Wonderful, beautiful, tragic

2

          I had forgotten the weekend was here. I’m so used to just going through the week one day at a time I always forget what day it is since they’re all the same. Get up, lament for a second that it’s already morning, will the soul deep fatigue out of me (never works), give up, curse the world and all in it, get up, get ready, skip breakfast, head on to class and the long endless day of standing on already sore feet for seven hours, miss lunch because the seniors do enjoy talking even if my brain stops taking anything in after around the fourth hour, struggle on till 5pm after a bottle choke full of refined sugar my poor teeth are always in tears, walk to my bed through the jungle that’s the road system in this place where you’re not sure if you’ll make it or not and finally…rest. Only to do it all again the next day and the next and so on. I’m always surprised when I make it through another week.
Anyway the highlights of my week are the days Wemi visits. We are only a ten minutes’ walk (thirty for me) away from each other, spend the whole day buildings away but surprisingly rarely see each other. And today, since we are hanging out with his friends later, he’ll be coming a bit early so that we can spend some time together. That adds just the right amount of spring to my step I’m even extra cautious when crossing the road.

He comes bustling in, with all the energy I don’t think I’ll ever have, without knocking because he knows I always leave the door open for him. I’m pretty sure he’s a mutant. Who spends all day in a hospital seeing patient after patient scanning and recording and writing and you’re still this excited for life?
“Hug me, woman,” is the first thing he says because he’s weird and sweet like that, throwing him arms out. Sometimes he just makes a beeline for me and wraps me in one of those amazing bear hugs. But I think he likes it more when I go to him. Which I get up and do.
Hugging Wemi is like snuggling with your favorite blanket when it’s freezing outside with a warm cup of tea and a novel or a good movie. Like that moment in time when you have no quarrel with the world. Like the perfect massage after a very long day. It’s all that and more. I can feel all the stress of the day, the sadness that’s always on the edge waiting to creep in, the loneliness and the exhaustion just drain away. A tingling sensation starting from the crown of my head wiping away everything to the soles of my feet. I feel alive again. I breathe him in. That perfect combination of cologne, soap and sweat with that Wemi only smell just beneath all that. This scent has saved me from myself many many nights.
“Hey,” I speak into his shirt, hiding my face because I can feel my emotions getting out of hand and tears coming on. He wraps his arms around me just a little bit tighter, like his trying to infuse his strength into me. After a few moments of us standing like this, he finally relaxes his hold and pushes me a little bit away from him. I don’t want to look up. I don’t want to see the concern on his face.
“Angel look at me.” I try to hide back into his shirt but he won’t let me. “Come on, please.”
He decides I won’t budge and tilts my face up himself.
“Are you okay?” I nod my head yes. “Are you sure? Don’t just nod yes for me.” My eyes and his are playing a game of cat and mouse (I’m the mouse in case you’re wondering) because I want to have got myself back in shape before I can dare meet his. He never misses a thing.
When I think my voice is back to normal I tell him I’m fine and ask about his day. He pauses for one tense second as he looks at me before he launches into a day involving a patient who did not want to accept that she was carrying twins. I give it all my attention asking questions and adding comments where I feel one is needed.
Before we know it, it’s time for us to get ready and go. A quick shower together, shirts, jeans, throw my braids into a pony tail and away we go. I don’t bother with makeup because I don’t have the energy for it, I never do. I have enough problems without having to worry about my mascara running and if the lipstick will stay after every bite or sip.
Wemi’s friends are the raucous kind. The noisy kind. The football team you see in American movies kind. Not around me though because apparently I’m scary. I don’t mind. I’m not good with noise, I’m not good around noisy people, I don’t really like people in general. Sometimes I don’t mind, but those days are few and far between. Anyway, away from my weird self.
We are meeting them at a semi-famous hangout that most of our lot frequent then there’s whispers of a bar afterwards. The second we walk in, a loud roar comes up from one corner and I know we’ve found our people. This is when I can tell that Wemi really holds back his energy levels when he’s alone with me. In no time at all he’s already in the middle of conversations, clasping hands and slapping backs, laughing just as loudly as the next guy. He doesn’t forget about me though. Somehow he clears a space for me to sit to his right and to my right is a tiny girl with a face full of makeup. She smiles shyly at me as I sit down. Maybe I’ll leave with a friend today.
I say a quick hi to everybody given that I know most of these people from high school. They know I’ll not be really joining in their conversations but there’s an undercurrent of expectation that I’ll be spending some money on them tonight. A simple example of how people will put up with you if you have some cash in your pocket.
I surprise myself and start up a conversation with my neighbor whose name turns out to be Jnae, I’m tempted to ask if the nurse misspelt Jane on her birth certificate. Such things are not rare here but I hold my tongue. I need to rally some troops for the long night ahead. She’s doing journalism and is in her second year. I can tell she feels overwhelmed being in the middle of people doing medical oriented courses discussing things she last heard of when she was 16. I try to let her talk about herself more, it’s the least I could do.
As I start to relax, enjoying my chicken pizza and soda that Wemi ordered for me, there’s commotion at the door of the restaurant and in comes someone I know is used to attention. Because I could see it all the way from my corner. What disturbed me the most, was that she was heading directly for where we were.