I sat on a pavement and tried to calm my nerves. My pant was terribly stained and I was fast losing strength. The blood soon stopped oozing out and I looked for a cab to take me to the hospital. The driver noticed my discomfort and kept telling me sorry. I thanked him for his concern.
We were soon at the clinic and I struggled to come down. I offered the driver money, but he refused to collect it.
“Don’t worry, madam. Take care of yourself.”
A nurse, who noticed I was walking with discomfort, rushed out to help me in. She asked for my name and helped me fish out my card. Five minutes after, she ushered me in to see the doctor. Dr. Salako asked how it started and I explained, including telling him I was pregnant and how I came about the pregnancy. He asked me to lie flat on his examination bed and dipped his gloved hand into my vagina. It was painful and I screamed.
“We will need to do an emergency D and C on you,” he told me after his examination.
I was not sad because in the first place I did not want the baby.
“Once we do that, you will be fine,” he assured me.
I was taken to a general ward, given some medication and within minutes sleep had taken hold of me. I was not sure whether I was dreaming or hallucinating. I saw my mum pampering me and telling me it would be okay. I also saw my dad, he was in obvious pain. Some men were beating him and no matter how I tried to get them to stop, they ignored me. Soon they dragged my father away, with one of them vowing that I would never see him again.
I did not wake up until the following morning. Some minutes after I woke up, another doctor, an obstetrician, came to see me.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
She shook her head and said:” We will do the D and C any moment from now.”
As soon as she left, a nurse came to take me to the theatre. I was given an injection at the back and by the time I woke up, I was back in the ward.
“How are you?” A woman, a fellow patient, asked me.
“You have been sleeping since I got here and I have been here for 24 hours,” she said.
I simply looked at her without saying anything.
“I had an appendicitis surgery yesterday,” she said.
“My name is Ejiro. What is yours?”
“I’m Oluwakemi Abolore Dare.”
“Nice meeting you.”
We were the only two in the ward, the other five beds were vacant. She told me she would be there for another forty eight hours for examination. Not long after, a nurse came and told me I would be discharged later that day. Ejiro gave me her number when I was leaving and got me to promise to call her.
Back home peace eluded me. While I was happy that nature had helped to take away the unwanted baby, the fact that there was no clue about my father was worrying. With no job and with a missing father, I was afraid for my future. In saner clime and with my level of education, I should be sure of my future but in a dream killer like Nigeria, even the next hour is not promised.
To worsen my situation, on at least two occasions after I returned home, I dreamt that my former boss came to apologise and I forgave him. I fact, in one of the dreams, he kissed me passionately and I moaned and begged him to fuck me mercilessly and like an obedient servant, he obeyed. First, he hung me on his shoulder, lifted my pussy to his mouth and gave me the head of my life. He thereafter lowered me to his throbbing dick and gave me the fuck of my life. I was screaming like a mad woman and begging him not to stop.
I woke up wet and ashamed of myself. I felt like beating myself. How on earth would I forgive that devilish man? Just how? And just how would I beg him to make love to me? Even in a dream, I felt I had sinned against myself. I was still punishing myself for this infraction when my phone rang. It was Ejiro. We had spoken once since I got home and I hinted her about my joblessness.
“Hi, babes, how are you doing?”
“I’m good and you?”
“I’m great. We need to see o. I think I have a job for you. There is an opening in the club where I work and I think it will suit you very well. You will work in the admin section.”
“Thank you, Ejiro. I’ll see you now.”
She sent me the address and as I walked into House of Malaika, I felt this was not an ordinary nightclub. I soon found out. But not after three months.
To be continued