The Void Between Hearts ~~ongoing~~

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   I close my eyes, trying to respect myself prayerfully while struggling to hinge the strong human instinct that laughter is.

   "Amen," we chorus.

   She drops a huge lump of cooked oats in my bowl. "You can add your milk. Just two tablespoons and two cubes of sugar."

   I look at it, then at her, back at the bowl, and at her again.

   "Okay you can make it three, but just two cubes," she states. "I don't want you to start having a crisis because I fed you too much sugar."

   I'm still looking at her, wondering why she can't realise what my problem is.

   "Can I help you?" she asks like she's oblivious to the mountain of oats she just dumped in front of me.

   "It's too much," I say, pointing at the bowl.

   She adds another lump on top. I roll my eyes but then she stares straight at me until I unroll them.

   "The grapes are in the fridge if you want," she says.

   "The oats is already too much food," I reply before checking to see if Chinny or Ivan has left me a message.

   "Put your phone down, we're at the table." 

   "Urgh." I drop the phone and fold my arms. It's a good thing the sitting room also doubles as the dining. I divert my attention to the television's flat screen.

   Is that Efe Irele or is it. . .

   "Why aren't you eating?" she asks. 

   "Errm," I pull my eyes away from the screen and take a gulp of water. "I'm not sure I'm hungry."

   Her small brown eyes and short lashes are watching me. "You're not sure you're hungry means what?"

   "I don't have an appetite." I adjust myself in the seat.

   "Did you snack during the night?" Her eyes are now studying me.

   "No."

   "Then how come you're not hungry?" She's now interrogating me with her stares.

   "Can we go to the hospital?" I ask. 

   She stops eating. "Today?" her eyes dart around my face."Why?"

   "Something doesn't feel right."

   "What exactly?" her jaw tightens as she chews the oats.

   "My gums and tongue were bleeding when I brushed this morning, my eyelids were kind of puffy and purple, and the," I pause a second, trying to figure out if telling her the crisis continued is the best option. 

   "The what?" she asks impatiently. 

   "The crisis didn't stop," I reply.

   I don't hear anything so I look up and her eyes narrow.

   "How long?" she grits her teeth.

   "About a week."

   She stretches over the table, and starts poking my face with her cinnamon fingers. 

   "It's a bit purple, but I don't see the puffiness though." She sits back down, and resumes eating her oats. I allow a stretch of silence between us. The conversation seems over.

   So far, so good.

   I continue with the TV. It is indeed Efe Irele and the third morning in a row of steady movies featuring her on ROK—Mom's channel—mine is Food Network and Travel.