Fela Kuti’s “Zombie” came on the moment the clock turned six.
Tishe slipped into her scrubs, while humming to the rhythm of the song that played loudly in the bedroom she shared with her sister, Titi.
Pulling her hair into a bun, she muttered a prayer to the ER gods, begging them to make her shift a little less busy than usual. In between rocking Dunni’s newborn and chores, she had barely gotten any (enough) sleep.
The door flew open and Dunni’s angry face appeared in the doorway.
“Titi, nau! Reduce the volume. I’m trying to put Keji to sleep, so that I can get some work done.”
Titi looked from the black stilettos whose bottoms she had been painting red for the past thirty minutes and hissed.
“It’s been Keji time all day. Now is Titi’s time!,” she said, smiling unabashedly.
“Agbaya!,” Dunni said, before slamming the door.
“See pesin wey wan make her pikin sleep o,” Titi said, pointing at the door.
Tishe chuckled and grabbed her tote bag off the makeshift bag hanger on the wall.
“Titi, I’m going o!”
“Oh okay. Bye.” With a mischievous smile, Titi added, “have fun!”
It seemed the ER gods had been asleep when Tishe made her prayer because the moment she clocked in, two men came busting into the ER with a badly injured man on the stretcher. It was hard to decipher where the blood was gushing from.
Nurse Zainab joined her and soon, they found the source, bandaged him up, and set an IV line in his right hand. The woman on bed 3 was moaning and muttering incoherent words while her daughter fanned her with a folded patient card.
Tishe moved swiftly between beds, checking vitals and rewriting charts, while moans and sighs from the residents of the ER mingled with the sound of the generator humming outside.
By 3am, Tishe dropped into a chair. Her stomach growled and she stood up to go eat.
“Nurse Zee, I’m going to the changing room to eat.”
The doors of the ER slammed open so hard that Tishe shook.
Three men burst in. One stood at the door, pistol in the air and eyes hard with a warning. In front of him, a burly man with a mask waved a gun at the whole ER. Screams erupted into the air. Relatives of the patients (patients’ relatives) scampered (on) to the floor, while the patients snuggled (the use of “snuggle” here implies the patients were making themselves comfortable, which doesn’t fit the situation) closer to their beds.
“Everybody quiet!”
The burly man’s eyes landed on Tishe, who was still standing.
“Oya, nurse! Stitch my guy up, now now!,” he said pointing to the third guy who was drenched in sweat and blood.
A trembling Zainab pushed Tishe forward.
“You still dey catwalk? I no dey play o! If him die, una go die too. Alaye! (should be “ajé”, to show the person is swearing)”
Tishe’s heart slammed against her rib cage as she covered the distance between her and the wounded man.
“Zainab, get me the gloves and the suture kit.”
Feet shuffled, then sprung into action. Zainab’s hands moved between the trolley and the wounded man, arresting the bleeding and starting fluids.
Tishe’s hands moved fluidly, securing the jagged ends of the wound, one stitch at a time.
The gun was still pointed at her and she could feel hot breaths on her face, that of the wounded man and his friend. But this was no time to panic. Panic in the ER most times led to death. And she was going to make sure no one died.
“All done,” she said and stood up. “You should wait a while so that the drip finishes and…”
The man lowered the gun and stirred the wheelchair out of the ER with the other armed man in tow. Some seconds later, the sound of a vehicle pulling away filled the silence.
Only then did Tishe heave a sigh of relief. All around her, people hugged themselves while others dialed numbers on their phones.
Tishe rolled her eyes when the sound of a siren cut through the night. Trust the police to always come when the show is over.
*****
Dressed in a green halter dress, Titi stared at her reflection and smiled with glee. Makeup? Check. Hair? Black and beautiful. Outfit? Iya Nadia had overdelivered. Confidence? At planetary levels.
She turned to take a look at the bottom of her heels. Painted red to give the impression of real red bottoms.
“If I no tell them, who go know say no be red bottoms?,” she said to her reflection in the walls of the elevator that was jetting up to the sixth floor where Plates & Palates was.
The doors of the elevator slid open and Titi took a deep breath. This wasn’t her first rodeo and this was her territory for the night.
Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she made her way to the table at the center of the large restaurant. With her seated there, her presence was going to be hard to ignore.
Titi met the eyes of a waiter and signaled to him to come.
“Good evening, ma. Welcome to Plates & Palates. What would you like to order?”
“A glass of daiquiri to start with.” She could mention five drinks off the top of her head based on the amount of times she had scanned through the menu online.
