Chronicles Of A Runs Girl - S01 E59

2 years ago

Chronicles Of A Runs Girl - S01 E59

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 59

“Thanks.”

“Did you make it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. You must give me your tailor’s information. But I’m sure it won’t look as good on me. It’s like seeing a hair do on someone and going to get the same, never mind that the girl you copied it off has a perfectly shaped head.”

She spoke as if we were friends. I didn’t know her and I wasn’t comfortable speaking to her about my Boubou or about hair styles or anything. But she continued chatting away in her funeh even when I only responded with nods and yeses and noes.

Sunday placed my food on the dining table. I was apprehensive about sitting next to the woman to eat but she unplugged her laptop and picked it up the moment my food arrived.

“Bon appét-t,” she said.

I said come and join me, and spent the next fifteen minutes as I ate cringing over saying it. Thankfully she left through the same corridor Rotimi had left through.

Sunday must have called him to say I had finished eating, because the moment he cleared the table and returned to the kitchen Rotimi emerged and asked me if I enjoyed my breakfast. I nodded that I did.

“Will you come with me now?” he said.

His office looked like a normal business office, not like a clinic at all. The lady wasn’t there.

“What kind of hospital is this?” I asked.

“It’s not a hospital, it’s a clinic.”

“You know what I mean. What kind of clinic is this?”

He smiled.

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s a long story. I only treat a certain type of clientele. I actually inherited the practice from my father.”

“You father is a doctor too?”

“Yes and my mother. And I have a sister who’s a doctor too. I guess doctors tend to breed doctors.”

“Where is your father now?”

“Retired.”

“And your mother?”

“In prison in America.”

“What happened?”

He smiled a laughing smile. “She’s doing a research on how diseases spread in prison. She’s in America with my dad.”

“Oh, I see. But how come this place doesn’t look like a hospital?”

“Like a clinic. Because it’s not. My clients are people who want absolute confidentiality. I see maybe two or three patients in a day, my partner and I. You met her, Joyce. We see people who have problems they don’t want people to know about, if you understand what I mean.”

“I think I do. People like me.”

“Not really. But one of my clients referred you and his picking the bill.”

He smiled again.

“How old are you?” I asked him. He looked too young to be so together and have such a good life and even to be a doctor.

“I’m not going to tell you,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s good to keep secrets.”

He called someone and another lady came to take me to another room where she took my blood. In all, I spent about two hours in his clinic and not once did I see another patient, nor did I see Joyce again, or Sunday.

He came to meet me in the parlour and asked me if I was ready to go. I felt embarrassed because I’d been sitting there waiting for him to come and give me medicine or something.

“I can go now?”

“Yes. I don’t have any other appointments this morning so I’ll take you home.”

“Ok. Thanks.”

Another silent ride to my BQ and for the first time I felt embarrassed for a man to see where I lived.

Before I got out of his car I thanked him again for everything, then I asked him the question that had been on my mind all morning.

“So, am I going to be ok?”

“Of course you are.”

“Thank you.”

He reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll call you soon as I have news.”

“But you don’t have my number.”

“Oh, yes.”

He brought out his phone and gave it to me. I saved my phone number on it and handed it back to him.

“Thank you for everything,” I said.

“Thank you for thanking me,” he said.

We looked at each other. He was smiling that his unreadable smile; I’m not sure what my face was doing. I opened the door to get out.

“What are you doing later tonight?” he asked.

“What?” I was already out of his car.

“What are you doing later tonight? I’m free. I could take you out to see a movie. You can bring a friend.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.” He smiled, I closed his door and he drove off.

Mama can like to disgrace me. If Rotimi had not asked me to bring a friend, and I still don’t understand why he said I should, I wouldn’t have told her to come with us to Silverbird.

She always feels the need to say something whenever she meets someone new. We had just entered the gate of Silverbird. I saw he raise her nose to sniff the air then she squeezed her lips and nose together.

“Mnn, I smell pomp corn,” she said.

I wanted to enter the ground.

Rotimi had been walking in front of us. He turned and also sniffed the air.

“I smell it too,” he said. “We’ll get some when we get inside.”

“I don’t like pomp corn unless it’s the one with sugar,” she said.