We sat at the beach, watching the embers of the small bonfire we had made die slowly. It felt symbolic, like my affair with Borketey. A breeze rolled over the beach, and I rubbed my arms. Borketey removed the other blanket from his duffel and draped it around my shoulders.
I had rejected the blanket earlier, keeping to the fire only. I didn’t want to make the separation more difficult – it was already unbearable for me. The warmth from the blanket made me sigh. Borketey was a good man at heart.
“Adzo, it doesn’t have to end this way. I’ll only be gone for two years.” Borketey reminded me again. Two years was a long time!
“What do we do, now? What do you want me to do? I can’t live like this.” My voice broke, and I began to rock back and forth, trying to control my emotions. “I love you, Ketey. I always have. Maybe I always will. But we can’t continue like this.”
“I will return to you. Don’t you trust me?” His voice was soothing, a gentle wave on the shore. “In my heart, I’m yours and you are mine. We will be together…”
“And your wife?” I asked. “What about your wife?”
“My wife has nothing to do with this, Adzo. Come on, she has no idea what is going on, and she never will. After all, I have been faithful to her.”
I turned to look at him with wonder. Did he just call himself faithful? I shook my head at him and returned my gaze to the sea. Men.
Borketey and I had been having an emotional affair for four years. What started during the lockdown in 2020 as a harmless chat between two long-time friends who rarely got in touch developed quickly into an emotional attachment. In all the four years of our “affair”, we had never had any sexual involvement, even though he knew I wouldn’t turn him down. Whenever we met, it was in public places where no one would suspect anything. We were like old friends who cared for each other for a long time, but between us, we were more than just friends.
Indeed, one did not need to have sex outside their marriage to cheat on their partner; when one began to invest their emotions into another person who wasn’t their spouse, it was cheating of a sort. In the beginning, Borketey felt guilty about it, and he raised it countless times. I gave him the option to extricate himself, but he couldn’t. He gave himself six months away from me: he didn’t call me; we didn’t chat on any social media platform; and he made sure our paths never crossed even at programs I was sure we both attended. He came back only a month later, declaring how much he had missed me and couldn’t live without me, which made me wonder why he didn’t marry me instead.
I had asked him about that once and he had brushed it off, saying that he had been too shy to broach the topic at that time. He didn’t tell me about his feelings because he thought I would turn him down. It cut me to the heart. Now that he was married, what was there to be done? Our affair developed effortlessly over long phone calls and consistent text messages. Before we realized it, we were neck-deep in love and there was nothing we could do about it.
We had gotten very intimate over the phone, making love with words only. He swore he never touched himself; rather, any time we got intimate on the phone, he would go into his beloved wife and hand it all to her, leaving me to pine for him in the darkness of my room all alone. He had told me once that even though he was with his wife, I was on his mind the whole time. It took him a lot of effort not to say my name in the throes of passion with his wife. That wasn’t enough for me at all.
One day, at an arts festival in Aburi, we were thrown together. We met in the same guest house, only to find that his room was on the first floor as mine, with a door between us. Ketey and I had talked so much and so deep into the night in front of my door, and he had requested for something. I had gone in for the item, and he had followed me. As I was seeing him off, I bumped into him at the door and he held me steady. Then we were trapped in that hold, not knowing who to step back first. Then he said, “Adzo, you’re irresistible,” and he kissed me. And I returned the kiss in equal fire. But for the call that came through his phone, we would have crossed the thin line in our relationship.
Borketey knew me more than anyone in my circle, considering he wasn’t even in my circle. He understood me on levels I never thought possible. I was vulnerable with him as he was with me.
And this has been going on for four years. Now, I’ve had enough.
“Adzo… I could never talk about some of the sensitive things we’ve discussed with my wife. You gave me an avenue to explore a side I didn’t know I had. Being with you made my relationship with my wife better! I love you for that, Adzo. I’ll always carry you in my heart. It doesn’t have to end like this. I will be back to you.”
Borketey jumped up and came to sit by my side. The small fire was dying and the wind was picking up. He tucked me into his side. I could no longer hold my tears. My heart was breaking. I cried into his side and he let me. He held me there till my body stopped shaking.
Then, Borketey lifted my chin and looked straight at me. I could see him in the dark, and I fell in love the more. I just couldn’t help it. As he looked into my eyes, he said softly, “Adzo, I love you. I want to be with you. I know you love me, too…” My eyes closed, and I heard him say, “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I did. “We will find a way, Adzo.” He dropped his head down to me, and he brushed his thick, full lips over mine. Borketey and I had never made love, neither had he touched me seductively. He always made love to my mind, and I fell for him all the way. This was going to be the second and final physical contact we were going to have and I braced for impact.
I felt the softest brush of velvet lips. I wanted to hold on, but I couldn’t. Borketey was another woman’s man. I was his friend. And he was leaving the shores of the land.
“It’s over, Borketey,” I whispered.
“What? Adzo, no.”
“Yes, Ketey. It’s over. I call it quits with you.”
“But you love me!” He pulled back to look at me in the dark. “You told me that you love me.”
“And I do. I always will, but I deserve to be loved properly too. You’ll go to your wife; I go to an empty home, Ketey.” I shook my head. “You will never be mine. This relationship is dead.”
I rose from the ground. He rose too, shocked into silence. For all his smartness, Borketey had become speechless.
“Adzo,” he held my upper arms, “is that what you want? Really?”
“No!” I wanted to scream. Rather, I nodded. We were not going anywhere with this relationship. Four years was enough.
“Adzo… Adzovi… My girl. My witty, intelligent girl. How did you become so emotional?”
In the dark, I couldn’t read his expression, but I could hear the softness of his voice, caressing my very soul. I was falling again, and I knew he would catch me – but for how long? The tears flowed silently.
“Will this be my life forever, Ketey? You will never divorce your wife!” My voice carried over the sea, and I did my best to calm down. He clenched and released his fists and made to reach for me but I stepped away. “I deserve to have a man who will come home to me, too. We are done.”
“Okay, Adzo.” He sighed. I knew him well enough to understand that he had given in. “I wish you well. But remember that I love you. I always have; I always will. Okay?”
I nodded. My heart was heavy but I felt free. As I turned around to leave, Borketey asked, “Will you answer when I call? For old times’ sake?”
I did not answer. What could I say? I kept walking away from the only man I’ll ever love but never have.
