Improvised Plan #ProjectNigeria

38- Here She Comes

Song: Love The Way You Lie- Eminem ft. Rihanna 

Saheed:

"Saheed? Saheed, what have you done?"

She tears me away from Ibrahim and crouches over him. There is a pause, before she lets out a heartrending wail. I am deaf to the commotion, the noise around us from people gathering to act quickly. I only focus on Ma, who is hugging Ibrahim to her chest as people try to pry him from her arms, his hand limply swinging with the movements she is making.

"My son, my son," she screams over and over, her scarf sliding off her hair to reveal her cornrows.

I don't recall much of the ride to the hospital, but I find myself there, tears streaming down my face, sitting in the waiting area, the front of my shirt covered in blood.

Ibrahim's blood.

Ma is nowhere to be found. It is just me and one of our neighbors, who keeps reassuring me that Ibrahim will be fine.

But his chest was crushed, I want to say, but I keep silent. His eyes were closed, he had blood coming out from his nose, his mouth, his ears.

A nurse approaches and leads me to a bathroom, where she washes my hands with soap and water. She makes small talk to ease my tension, asking me my name, my class, my favorite subjects.

"Will my brother die?" I finally ask, my voice a shaky whisper.

She looks at me with the kindest eyes. "The doctors and nurses are trying their best, sweetheart."

I look down at my feet. "It's my fault, aunty. I made him go outside with me when we were supposed to be inside."

"Saheed, a drunk driver knocked Ibrahim down, not you."

"But if we had stayed inside, it wouldn't be him."

"Stop crying now. Be strong for your mother."

"I think she hates me now."

"Darling, a mother would never hate her child."

Well, she lied, because Ma's voice echoes in my head, screaming profanities with my name, cursing me and telling me I should have died; I should have been crushed by the drunk driver. I see myself thrown against walls, crying while eating salty food, whipped with Baba's belt till welts formed across my back, and finally, thrown down the stairs, hearing the sickening sound of my bone snapping before everything goes blissfully black.

Jolting up in the darkness, I am disoriented for a few moments. I try to calm my breathing, allowing my vision to adjust to my surroundings. Slowly, recollection returns. I am in Ola's bed, in her apartment. I reach out to feel her beside me, and I am instantly comforted by the sensation of her skin beneath my palm.

"Saheed?"

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

"I just came back from the bathroom. Did you have a nightmare?"

Embarrassment threatens to make me deny, but I remember that I had promised that I would keep no secrets on this journey. "Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"You should get back to sleep. I'm going to get some water."

Before she can respond, I am off the bed, finding my way to the door with my vision improved. In the kitchen, I lean on the island, taking gulps of cold water and hoping that Ola is asleep by the time I return.