Scars (Romola 2)

80: Grieve

The door to the ward opened and Romola shut her eyes. She curled into herself hoping she could become a little ball and disappear before the footsteps reached her. No such luck. Warm slim fingers wrapped around her arm. She turned to the other side, her mother's sobs grew loud in her ear. Was there no peace for her? Maybe there wasn't. She didn't deserve any but she would rather be left alone with her pain and guilt.

She buried her head in the pillow and fought the urge to scream. The walls of her throat were sore enough.

"Miss Ibikunle, we really need your help."

She shook her head.

"You know what happened to your sister. You would've done anything to save her and you did your best, but here you have the chance to save someone else."

"Find another donor."

The doctor moved closer. Hot fast puffs of air met her cheeks. "There is no possibility for others right now. They are on their way but a petrol tanker caused a fire accident and blocked the main route to this hospital. She'll die before they make it."

As cold as it sounded, Romola voiced it with all confidence in her body. "I don't care."

"What if you are the one who needs the blood?" The doctor's voice turned snide.

"Then let me die." That statement was as true as it had been when she had demanded that they drained all of her blood for Sunbo's sake.

The doctor tried to roll her over on the bed but she resisted. "What would your sister say? She would not want you to do this."

Romola shrugged. Obviously, the doctor did not know Sunbo enough. "Just leave me alone."

"Please. Just come with me and see the girl. Maybe if you see her—"

"She is not my problem."

The doctor latched unto her wrist and tried to pull her out of bed. "You can't say no when you see the state she's in."

"I said no."

The doctor let go of her hand and she fell back unto the bed. The landing hurt but she didn't show it. Instead she met the doctor's eyes with a blank, dull and passive face. She drew her legs to her chest and curled her arms around it, shrinking into herself as much as she could.

"I don't understand you. Here someone is generously trying to pay your hospital bill in exchange for a little blood and you're refusing it."

Romola placed her head on her knees so that she faced the wall where the main window was. Jide sat in a corner, his head lolling on a chair. How could he sleep after Sunbo's death? There was none of her usual desire to jerk him out of the chair and demand humane actions. Everyone grieved in different ways and they were allowed to.

"I didn't ask for their help. I'll pay it by myself."

The doctor hissed. "The same way you couldn't pay your sister's bills?"

The words were supposed to cut through her heart but instead of a heart, all she had was a stone wall and the words of attack could not cut through something that she had already cut herself. She knew she was responsible for her sister's death. She didn't need to be told.

She fell back to the bed and shrunk further into herself. "I would like to be left alone please. Take my mother out with you."

# # #

Olumide followed the nurse at a brisk pace. As they walked down the long hallway intercepted by white doors, his eyes roamed around, lingering as long as it could on the figures beyond the open doors hoping he could catch a glimpse of Romola.

The last time he'd spent so much time in the hospital was when he took Romola to Vicky. At least that one had ended in a somewhat positive episode. Romola was revived. Even though the aftermath of that recovery wasn't something he wanted to deal with but he held on to that experience. Modupe would not end up like Muyi.

"Sir, we're here."

Olumide stopped and looked back. The nurse stood a few feet away with her fingers clutching the white door post of a room.

"Right."

He shoved his hands into his pocket, Romola would have to wait. Again. Maybe, after he convinced the donor, he would tell the nurse that he wanted to escort the donor to wherever the blood would be drawn and when they got there, he would take the excuse that he wanted to use the toilet and rush to the receptionist.

They were about to enter the hospital room when the doctor came outside. She looked at Olumide and then to the nurse, addressing the latter first. "What are you doing here?"

"He came here to see if he could convince her." The nurse offered.

The doctor shooed them away from the room. "Don't worry about it. Her brother is trying to convince her."

"How is that going?" Olumide asked.

The doctor shrugged. "Hopefully, he'll do a better job than I can."

"Isn't there a way to force her to donate?"

The doctor frowned at him. "If there was a way, don't you think all viable donors in the state would have been forced to donate? We just need a warrant to pack them all into a truck, regardless of what could happen to them. I mean, it's not like trying to force someone to do something against their wish wouldn't lead to stressful situations that can compromise their health."

"Fine." The doctor's subtle sarcasm grated his nerves. "What does she want?"

"She simply wants to be left alone."

The sound of sobbing rose from inside the room. Olumide took a step forward but the doctor's stood in his path.

"Let me go to her."

"I'm afraid you can't."

"I can talk to her. I know what's she feeling."

He knew the wish to be alone, to enter a void and disappear. It was one thing to refuse the company of others while grieving, it was another to outright reject it. The danger of loneliness would not set in until much later... until that person was used to bearing their grief alone and could not reach out under the crushing weight of their problems.

"However you feel cannot match what her own brother feels right now. He also lost his sister."

Olumide's shoulder sagged. "I can't stay here and do nothing."

"But that is exactly what you must do."

"Fine, just let her know that I'm willing to offer any amount. Up to triple digit millions if she will help Modupe." This would put a huge dent in his fortunes. Both the one he inherited from his grandparents, the one from his father and the one he'd built up since he started working but there was no price tag on Modupe's life. The little girl was precious and if he did marry Yetunde, she would become his daughter.

"Okay, I'll let her know. Just return to the waiting room."

"If she needs to talk to anyone-"

“You are not a therapist.” The doctor pat his back. "There is nothing you can say to her that will be meaningful."