And though Absalom never spoke to Amnon about this, he hated Amnon deeply because of what he had done to his sister.
I open my eyes to find Baby by my side. I am still in the doctor’s office. I am on the bed – you know that one that doctors usually have their office. It is so uncomfortable, and the bed sheet keeps slipping of. I sit up too quickly and my head begins to throb. I let out a very unconvincing, ‘I am great, really’.
Baby is watching me closely. I look at the doctor for help. With my eyes, I beg him to ask Baby to leave the room. He clears his throat. I hold Baby’s right hand and kiss her knuckles. She gives me a shy smile.
‘Mummy, are you sick?’
I shake my head. I am afraid that I will start crying if I speak. It feels like there is a bag of solidified cement in my rib cage. I smile at her.
‘How about you go get me some fruit juice from the cafeteria?’
She is reluctant to leave.
‘Are you okay, Mummy?’
‘I am great. The Doctor’, I nod at him, ‘is going to check me while you are getting the juice. So, take your time, okay?’
I point to my bag on the desk, and indicate that she should bring it to me. I hand over my purse to her and she finds her way to the door. She throws back a quick glance at me. I smile at her reassuringly.
‘I will be okay, Baby.’
Once the door is closed, I turn to the doctor. It suddenly hits me that my husband is nowhere to be found.
‘Where is Leke?’
‘What do you mean, ‘he left’?’
‘He was already out of the door by the time you lost consciousness. I couldn’t go after him because I had to look after you.’
I begin to cry because I don’t know what else to do. I just hope Leke didn’t go where I am thinking he went to. The doctor hands me some tissue paper from his desk. After five minutes, they are soaked. He gives me some more.
At the sound of my phone, I jump off the bed and move towards my bag on the desk. I ransack the bag and pounce on my phone.
‘Tessy?’ I sniff.
‘Buhari just called me. Leke and Bosun are fighting at his office. Go with an ambulance.’ Buhari is Bosun’s personal assistant.
‘Tessy..’ She already hung up. I tell the doctor everything, and before I can say Jack, I am in an ambulance and on my way to pick up Leke.
‘Whatever you do, Doctor, please keep Baby busy. She can’t see any of this. Tell her I took a stroll, anything. Take her on a tour around the hospital. Please. Help us. Just let us break this news to her ourselves.’
I have cried so much. I am having double vision. My head hurts, my nostrils are blocked and I can’t breathe. When I finally see my husband, I just start crying again. I think I am beginning to understand the phrase, ‘beaten to a pulp’. Bosun looks a bit ruffled, a black eye, a few scratches and bloodied knuckles. But Leke, my God, Leke looks like a travelling bag that survived the Muritala Mohammed Airport of 2016. The medical team attached to the ambulance won’t let me fuss over him. But I see his tears, and I can hear his voice even with the commotion. My husband is sobbing, crying blood actually, and he keeps saying it repeatedly, ‘I am such a coward. I couldn’t even defend my daughter’s honour’.
I pray the sedatives kick in fast. When will our respite come?