Rushing towards her best friend’s unconscious form, Walida tilted her head from side to side, not sure where to touch. Then she noticed that Aisha’s eyes were half closed, her mouth parted, saliva trickling down. Walida leaned closer to her mouth. She could hear tiny puffs of air. Oh God, she was still alive. Walida quickly stood and ran down the stairs and towards the gate. “Mallam!” She called out. 

His head poked out from behind the door, “Hajiya, lafiya?”

“Aisha.” She pointed, face twisted. He disappeared into his house. After few minutes, he reappeared. Together, they carried her to the hospital. 

Walida waited in the reception, ignoring the bawling of a three-year-old girl beside her, the laments of an elderly woman at the counter, and the headache creeping around her head. She took a deep breath, leaned forward and rubbed her eyes, as though to rub off the scene she had just witnessed. How was it even possible? She knew Aisha’s husband: a very quiet and reserved man. Hajja had even commented that she doubted he’d be able to control Aisha, for his voice was like a rat’s squeak.

“Nafisah Abdullah.” She opened her eyes and saw a female doctor standing over her. 

She stood. “Yes, that’s me.”

The doctor glanced at her notebook, “Are you related to the patient?”

“No, she’s my best friend.”

“She lost a lot of blood. So she’d need a transfusion.”

Walida nodded. “You need a relative’s signature.”

The doctor folded her lips, “But we can allow you, since you’re close, and she really needs it.” 

“No problem. Let’s go.” After signing the appropriate document, she settled back on her seat, wondering if she should go and clean up the place. But it looked like a crime scene. Should she call the police? She shook her head. 

“Hajiya,” She turned to see the gateman. “Ya mai jikin–how is she?” 

“Da sauqi, ana qara mata jini yanzu.”  She informed him.

“Allah ya qara sauqi.”

“Ameen. Have you called your oga?” 

He nodded and showed her his phone. “Ba ta tafiya–it’s not reachable.”

She nodded and bit her lower lip. Should she call Shmsu to call him instead? She shook head and let out a slight hiss. 

“Lafiya dai, hajiya?” He asked.

She sighed, “Did you see her before the incident?” She nodded in the direction of the hallway across them.

“Yes, she came out to make a call. Then she sent Auwal to bring my food.”

“Okay, nobody came to the house?”

“Yallabai came. I opened the gate for him before I went out.”

Oh God. “So you were not around when…” She watched as he shook his head slowly.

She sighed. Poor Aisha. “Has this ever happened before?”

He bowed his head. “Toh, it was only once I saw them fight, outside the house. But they were just arguing.” He placed one hand into his open palm. 

“Ikon Allah.” And here she was thinking Aisha could never keep a secret. She frowned in thought. She had never noticed a scar on her before. Perhaps, she hadn’t been paying attention. Her eyes watered. She had misjudged her friend all along.

A loud ring startled her. It was the gateman’s phone. “Yallabai ne,” he said. While they talked, she brought out her phone. the time was 02:03 p.m. The boys should be awake by now. And since her father hadn’t called, it meant he hadn’t returned. She scrolled through her contacts for their gateman’s number. Then she recalled, Aisha’s boys! 

She turned to the gateman who was also ambling towards her. “Me yace–what did he say?” she asked.

“He said I should go back.” 

“Okay, is he on his way?” 

He shook his head. “He said he’s travelling this night.”

She blinked in surprise. “Travel kuma? When his wife is here?” That was when she realized: Without a doubt, he was responsible for her condition. 

“Yes. Let me go.” The gateman said, his eyes pleading. He was also afraid of his oga. “I will come back soon, in sha Allah.”

“What about the boys?” 

“They went to Aunty Larai’s house for the weekend.”  His phone began to ring again. He looked at it, then at her. “Zan dawo.”

As he was leaving, the doctor appeared. “Mrs. Abdullah?”

Walida turned to her. “Yes? Any news?”

She smiled, “Your friend is awake.”

Walida sighed in relief. “Okay,” As she turned to leave, the doctor’s voice stopped her.”

“She’s a little groggy so please don’t do or say anything to tense her.”

