Two lovers. Two Continents. Two Cultures. One unforgettable love story.
Maita, a Zimbabwean graduate student, has returned to London on summer break with one goal: to reunite with Ade, her Nigerian ex-boyfriend. She made a terrible mistake when she broke up with Ade—and now she wants him back. On the flight to London, she meets Chris, a British gentleman who is instantly captivated by Maita and pursues her relentlessly.
When Ade rejects Maita’s efforts to rekindle their romance, she turns to Chris. As a couple, Maita and Chris are forced to confront racism, the complexities of an interracial relationship, and their insecurities.
But Maita has never forgotten Ade…nor has he ever gotten over her. Then, in a sudden turn of events, a determined Ade resurfaces and attempts to reconnect with Maita. But Chris is doubly prepared to keep her at any cost, unleashing a dangerous chain of events that will forever alter the course of all three lives.
How far will each man go to win her love?
Turning Tables explores the challenges and triumphs of multicultural and multiracial relationships—a poignant and engaging story of the power of love, missed opportunities, second chances, and the pitfalls of obsession.
Two lovers. Two Continents. Two Cultures. One unforgettable love story.
Maita, a Zimbabwean graduate student, has returned to London on summer break with one goal: to reunite with Ade, her Nigerian ex-boyfriend. She made a terrible mistake when she broke up with Ade—and now she wants him back. On the flight to London, she meets Chris, a British gentleman who is instantly captivated by Maita and pursues her relentlessly.
When Ade rejects Maita’s efforts to rekindle their romance, she turns to Chris. As a couple, Maita and Chris are forced to confront racism, the complexities of an interracial relationship, and their insecurities.
But Maita has never forgotten Ade…nor has he ever gotten over her. Then, in a sudden turn of events, a determined Ade resurfaces and attempts to reconnect with Maita. But Chris is doubly prepared to keep her at any cost, unleashing a dangerous chain of events that will forever alter the course of all three lives.
How far will each man go to win her love?
Turning Tables explores the challenges and triumphs of multicultural and multiracial relationships—a poignant and engaging story of the power of love, missed opportunities, second chances, and the pitfalls of obsession.
Atlanta, GA
May 2005
Maita
Missing my flight was not an option. My mental health was at stake, and the crippling urgency to reclaim a lost love was driving me insane. I had to get on that plane, and nothing would get in my way—not the never-on-time bus to the MARTA train station, or the slow train ride to the airport, and certainly not the brunette British Airways agent in her perfectly pressed uniform. Panting and drenched in sweat, I finally made it to the British Airways gate A7. After racing in a panic through the terminal and unapologetically pushing my way past flustered travelers, my shoulder aching from the weight of my carry-on bag, I arrived seconds after the gate closed. Would she let me through?
With a trembling hand, I gave the agent my boarding pass. She examined it, her expression giving away nothing. My heart was pounding in my chest, and the rhythmic throbbing echoed through my ears like a drumbeat. I crossed my fingers, held my breath, and prepared for the worst.
“Ma’am, we don’t allow anyone onto the flight once the gate has closed,” she said, scanning my boarding pass. “You're late, but I'll let you in. Thank your lucky stars that I’m at the gate and not my colleague.”
“Thank you so much, I have to make this trip, and it can’t wait,” I replied, exhaling with relief and gratitude.
“Well, hurry and get seated. We can't delay much longer. You're in seat 18A.”
I fumbled through the narrow aisle looking for my seat and could sense the accusing glares from passengers who were strapped in and waiting impatiently for takeoff.
I was pleasantly surprised when I reached seat 18A and noticed that it was my preferred window seat. Still pumped with adrenaline from my run from security to the departure gate, feeling hot and clammy, I struggled to open the overhead cabin while carrying my oversized bag. I was the only standing passenger when the flight attendant announced that everyone must take their seats and get ready for takeoff.
“I’ll get that for you,” the gentleman in seat 18B said, pointing at my bag as he got up to assist me.
“Thanks,” I replied, noting, even in my unsettled state, his piercing brown eyes and handsome features. Before handing him my leather bag that faithfully served as both a handbag and carry-on luggage, I quickly dug in and pulled out my most treasured possession, my iPod. Although the screen had an irregular hairline crack, and most of the ivory coating had worn off, exposing a silver-gray metal, it worked perfectly. I stepped aside as he opened the overhead bin, and with one swift move exposing toned arms that complimented his firm physique, he stuffed my bag into a narrow space between a black laptop bag and a red backpack.
