•Rayyan

I stand behind my closed door and take a deep breath. A burp flew out of my throat and I laughed, feeling embarrassed even if there was no one to see me.

My ribs hurt in succession to the sneeze I just halted with the tips of my index and thumb to my nose. That led me to wonder who was talking about me.

I stared at my room in shock and tried to remember the last time I'd been there. Five years ago? Three? It was terribly hot and all the windows were locked making the room stuffy.

Apart from that the curtains made it all look dark and cozy in a way. All I needed was to turn on the air conditioner and my blanket would be the next best thing.

I reached for my phone and the paper with which had the phone number on it and I dialed while stretching my other arm above my head to turn on the AC.

Immediately I rushed to the bed and layed underneath my furry, silk blanket and adjusted to the middle where my most comfortable pillow was stationed.

The number I'd found on my hospital bed happened to be for the infamous Bashir I and the police were looking for.

Here's a recollection of how this foreign encounter went.

My eyes drooped. I was almost ready to sleep when he answered. "Salamu Alaykum." I'd said.

"Wa Alaykumusalam, who am I speaking to?"

"Uhh Rayyan Abdullah."

"Rayyan?" He sounded elated.

"Yes, have we, maybe, met before?"

"I'm not sure but I'd like us to meet if you don't mind."

Trust me, weird, strange, alien, unusual, all don't begin to explain the kind of introduction and reasoning behind the both of us, men, agreeing to meet for the first time without even knowing who the other really was.

"Ok.." I paused, unsure if it was safe to meet with the human being that tried to assassinante me, "Sure, when?"

Maybe it wasn't pure fortuity that he was waiting for my call...

If I was doing this it'd be in an open place that was crowded so the men I hired to protect me could come to my rescue if things went south.

I didn't trust this man one bit but I was convinced that finding that note with his number wasn't a coincidence.

And now the part we've all been waiting for— how I found out he was the one I've been searching for all this while. Everything is believed was based on assumption, I couldn't be too sure but I was willing to have this meeting just to see if he was really the one.

"I'm sure you already know but for the sake of a proper introduction I'll tell you my name." He assumed. Boy, was he wrong, "I'm Bashir Hussein."

If he's introducing himself then that means he doesn't know me at all but is also looking for me. Joke or prank I wasn't finding this funny again and was ready to get to the bottom of things especially if he is really who I've been searching for.

"Thanks. We can schedule a meeting for four thirty tomorrow at clubhouse."

"That's ok, goodbye."

I took a shower immediately after even if I did in the hospital just to get the hospital smell off my body before slipping onto my bed for a slumber that led everyone in the house to think I was dead.

Repeated knocking forced me to open the door—only for me to meet three worried looking faces of my mother, the house help and her subordinate.

"Naam, yes?" I looked at their scared faces in confusion as all of them turned to leave, only leaving my mother who stayed to scold me.

"What type of sleep are you doing that you didn't even hear us knocking?" She hissed, "I sent Gambo first and Paulina yet you didn't answer any of their knocks until I came myself."

Feeling too tired to explain, I just pretended to not hear any of her complaints and moved on to ask why she was looking for me.

"Shut up, stupid boy. I came here to check up on you and you're asking me rubbish questions as if I'm not your mother. Don't think you're too old to be slapped o!"

She marched out of the room with the snap of her fingers and muttering till she entered her room—a few doors away from mine.

The police cross my mind and I wonder if I should inform them of my meeting with Bashir or just watch what the meeting the next day would bring about. My final choice was the latter but I couldn't have known that this would be the best mistake I'd ever have to make in life.

Instead of shutting my door, I pick my car keys and head downstairs for some snacks before heading out to the hospital. It wasn't too late to see Dr. Kwabe right?

No one knew this except my family and Hameed; my closest friend but I had Leukemia and I didn't have it in me to tell Basma or anyone else. All I wanted was to have a normal life and I was diagnosed with this a year after I graduated secondary school.

My family was devastated the night we found out and all I did was stare with headphones stuffing my ears with music at the loudest volume—blocking out the sounds of their hollering.

That night was the night I plan to celebrate my excommunication from my secondary school. I despised the school and it's authority for so long and I couldn't wait to attend my award night. It was scheduled to be our last event that usually ended with a bonfire but my body wasn't having it so I had a seizure and woke up in the hospital.

After waking up, a bone marrow biopsy was performed and I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia. Dr. Kwabe said I would have to go for chemotherapy and after some time, a stem cell transplant then I would live a long and healthy life without complications. I guess she lied.

Along the lines I kept getting sick and would keep going back to her until my body started accepting the anti cancer drugs that was introduced to it. This was a battle I've been struggling with for years.

