The small black book.

You’d think it was a blessing. Having more than you’d prayed for in a time like this without having to do much but unfortunately every blessing comes with its own curse. I’m screwed”.

It was July 7th 2020. The world seemed peaceful yet so much was going on. A new deadly virus that spread faster than light or sound had caused a pandemic. Schools, restaurants, parks and everywhere that caused more than two people to gather in the same space had been shut down in an attempt to slow down the spread of the virus. Total lockdown.

Things were really tough and families were struggling. Some people were laid off because their employers couldn’t afford to pay them and those who were still employed, were receiving half the salary they used to receive.

Robert and I had to get jobs in one of the few hotels that was still open in our city. Robert is a childhood friend. His family and mine go way back. Our dads grew up together so he’s more like a brother to me. His mom, Auntie Esi, was recently infected with the virus and had been admitted to the ICU of Korle Bu Teaching Hospital in Accra, Ghana.

The hotel in which we worked at was the residence of people who had just arrived in the country and needed to quarantine for two weeks to make sure they were virus free.

We walked into the hotel like any other day. We said hi to Frank the doorman and gave Cassandra the receptionist a fist bump as usual before proceeding to our various stations.

I was in charge of making sure the tables in the hotel restaurant and lounge were sanitized before and after they were used. Leave it to a pandemic to turn a 6th year medical student into a glorified cleaner.

At 9:15, Mr and Mrs Owusu came down for breakfast. They always came in at the exact same time. Creatures of habit, they are. When you spend so much with people you begin to pick up little things like their daily routine.

They each ordered oats with two boiled eggs and a slice of bread like they’ve had the past 9 days. After they were done, I went to their table to clean them and while wiping them I noticed a small black book on the table across the room. I walked over to the table, picked up the book and asked them if it belonged to them by any chance but they answered saying no as they walked out of the restaurant.

I asked around the hotel but no one had any idea who the owner was so I decided to keep it for a while hoping the owner would come by to claim it. After a few days I assumed the owners had checked out. I finally opened the book to see if I’d find a name or some sort of information about the owner and found a complimentary card in it with a name and number. I called the number and it went straight to the answering machine. “insert message from answering machine”

After work the next day, I went over to the office to drop the book. The lady at the reception told me to write my name and phone number on a piece of paper, so I did that and handed her the book.

After approximately two weeks I got a call and was told to come in for a reward. The guy on the other end of the phone went on a bit about, “How good I am and how not many people could do what I did.” He sounded a bit too excited but hey, maybe the book meant a lot to him.

The next day was Saturday. I asked Robert to accompany me. We agreed to pass by the hospital to check-up on his mom before going. At the hospital, the doctor said she was getting worse and had to be transferred to a different hospital. That required a lot of money. On our way to the office Robert barely spoke a word. He knew his dad couldn’t afford it.

The receptionist was excited to see me. She handed me a book and said “Congratulations!”. The book had my name “YAO” boldly written at the bottom of it. 

At this point I was confused. I assumed I was called in to come take a prize for returning the book but she told me she overheard her boss say the story I submitted was amazing and that I won the prize for first place. Robert asked what the prize was entailed and she said $20,000 with a publishing deal. Before I could say a word Robert pulled me aside and listed the difference that money could make in our lives. They’d already printed the books and they’d take off my name, keep the cash prize and publish the story anyways if I came clean now. With such an amount we could potentially save the life of someone who’d been like a mother to me.

A guy finally came out and invited us into his office. He went on about how good the book was before handing me an envelope. It contained the cash prize. “There’ll be a small press conference tomorrow at 12pm so come prepared and wear something nice”, he said. We passed by the hospital on our way home to give them the money. Robert seemed cheerful now. I got home and immediately tried to prepare for the press conference by reading the book. Took me a few hours to finish but I did and realized I was screwed. It was the first part of a series I’d be expected to continue.