A First Encounter: Part Four

The Hug

The baking tray was filled and placed in the oven. For a unique kick, crushed smarties were added to the mix. Deciding to take the plunge and ask the question that had been on my mind since we met seemed terrifying.  How to slip it casually into conversation had to be handled deftly.  The topic shifted to travel and I knew this could be a natural segue. “Did you check out the Cristo o Redentor in Rio di Janeiro with someone or did you explore it alone?” The tiny hairs on the nape of my neck stood up.

“Yeah, Rio was so awesome, Kaya loved it – that’s my girlfriend’s name by the way,” A pinched breath barely escaped my lips. Part of me was not surprised. Where do I go from here? I silently thought because I could feel the pull. One could feel that there was something between us. An intangible thing as something electric coursed through my entire being. As we cleared the countertop, whilst waiting for the ding of the oven timer, there was a heavy silence. Not because words were lacking, rather it was the fact that he had laid his hand on top of mine. I had finished re-telling the first few moments of the accident that I could barely remember.

Shay could see the tears welling up. His long fingers slid up to my left cheek as the lump in my throat grew. We locked eyes as he inched forward in his seat. He jerked backwards, as if utterly shocked by his actions. He quickly got up and fetched a tumbler from the cabinet above the sink and poured himself a chilled glass of water.  He seemed to feign an interest in the glass; furrowing his brow with such intensity.

What just happened? The question seemed to be etched across his features. I could sense his confusion, and the excitement all rolled into one scrambled muddle of emotions. The kitchen suddenly seemed a whole lot smaller. He sighed as he opened the fridge door to grab a carton of orange juice.

“Would you like some? Freshly squeezed.” His sweetness was touching. His piercing green eyes were completely focused on the petite tumbler as if he knew that averting his vision and attention was a way to avoid me noticing the tiny gleam of admiration. “I know I shouldn’t really do this…..but do you mind terribly if I hug you?” he articulated in an unsure manner.

“Sure you can. Although my preference is a fist bump,” trying to lighten the mood and quell the awkwardness. He strolled casually to the other side of the granite island. He gently pulled my chair in between his legs and stretched out both arms. My head fit in the nook of his shoulder, pressing in for a slightly tighter embrace. The hug only lasted a few seconds but it felt like a couple of lifetimes. Everything seemed to slow down in bullet time. It was nice to have a new friend, someone who understood pain in a very real way. The sharp bing of the oven time. The smell wafting through the air was absolutely scrumptious. The brownies looked delectable. We had 20 minutes to clear out before the next batch of competitors were due to use the kitchen. The panel of judges comprising of the Head OT, the Head Physiotherapist (P.T) and the Matron were assembled in the fifth-floor gym. They had set up long tables with unpretentious white, lace tablecloths.

Instructions were thus – lay out your submissions by noon. With fifteen minutes to spare, Shay and I placed our tray at the end of one of the tables. We knew that the judges would make their decision by three pm. Strolling casually out of the gym, Shay asked, “Erm, what do you have planned for the rest of the day?”.

“Sleep and more sleep. I’m absolutely knackered, mate.”

Our eyes locked. The television which was on the Telenovela channel was a pleasant hum in the background. The real drama, however was happening out here in the real world. After what seemed like an eternity, Shay said, “Well, I bid you adieu, matey. I’ll definitely see you around”.

“Can’t wait.” Feeling a little bit awkward, it was surprising to see him shuffling from foot to foot. He was also nervous. He kept staring at his trainers and looking everywhere else but at me. He was being careful. A few moments passed by. When sufficient time had gone by, I rang the bell to summon the night nurses on call. Shower time was calling. Shay had played the lead in a friendship montage constantly replaying on a loop in my subconscious.

Whilst lost in thought, Shelley sauntered in with her winning smile. She was a flawless, natural beauty and even she knew that the Millie uniform had nothing on her. She was studying Econometrics part-time and was working nights to pay her tuition. She spoke three languages including Spanish and French and was now studying Mandarin at the language centre down the street from the hospital.

Shelley and I talked about art and the difference in architectural signatures between Boston and Barcelona. We both agreed that Gaudi must have been really high on acid when painting his breathtaking murals. She was an enigma wrapped in a mystery and I absolutely loved her tenacity, intellect and determination to always better herself. She changed out my sheets and put a fresh incontinence pad on the bed. She tucked in the corners of the duvet with military precision, she hummed “Oleku” as she tidied up.

“Where did you hear the song?” I inquired, because I knew country music was more her speed. We had argued at length about how sad of pure country just the day before. “Oh, Eki played it for me the other day and I just fell in love with the base in the beat and the lyrics,” she said very casually. Nigerian music was indeed infectious and the melodies made you want to boogie all day and night long. I beamed with pride.

“Oh, hello Madam. Nice to see you again,” Shelley said, as my mother walked into the room.  My mother had been out all day, at a cafe. She had needed a break from hospital food and the Millie itself. She strolled in, smelling of acai coffee beans. There was usually an artsy-fartsy aura in the cafes’, due to the creative energy of artists and writers furiously typing away at practically every Starbucks known to man. Her canary yellow coat was draped over her right arm. Her jeans fit nicely over her buttocks and hips. Her peplum top was the ideal complement to her jet-black knee-high boots. She looked at least ten years younger. I was just happy to finally see a smile on her face, for being in hospital day in and day out, takes a toll on you emotionally and physically. One can say it feels like your soul gets chipped away little by little. Plus, I had heard her crying in the bathroom at four a.m. Of course, she was in pain for her daughter, her child, was hurting. She was confused, overwhelmed and deeply saddened by what had happened to me. Being rendered paralysed in the blink of an eye was no joke. Fortitude was not easy to come by. Mama was feeling the toll and she needed a break from the monotony of it all.

I was pleased to see a brown paper bag for that meant something tasty was inside. A treat. “I brought a chocolate brownie and a Venti vanilla cream Frappuccino with whipped cream for you.” Smiling widely as she leaned in for a kiss on my forehead; grateful to God for such a kind, loving and understanding momma. Nine p.m. had come round and sleep was calling out to me. I was eager to drift off to dreamland.

Smiling to myself as my eyelids fluttered shut, I was excited for another day to begin.