My stem cell transplantation would be taking place soon and I hope that would be the end of my problems but with the extent of my malady and the way I've been refusing to take my drugs and my thorough research on google, I realized that the treatment could be life threatening intermittently and I was likely to die from variegated infections so I chose to rely on Allah alone to sort me out.

I really wasn't all that bored. All that was in my head was, 'you just graduated and you're now a man'. I took the time to look, analyze and pick out how red or puffy my parents eyes were and how my other two siblings who were there looked at me with the most pitiful expressions I've ever seen in my life.

The rest were in their various tertiary institutions probably participating in a games night or struggling to sleep in their rooms—having a lonely night just like mine with their eyes fixated on the ceiling.

The doctor had already called me to complain about my absences but if I felt ok even if it was for a week I'd not felt the need to visit her. Reckless—I know but at this point I was told I may not have much time to live seeing the way my treatment was going.

You see, lightning doesn't strike twice and so does life. Which is why I'm winging everything just to make myself happy and since I met Basma she, unknowingly, has made me want to take care of myself more and for her sake I want to take my health issues seriously.

I used to think there was no point trying until she burst into my life with her enticing aura. By the time she returns safe and unscathed I'll explain to her, hoping she doesn't find me loathly or revolting.

For some months now I've been taking my medicine and working on preserving the last of myself for her to love just before I would be no more.

Maybe I should tell her, maybe I shouldn't but I know one thing. It's that I've fallen for her and would not like to see her in pain. After finding her, I plan to marry her so I could live the rest of my short lived life with her.

Before heading out, I stopped at my mothers room to inform her of my visit to the hospital and plead with her not to bother about me then I also went to Aunty Yusra's part of the house to see if she can give me any information on her search for Basma.

As usual, she said no and urged me to join in on the investigation too. She felt I was obliged to do it since I had proclaimed my love to her friend one too many times and it was an honor to join the search party for my future bride.

I left her room and pled with her to keep me updated if anything new pops up before disappearing outside the house.

While in the car, I call Dr. Kwabe and the first thing she does is reprimand my refusal to attend my prescribed clinical visits. She had become like family over the years so I looked at her as a mother.

"Rayyan Abdullah, you silly man! When will you stop this foolishness? Is it when you die that I'll see you in the hospital?"

She liked to joke about death to make my case seem subtle to me even if now I was used to being the first in my family to be diagnosed with the disease. I learnt it could be hereditary so I went all out to find out if my ancestors had it and I came up short with no answers.

I laughed, "I'm on my way now."

"Let this be the last conversation we have about you not coming for your check up again."

"Ok ma."

She hissed, chuckling, "Are we clear?"

"Yes!" I drawled, long enough for her to tell me to be quick before hanging up.

I drove speedily to the tunes of Ayra Starr's Bloody Samaritan until I arrived at the hospital. At the entrance I met a couple and the man held his wife, screaming for help from the doctors who walked sluggishly to join them and put her atop the stretcher.

Her blood formed a trail from the door of her husbands backseat to the entrance where the stretcher was. I watched them from the inside of my car, like a stalker. It's just that I haven't seen so much blood in my life like that. I was scared for them. I prayed she would survive.

I alighted from the car and steadily made it to the entrance that was loitered by couples and a few mothers. I squeezed past them and into the reception where more than a handful were seated waiting for their turn.

I called Dr. Kwabe so she knew I was in the lobby waiting for her and she appeared right by my side a few minutes ago. She was coming from the canteen outside for a snack and drink. We exchanged pleasantries and sauntered up the stairs and into her office.

Every time I came here I would always want to stay longer. My reasons are somewhat stupid but I couldn't care less about it. Her office smelt like diapers and baby food. It reminded me of my childhood days and staying longer was what led to her being my unpaid therapist.

After we finished discussing my health she would move on to asking about my family since she was very familiar with them then ask about my personal life.

At first I would avoid divulging into too much until I felt comfortable enough to disclose my most innermost feelings about Basma and all the things we'd done.

She was also well aware of Basma's kidnapping and has tried in her best way to console me. We reach the door of her office and find the door ajar.

She uses a foot to push it further open and we see one of her nurses writing something on a piece of paper, her body quivering the moment she sets eyes on us.

"What are you doing here Chioma?"

"Dr I was just cleaning up for you." She folds her arm behind her as if we hadn't just seen her writing something on the piece of paper.

"Is that your job?"

"No ma."

Dr Kwabe's hands now fly directly in front of the nurse, waiting for her to hand it over.

"Give it." She instructed and the nurse shook her head in the means to say no but the tears in her eyes pled to be let off the hook.

I've know Dr. Kwabe and if there's anything she is, it's cruel but empathetic. She treats her subordinates kindly but if they misbehave she would handle them with her iron fist.

In all the nine years I've known her she has always proved to be susceptible to assisting anyone in need but if you dared cross paths and trampled on her, she would pull out her swords.

