Chapter 4: Akara, Gossip, and Mama’s Mission

Truth be say, na me worry am tire before he gree date me.

My padi dey always laugh say I dey do gra-gra for man, but Ebuka na different case. I chase am tire before he even notice say I dey exist.

That time, I follow my padi go health centre, once I see Dr. Ebuka, my body don melt. White coat, gold glasses, broad chest, long leg, him dey gentle but strong—na my type be that.

Health centre dey smell Dettol, fried akara from junction dey sneak enter window. Nurses dey gossip for corridor, but na only Ebuka I dey see.

All those nurses dey toast am, but na me carry first. For my mind, I dey plan my own strategy—front seat, back seat, any seat, as long as e close to him office.

And I get thing for hand. When he dey write patient note, those fine fingers dey make my heart dey do kpim kpim.

Na those fingers I dey imagine for night. I go dey wonder if e fit use am write love letter join.

I go dey hold door, swallow spit, my heart dey race. That day, I understand wetin dem dey call bridge effect. I need heart bypass sharp sharp.

My heart dey beat double, e be like say if I no see am, my blood pressure go high.

My padi con land for health centre one month with heart wahala, na my wahala cause am.

I dey blame myself small, but na all these crush wahala dey make person dey misbehave.

From that day, I turn unofficial member of thoracic surgery. Morning kunu, he go complain say sugar too much; lunch jollof, he go say nutrition no balance; evening, I go wait for am, he go say my routine no pure.

I go dey pretend like say I dey interested for health talk, but na only him I dey watch. My friend dey tease me say na only food I dey use chase husband.

After I pretend faint for am thirty days straight, Dr. Ebuka finally block me for staircase: “Ifunanya, wetin you really want?”

He don tire for my drama. But na that question make my mind open. I look am, I no fit hide again.

“You,” I answer, bite my lip, drag him tie. “You fit? Dr. Ebuka, just see you dey make my heart run—wetin I go do?”

My voice shake, but my heart dey sure. I fit see say e shock am small, but the guy gentle.

Later, as he pin me for wall kiss me, I realize even cold flower fit bite person when e reach.

That kiss scatter my brain, e sweet like honey for ogi. After that day, I dey float.

But I come see say this man na real church boy—no touch zone. Three months, na only hand we hold. Six months before kiss enter. Anytime I wan go far, he go use those fine eyes look me: “E still early.”

The guy get discipline die. Even when I try use body do magic, he go just smile and reset my mind. Na patience test I dey write.

Na half year of drag before I fit carry am go bed. But the ‘cold flower’ no cold at all for bed—he dey finish me every time.

Na that first night I see say still water run deep. For bed, na lion. No dull moment.

Love suppose sweet, but him work tie am for hospital. Out by seven, back by eight or nine. If he even come house, I wan play, but patient file, paper, exam still dey. Even farm donkey go call am oga.

I dey count myself lucky say na doctor I catch, but the shift dey kill love. My friends dey warn me say doctor life no easy.

As young babe, I want am. I no fit do this on-and-off life.

I dey crave am, but e work no dey let am rest. Sometimes I dey feel like side chick to him job.

My birthday reach, I don hold body for half month. I swear I go push am down. But as film just start, call enter, he run go hospital.

My mind pain me. I even arrange new hair, wear fine dress, plan everything. But man disappear.

I watch film alone, chop suya alone, loneliness just dey hit me. I message am—no reply. I carry food go hospital, see am with female doctor, two of them dey study case, dey smile, dey shine. Dem fit marry self.

The way dem dey laugh together, e be like say I be outsider. Jealousy bite me for heart.

That moment, my energy die. Man like Dr. Ebuka na for cruise, no be for marriage. He be top doctor; me, I just dey write story. We no match.

I just dey reason say our world no dey balance. Na book and paper fit unite us, but na different table we dey.

Suddenly, I no even wan knack am again. So I break up. He ask why. I stab am: “Your skill too poor.”

I no fit open my heart, so I use mouth wound am. For my mind, I dey protect myself.

Then I block am everywhere.

I carry matter for head. Na so I run, delete, block, vanish from everywhere.

After break up, he no find me. Na me dump am.

I dey form strong woman. Even if pain dey inside, I no go show am.

Now, as I mistakenly register under am, e go look like say I dey find am again.

For Naija, e go be like say I dey beg for love, but na mistake. I wan find hole hide.