“Go on, then,” he said, motioning for me to get into my window seat so he could take his aisle seat next to me.
“Thank you,” I whispered again, not sure if I had bothered him. I heaved a sigh of relief and thought how a glass of red wine would be most welcome at this moment.
My hair was a mess, and I was sure that I reeked of sweat and fatigue from all that running through the airport. I felt sorry for the kind man sitting beside me. How unpleasant for him to be cramped next to me on this long flight. I made a note to freshen up as soon as the pilot gave the all-clear to get up. I buckled my seat belt and closed my eyes to calm down and relax.
My thoughts drifted to the excruciatingly slow MARTA train ride, the reason I was late to board my flight. It was continuously interrupted by multiple stops, making me frustrated, restless, and disappointed by the speed or lack thereof. My anxiety slowly brewing. This experience had me looking forward to being in London, where I would enjoy the efficiency of the London trains and buses that were always on time, to the second.
I felt the plane transition from taxiing to takeoff as it gained speed, and I was on my way. Two and a half months in London would be a welcome break from my studies at Emory University, and I was excited about spending time with family and friends. I planned to unwind at my mother's house in Chatham. As always, she would pamper me with delicious home-cooked meals, especially sadza and beef stew. I was so ready for summer barbeques, club-hopping, and partying with my sister and girlfriends. It felt like going home.
As much as I was looking forward to chilling out and having fun on this vacation, I had to stay focused on my two missions. The first: to work and save money to pay for my tuition in my final semester at Emory—which had a hefty price tag. I dreaded my second mission—to make right what I had messed up. Thinking about it stirred a sinking feeling of regret, and it cast a dark cloud over everything, including my plans to have a good time in London.
As always, music was the best distraction for me, and it often saved me from sinking further into depressing thoughts, especially when that dreadful feeling best described as heartache threatened to overwhelm me. Ironically, sad love songs were the ones that lifted my spirits. I knew which song would fit my mood. I opened my eyes, took my iPod from the seat pocket, scrolled through my playlist, and selected the Secrets album by Toni Braxton. With the volume cranked up, my head resting on the seat, and my eyes shut, I began to fantasize about the day I would come face-to-face with the man who was the reason for my pain.
As Toni Braxton's deep, almost masculine voice washed over me, it carried me to a time when someone adored me so much that he became consumed with the fear of losing me. The painful truth was that I misinterpreted his affection as possessiveness and control, and I left him. Now, I would do anything for a second chance, but did he still feel the same? Did he long for me as I did him? As the music played, and the plane floated in the sky, I felt at ease, and slowly drifted off into dreamland.
*****
The airplane had been rattling and shaking for some time. Initially distant, the motion grew louder and more vigorous, finally piercing my dreams and waking me with a jolt. I gripped my armrests, fear bursting through me. Was the plane losing control? Turbulence had always terrified me.
“Lord, please get us to London safely,” I prayed under my breath. “Oh God, please make this stop.” With my eyes tightly shut, I held my breath as the plane suddenly descended, then ascended, shaking all the while and taking my intestines with it, making me nauseous.
I opened my eyes briefly and realized with surprise that most passengers were calm—reading books, typing on their laptops, watching movies, or sleeping in peace. A lady across from us, in the middle row, was just as panic-stricken as I was; she too, was close to tears. The gentleman next to me was staring at something straight ahead, undisturbed. The plane made a sudden dive, and this time many passengers yelled in fear. I joined them, which got the attention of my neighbor.
“Bloody turbulence,” he muttered. “Relax, it will be over soon.” He smiled at me reassuringly.
Just as I was about to reply—bang! The plane jolted, and this time seemed to tilt. Even more passengers cried out with fright.
I had experienced frightening turbulence, but this was the worst yet. I whispered, “Oh Nkosi Yami, I don’t want to die, not like this, Lord.” I must have said it out loud, because the gentleman next to me burst into laughter, and I knew he was laughing at me. How could he find humor in the middle of this terrible situation? And how insensitive of him to laugh at me.
The captain’s voice came on the speakers. “Folks, we’re encountering severe turbulence. I expect it to last another fifteen minutes. Please be calm, and remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened.”
