Chapter 1: Stuck In The Middle Of The Road

My name is Adjoa Mensah. 19 years, University of Ghana, Business Administration.My parents are rich but never around. London today, Dubai tomorrow. I live with Auntie Esi in East Legon.My only love is golf. At 6am I am at Achimota Golf Course.My new coach was different. Coach Kwame, 28, tall, serious, never smiles."You hold the club like a fashion bag," he said on day one."Excuse you?" I fired back.

For three weeks he trained me harder than anyone. 5:30am starts. Correcting my elbow, my grip, my stance. He would stand behind me, adjust my shoulders. "Breathe, Adjoa. Don't force it."I started looking forward to training more than anything.One evening after training, my Toyota refused to start. Auntie Esi wasn't picking.

Kwame said, "Let's go, I'll drop you. My car is outside."Halfway on the Legon road, his car started making noise. Kpo-kpo-kpo. Then it stopped. Right in the middle of the road. Cars were honking."Ah! Not today," Kwame groaned. He tried to start it again. Nothing.

We were stuck. It started to drizzle.I started laughing from nervousness. He looked at me."You are laughing? We are stuck!" "You are the coach who is always serious," I said. "Now we are both stuck."

He laughed too. For the first time, he really laughed. We sat in the car waiting for his mechanic. The rain was hitting the roof. It was just us, and the hazard lights blinking.I looked at him. He looked so handsome when he wasn't shouting about my swing."Coach..." "Adjoa, don't," he said quietly. He knew.

"I like you," I said. My heart was beating like a drum. "I know you are my coach, but I like you."He was silent, looking at the steering wheel. "Adjoa, you are 19. I am your coach. We can't." "I don't care," I said. I moved closer. "Can I... can I kiss you?" He turned to me. "You don't know what you are asking." "I do."

I leaned forward and tried to kiss him. He gently held my shoulder and stopped me. Not harsh, just firm."No. Not like this. Not when we are stuck and emotional," he said. "If I kiss you, I want to kiss you because you won something. Because you earned it. Not because we are stuck in the rain."

My eyes were full of tears. "So you will never kiss me?" He smiled softly. "I didn't say that." The mechanic came 20 minutes later. He fixed the car. Kwame drove me home without another word. But at the gate, he said: "Saturday. Ghana Open. Win it. Then we will talk about that kiss."