“I won’t be ordering food until my date arrives.”
She had no date.
A few minutes after she had placed her order, her eyes moved through the expansive space surreptitiously. She had spotted three potential targets already. One in an Armani suit, another that looked like he (had) just recently came into money, and the last one who seemed to be in a business meeting.
Her drink arrived and so did an idea. As the waiter made to place the drink on the table, she reached out in that same moment and toppled the glass (over), which spilled its content on her dress and the floor.
In three, two, one.
“Oh my God! My dress!,” she said, keeping her voice equal parts loud and distressed.
“I’m so sorry, ma. I didn’t mean to….”
She could feel eyes on her as she made a show of standing up and shaking off the spilled juice off her dress.
“What’s happening here? Are you okay?”
Well, that was fast.
Titi stifled a smile and turned to face whoever it was that had come to her rescue. It was Armani Suit man. He looked even more handsome up close. Those chiseled features could cut through glass and hearts.
“The waiter spilled a drink on me.” Titi sighed and accepted the damp towel the waiter offered her.
“I’m so sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.”
Titi, play hard to get.
“No, it’s fine. It’s no fault of yours.”
“I know. But I insist. Let me give your somewhat ruined evening a facelift.”
He smiled a dangerously handsome smile that had her nether regions swooning.
“If you insist.” Titi took the well manicured hand he offered her and followed him to his table.
They had barely sat down when he inched forward, elbows on his thighs and a look in his eyes.
“So what do you want?”
Was the question a double entendre?
“A drink, first.”
“Then what?”
Titi fished out a disarming smile of her own. “Depends on what else you’re offering.”
(And) boy, did he offer her a large feast. When he gave her his hand and asked her to go home with him, Titi found herself saying yes.
He had barely closed the door behind them when he pulled her close and kissed the spot behind her ear where she smelled like flowers.
Titi placed a hand on his shoulder and shoved him playfully.
“You know this comes with a price. Huh?”
Surprise crossed his features before morphing into comfortable acceptance.
“Depends on how many positions you want to put me in,” Titi replied in a sultry voice. “Deal?”
He took her hand and pulled her into his embrace. “Deal, sexy.”
She let out a yelp when he lifted her off the ground and took the stairs two steps at a time.
Inside his bedroom, he shrugged off his suit jacket and sat on the bed. Running a finger over his bottom lip, he looked her over and crooked his finger.
“Come here.”
It wasn’t everyday she met a man whose mere words had her weak in the knees. So when he beckoned on her, she went.
“Strip for me.”
She reached for the tie that held her dress up.
“That would attract an extra fee.”
“And pay I will.”
Titi beamed at him, pulled the tie, and watched his eyes hood with desire when her dress hit the floor.
It was going to be a long night.
*****
Sleep was alien to her.
The house was quiet. Neither Titi nor Tishe were at home. Keji was fast asleep, fists clutched in front of her face and mouth puckered in the cutest pout ever.
This was the perfect time to catch some sleep. But she couldn’t, because she had a report to turn in tomorrow.
Before Keji had been born, working with the Eastern time zone had been a piece of cake.
But now? It felt like punishment. Punishment for all the bad decisions she had made in the nine months leading up to Keji.
Dunni stared at the spreadsheet on her laptop, wondering what figure she must have missed when inputting the numbers. Without that one figure, the formulas were breaking and the summary page wouldn’t balance.
She scratched the back of her neck and sighed, burying her face in her palms. She had heard of mommy brain. Now here she was in the thick of it, unable to decipher the simplest of things.
After emailing Greg from Finance, she thought of who to call for help. Kore was out of the question. She loved her sleep more than anything. Teju was the perfect person to disturb.
She shot him a text.
Guy, I need your help. I’m stuck. This spreadsheet is not coming together as I expected.
Three dots appeared on her screen some seconds later. He was replying.
Send it, let me take a look.
After waiting for what felt like forever, Teju called her.
“A number is obviously missing, Dunni. Have you texted finance?”
“Ehen, na! I just hope someone replies to me soon.”
“Take it easy. Okay? Good night.”
The call dropped and from the corner of her eye, she saw Keji stir slightly. Dunni held her breath, hoping that by some miracle, her baby was going to go back to sleep.
Instead, Keji opened her eyes and let out a shrill scream.
And so it begins.
“Hey hey hey. I’m here, darling.”
Dunni picked from the bed and grabbed the bottle of breast milk she had pumped earlier on.
