the best for you, and if walking away from such a toxic place is the best, then it’s worth it. Please.”

Bruce ran a hand over his hair and sighed, contemplating this for a few seconds. Then he turned to her. “Well, let’s just hold on for now and see what happens by next month, alright? Hopefully Didayy will come through for us. Let’s hold on and see.”

Nana Asor nodded reluctantly. “Fine. If you say so. I hope he does come through. But at the end of the day, I want my husband to be fine in all aspects of life. Coz as it stands now, he most certainly isn’t.”

Bruce sighed. “Yeah, I won’t lie, I’m not. And yeah, the baby thing too is on my mind. Chale… it’s not easy.”

“I know, honey, I know. But it is well, okay? It is well,” Nana Asor insisted, hugging her husband tightly, as he gripped her close as well.

As they separated, his eyes travelled down to her very short shorts. “You know… you’re right, I’m not totally fine. But, looking at how sweet them shorts is looking on you, maybe you could help me get fine a bit.”

Nana Asor gave him a side eye, then smirked. “Mmmmm, saaa?”

“Mm-hmm.” Bruce nodded and winked.

She rose to her feet and stretched, then nodded in the direction of the bedroom. “Go take a shower. Meet me there in 20 minutes time. And don’t be late.”

“Yes, Madam!”

***

Clarence crashed onto his bed, sighing in frustration.

Another day of disappointment, unfortunately. He was retiring to bed with the news that two of his applications had been rejected. One was bad enough, but two? That was pretty demoralizing.

This is just so frustrating, chale. Just so frustrating, he internally moaned. Lord, is there something I did to offend You or something? Coz this is too frustrating to put up with. It’s eight going on nine months! It’s almost a year now!

Indeed, for nearly nine months, he had tirelessly pushed on, searching for any job opportunity related to his field, tailoring his resume according to the way the experts claimed, and attending numerous interviews. And yet success remained elusive. This routine of daily job searching, filling out applications, and enduring rejections was exhausting, it really was.

But he couldn’t throw in the towel, could he?

Most certainly not!

He had to remain resilient and determined, and trust that things would eventually align in his favour. Surely, sooner or later, good news would be his.

“What more can we say? We’ll keep walking. Just like Johnnie Walker, we’ll just keep walking,” he said to himself. “Giving up is not an option. At all. So chale, we’ll keep walking. We’ll get there, eventually.”

Chale, whatever Bruce’s boss has against him, it must be serious, coz that’s just crazy! And man, Clarence can’t catch a break, can he?