Stabbed

It’s funny how we never know how difficult or easy it is to do a thing until we actually try. Like how I discovered today that making  small talk in the hospital can be one of the most nerve-wrecking things ever. 

I cut classes today and decided to just stay indoors. I figured the best way to deal with pressure is to not try to swim to the place where the lid is tightest. The lid is very tight in my class. 

So I cut classes and in the spirit of lackadaisical-ness, I decided to cook something for myself to eat. But alas, it was as though I was destined to cry today because while I cut onions, I cut myself terribly. 

Rushing to the school hospital, I wrapped my hand in my towel and tried not to show that I was in too much pains. Apparently, that was a bad resolution because the nurse at the front desk couldn’t take my pain quite seriously so she just slobby-ly wiped my cut with a swab of cotton wool pregnant with just manufactured and very potent methylated spirit. She asked me to ‘hold it and wait because the line is long. Another nurse will attend to you and help you dress it and give you pain killers. Sit down there and listen for your name’  

I walked to my seat thanking God for giving me another reminder for why I must work hard and be rich and stop going to public hospitals. 

The first thing that attracted me to Christina was the scent of her perfume. So very nice. I sat beside her and noticed that she was also holding her hand like me. From what I could assess, her own injury was quite deeper. For a moment I felt inferior in pain. 

I turned a little and looked at her face. She was crying. I felt sorry for her because I believed she was crying more about the scar that would be left on her beautiful hand than about the real pain. Girls like me, we have scars all over from being too clumsy. Sometimes I have to remind myself that clumsiness is a peculiarity and not a generality. 

Reaching out, I turned my full body and said, ‘Hey, sorry ehn’ She managed a smile and said, ‘Thanks. Sorry too’ 

Silence. 

Then I said, ‘How long have you been here?’

‘I came in like 5 minutes before you did’ she replied. 

‘Okay’ I said. ‘How fast are they calling people?’ 

‘I don’t know. I guess it depends on what you’re here for. Some don’t take so long. Some do’  She sniffed and looked down at her hand. Her phone rang and I managed to see the caller ID: Baby’m

She cut the call and started shedding more tears. 

Feeling awkward, I said, ‘Let me tell you how I got this cut. Wanna hear?’

She didn’t answer me.

‘Okay. I’ll tell you. So I’m a terrible cook right? But I have a boyfriend and he thinks I can cook. So I decided to stab my classes and cook rice. Guess who got bloodred jollof rice’  I laughed. She didn’t. I figured the caller upset her by simply calling or that my joke was terribly not funny. Not wanting to interrupt any further, I looked ahead and watched the nurse yell at a very sick boy. 

Suddenly, I heard her say, ‘It’s kinda funny’  I turned around but she wasn’t looking at me so I looked ahead and listened. ‘Our stories are similar-ish. I got stabbed. My boyfriend stabbed me. It’s so funny how our stories are alike. I don’t know. You stabbed your classes and then you cut yourself. Me, I cut off the relationship and I got stabbed.’ she chuckled sadly. 

I didn’t know what to say at all. Then she said, ‘You don’t have to say anything. I’ve always known he was a psycho. Stupid bastard’ 

I still did not know what to say. Then she said in a very strange voice, ‘I kept the knife he used to stab me in my bag. The knife and my bag were the only things I could grab as I ran out of his house. Do you know why I took the knife? Because there and then I decided that that’s the same knife I will use to kill his first child. Or at least stab his or her hand. I’m happy because I’m not usually decisive but I am for this one.’ 

‘Christina David-Nwosu’, the nurse called her. 

She left me dazed.