I stole a glance at her tearful eyes and cold shivers ran through my body. I couldn’t stand it. I was scared, terrified, dispirited and didn’t know what to do or say, but it had happened; just what she came to tell me. She was pregnant!

The news hit me hard and I became nervous. In my confused state, I rushed towards the door, flung it open and banged it shut behind me. I took to my heels towards Yankey’s, sweating profusely.

I knocked rapidly at his door. When he opened the door I could read panic in his face. His gaze became fixed on my pocket, and when I looked, I noticed that my pocket had turned inside-out and it was swaying helplessly at the mercy of the wind.

He held my shoulders with concern in his voice. He shook me and asked, “Kwesi, what’s the matter with you?”

Before I knew it, tears began to flow freely down my cheeks; I wept when I tried to speak. My body trembled violently as I tried to speak, my feet almost gave up. He held me carefully and seated me in a chair. I sat in with a heavy thump.

Three minutes of silence passed and it was like a thousand years. Yankey finally broke the silence, “please Kwesi tell me what it is, is someone dead? Is your dad taken ill again? Is everything alright? Please stop crying and talk to me.” He urged.

I sighed deeply and sadly intoned, “Oh dear, I have done it”.

Puzzled, he queried, “You’ve done what?”

I struggled to answer, “I have – made – a girl – pregnant.”

Instantly, disbelief crept onto his face and his jaw dropped. Silence; fell upon us again!

Yankey as I have come to know him is a strong and courageous person. He always knew what to do in difficult times. And this time round, he quickly recovered from the initial shock. He took command of the situation as usual and managed to smile at me. But this time I couldn’t smile back. He patted my shoulder and whispered in a confident tone, “Take it easy man it will be alright”

Alright? I thought; how can a person in such a mess be told it will be alright? My own conscience piercingly condemned me; and I cursed the day I met Joyce. How better it would have been for us if the relationship had stopped just there.

It was a friend’s birthday party - when a former schoolmate introduced her to me. I recall very well on that day, how coincidentally, my father had warned me about the kind of friends I make especially at a party where there are lots of teenagers. Now I wish I had listened and kept father’s words in my heart. But no! I didn’t.

Fred, my mate, told me to feel free in the company of Joyce. She is a beautiful slim girl in her late teens and attractive in every sense of the word. The way she carried herself and walked was as though she had been tutored in a walking school. She walked and moved like a model on a catwalk. She was irresistible, a very interesting personality. From the minute we were introduced, I couldn’t leave her presence for a minute. I stuck to her like gum sticks to wood.

I didn’t know then that this mere friendship could develop into a relationship that would threaten to jeopardize our future – both Joyce and I.

Interestingly enough, my father never questioned me about friends who visited at home occasionally, even the girls; but ironically, he did about Joyce when she came on her second visit. I brushed it off and told him a lie. One thing our parents discouraged us from doing, though.

Barely six weeks after we became friends, Joyce visited me one evening at 7pm, and oh mine! She looked exceptionally pretty. The sleek evening dress she wore portrayed a contestant at a Miss Ghana Contest. When I gave her my compliments, she responded, “Thank you very much. I tell you this is the best compliment I have ever received in my lifetime.”

And suddenly, I felt a strange strong feeling towards her. It was a strong feeling I can’t describe. She gave me one sleepy look, and it sent butterflies flying in my stomach. For fifteen minutes we sat together in the same room and no one said a word. And then, I felt like possessing her. I imagined her in my arms - in a warm embrace. Without warning, a lustful sensation welled up in me. My heart began to beat very fast and I could hear it. I was sweating – was it? Yes, my body became warm and my temperature rose.

Joyce was seated beside the writing desk facing the window whilst I sat on the tiny bed. The old coffee table I inherited from my older brother when he moved out of the family house to be on his own was the only obstacle between us. My room was barely furnished, a single room in our Boys’ Quarters. The only available furniture were the writing desk and chair, a sofa, the tiny bed and the old coffee table.

Right in the middle of my thoughts Joyce threw what appeared like a challenge, “Kwesi why, you look so different today. Won’t you tell me something? Please say something to me.”

Why, did she expect me to tell her anything at all? Meanwhile, I said nothing, but smiled shyly in response. Inside me a voice said, why don’t you tell her you love her? My pride as a young man was at stake or so I thought. I must gather courage and pass the test I quietly reminded myself. Tell her something! It rang in me. I mustered courage to speak but no word came out of my mouth.