Barely a minute after she had started crying, Keji had become red-faced with wails that racked through her body and wrenched Dunni’s heart.
Immediately the nipple of the bottle came into view, Keji latched onto it greedily and didn’t stop suckling until the bottle was empty and she was sweating.
The fan overhead was turning in slow circles, even though the current was full. While burping Keji, she made a mental note to call Sodeeq to take a look at the damn fan.
Ten minutes later, Keji hadn’t fallen asleep and the clock ticked, reminding her of the little time she had left.
“Sleep nau, Keji,” Dunni implored her child with a shaky voice.
Emotion clogged her throat and for a moment, she found herself missing her mother. If she were still alive and well, this—navigating motherhood—would have been easier.
But cancer had played a fast one on them and stolen her from Dunni and her siblings.
Her eyes filled with tears and it was that moment Keji decided to let out another wail.
“Just great. Now I have to pause my crying to soothe you.”
Dunni wiped her eyes and rocked Keji while humming to a Yoruba hymn her mother used to sing.
Her cries didn’t stop. (Rather) They crescendoed. Until Dunni was tempted to drop her on the bed and drown out her cries with the sound of the shower.
But she couldn’t. She had chosen the path that led to this- having a one night stand with a stranger, so she was going to live with it.
At 3:50am, Keji finally hiccuped, went limp (quiet), and fell asleep on Dunni’s chest.
Dunni was laying Keji on the bed when her phone lit up on the mattress.
Greg:
Hey, Dunni. I saw your email. I apologize for just responding. That D42 figure is 4.8M. I just updated the sheet. Sorry that I missed that.
Dunni’s slid off the bed and went to her workstation. The spreadsheet had refreshed. The N/A had disappeared and the totals had turned green.
She exhaled and dropped her head on the desk with a soft thud.
Dunni:
Thank you. Really.
The worst had passed and she had yet survived another night.
Sleep was calling her name.
*****
The kettle whistled and Dunni turned off the gas cooker. She poured hot water into a mug, stirred, and breathed in the aroma of coffee that rose from the mug.
Dunni took a dainty sip and turned to her sisters.
“You want coffee?”
“Nah. Eba will do,” Tishe said, pointing to the bowl of eba she was stirring.
Titi chortled as she held a mirror to her face. “You and all this your oyibo things.”
Dunni eyed Titi. Her smile was a little too smug for 8am.
“Come, Titi. Why are you smiling like someone who won the lottery?”
Titi slapped the tabletop excitedly. “Cause I flipping did!”
“At least you won the lottery. I had a fucking gun pointed at me. Like an actual gun. These men looked like robbers and one of them was injured, so I had to stitch him up.”
Dunni and Titi stared with wide eyes.
“Jesus, Tishe…” Dunni covered the distance between them and hugged her sister. “Are you fine?”
“I am o. It was crazy.”
Tishe’s eyes landed on Titi. “Start talking.”
She told them about the accidental daiquiri spill and Mr. Armani suit.
“He asked me to strip him for him, and dang it was so, so hot,” Titi said, fanning herself with her hands. “But I told him it attracted an extra fee.”
Dunni choked on her coffee. “Titi! Walahi, you’re crazy.”
“A girl has to eat jare. Besides, my red bottoms didn’t paint themselves.”
“And eat you did!,” Tishe hailed her. They high-fived each other and dissolved into companionable laughter.
Dunni rolled her eyes and blew on her coffee.
“What about you, Adunni?,” Titi probed softly.
“The report I was putting together almost ran me mad. Coupled with Keji’s incessant cries? Terrific. I almost beckoned on Momsi to come and carry her grandchild.”
“Abeg o!” Tishe raised her hands in mock surrender. The laughter in her eyes disappeared and she became serious. “But you did good, sis.”
Dunni reached for Tishe’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You too. You didn’t die on us.” Pointing at Titi, she added, “and you, please, don’t get arrested.”
Titi scoffed good-naturedly.
“For what? For getting bent over for a living? I’m a professional.”
“Titi, the professional menace!,” Tishe echoed as she popped a pack of soup into the microwave.
“Just be careful sha,” Dunni said, her eyes conveying a slight hint of worry.
Titi poured herself a glass of juice and raised her glass in the air.
“To us surviving yet another night.”
Tishe lifted her bowl of eba and clinked it against Dunni’s mug and Titi’s glass.
Dunni threw her head back and laughed. “You play too much.”
“Cheers!,” they all echoed in unison.
Three different nights. Same house. Same survival.
Read more about the Author Gladys Kyauta Yahaya
