A few days later, Dad drives me and Piper over to Thema’s house.
“Are you sure we should?” I ask.
“If we stick to the backroads, we’ll be okay.”
Life seems to be getting back to normal. Thomas and Abena are back at work. The egg lady came by yesterday. Two of Gordo’s street friends poked their heads around the gate, looking for him.
Gordo’s much better. He sits up in bed and eats a bit of food when Abena makes his favorite things, like grilled cheese sandwiches. Mom still spends all her time with him, and I’m not sure if Dad arranged for me and Piper to go to Thema’s house for Mom’s sake or for mine, but either way, I’m happy to be away from Mom’s dreary face and the stale air in Gordo’s room.
Thema and I swim in the pool until we’re waterlogged, then we have a snack, and then Thema’s mom tells her she has to finish folding the laundry, so Piper and I head out back to where Piper’s hammock is still slung between two trees. When we get there, Ebo’s already lying in it.
“You’re still here, I see,” he says.
“We’re staying until lunchtime,” I say.
“I mean, you’re still in Ghana. You didn’t leave.”
I’m confused, but then I remember the conversation we had after Rawlings first attempted a coup, and how I said that if it got dangerous we could all leave.
“No…” Once again, I don’t know what to say. I’d like to say something, but before I can figure out what, Ebo says, “Piper, come sit with me,” and he pulls her up onto the hammock with him.
I push the hammock so they swing gently back and forth.
“Did you want to leave?” Ebo asks.
“No,” I say before I can think about it, but it’s true. I haven’t wanted to leave, not even once. “I’d like to go back to school, though,” I add.
Ebo laughs. “Back to Sister Mary?”
“Was she your teacher too?”
“Two years ago. She had tarantulas that year.”
I shudder. Snakes I can handle, but tarantulas would be a different thing.
“Does she still make you memorize poems?”
“Yes.”
“And dissect rats?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s cool,” says Ebo, and I have to admit, she is.
Thema comes out and we spend the rest of the morning playing badminton and lying in the hammock.
At home, I go upstairs to say hi to Gordo while Mom puts Piper down for her nap, but he’s asleep, so I tiptoe out of his room.
“It’s going to take him a long time to recover completely,” says Mom when we meet in the hallway.
I think it’s going to take her a long time too. Her eyes still have dark shadows under them, but there’s a bit of a smile in them, which I haven’t seen for a while.
When lunch is ready, Mom and I sit at the table together. We don’t say much, and it seems strange it being just the two of us. To fill the silence, I tell her about swimming at Thema’s house and about a new song Thema’s learning. She listens with a smile, so I keep talking.
When the banging on the door starts, I drop my sandwich in my lap.
“Don’t answer it,” Mom says.
The banging comes again.
“Shhh,” whispers Mom. Neither of us moves, and I can tell from the wideness of Mom’s eyes that she’s thinking the same thing I am.
What if it’s a soldier at the door?
I clench my jaw so hard it hurts. Neither of us speaks or even breathes. Then there’s a noise at the back of the house.
Through the window, I see a soldier pointing a gun at Thomas, who has frozen, bent over with his shovel in his hand.
Mom rises out of her chair. “Oh…” she says.
Thomas and the soldier turn. When the soldier sees us, he shouts something I don’t understand. Thomas drops his shovel and shakes his head. The soldier shouts again, and Mom goes to the window.
The soldier jabs his gun at Thomas.
No one breathes.
Then Mom raises her hand. “I’ll open the door,” she shouts. The soldier marches Thomas around the house.
Mom and I rush to the front door.
“Go into the kitchen and lock the door,” she says to me, but I don’t move. “Go,” she says.
I can’t.
I can’t leave her here with the soldier on the other side of the door.
I take her hand. “Ready,” I say.
Mom opens her mouth to say something, but I hold her hand tighter.
She draws in a deep breath and opens the door.
The soldier stares at us. He lets his eyes wander from our feet to our faces. He says something we don’t understand.
Mom starts shaking. A tingling sensation runs up my fingers, into my arms and through my whole body, but the two of us stand together. Neither of us moves. The soldier speaks again, and this time Thomas says, “He asks where you are from.”
“Canada,” says Mom.
The soldier speaks again, and Thomas says, “He wants to know how long you’ve been living here.”
“Five months,” says Mom.
The soldier gestures to Mom’s purse, hanging near the door. He uses his gun, so it swings toward our faces, and both of us gasp. The solider laughs and points at the purse again. Mom takes it off the hook and gives it to him. He slings it on his shoulder and then, without saying anything, he turns and walks away. We watch until he leaves the driveway and turns down the road.
Mom sags against the door. I let go of her hand and lean on the other side. Thomas sinks to the floor at our feet. None of us moves or says anything. My heart is beating so fast I feel my blood rushing past my ears. The three of us stay there, silent. When I go to bed, Dad comes into my room. He sits on the edge of my bed and says, “You were brave today.”
“I wish you’d been here,” I say.
“So do I.” His voice sounds tired, worn out.
“Why do you think he left?” I ask. I’ve been thinking about it all day. He could easily have barged into the house and taken anything he wanted. Mom and Thomas and I wouldn’t have stopped him. Not with that gun.
“Was it because we’re foreigners?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I’d say yes, probably,” he says.
There’s nothing more to say after that, so he leaves and I lie in bed thinking about how Ebo said his dad would never leave Ghana and about how easily we could.