you.”
She glared at me. “Why is it me you think something will happen to? You nko?”
“Please, don’t start this now. You know it’s not even safe for you to be going out of Juju’s house like this, let alone in this area, let alone in this situation! Don’t act stupid. Let’s go!”
“I see.” Her face had settled into coldness. “So now you think I’m stupid?”
“Nnemdi, please. You can fight me when we reach Juju’s house. Let’s just go. Biko.”
“You’re ashamed of me,” she said, her voice surprised. “That’s why you don’t like me going out like this. It’s like you’re always ashamed, Osita. First of yourself, then of us, now of me.”
“Jesus Christ. That’s not true. Abeg—”
“No, it’s true. You don’t mind anything when we’re inside and nobody can see us, but that’s why you don’t like me to go outside like this. You don’t want anyone to see me. Or is it that you don’t want them to see me with you?”
I groaned and clutched at my head. We didn’t have time for this. What would happen if someone looked too closely at her, someone holding a machete and buffeted by a mob? How quickly they could hurt her, kill her. I grabbed her arm and started to drag her away. “We don’t have time to be quarreling on the road!”
She tried to pull away and started hitting me. “Let me go! Hapu m aka!!”
I lost it. “We have to go now! Do you know what they’ll do to you?”
Nnemdi gasped and wrenched away from me with all her strength, breaking my hold. I was startled by the pain in her eyes, surprised that the truth could hurt her so much. She pulled herself away with such force that she stumbled, and her heel caught on a stone, and she fell. It happened so fast. I saw her head strike the raised cement edge of the gutter at the side of the road. I saw her body slump, eyes closed, blood pooling into the sand within seconds.
I screamed.
“No no no no!” I ran and knelt by her, sliding one hand under her neck to lift her head up. “Nnemdi. Nnemdi!” Maybe she wouldn’t recognize that name after hitting her head. “Vivek,” I whispered. “Vivek, open your eyes. Please, bhai. Open your eyes.” My hand was now wet with blood—there was so much blood. Panic was a vulture inside my body, trying to get out, pecking and flapping wildly at me. I looked around and scrabbled to get the cloth that had fallen from the okada. I ripped off the plastic covering and lifted her neck again, using the cloth to try and stop the bleeding.
Hospital. I needed to get her to a hospital. No one around me was paying attention; everything was chaos; people were running all around us. I lifted Nnemdi and carried her against my chest, using my upper arm to cushion her head. I stood at the side of the road and an okada skidded in front of me. The driver was, unexpectedly, a woman.
“Wetin happen?” she asked, staring at Nnemdi.
“She fell down. Please, can you take us to a hospital?”
She nodded. “Enter,” she said, and I climbed up behind her, carefully, sitting far back enough so Nnemdi could fit. We sped off.
“Anyangwe Hospital,” I called out to the driver. “Do you know it?” It was just around the corner from Uncle Chika’s house, walking distance. I could run and get them while the doctors took care of Nnemdi. The driver nodded and I bent my face to Nnemdi’s, wind whistling past us. “Wake up,” I begged. “Wake up for me.” We wove through cars and I kept my arms clutched tightly, her knees draped over the crook of my elbow. Her shoes fell off and I didn’t care. When we reached the junction of a side road leading to the hospital, a giant pothole filled with water blocked most of the road. The okada stopped at the edge.
“My bike no fit enter that one,” she said. “E go spoil my engine. We can go around by the main road. Abi the hospital is just there?”
“No wahala,” I said, carefully climbing down. “I can walk from here. Ego ole?”
She waved her hand. “Forget the money. Go and make sure your wife is all right.”
I nodded, tears solid in my eyes, and she drove away as I waded through the edge of the puddle. The side road was a shortcut, small and narrow, unpaved, shadowed by trees.