Memoirs of A Repentant Hooker: Episode 12

Eliza and I had taken an okada which seemed to be the fastest as my mind seemingly dictated. I never even had
the time to debate with my mind which is faster between the okada and the taxi but who cares right now ‘cos I seem
to be on it already. Eliza who sat at my back on the okada was literally ‘shooking’ me with her braless nipples.

On a normal day, I would have asked her to go back and wear clothes for ‘dem’ babies but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Thank God I wasn’t a man sha; some guys literally get overly turned on just by the pinching of the nipple. Walai, ‘konji’ na serious bastard.

Throughout the ride to the hospital, I couldn’t help but be sure in my mind that everything really seems to be falling apart. There is a seemingly big trouble in our paradise. I can’t help but feel Amaka is in a bigger trouble and all
these talk about breaking a bottle on Sola’s head could really be a sham. . .

But come to think of it, what relationship does a cat have with a rat in the absence of a nearby hole? Why on earth would Sola try to protect
Amaka? They never even knew each other until my ‘ish’ with him. One minute she’s getting out from a seemingly
court case or federal prison as it were and the next minute, she’s hospitalized with no knowledge of how serious the
accident was. . . I don’t know what’s going on but Amaka I really can’t wait any longer for her to tell me what’s going on with her when she pleases. I was so determined in my mind that no matter the condition she is, as far as she can talk and recognize me, she’s gonna spill it all out cos I’m tired; fuck insensitive!

The okada dropped us right in front of the hospital and I just couldn’t wait to enter the hospital, locate her ward, maybe find out how she’s doing or start making her talk about everything that’s so going on.

You really won’t reply? I thought you really wanted us to talk.

Jide, the yahoo messenger had started again. He never really talked much. Short messages, short words even in
the sweetest of times; he’s always precise and straight to the point. At this point, I was really tired of all dramas
especially Jides. I have indeed had my hands too full. I never wasted my time in replying him.

Maybe it never really mattered anymore. I sent him a response text.

All these were going on while Eliza and I was seated, patiently waiting for the nurse to attend to us. They all seem to be busy; hospitals seem to be even busier than the market place these days.

Maybe it never really mattered anymore? What has come over you? I’m really tired.

It was so obvious he was also tired of being miserable. The rate at which he sends and replies was quite serious.
Guess, he wasn’t the only one that is tired but different types of tiredness.

Jide. I’m not tired. I’m fed up. I replied.

Fine!

He doesn’t even take five seconds to fire his reply. Sometimes, I wonder why the guy never really went to the
Military because whenever Jide says fine, it is really fine! Whatever sef, he can go and kill himself. Good riddance to unnecessary messing up with my head. I am tired jare!

Finally, a Nurse decided to attend to us. She was smart, pretty and looked so versed in the job.

“Hello. Good day ma. How can I be of help?”

“Yeah, thanks. A friend of mine was rushed here. . . An accident victim.”

“Okay. Can I have her name please?”

“Amaka Coker!”

“Oh! Okay. We have a name like that with us. She was rushed in early today.”

“Please, how is she and how badly hurt?”

“Well. . . How related are you to her?”

“Hmmmm. . . she is my friend. Not just any friend, my close friend. . . My sister.”

“Okay. . .  You should go see the doctor first; first turning by the right.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Amaka Coker was given a private ward; it was that serious or maybe not. I knew I couldn’t stand the sight of what had
befallen her even from afar. I didn’t allow Eliza to come in before the whole occupants of number 5 would start
exaggerating what had happened to her.

I could see a man sitting directly opposite her on a white chair; his back view looked like Jide’s but it possibly
couldn’t be. I seem to see Jide everywhere and in everything these days. “I’m feeling the nigga in Dbanj’s
voice even though I try to deny it. . . Hmmm, the more we moved closer to see Amaka proper, the more scared I
became.

“This is the young man that brought your friend in.” the doctor said introducing the young man on the seat who happened to be Jide.

“Oh! Nice. So glad to meet you. Thanks so much for your kind gesture. God will reward you.” I said, shaking hands with him with no single drop of familiarity.

I’m so fucking good at stuffs like that in pretense actually.

“Don’t mention it ma’am. I was just opportuned to be driving by at the time of the incident. Let’s just thank God she’s alive.” He said with so much distance visible in the language.

Everything felt so weird and it was actually hurting to me but I had to shake it off in Taylor Swift’s voice.

“I should take my leave now. I would check back later.”

“Jide right?. . . “ I said, staring into his eyes, holding tightly to his palms. . . “It was nice to meet you.”

“Same here ma’am!” he made to leave.
I was like “cut off with the ma’am crap” in my mind. I was actually looking for an opportunity to hold firm to his arms,
caress them all day and never let go but it was not my decision to make. I was gonna let go whether I like it or not.

Amaka was all bounded up. . . she was wrapped up all over the head, face, up to her neck level. She looked like an acid victim that needed a surgery. . . I couldn’t even see her face not to talk of reading her emotions or bursting for her.

Tears flowed from my eyes freely and I couldn’t even hold it back.

“We would leave you for now but you can check by my office when you are leaving.” The doctor said patting me
on the shoulder as he made to take his leave with the young nurse that attended to me.

I couldn’t contain my tears. I broke down. I was sitting on the bare floor. I wept like a baby; can’t remember the last time I did that. I didn’t even notice Eliza come in until she touched, helped me up. I went by Amaka’s side, held her
hand and said a little prayer with tears in my voice and mind; can’t remember the last time I prayed until now. I made my leave with Eliza, shutting the door closely behind her.

“Eliza, kindly wait for me at the Nurses’ lounge. I wanna quickly see the Doctor.” I said to her.

“Alright ma.”

The Doctor’s office wasn’t what I had envisaged. A hot argument was going on between him and some people who I
had no idea if they were patients, patients-to-be, or relatives of a patient but whatever; I had already jumped in
before I realized it was heated in there and I was caught in between deciding to leave or staying.

“I’m sorry sir but you really cannot see this patient.” The Doctor was stressing.

“I would see her! What authority have you to tell me not to see her?” the man fired back.

The man seems to have a good command of English. He was dressed in a Yoruba attire; all flowing agbada with some correct bling-bling all over his neck; he smells riches and wealth and beside him was a young, pretty woman who definitely would be in her early 50s. She was dressed in the same fabric but in the skirt and blouse style. She was unnecessarily panting all over.

“Sir, I still insist you can’t see the patient in question. You are not allowed to see her.”

“Not even me, her mother?” the woman stressed in a shaking voice.

“I’m sorry ma! But you can’t. She only penciled down a name and she is the only person allowed to see her. . . If you’d excuse me sir and ma, I have to attend to someone.”

“You’ve gat to be kidding me! I would see my daughter! I would see Amaka! And not even you can stop me from
seeing her. . .”

The mention of Amaka made me stood still. Which Amaka? My Amaka or another one? I had to satisfy my curiosity. . .

“Please sirs and mas, which Amaka are we talking about here?”

“And who are you to question a family matter?” the man who is claiming Amaka’s paternity fires back.

“I’m sorry sir; just wanted to be sure. . .

“Madam. . .” the doctor said facing me

“. . . Meet, Chief and Mrs. Coker; Amaka’s parents!”

I couldn’t contain my surprise. . . How much do we really think we know? Maybe not so much!

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