I called the US Embassy, the State Department, the Ghanaian Embassy and anyone else I could think of, but no one would respond. I’m sure they though I was just a hysterical female.
I flew back to San Francisco devastated.
On July 25th I got the third call from the man with the accent.
I asked, “Why is you can get messages from Fred and I can’t?”
“He’ll tell you when you see him. There are tickets waiting for you at Lufthansa. You’ll need to get your shots, you’re coming to Ghana.”
“When? Is he okay?” I was very afraid. I couldn’t imagine why I would have to go there, by myself. It did not appeal to me in the least. But if Fred needed me there, I would go.
“Your flight is in ten days. Fred is just fine, he just can’t leave yet.” this now familiar voice offered. Then he hung up.
I went to San Francisco to get the inoculations, packed and had to buy a few new clothes. I had lost quite a bit a weight, about 20 pounds in all and besides, what could I possible have in my wardrobe that would be appropriate for Africa.
On August 10th, I flew to New York’s JFK airport. I had to transfer to Ghanaian for the International flight going to Rome. After I boarded the plane I stood up to get my sweater from the overhead bin and did a double take.
There was Fred sitting about ten rows behind me.