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“A chicken. I’d like to be a chicken,” I said. Of course he asked the reason.

“Everybody likes chicken. Chickens are very useful and they are abundant. They are rugged. And they can survive almost anywhere.” I looked down at my plate and added, “Chickens give people the opportunity to be creative.”

Balé stared at me for a second, then said, “Me, I want to be a cool, clear glass of water. I want to be able to see out into the world with no obstructions. And I want to live in such a way that nothing can be hidden.”

I knew where he was going.

“You know, Adeyemi is a good man. He has always worked and done so much for the community. But he has already dragged your name through the mud once. I’m sure those were not his intentions, but that is what happened. Please do not allow that to happen to you again. You are a different person now than you were then.”

This was getting to be pretty scary. I had just spent two days in Albany with Adeyemi. He worked in Albany during the week and went home to Brooklyn and his wife on the weekends. I knew something was wrong when he greeted me at the train station, but we made it through the weekend without incident. The morning I was to leave, he told me that we should not see each other anymore. He said he realized that he was not giving his marriage a fair try. Besides that, his wife was beginning to question him about me. I was furious. I told him that the marriage was not going to work because he had only gone back to ease his guilt. I told him that if he thought I was going to sit around and wait for him, he was crazy. And if he didn’t want to be with me, that was fine by me! I left his apartment, vowing never to see him again. I called him the moment I got home. It was then that he told me he was moving his family to Atlanta.

I knew I had to stop seeing Adeyemi, but I couldn’t seem to do it. He was, after all, the first man who ever held my hand. I tried to justify my actions by telling myself that he and his wife were separated and therefore he was fair game. That didn’t explain away the fact that he was living with her in Brooklyn, and I was living in Philadelphia. It was wrong, and I knew it was wrong. But I was not ready to admit it. I didn’t say a word to Balé. I stared into space, trying not to cry. Suddenly, I could see Nett as clearly as if she were sitting across the table from me. She picked up her cup, took a sip, and without blinking, said to me, “If a man is married and you are not, you are sleeping with a married man. It doesn’t matter if he hasn’t seen his wife in fifty years, or if he lives on one side of the world and she on another. If he is married and you are not, you are asking for trouble.” Then she was gone. I swore to myself I was never coming back to this house.

Balé removed my plate from the table and told me to sit on the mat that he had spread out on the floor. Balé is a diviner. The process of divination for Yoruba people requires the use of sixteen cowrie shells. Once the shells have been consecrated with ceremony and prayer, a diviner will cast the shells to determine the answer to a question. The configuration of the shells when they fall reveals the answer. Balé blessed the cowries and began casting them. It’s like rolling dice; you just have to know what the numbers mean in order to receive the answer to your question.

Balé never revealed the nature of his question. I watched him throw and pick up the shells for about ten minutes. Then he got up and left the room. When he returned, he carried a book. He consulted the book, then began throwing the shells again. Suddenly, he stopped. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall, he sat still for several minutes. When his eyes flew open, I jumped. He picked up the shells again and cast them one last time. He was pleased. I could tell by the smile on his face.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked me. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“If you are not ready, just say so. We can come back to it at a later time.”

Slightly pissed,