Chapter 6

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We're making a trip to the hospital. By me, I mean my mother, father, and I. It's been three weeks since Usman and I ended. Same three since Amira and I fought. I have spoken to Habeel. But everything feels different.

My last appointment with Ali, Dr. Mushahid was very brief. He'd mentioned that I'd be getting off the air cast in this appointment. For the most part, when I go to the hospital about my leg, he asks if there's anything out of the ordinary and just assigns me a nurse, so I rarely saw him in my appointments, which is a shame, cause I'd have appreciated the distraction.

Those three weeks have been agonizing. It would be better if I had anything t do. But aside from sulking, I've been lying in bed all week.

If I get this bloody cast off today, I am resuming school.

The office is cool, there are three chairs, and a single couch. I take one of the chairs with my mom and my father paces nervously.

Like he did at our last doctor's appointment where we were told that after further checkup, I was completely fine.

Ali struts in, white coat unbuttoned and wrinkled. Eyes swollen behind his glasses- I'd never seen him in glasses. Their shape makes him look even hotter.

His lips so pink and plump, you'd think he'd just been kissed. He looks irritated, but at this sight of my parents, his eyes soften.

'Ina kwana' Good morning. He greets them, a slight bend in his posture as respect.

'Lafiya, alhamdullilah' my mother replies, getting excited with Ali's presence. I realize what this is. Oh my god.

My mother is going to try and set me up with my doctor. My doctor who found my chattering annoying.

I roll my eyes internally. My eyes cut to Ali, and it looks like he's caught on. Were both blushing now.

He looks away quickly and clears his throat. 'Ms. Rabiu's cast will be coming off today. I'll advice walking as much as possible in short bursts, so no strain on the leg but practice of walking.' My mother nods eagerly and my annoyance increases.

'As most of the nurses are off duty today, I'll take care of taking off her cast and you'll be set to head home.' He takes off his glasses, rubs his eye and puts them back on.

'Common, Ms. Rabiu, follow me.'

I follow my quite doctor. Into a room with a single small window.

The room looks as much as a hospital as any place could ever look.

'You look tired. I hope you're awake enough to do this without harming me' I joke.

'I can handle my job Ms. Rabiu.'

'I apologize, I don't intend to insinuate otherwise, I was just making a joke.' I quickly defend.

'Well, I don't joke with the health of my patients' he motions for me to sit on the bed.

I do.

Mr. Mushahid rolls up his sleeves. Hot. And seeks out a stool he rolls in front of me. Ali sits down at my feet.

As he begins to take off the cast, his head dips lower, his curls the only thing in my vision. I stare at them hard, refusing to think about my miserable life. I wonder if they are 3a or 3b curls. If they are brown or if that's just the reflection of light.

I think hard of what to say, I hate this awkward silence.

The cast finally comes off. There is an instant chill to my foot. My doctor twists it from side to side.

'Does that hurt?' he asks, looking up.

'No.' from up here, Ali looks like he's worshiping me. Like I am a goddess who brings men down to their knees.

He looks powerless down there-

I pull my legs back immediately. I am clearly extremely depressed and lonely. I groan.

Ali looks up at me. He pulls his stool away from me and gets to his full length again, now he's dominating me. I feel small again. But not a bad way.

I don't offer an explanation for my groan.

'Is everything okay?'

'When can I drive?' Perfect.

'I was going to talk to you about that' he says picking up a pen from the table, he starts playing with it. Hm?

'You can drive. You can start driving today actually. But I saw you, I saw you driving that day' he stays silent. He's waiting for my response.

'What?' All amusement gone, my insides flare up. 'You were following me.' I point. 'It was you. I wasn't tripping' I shake my head. I want to throw up.

'No. I wasn't following you. No one was following you. I thought you were just enjoying a nice drive and then you kept going faster and faster, by the time I'd got my car to catch up, you were injured. I—'

'Please stop. No one was there!' I feel insanse, considering I just said I knew I was being followed.

'I was. I wasn't in my car. I was going to pick something up. When I saw the way, you were speeding I knew you'd crash, normal cars aren't made to brake fast enough. I got a car to stop you, but it was too late'

'Is this some kind of joke? You were magically at the empty road I was on, and you somehow know so much about race cars and normal ones. And are now my doctor. If you are some kind of stalker, I will have a restraining order' another problem on my pile of issues.

Oh, if only Amira and I were talking, she'd die if I told her I had a stalker, she'd say 'You always get the cool things happening to you'

'I am not a stalker' Ali scowls. Yeah. I believe you.

'Come out with me. I'll prove it to you.'

'Is this how you ask girls out? Cause it's so unprofessional.' Ali's eyes darken.

 I get up. My legs land on the cold tiles and I flinch. Ali moves to me immediately. I eye him, he backs off.

He sighs. 'I am not asking you out, I am trying to prove that I was indeed around there for a reason.' He scribbles something down on a paper. 'Here. On Thursday at 8pm if you change your mind.'

My parents will die before letting me go out as late as 8pm. I need to move back to mine. I haven't been at my house in almost two months. I came over for a short break and since my injury, my mother has argued that she'd like to have her eyes on me.

'8pm is too late' I mutter begrudgingly. I am curious.

'Fine. 2pm then' he says back. A little too quickly. He just wants me there. That can either be deadly or romantic.

'Fine.' I muttter. 

Ali and I walk back to his office where my mother and father are sitting, mummy must have convinced daddy to sit his ass down. It is only now that I look at the place.

There are two entrance doors, both adjacent one another, the single couch is at the wall, on top of it are pictures of older men, one particularly with like Ali. I notice none of himself. There are also certificates there. The next wall to the left has a small refrigerator and on top of it on the wall is a grandfather clock. The right wall is bare.

Three chairs are arranged around one side of the glass desk in the office. And one rolly office one on the other side. Underneath the table is an ugly brown rub, pecks of gold illuminating it.

More pictures and certificates line the wall behind the chair. And to the far right is a show glass with several awards.

Ali speaks to my parents, and I zone out.

By the time we leave the hospital, I have decided I am going to the place Ali invited me to. I've been depressed for far too long. 

.

.

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Nafisah.

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