“On a more positive note, rumor has it you are going to be promoted to head nurse!” he tells me, abruptly removing his hand. It’s not a huge surprise; the post has been vacant for some time and who else could fill it? Yinka? I’m much more concerned with the hand that no longer lingers on my shoulder.
“Great,” I say, because that is what he’d expect me to say.
“When you get it, we will celebrate.”
“Cool.” I hope I sound nonchalant.
SONG
Tade has the smallest office of all the doctors, but I have never heard him complain. If it has even occurred to him that it may be unjust, he doesn’t show it.
But today, the size of his office works to our advantage. At the sight of the needle, the little girl bolts for the door. Her legs are short, so she doesn’t get far. Her mother grabs her.
“No!” cries the girl, kicking and scratching. She is like a wild chicken. Her mother grits her teeth and bears the pain. I wonder if this was what she imagined when she was posing for her pregnancy photo shoot and making merry at the baby shower.
Tade dips his hand into the bowl of candy he keeps on his desk for his child patients, but she smacks away the proffered lollipop. His smile does not falter; he begins to sing. His voice fills up the room, submerging my brain. Everything stills. The child pauses, confused. She looks up at her mother, who is transfixed by the voice too. It doesn’t matter that he sings “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” We still have goosebumps. Is there anything more beautiful than a man with a voice like an ocean?
I am standing beside the window, and I look down to see a group of people gathered, peering up and pointing. Tade rarely puts on the air conditioner and his window is usually open. He told me he likes to hear Lagos while he works—the never-ending car horns, the shouts of hawkers and tires screeching on the road. Now Lagos listens to him.
The little girl sniffs, and wipes away her mucus with the back of her hand. She waddles toward him. When she is older, she will remember him as her first love. She will think of how perfect his crooked nose was, and how soulful his eyes. But even if she forgets his face, his voice will stay with her in her dreams.
He scoops her into his arms and dries her tears with a tissue. He looks up at me expectantly and I shake myself out of my reverie. She doesn’t notice as I approach her with the needle. She doesn’t budge as I wipe her thigh with an alcohol swab. She tries to join him in song, her voice broken by the occasional sniff and hiccup. Her mother twists her wedding ring with her finger, as though contemplating taking it off. I consider passing her a tissue to catch the drool that threatens to spill from her mouth.
The little girl flinches as I inject the drug into her, but Tade’s grip on her is firm. It’s all over.
“Aren’t you a brave girl?” he says to her. She beams and this time is willing to collect her prize, a cherry-flavored lollipop.
“You are so good with kids,” her mother coos. “Do you have any of your own?”
“No, I don’t. One day, though.” He smiles at her, showing off his perfect teeth and creasing his eyes. She can be forgiven for believing that this smile is just for her, but it is the smile he gives to everyone. It is the smile he gives to me. She blushes.
“And you are not married?” (Madam, do you want two husbands?)
“No, no, I’m not.”
“I have a sister. She is very—”
“Dr. Otumu, here are the prescriptions.”
Tade looks up at me, confused by my abruptness. Later, he will tell me gently, always gently, that I shouldn’t cut patients off. They come to the hospital for healing and, sometimes, it’s not just their bodies that need attention.
RED
Yinka is painting her nails at the reception desk. Bunmi sees me coming and nudges her, but it is a pointless warning—Yinka will not stop on my account. She acknowledges my presence with a feline smile.
“Korede, those shoes are nice o!”
“Thanks.”
“The original must be very expensive.”
Bunmi chokes on the water she is sipping, but I won’t rise to the bait. Tade’s voice is still ringing in my body, calming me as it calmed the child. I ignore her and turn to Bunmi.
“I’m going to take my lunch break now.”
I head to the second floor with food in hand and knock on Tade’s office door, waiting for his rich voice to grant entry. Gimpe, another cleaner (with all these cleaners, you would think the hospital would be spotless), looks my way and gives me a friendly, knowing smile—showing off her high cheekbones. I refuse to return it; she knows nothing about me. I try to bury my nerves and give the door another gentle knock.
“Come in.”
I am not entering his office in my capacity as a nurse. My hands are holding a container of rice and ẹ̀fọ́. I can tell that the smell makes its way to him as soon as I walk in.
“To what do I owe this honor?”
“You rarely take advantage of your lunch break…so I thought I would bring lunch to you.”
He accepts the container from me, and peers inside, inhaling deeply. “You made this? It smells exquisite!”
“Here.” I hand him a fork and he digs in. He closes his eyes and sighs, and then opens them to smile at me.
“This is…Korede…men…you’re going to make someone an awesome wife.”
I’m sure the grin on my face is too big to be captured in a picture. I feel it all the way to my toes.
“I’m going to have to eat the rest of this later,” he tells me, “I need to finish this report.”
I stand up from the corner of the desk that I had made my temporary seat, and offer to stop by later for the Tupperware.
“Korede, seriously, thank you. You’re the best.”
* * *
—
There is a woman in the waiting room trying to calm a crying baby by rocking it back and forth, but the child won’t be hushed. It is irritating some of the other patients who are waiting in reception. It is irritating me. I head toward her with a rattle, on the off chance that it will distract the baby, just as the entrance doors open—
Ayoola walks in, and every head turns her way and stays there. I stop where I am, rattle in hand, trying to understand what is happening. She looks as though she has brought the sunshine in with her. She is wearing a bright yellow shirtdress that by no means hides her generous breasts. Her feet are in green, strappy heels that make up for what she lacks in height, and she is holding a white clutch, big enough to house a nine-inch weapon.