"Chioma I will not ask again."

The nurse hands the paper to her and rushes out before Dr. Kwabe is done reading it then she shuts the door noiselessly.

She reaches for her seat across the table and sits while I do the same on the opposite side close to door.

"Can you imagine! She's forging my signature to get more drugs from the companies we're getting them from."

I straightened up with an elbow to the hand of the chair and my hands stroking my beard.

"Why would she do that?"

"They sell it to make extra cash without us knowing then they take some home to heal themselves when they're ill."

"Nawa o. This country is something else."

"I'll deal with her later. Let's talk about you."

I nodded and smiled as she frowned, opening her mouth to start complaining about me, "In three, two, one."

"Keep quiet!" She snickered, "You haven't been coming to see me for at least two months. Then I saw you a while back being brought in looking almost dead and now you're here."

In case you haven't noticed Nigerian doctors don't have the kind of professionalism we see in other places. You can become friends with them and still get the most appropriate treatment—that's if the hospital is a standard one of course.

"I'm fine, calm down." I protested, "I've just been busy lately. My wounds have healed from the accident. I don't even have scars."

"So? You still haven't been taking your medicine and if you're not careful the clutches of death with get you."

"That's harsh." I commented.

"I'm telling you the truth."

"I know... it's just that I just want to be with Basma and now that she's been kidnapped I haven't been in the right head space. I'm afraid I don't think I can live without her."

"I don't think she's helping your life Rayyan. This is too much! I'm not saying you shouldn't find her but after that just end things with her because she's making you loose track."

"What do you mean? I'm fine if that's why you're worrying."

"That's not why I'm worrying. You seem to be responding to your drugs. That's great but we don't know what God Almighty has in store for us. Don't just stop because you're healthy. Your treatment doesn't work like that—hell, no treatment works that way when you're skipping and taking your medicine whenever you don't feel ok."

"I know, I know. I'll return for my next check up on Monday next week. Don't worry about me."

"I promised your mother I would help you. If I can't fulfill that what's my purpose in this life as a doctor?"

"There's no need to worry. It won't come to that."

"We can't be too sure."

The conversation was draining all the zeal and energy I had to come to the hospital with so I decided to end things there and go to Hameed's house to blow off some steam.

He was the only friend I could count on in my times of need.

****

"Where's our madam?" I asked, taking my cap off my head and dropping it to the center table.

"She travelled for a family wedding in Yauri."

"Why didn't you go?"

"My work won't allow me that luxury."

"I could've covered for you. Baba will understand."

"I didn't want to use you to get to Baba. I knew he would understand but we are about to get some new investors for a new project and I couldn't risk that for a wedding."

"That's true. We're not even in the same department so I could only go as far getting you weeks off but not replace you for the time being."

"You still don't look or sound good? How were you even allowed to leave the hospital?"

"I was cleared like a normal person to finish healing at home—besides I'm great!"

"You don't look the part but oh well...." he trailed off to his kitchen to get me a bottle of water and a Mirinda.

"I'm good, ok?"

He sat the two bottles on the table beside my cap and moved to get himself some Pringles since I didn't like them.

"So why did you stop going to Dr. Kwabe? We don't know how bad it's gotten you now if you haven't been to a regular check up in ages." Hameed censured.

"Basma is more important."

"Will she live your life for you or is she the one who will save you?"

Why is everyone suddenly being so hostile towards me for thinking of ways to save another person?

Even Hameed wasn't understanding. Dr. Kwabe had the same thoughts and I'm sure if my parents heard this they'd be on the same ideology as them too. Maybe Aunty Yusra was my only supporter but she also didn't know about my health troubles and I would like to leave it that way until I was going to tell Basma.

"You're my friend. I expect you to support me not reprimand me."

"I'm advising you." He sighed, smiling understandingly. "I get that you care for her but at least try to save yourself for when she's back so that you can live up to your dream of marrying her."

"Ok." I huffed childishly as I stretched my feet on his couch, "Now give me food."

He laughed and slapped my feet to the ground as he joined me on the couch. He changed the channel to African Magic where they were playing a movie called Blackberry Babes and he ordered us food to munch on before the movie ends.

We ate and joked as we watched the girls desperately find ways to acquire money for a blackberry that in our time, was very much dead or useless.

After the movie we fell asleep with the tv playing and our mouths hanging open with snores tuned to sound like beasts from caves.

I woke up first and turned off the tv then got my phone to take a recording of 'Hameed the flawless' in that position before sending it to him on WhatsApp, captioning it 'Captain snorkels' before waking him up.

My phone rang and I saw it was from my mother. Checking from the time that was 01:00am I knew she was calling because she was worried. I answered and assured her I was on my way before exiting Hameed's house to my parents'.
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~Aisha Safiyanu XO💚