₦airaland Forum

tpiar:
by Alexander Dumas.

This is on my to-read list, has anyone read it?

I haven't. He also wrote the very popular book, 'The Three Musketeers '.

Evangelio:
Am already praying that he will survive.................... Second chance?

Nice1 bro. tailored for the season. #shun.election.violence

See, I initially didn't want Bayo to survive until your comment. Again, I've been really very sick, but God gave me a second chance (even though I'm still recovering), so I decided to extend it to Bayo. Thanks.

***** THE END *****

****

On the fourth day, the doctor said Bayo might be discharged in two day's time. I honestly prayed so. He had suffered a lot. He had lost so much weight and endured the pity of other corp members who came visiting. All those teary eyes and sullen faces made him greatly uncomfortable, like he was forcing others to partake in his misfortune.

Chioma and Temi cried when the bandages were removed to reveal the gash on his head, leg and hand, and for the umpteenth time, he calmly told them to save their strength, that he caused his misfortune. He should have listened to me, he said. It made me feel awkward, like my worries actually led to his condition.

On day seven, true to his words, the doctor confirmed Bayo was free to go home and report for checkup. The hospital could do with his bed space, I think.

The girls were all smiles. Chioma joked he should be ready for work, since his thing wasn't bandaged. We laughed, packed his few belongings and walked slowly behind as he limped ahead to the reception area. I left to get a taxi.

Five minutes later I returned with a taxi. They saw us from the reception and started coming out. Bayo limped on, blessed among women. I was happy he survived. Everyone needs a second chance, but some actually get lucky on that front; others don't.

We taxied away from the smell of antiseptics. I forgot about my poultry. I stole a glance at Bayo, he equally seem to have forgotten about his fishpond. I could bet my poultry on that.

I turned around to face the distraught ladies. My eyes darted to Bayo and back to them. There was decidedly no time. I whisked out my wallet and handed my bank ATM card to Temi. "Withdraw 30k for me, abeg." I gave Chioma a thousand naira to cook something for us. They left. I moved closer to the bed and sat beside Bayo. I looked deeply into his face, searching for a glimmer of hope, for a whiff of anything that suggests he would be well again.

His eyes flickered open. He forced a painful, knowing smile. I quickly returned the smile so he'd stop his and reserve the strength the smile requires.

"You'll be fine, I said."
"Thank you." His voice was surprisingly fairly audible, though I had to be attentive to hear everything. "Thank you for what you did...the money." He smiled weakly. He'd clearly overheard our conversations. Knowing Bayo, he must have feigned unconsciousness so the ladies won't be all over him with questions and subtle rebuke.

I smiled knowingly. He held and pressed my hand, pressing a thousand unspoken words of gratitude into them. I nodded my acknowledgement.

***

The next four days was difficult . Bayo needed more blood and more money to survive. We all did what we could for him; Chioma even donated blood. I cooked a delicious lie to my parents and got some money from them. It sent me on a guilt trip; we weren't exactly wealthy. Just managing, as we say.

Bayo's family was regrettably worse off; they didn't even know of his condition. Bayo was their brightest star and their ticket to good life, so we decided to not tell them what happened. The chief who recruited Bayo was very angry that I had the courage to ask for his help.

Bayo and I had planned to invest the money we saved from service wisely -- he, a fishpond; I, a small one hundred-bird poultry. Right now, it seem our plans may not work out. The money for our dreams have been used for Bayo's hospital bills. I was briefly ambivalent about bringing out my money to save Bayo's life, but I soon assured myself that Bayo worth more than a million birds.

mashnino:
Na so una go dey hang person

Thavik:
Bro where's the rest of the story

Sorry guys, been battling with something...

Ollyfad:
uhmmm definitely in tym for d season....nyc one op
praying for bayo

Thanks!

HumbledbYGrace:
Hey Mr slap1 what's up?

Update? Sorry I wasn't paying attention when yyou mentioned you are sick, please get well soon.

Thanks. I'm on it.

Divepen, you may want to add some form of copyright protection on page one of this thread. Just saying...

My submission from Group 1:

The stigma will be unbearably immense, I decide, so I summon Gina's number on my phone. She'd said to call if I make up my mind. I couldn't tell Daddy. His congregation's faith may waver and his pious heart may fail.

Gina's words was on repeat in my mind: "This is not yet a child, just a marshy blend of flesh and blood conniving to destroy your future!"

I imagine the look on my father's face if he hears the news, I try to conjure up his possible reaction. I see only one result -- heart attack. The decision is tough, but it has to be made, quickly.

I look at my phone, 'Gina love' stares up at me indifferently. I close my eyes and open them. Guilt and disappointment wash through me. I offer a silent prayer for forgiveness and thumb the green button.