Love Hates…
AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN
LOVE HATES
A CHRISEFFE BLISS
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The Author
EPISODE 2
[wp_ad_camp_1]Jeddah took her to the huge compound of the company where they met his cousin. The man turned out to be a jovial, kind man in his middle fifties who was dressed in an elaborate three-piece suit even though the weather was sweltering hot.
They sat in the man’s plush office and he listened to them.
He smiled broadly and nodded.
“Dangerous times in my country,” he said with feeling, shaking his head sadly. “Many, many bad things people are doing. Very, very, sad. Don’t worry, madam. You’re lucky. Some of our truckers will leave this evening for Ghana. Let me see if I can get you on one.”
“Please do,” Effe said, shivering, her fears coming back. “I’ll be most grateful.”
The man picked up a telephone receiver and dialled. He spoke fluent Arabic for a while, and then he smiled and put down the receiver.
“You’re lucky, madam,” he said, smiling broadly. “We found another group of Ghanaian drivers. Their leader is a very, very good man, my own friend. He is ready to take you as far as you want, and he is not taking any money.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Effe said, smiling back with relief. “Allah bless you!”
After a few more pleasantries, the manager called a man to take her to the truck yard.
Effe gave Jeddah a generous amount of money.
“Oh,” he said, smiling for the very first time. “This is too much, Effe.”
“Thank you, Jeddah,” she said. “I’m very grateful.”
His cousin refused the money but gave Effe a gentle hug.
Effe followed the messenger outside.
Jeddah insisted on coming with her to see that she is well settled.
The truck yard was clean and well-ordered when they got there.
There were a lot of M.A.N and DAF trucks parked with surprising precision, and many were also driving out of the yard.
She saw some of the drivers mingling around. They were mostly huge men with huge bellies. They spoke to her, and one of them took her to a huge double-cabin DAF truck that looked new and sturdy.
Jeddah put her things in the cabin, and then helped her up into the truck.
It was extremely huge, and the inside was very comfortable.
She felt lost in the huge passenger seat.
She said goodbye to Jeddah, and then he waved and wished her safe journey before hurrying away.
The engine was already on, and the air-conditioner was breezing gently, making her feel relieved and thankfully cool. The heat outside was absolutely terrible.
She took out her document folder and began going over copies of the agreement with the sponsors again, making mental notes about how to go about the implementation once she got to Ghana.
Soon she saw other trucks moving out, and then the driver’s door opened, and Chris Bawa hoisted himself up into the seat.
Tall, finely-muscled, wearing black jeans, a black singlet, a black cap, and black combat boots, he looked extremely handsome as he appraised her coldly.
She stared at him with absolute shock.
“You!” Effe said sharply, turning to look at him with scorching eyes. “What are you doing here again, Chris?”
He looked at her without expression as he slipped on black leather gloves.
“This is my truck,” he said softly.
“What?” Effe asked, appalled. “You now drive company trucks?”
He looked at her, and suddenly his steel eyes flashed angrily at her.
“Yes, I drive trucks, Effe Kedem, thanks to your bloody evil soul!”
She bit her lower lip and put her documents back into the holder.
“Now this is getting absurd, Chris. You’re getting increasingly vexatious and unacceptably childish. Obviously, this is not going to work out!” she said and looked around desperately, her hands trembling. “I’ll need another truck out of here. Thanks for your help, for saving me from the kidnappers, Chris. But I don’t really think I can travel with you.”
Without looking at her he picked up a log book with a pen in its middle and began to enter details into the book, glancing now and again at his dashboard figures.
“You can always get the hell out, Effe Kedem,” he said coldly. “I’m equally as disgusted to have to travel with you. You can save me a great deal of stress by getting the fuck out of my damn truck!”
Effe opened the door and saw to her horror that all the revving trucks had left the yard, leaving only the parked trucks most of which did not have Ghanaian license plates.
She could get down, but what was the probability that she would get another Ghana-bound truck? It had been tight getting this one, and of course, there was the added threat of the kidnappings to contend with.
She sighed and closed the door again.
If all the trucks had left, there was no way she was going to get another truck driver, she knew. She was stuck with Chris Bawa, a man whom she knew hated her, and a man she had little respect for.
It was going to be a hard, difficult ride no doubt, but she had no choice with the devil’s alternatives facing her.
Chris threw his log-book into the back cabin, slipped on his seat-belt, and then he took the steering wheel in both hands, revved the car, blew his horn, and then he started to drive out of the compound.
***
They left Via Cesare behind, travelling in a row of four.
Soon, they arrived at the roundabout from Sharia Abu Hridah where they swung into a huge Petrol Filling Bay. They filled up on fuel, and then the drivers trooped into the supermarket.
