The Void between bridges. . .
Finally, you burn them.
Love? It's an emotion.
Emotion? Influenced by hormones.
Hormones? Cause change.
Change? You're done crying.
~◇~◇~

Did I mention how suddenly I realized that all the sad love songs were always about me? Billie Eilish captured it in When the Party's over. I quickly wipe my eyes and take off my headphones when a bald brown head peeks into the ward.

He walks in, "uhm. Physio. It's time. "

I shrug, "I'm ready."

He surveys my state of readiness, "hospital gown, messy hair, red eyes, maybe some leftover snort." He begins to laugh.

"I didn't realise a sick person could look so amusing." I fix my headphones back in and turn on my phone . Seeing the screensaver, I take time to relax and breathe. He got everywhere, like sand or is it lice? Hitting the delete button keeps me in a moment of silence. I've lost my favourite picture and person all in one day, I never saw this day coming.

He waves in my face and I'm trying to ignore him. He keeps waving. Something about the way his fingers float around my tired face is really annoying. I'm not happy, I'm probably going to be unhappy till I die. Why can't anybody figure that out? How hard could it be?

"What?" I take off the headphones again, craving Billie's voice as soon as it leaves my ears. "What is your issue with me? Is it time for the physiotherapy or not?"

Unmoved, he asks, "Boyfriend?"

I take a better look at him. Average height, groudnut brown skin, bald head, long nose, scanty brows and sparse beards. He shouldn't be more than 20, and he isn't wearing scrubs, plus he looks too happy to be a hospital staff. "What are you supposed to be?" I ask, unable to hide my irritation.

"Not nurse, not doctor, at least not yet," he smiles like he sees a distant celestial light," He extends his hand, "Michael. " I ignore it. "Cute." He smacks his lips, "what are you mixed with?" He throws another useless question and I'm wondering why my life has to be this way.

"What?"

"Like your heritage, your ancestral..." he goes on explaining.

I roll my eyes, completely thrown off by his apparent ignorance of the obvious fact that he's pissing me off. "I knew what you were asking, it was very clear."

"Well you haven't answered dear. "

Dear? Who is this demented clown?

"Ha." I chuckle, "Nope." I hear it in his voice, he's flirting, "I can't do this again. " I whisper underneath my dry sour hospital breath.

"Do what? I'm sorry if the question offended you, it's just that I follow these accounts on Instagram where they post pictures of mixed kids and I'm always amazed by the different races and the beautiful kids and..."

Why does he keep on talking?

"German. " I blurt, just so he can stop.

"Mom or Dad?" He asks again.

The door opens, mom pushes the wheelchair in. She got one with pink, my life is officially unforgettable. "There's your answer. " I say.

"Good day ma'am" he greets happily, "let me help you with that." He pushes the wheelchair up to the bed. I get a good look at it, I hope this coming four months isn't very long.

"Oh hi, you're?" Mom folds the flappy sleeves of her comfy beige crocheted sweater. I love that sweater but it has become a symbol of the sadness that my life is, she wears it only when I'm admitted in the hospital and it looks worn so imagine how often she's had to wear it.

"Michael. 300 level Medical student at the College of Health Sciences and a volunteer." Now I see why he's so bubbly, must be very proud of his achievements, "I was assigned to take her for physio or anywhere she wants to be. Frankly a glorified errand boy." He bubbles some more. I'm officially a hater. He's joy is killing me slowly.

"No offence but I don't need you. I didn't ask for... any whatever you say you are. Shouldn't they have gotten a consent or something? What kind of hospital makes decisions for its patients?" I protest

"None taken," he smiles like I'm the difficult case they told him about. "Every patient has a volunteer, that's why we're here, to help make your stay in the hospital easier, while we learn what we need to get ahead and become better doctors in future. "

"Sounds good enough. You're welcome Mike." Mom shakes him.

"It's Michael! " I groan.

She turns to me. "Ivan, he was here right? Hope he didn't get lost because..."

"He left."

"Left?"

"I asked him to go."

"go where?"

"Wherever he wants?"

"I don't get it, I thought you wanted to see him?"

"Can we discuss it later, Please?" I smile, eyes travelling back and forth between her, the volunteer and the wheelchair.

"This better be good. Because..."

"MOM."

"Alright. Whatever. " She gives up.

"So?" I glare at Michael.

"So we'll get you in the chair and off to the physiotherapy team." He says

"How are you going to do that?"