Walida nodded. She strode down the dimly lit hallway, rounded a corner, then stopped before the double doors. She took a deep breath, her head buzzing with questions. When did Aisha’s husband become like this? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Once inside the room with peach walls, she glanced at the other women on their beds, some sleeping, some talking with their relatives beside them, the woman next to Aisha even had her husband with her, talking in hushed tones. The coldness of the room reminded her of Aisha’s house. She wondered if she’d ever go there again.

She stood beside Aisha’s bed, watching her bandaged head moving from side to side, her brows furrowed, mouth slack. She moved closer and quietly sat on the space next to Aisha to feel her movements, to be sure she was alive, not unconscious like before. 

Walida reached for her hand, just as Aisha opened her eyes. She blinked slowly, eyes roaming around the room before settling on Walida’s face. She smiled.  “Kawata.” She whispered.

Walida gasped and leaned closer, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t say anything.” 

Aisha rose her head and winced. “What happened?” 

Walida hesitated before saying, “You had an accident.” She watched as Aisha frowned. 

“When? How?”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

Aisha nodded slightly. “I’m still vexing with you.”

Walida smiled, lips trembling. “Yi haquri–I’m sorry.” She wiped Aisha’s cold forehead. “I’ll take you shopping.”

Aisha tried to smile, but only a corner of her lips moved. “You look sad.”

Walida looked away and covered her lips to hold back her cry. If Aisha couldn’t remember, who was she to remind her? Perhaps it was better this way. She turned back to her, “It’s Shamsu.”

Aisha frowned. 

“He hasn’t called.”

Aisha frowned some more, “When did Shamsu become your husband? What of Habib?” 

Walida gaped at her. How much memory did she lose? She opened her mouth, then closed it. She turned to the blue cotton sheet wrapped around Aisha and began to straighten it. “Don’t mind me.” She chuckled. “Are you hungry? Should I get you something?” She rose from the bed, ignoring Aisha’s incredulous stare. 

“Nothing. Just call my Garba for me. Is he here?” 

Walida’s breath hitched. When was the last time she heard Aisha call her husband by his name?
“Em, I didn’t see him. Maybe he went to but you something. Let me go and check.” 

As she made her way to the door, Aisha called her, “Wait,” She stopped and turned around with a smile. Had she remembered something? Aisha’s eyes scanned her from head to toe, “Are you pregnant?” Walida glanced at her flat stomach. “You look fat.” Aisha added. Walida raised her head and smiled sheepishly. 

“Habib has been feeding me well.” She noticed Aisha’s eyes drooping. “Let me go and find him.” As she closed the door behind her, she burst into tears. Her phone began to ring. She moved to the opposite wall and answered it, “Hello, Baba?” 

“Walidudu, yane? Where are you?” 

She sniffed, “At the hospital.” She informed him about Aisha’s condition, leaving out the memory loss part. 

“Allah ya kiyaye nan gaba. Is anyone there with her?” 

“Ameen.” She recalled Garba’s current status. “No one for now. Why?” 

“Because Shamsu is waiting for you.”

She moved away from the wall. “Da gaske?” She felt her heart getting warm. 

“Yes.”

Her heart tugged at that. Shamsu, her loving husband; Flawed but real. She shouldn’t have left home. She recalled Aisha in her bed, alone. Shamsu would never do that to her. As she strode into the reception, tears resurfaced. Luckily for her, the reception was empty-except for a nurse watching My flat mates on the flat screen hanging on the wall across her, so she could cry in peace, for herself and her best friend. At least, she had a home. What of Aisha?

Meanwhile, the said Aisha was speaking with her doctor. “Please, help me.”

The doctor shook her head, two braids hanging down her angular face. “What you’re asking is very dangerous. I could lose my license for it.”

Aisha sat up, a boulder of pain shot at the back of her head. The doctor moved to help her but she shook her head. “No one will know. Besides, I’m the one asking. It’s my report.”

“But it’s dangerous.” The doctor said. 

“It’s the only way. Please.”

She pursed her lips in uncertainty. “what about your friend?”

“I’ll take care of her.” 
“Okay. Get some rest then. I’ll go make the arrangements”

•••

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