“Kwesi, don’t you love me? She demanded in a very low tone full of affection and some craving. Why, did she read my thoughts? I wondered.

I must face it, I resolved. My voice stammered and yet I said it, “I – I – love - you Joyce.”

Our eyes met and this time I felt a piercing feeling go through my heart as though a sword had been driven into it. She smiled broadly at me, and the piercing feeling got stronger. Oh my God! I whimpered.

On impulse, I stretched my right hand towards her and without the least hesitation she quickly grabbed it and drew closer to sit by me on the bed. I lost my sense of reasoning. I got lost in some other world, and for the first time in my life I kissed a girl. How I did it, I still can’t tell. But I did. I kissed her. And it didn’t stop there. Things went further till we had sex. I can’t recall when or how we both took off our clothes, but before I knew it we were both naked and I was shy and we had done it!

It was the first time I have ever had sex. The experience was a bit confusing. I still can’t figure out how exactly it felt. I was never prepared for it. And I still do not know why I did it. And I never had the courage to ask Joyce if it was her first time too. Oh, how I wish what led to it never began.

I didn’t see Joyce after that encounter till a week and even though, we spoke on phone, I tried to avoid touching on the subject of sex, because I still didn’t feel right after the experience.

I visited her at her home where she lived with her mother. She told me her father lives abroad, in the US.

And she sounded quite ebullient and full of excitement. She showed no sign of regret for the experience as I did. She went about telling me how wonderful I was on that day, ignorant of how much guilt I had to deal with after the experience. She noticed the passive expression on my face and wanted to know if I wasn’t happy being with her. I simply gave her a flimsy excuse and she believed me anyway. I told her I felt a bit exhausted because I did not sleep well the previous night.

Three days later after that visit, I sat listening to radio. And there was a programme on family planning – for the first time my interest in the show deepened. Coincidentally, the panelists discussed the possibility of a woman getting pregnant even after having sex only once without using any form of contraceptive.

Oh mine! I wondered, could Joyce become pregnant even after having sex with me just this once? This information sent chills down my spine and I was jolted to remember a Bible verse, which says, “Obedience is better than sacrifice.” Could it be talking to me? Was I making a sacrifice at the expense of simple obedience to my father? So Joyce could become pregnant after all and I – I will be held responsible. No! – No! She shouldn’t! I imagined. But this was only a wish. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” This common saying materialized in the eye of my mind.

On this fateful Saturday evening I have had a tough day cleaning the house and washing my clothes. So tired and fatigued I was relaxing on bed when she entered. I scanned her face for the usual smiles, but could not find one. And almost immediately I sensed something was wrong. I offered her a seat but she would not sit down, she preferred to stand on her feet. I tried in vain to get her seated.

She stood right before me, pale and slightly lean. It was the fifth week after we had sex, and it was the only time we did. But my heart missed a beat. “Joyce, what is the matter? Are you ill?” She said nothing. While her silence racked my nerves, her eyes welled up with tears.

Looking sheepishly at me she regrettably muttered, “We are unfortunate.” I shrugged it off as though I haven’t heard it. She repeated it more plainly the second time, “I am pregnant.”

“What?”

And Joyce was crying. For sure she couldn’t picture herself being a mother when she was only 18 and unmarried. Her status among her friends will forever change. Ceaselessly the tears poured down.

She has just completed secondary school, but didn’t do well. Her father had promised to send money down so she could study to re-sit the exams. But in the meantime, her aunty had offered to help secure her an internship in an advertising company to be trained on the job in marketing and advertising, until she could rewrite her papers to move on. Now it appears it won’t just be. All her hopes of a glittering future quickly vanished into thin air.

And for me it meant becoming a father at a time I was still under my father’s roof. What a tragedy! I have already missed one academic year at a time when my father was taken ill. Money meant for my education was diverted into taking care of him at the hospital.

At 20 I was about to enter the University and look at it! But now I have to choose between going to the University or looking for a job so I could cater for my unborn child and the mother. I wasn’t prepared for this and yet it has happened. I told Yankey everything from the beginning. In my presence and for the first time since I knew him over a period of 12 years, he broke down and wept like a little boy.

It was too much than I could bear, and I moaned in despair. If only I listened to my father, I would have escaped this double tragedy and avoid paying such a painful price.


By Emmanuel K. Dogbevi

Email: edogbevi@hotmail.com