"The doctor will disconnect all these," he gestures to the drips and heart monitor, "then he'll assist me to put you in the chair. After today though, I'm supposed to have learned so I do it myself. "

"Then why are you still standing there and mopping at me?"

"BOMA!" Mom yells, I look away, "you don't have to be rude, he's being nice, reciprocate."

"Can we get it done already? Please, I can't wait. Obviously. Thanks." I jam the headphones back on. He goes on chatting with mom, she's telling him that I'm not always so aggressive. I hate when she does this. I'm obviously hurting, a lot, and she's entertaining. Always with proving she's the nice old lady. I'm not doing this. I squeeze my eyes. Pressing play on the paused music.

But nothin' is better sometimes
Once we've both said our goodbyes
Let's just let it go
Let me let you
go...

Someone takes my hand. I open my eyes, it's doctor handsome. He smiles. I smile too, maybe a little too much, the man just has a way of making things not seem so bad. He gestures at his ears. I slide the headphones off.

"We have to get you up and walking as soon as we can. It might not be fun and will definitely be hard the first few times but I trust you have it in you to run before six weeks is even up." He disconnects the drip.

I could beat six weeks?

"Guess I have a new deadline then," I smile. He winks. My heart flutters. My body tells me to hold his hand and snuggle it.

"Thanks." I whisper.

He heard me, "what for?"

"Saving my life?"

"It's my Job Boma."

"Did you happen to go to France for medical school?" I ask.

"Hmmm, why?"

"My other doctor, after her you're the nicest doctor I've met and she did medical school in France." His eyes sparkle before he starts to laugh.

Slowly, I feel my heart brighten, not in the way Ivan brightened it, he made me desire him in ways I felt would take my pain away, this doctor makes me want to live through the pain and I can't understand why.

"Trust me, I never left the shores of Nigeria for school. Never." He says

"Could have sworn on my life you did. Because I've met quite a handful of you guys and only two made the list." I say. He laughs again. Mom comes around the corner. Her face tells she's not sure why I'm getting along with a doctor that's not Dr. Hart.

"He's a diamond in the rough." I tell her.

She smiles, "I'm happy there's some hope here."

"Michael. If you're going to learn, you have to be beside me. Don't you think so?"

"Yes Doc." Michael walks over to shadow Dr. Handsome. His excitement irritates me.

"One. Two. Three." They lift me. I close my eyes, afraid of nothing exactly.

"Do you feel okay?" Michael asks

I snap, "I'm in a pink wheelchair. Would you be okay if the tables were turned?" I see his expression and I know he's wondering what he did to me.

"But you're comfortable?" Dr Handsome squats.

"Yes." I soften up.

"Then we can get the pink changed." He squeezes my knees. "Did you feel that?"

I nod, "no."

"Hey, no need to feel sad now," he pulls my face back up. "I understand it's hard but you're getting there. You just have to push past the hurt and fear." He squeezes them again.

My eyes widen, "I felt a tingle." They all pause, watching me.

"You did?" Mom asks

"Maybe it was nothing?" I scoff.
But I felt something, "No. I'm sure I felt something. Could you squeeze them again? Hard." I emphasize.

"Su..re." he squeezes. I feel tension.

"I felt something. " my heart begins to bubble, "I swear I felt something, I felt your hand and some tension. I promise, I felt it..."

"No. Don't cry Boma, I believe you. Let's just see if you can move your toes." He says.

There's something that goes off in you when your doctor takes you seriously, it's called miracles. He takes my feet and I feel his hands.

"I feel your hand but it doesn't tickle." I'm somewhere between laughing and crying.

"Now try to move your big toe." His brows arch as he examines my feet.

I try but it's like my mind can't find it. I see the toe and I want to move it so badly, "I'm trying. It's not working." I say.

"This is good news. You're regaining sensory control and that means you most definitely will walk before six weeks, if you take your physiotherapy seriously. What we thought was damage must have been some inflammatory response to the surrounding nerves." he smiles.

Mom has her hands cupped over her nose and mouth, "I have to tell Tee." she walks outside.

"Thank you." I grab the doctor and hug him tightly. He pats my back till I stop heaving.

"Michael? Can we go already? My mom is getting married in four weeks and I intend to walk by then." I finally smile at him.

He grabs the handles and pushes me out the door.

I'm healing. This new life doesn't look bad.

But my life doesn't stay good for more than a few days. Will this one last?