That didn’t ease my nerves, because fifteen minutes was a long time to be on this roller-coaster ride. I clutched the armrests again. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. The gentleman next to me smiled and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just so funny the way everyone is panicking. It’ll be over soon. Just a little bump on the road, I guess.”
I relaxed my hands and sat up. “No need to apologize. I can never get used to turbulence and always freak out.”
He leaned toward me. “Well, think about it, as long as the overhead oxygen masks don’t spring out, and no one is throwing up like in the movies, we’re fine. Cabin pressure is good, no problem.”
“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t mean we won’t nosedive into the ocean.”
“And we won’t live to feel the impact. It would be so fast you wouldn’t get the chance to complete your Hail Marys, but that quick prayer you made earlier might work.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist laughing.”
“Did you hear me pray? I thought I was whispering.”
“Ha, it wasn’t much of a whisper. Amazing how religious we get when faced with danger.” Then he placed his soft hand on mine, and patting it gently, said, “Don’t worry, we’re going to make it to London okay.”
His actions and words were comforting, even as the plane continued its violent shaking. “Thanks. I hope it will end soon.”
He reached for a bag under the seat in front of him, and with a steady hand pulled out a little zipped purse. He brought out a bottle of pills, took one out, and turned to me. “Here, try one of these. This pill is an all-natural herbal sleeping aide that will help you relax. It always works for me.” He must have noticed the suspicion and confusion on my face, because he quickly added, “Okay, fine, I’ll take one first.”
He popped a little brown pill into his mouth, swallowed, and smiled. I hesitated. Taking any medication from a stranger was dangerous, of course.
Just then, the plane lurched again, tilting to the right. Someone behind us screamed. The pill fell out of the gentleman’s hand and landed on my lap. Without thinking twice, I put it into my mouth and swallowed.
He patted my hand again. “Trust me, you will be fine.”
I took a deep breath. “I hope so.” I wasn’t sure what I’d just done. Closing my eyes again, I decided to ignore the vibrating airplane and wait for the sleeping pill to take effect.
“When I wake up,” I said, eyes closed, “this crazy ride had better be over.”
“It will, and everything will be all right,” he replied.
I don’t know for how long I was asleep. I woke up a little disoriented, then quickly remembered I was on a flight to London.
“Hi, did you sleep well?” asked my friendly neighbor.
I smiled back and remembered he had given me a sleeping pill.
“Hey, you’re the creepy man who drugged me,” I said.
He laughed. “Saved you is more like it. You were freaking out, praying, and chanting Hail Marys because of a little turbulence.” He made a funny face and began imitating me in a cartoonish voice. “I don’t want to die, Lord, not like this, Lord!”
We both laughed, even as I replied, “That’s not funny; I was afraid.”
“Okay, I won’t laugh anymore, I promise.” Though he continued to. Then he turned to me and extended a hand. “My name is Chris. Christopher Medley.”
I shook his hand. “And I’m Maita, Maita Shumba.”
Maita (Bubbles) leaves her boyfriend, Ade, to attend university in America. But she wants to reunite with Ade and she makes a trip back to London to win him back. Ade was emotionally scarred when she left without an explanation. On the plane she meets Chris, a British businessman. They strike up a conversation and there's a spark. Their lives become intertwined once they both reach their destination as Chris decides to pursue her. Maita would prefer to put him on the backburner.
Turning Tables centers on an obsessive relationship and race. This is the story of facing choices. So with a new love interest on the horizon, a kiss between former lovers, and Ade's new girlfriend there are exciting times to come.
Maita wasn't ready for commitment and leaving the country made it easy. So at first, the challenge for me was to understand her motive. She didn't want to date Ade when they first met. She wasn't attracted to him. What I didn't like was her saying he should lose a few pounds. Maita has insecurities about her acne, so I think a bit of understanding would have made sense. I can see why he moved on – Ade was ready to commit.
We are all born with the primal need for love. Turning Tables explores when love is lost or when it's toxic. It's the perfect setting for women's fiction. I'm no stranger to toxic romance so it hit home. I would be remiss if I didn't explain my experience. I should have walked away from something that clearly wasn't working. I ignored red flags. What I liked about the novel was that it looked at the downsides of interracial dating in a way that's not been done before. For example, it's not a compliment when someone says your English is good.
Readers who like complicated relationships will enjoy this book. You'll be satisfied with how things turn out.