“There’s a washroom in there,” Chris told her curtly. “We wouldn’t be stopping for a while, so you can freshen up there if you want.”
Without another word he got down and slammed the door.
Effe sat quietly for a while, quite shaken up.
Twice Chris had saved her in Tripoli, horror of horrors!
Once from armed riders, and now giving her a ride out of a war-torn country.
Who would have believed it?
And she was travelling with him in his truck, sweet Jesus!
This was like the worst horror movie ever, and she almost took out her phone to call her best friend, Baaba Brooks, to inform her. Babs would definitely flip out. She remembered, though, that her phone had died out from the low battery.
Effe sighed heavily.
She had not seen Chris in about eight years. The last time she had seen him had been a bitter moment, and they had parted as enemies.
He had matured into a very cold man; still a most handsome cold man with nothing but burning hatred. He had barely looked at her apart from the first cursory glance he had given her as he got into the truck.
From the moment they had left the compound he had not spoken to her again until they got to the fuel station, and this was beginning to get to her.
Yes, she still did detest him, but she felt this was as good a chance as any for them to face what had happened so many years ago and, if possible, find a common peace pipe to smoke.
But evidently, Chris still wanted to hold on to his bitterness and anger.
Well, if he wanted to play it this way, then it was okay with her.
She could play that game too, no matter how painful and uncomfortable it was going to be, for at least the few hours it would take her to get to Tunisia and get a plane.
Then, she would say goodbye to Chris Bawa and pray their paths never crossed again.
She got down and went into the supermarket.
When she came back about thirty minutes later she found Chris standing beside the truck with three other drivers.
One had kind eyes and a massive moustache. He looked at her and smiled.
“Well, well, well!” he drawled. “Aren’t you the beauty that was almost captured?”
Effe smiled wanly and nodded.
“Sorry, I wasn’t able to thank you properly for what you did,” she said.
“We did nothing,” the man said. “Superman here did his thing. Anyway, I’m Wailer Vroom. This old man here with the pirate eyepatch is Wachipa Sey, and that thin thief over there is Mike Crankson.”
Effe smiled as they shook hands with her.
“I learn you want to change trucks?” Wachipa asked gently.
Effe looked at Chris, startled and feeling a sharp little pain in her chest that really surprised her.
“He told you that?” she asked with raised eyebrows and fixed Chris with a very cold stare. “You can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?”
He returned her stare with a cold one of his own.
“You were getting out, remember?” he asked, his voice extremely unfriendly. “Luckily, none of my friends is carrying passengers. You can easily ride with any of them.”
There was a very awkward moment.
The other men stared from Chris to Effe with uncomprehending looks.
“Do you guys know each other?” Wailer asked, puzzled.
“Of course they do,” Mike Crankson replied. “Didn’t you hear her mentioning his name way back in Via Cesare?”
“Well, if that’s the case then none of us is going to take you, Effe, sorry,” Wachipa said thoughtfully. “We don’t know what happened between you two, but the bad blood we sense is not healthy. You two should ride together, and talk about whatever it is that is killing you!”
They turned and went back to their trucks with puzzled looks on their faces and chatting quietly, obviously trying to unravel the mystery surrounding their friend and this extremely beautiful girl.
Effe faced Chris, and her eyes flashed with deep anger.
“Really, Chris?” she asked hotly. “You wanted me to ride with them? Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand my company for the few hours it will take for me to get down at Tunisia?”
“The sight of you makes me sick, you damn bloody witch!” he hissed furiously into her face.
Effe winced as if he had physically hit out at her. She gasped, and much against her will she put trembling fingers to her lips.
“Chris!” she said softly and reached out as if to touch him, but he spun away from her with a dark frown as he turned to the truck, yanked the door open and climbed the metallic steps and got behind the steering wheel.
Effe breathed hard to calm herself and to restrain the terrible anger and crippling despair buffeting her. She walked around the truck, climbed up, and sat down.
He pulled out and soon they were on the Airport Highway.
They were both quiet for a long time. He had slotted a CD into the player, and the cool sounds of reggae were playing. There was also an internal extension system that he used to communicate with the other drivers.
When they hit the Second Ring Road, she finally turned her head and looked at him with slight furrows in her brows.
“We can’t continue like this, Chris,” she said softly. “It has been eight years. Something terrible happened. Yes, I played with your feelings and deceived you, but at that time I knew I was doing the right thing by helping a friend! Later on, when I couldn’t find you, it dawned on me that maybe I could’ve handled the situation in a better way, used a different approach maybe.
But I was angry, very angry. I found your actions so detestable! It really nauseated me! But, eight years on, I’m prepared to believe that maybe you have changed. I’m sorry for the part I played in the whole unfortunate incident. You have saved me twice in this country, and for that I’m grateful. Can we let bygones be bygones, please?”
