make a scene. Armed and ready. For a second, I wish Ayoola were beside me.
“Excuse me?!” They cannot be serious.
Chichi has almost reached my side. I cannot prolong this conversation. It occurs to me that they chose to drop it at my workplace for this exact reason. At home, I would have had all the power. I could simply demand that they leave my compound. Here, I am at their mercy.
“Yes na. The cost of driving your car to and from our office is 5,000 naira.”
I bite my lip. Angering them is not in my best interests; I need them to leave before they attract more attention. Every eye on either side of the hospital doors is on me, my car and these two geniuses.
I look at my car. It is dirty, covered in dust. And I can see a food container on the backseat. I can only imagine what the boot will look like. They have soiled my entire vehicle with their filthy hands, and no amount of cleaning will remove the memory of them.
But there is nothing I can do. I reach into my pocket and count out 5,000 naira.
“Did you find anything?”
“No,” admits the older man. “Your car dey clean.” I knew I had done a thorough job. I knew it would be clean. But hearing him say the words makes me want to weep with relief.
“Good morning, Officers!” Why is Chichi still here? Her shift ended thirty minutes ago. They return her cheerful good morning with a hearty one of their own. “Well done o,” she tells them. “I see you brought my colleague’s car back.”
“Yes. Even though we are very busy people,” the younger policeman stresses. He is leaning on my car, his fat hand on my bonnet.
“Well done. Well done. We are grateful. She had to be managing her sister’s car since.” I hand over the money, they hand over my key. Chichi pretends she hasn’t seen the exchange.
“Yes, thank you.” It hurts to say this. It hurts to smile. “I understand you are both very busy. Don’t let me keep you.” They grunt and walk away. They will probably end up hailing an okada to take them back to their station. Beside me, Chichi is practically vibrating.
“Nawa o . What happened?”
“What happened to what?” I head back to the hospital, and Chichi follows.
“Why did they take your car na? I noticed since that you did not have your car, but I thought maybe it was with the mechanic or something. But I did not think the police had it!” She tries to whisper “police” and fails.
As we walk through the doors, so does Mrs. Rotinu. Tade is not in yet, so she will have to wait. Chichi grabs my hand and drags me into the X-ray room.
“So what happened?”
“Nothing. My car was involved in an accident. They were just checking it, for insurance purposes.”
“And they took your car away just for that?”
“You know these police. Always working hard.”
HEART
Tade looks like shit. His shirt is rumpled, he needs to shave and his tie is askew. No singing or whistling has escaped his lips in days. This is the power Ayoola has, and when I see Tade’s suffering, I cannot help but be in awe of it.
“There is another guy,” he tells me.
“There is?!” I’m overacting, my voice comes out as a squeak. Not that he notices. His head is down. He is half sitting on his desk, with his hands on either side, gripping it tightly, so I can make out the flexing and extending, the working together, the rippling of his body.
I drop the file I brought for him on the desk and reach out to touch him. His shirt is white. Not the sparkling white of the shirts Femi must have owned or of my nurses’ uniform, but the white of a distracted bachelor. I could help Tade bleach his whites, if he would let me. I let my hand rest on his back and rub it. Does he find the gesture comforting? Eventually, he sighs.
“You’re so easy to talk to, Korede.”
I can smell his cologne mixed with his sweat. The heat outside is seeping into the room and smothering the air from the AC.
“I like talking to you,” I tell him. He raises his head and looks at me. We are only a step or two apart. Close enough to kiss. Are his lips as soft as they appear? He gives me a gentle smile, and I smile back.
“I like talking