That night when he was rushed to the hospital, I was the nurse on duty. His left leg was in a makeshift splint and was carried carefully to the hospital. I asked what the issue with him was and one of the guys that came with him said, “He fell from a building and broke a leg.” I looked at his face—one tall and heavily built guy with a chest wide enough to engulf a woman completely when hugged. I helped placed him in a structure and was carried to the ward. When the doctor on duty came around he did some physical checks and told me, “We need to take his trousers off but the way things are unless you cut it off his skin.” I went for scissors and started cutting through his trousers. Immediately the trousers split open, his ‘joystick’ fell on his thighs making a tad sound.
The doctor on duty turned to look at my face. When our eyes met, we both gave a subtle smile. We are health workers and each day, we come across a lot of male ‘joysticks’. What we saw when we cut open his trousers was something we hardly see at the wards. It got my attention and it also got the attention of the doctor on duty. I said in my head, “God it’s not fair. It’s not fair to give all that ‘goods’ to just one person.” That night we worked on him, putting his leg in a splint and then hang it in a way it could not be moved easily.
After a month or so at the hospital, he became the longest admitted patient at the ward so we called him ward prefect. He knew every nurse and had a good relationship with all of us. When he could finally walk with the aid of crutches, he would leave his bed and joined us in the Tv room so we all watch tv. He was such a funny man when he was in his element but the days he decides to go quiet, you may think he was the Pope himself. No matter what he did, he could never erase the memory of his joystick from my mind. I looked at him and smiled sometimes. He would look at me and say, “Why are you smiling?” I would respond, “Oh nothing,” but in my head, I was saying something like, “Look at his face, as if he’s not the man who’s carrying the world’s largest joystick.”
I started growing fond of him at some point. When I was on a night shift and I had very little to do, I would go sit by his bed and chat with him all night. Sometimes we laughed until other patients woke up and wondered why a nurse and a patient would be making such noise in the night. We lied to them that we were siblings and almost all of them believed us. One night, while sitting next to his bed talking, he held my hand and we both went quiet for several minutes. My heart was beating fast and I could feel his pulse racing as he held my hand. Other patients were sleeping. I thought it wasn’t right for me to feel the way I was feeling toward someone I was taking care of. I pulled my hand off his hand gently and walked away.
I started avoiding him, not because I didn’t like him or didn’t like what he did. I didn’t trust myself to stay sane around him. He was under my care and only care I could give, not love and not sweeping emotions. He tried on several occasions to get me to talk to him but I avoided him. One day, I saw him practicing how to walk without crutches. He was walking slowly and steadily. I went to him and said, “You are making huge strides, keep going.” As if what I said pulled some strings in him, he began walking faster, trying to impress me. I kept giving him pep talks and urging him to keep walking. That day he said to me, “The doctor said I would be discharged this week so I’m doing all I can to make him discharge me.”
Two days later, I was on a night shift. I went to his ward and all the patients had been discharged. I said, “Oh, you’re the only person remaining here now? Don’t worry, you’ll also leave soon.” He smiled and said, “I’m getting discharged tomorrow. It’s my turn to go tomorrow.” I screamed, “Really?” He nodded his head. I looked around his bed and he had everything packed up. That was when I realized it was true. Two and half months later, he was leaving. I was happy for him but for the first time, I thought I was going to miss him when he was gone. I didn’t say much. I left his ward.
Around 1AM, Suzy was fast asleep and snoring feebly. I looked around, everyone had pulled clothes over their faces and taking a deep nap. I sneaked into the ward and tapped him, “Hey wake up.” Immediately he realized it was me, he got up and hugged me. A few seconds later, the hug turned to kisses and by the time we realized, I was reaching for his joystick. The story ended just the way the two of us wanted it to end. I sneaked out of the ward quietly, went and sat behind my desk and slept like nothing had happened. I didn’t want to see him again so the next morning I did all I could to avoid his ward. The next evening when I returned to the hospital, there were new patients in his ward. He had been discharged and long gone.
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That night he called me. I didn’t give him my number but I didn’t bother to ask who did. He might have collected it from one of the nurses, probably Suzy. He said, “Olivia, why don’t we date? I’d come to love you and wouldn’t think twice to settle down with you.” I told him point-blank, “No we can’t date. What happened had to happen that’s why it happened. Don’t read too much meaning to it, and for your information, I’m getting married in three weeks.” I thought he’ll be shocked to hear that. I thought that would make him stay away from me but he said, “Maybe you’re saying this just to put me off, and even if it’s true then you don’t love your boyfriend that much. Please, don’t throw what we just had away.”
No matter what I said and how I said it, he didn’t believe me. He called every day to remind me of his proposal. He sent messages and gave my number to other people to call me and convince me. One morning he sent me a text, “It’s been more than a month, if what you told me was true, you should be married by now.” I didn’t say anything. I sent him my wedding photos—three of them. I saw him typing a response. I wasn’t ready to listen to anything he had to say. I blocked his line on Whatsapp and blacklisted his contact.
I haven’t heard from him since. Not that I think of him or think of what happened at the ward that late night. I’m busy working on my marriage and wouldn’t allow the sins of the past to leak into my future.