She noticed that his jaws were clenched tightly, and his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was breathing hard, and after a moment he turned and looked at her briefly.
“There’s a bed in the cabin behind,” he said tightly. “You can take a nap if you want, or you can stay there if you want privacy. I think I would prefer it if you stay in the back where I can’t see your damn, lying face!”
“Damn you, Chris Bawa!” Effe said with feeling, her beautiful face filled with sudden unease. “What’re you doing? I’m ready to bury the hatchet, and I’m coming at you with an olive branch! The least you can do is meet me halfway!”
“You have your opinions about me, Effe, and I have my opinions about you,” he said softly, but she knew him enough to know he was furious. “Let’s just leave it at that, and you can use your damn olive branch for a toothpick if you bloody want!”
“Opinions?” she said hotly. “These were facts, Chris! Hard facts! Don’t you dare classify them into a cauldron of non-entity called opinions!”
“Call it whatever you want, Effe,” he said, and there was a bitter twinge in his voice, and when he looked at her his eyes were deep with passionate fury. “I don’t really care about you, not anymore, or your damn opinion about me. You did what you did, and you revelled in it. So don’t you dare try to sweep it under the fucking carpet as if whatever happened was a damn light switch you can switch off anytime you feel bloody bored. I hate you, Effe. I hate you so bloody much! So shut the fuck up, sit there, and wait till we get to Tunisia, then you can damn well join a brothel for all I care!”
She was shocked as she stared at him for a very long time, her heart suddenly pounding. She felt a pain in her forehead, a severe pain like migraine, and she wondered just how badly he was affecting her, not understanding why he could even affect her!
“You hate me?” she asked numbly, shocked. “After all that you did, Chris Bawa, you hate me?”
“After all that I did?” he replied coldly. “Fuck you, Effe Kedem! You don’t know any bloody thing about me! Do you think I don’t know you planned the whole shit with Baaba? Stop your bloody acting, by Jove, or I swear I’ll toss you out of the truck right now! Yes, I hate you, and with a passion, you can’t even begin to imagine!”
“Then why did you save me from the kidnappers, Chris?” she shot back fiercely. “Why didn’t you just let them take me away if you hate me that much?”
“Because I didn’t bloody see you!” he replied coldly. “I saw a woman in distress, and I reacted. I only recognized you when I was giving you back your bag and documents.”
“Chris!” she cried, and her voice broke, and although she fought it hard she still felt a painful lodge in her throat, a pain caused by tears, much to her horror. “What are you saying? So, if you had recognized me, you would have let them take me?”
He turned his head then and fixed her again with his cold bitter eyes.
“I would’ve helped them put you in a bloody sack, Effe Kedem,” he said coldly with deadly conviction.
Effe could not speak again as she stared at him with a face filled with horror and despair.
She turned her head to one side and stared morosely out of the window.
She was shocked to feel the pain in the centre of her core. For many years she had told herself that she hated this man and that she detested him beyond compare.
Yes, she had moved on after her experience with Chris Bawa eight years ago, immersing herself with educating in the United States and then returning to run her father’s business.
Her life had been good and fulfilling, and although it had taken longer than she had thought, she had eventually gotten over that part of her life that Chris Bawa directly affected.
She had a wonderful man in her life now who loved and cherished her, and whom she was going to marry. Surely, the opinion of somebody as detestable as Chris Bawa should not matter to her!
She was just in need of help after being marooned, more or less, in a hostile country, and help was welcomed no matter what package it came in.
Eventually, she is going to get off this truck and leave all this bitterness and hatred behind. When they got to Accra she would get out of his truck. Maybe if she got to Tunisia she could get a flight to Accra, and that would be it!
She would not see this man again.
She really didn’t need his opinion.
If anybody should be angry and hateful it should be her, even if she had not treated him fairly, in the deepest sense of the word, but then he had deserved everything that she and Baaba had done to him.
His words, his opinions, and his actions, therefore, should have no effects on her.
She was strong, and she would not allow him to affect her peace in the least.
She sighed, her mind made up, and that was when a single tear ran down her right cheek and dropped on her hand, telling her that deep down she was indeed really affected by his scathing words and raw display of his hatred for her.
Effe turned her face further inward toward the window so that he would not see she had tears in her eyes that were spilling down her cheeks.
And she admitted to herself that a hatred that had sizzled this long, with such intensity for eight solid years, was really horrifying. Effe had not expected this, no. She had expected resentment, dislike, coldness. But to find this deep-seated cold hatred really tore at her because she was not used to being hated.
She sighed miserably and tried her best to turn her facial expression for this mean, handsome man whose hatred had made her shed tears of anguish for the very first time in many years.
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LOVE HATES :: A CHRISEFFE BLISS :: EPISODE 1
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