ON THE CUSP OF DARKNESS

Chapter 9

EYARE

"Hello ba.."

"Eyare..."

I heard heavy breathing, punctuated with sobs.

"Hello baby, are you okay?

Talk to me, why are you crying?"

"It's Eseosa . . . hic . . . she's got a fever and she's not breathing well. Mum and I are at St. Andrew's hospital, please come now."

And the phone line went dead.

I stared at it like I had just seen a phone for the first time, my mind going blank.

Did I just hear right? My baby . . . who's just two month's old. . . in the hospital with a fever?

In that instance, I felt loosed from the bands of shock as I got up and ran out of my office. Adrenaline pumping through my veins as I surged forward. I was already in front of my car before I realised I had forgotten my car keys, phone and wallet. I rushed back, got them and drove to the hospital like the hounds of hell were after me.

When I got there, I saw Osagiede weeping in the arms of mother. The sight made me physically ill. I had heard the saying 'weak in the knees' before, but never believed or paid much attention to it. Today, at this exact moment, I paid tribute to the phrase, because my knees were actually buckling under the weight of fear for my baby. My poor baby had wires connected to her hand and mouth.

Osagiede had told me she was finding it hard to breath while breast feeding her and she'd panicked and screamed for mother. They rushed her to the hospital thereafter, where they had to set her up to the oxygen tank to help with the breathing.

The doctor had seen Eseosa not long after, being an emergency case, and he had run some preliminary tests. He said she had a bacterial infection.

A common bacterial infection for crying out loud.

I knelt down beside her on the bed. She looked so small and forlorn. I took her hand in mine, her little soft hand that I had so lovingly caressed and rained little kisses on. It was presently hooked up to a wire, through which a drip was attached to.

Her eyes were closed and she was sleeping without any forced breathing. I relaxed a bit, some tension in my gut ebbing.

Osagiede was beside herself with fear, she kept crying uncontrollably in the corner. I had to be the man and not break down too.

I left my baby's side and went to meet her. I took her in my arms and she slumped against me like a rag doll. No words were necessary, so I kept quiet and held her.

The doctor said they were still running tests and they would be ready by the end of the day. I was obviously not going home tonight. I put mother in a taxi and told her to get some rest. I told Osagiede to get some rest on the chair, as well. Her cries had subsided and she kept staring at Eseosa, pain evident in her eyes.

Sighing, I left to get some food from a nearby restaurant for us to eat. Truth be told, I didn't have any appetite and I'm sure Osagiede didn't either, but I needed to move, to leave the room. I was restless. I felt like a caged animal.

I needed to exercise my legs, because if I sat in one place for too long, despair would take over me, and I didn't want that.

Looking at the most important people in my life in pain, brought an ache into my heart.

How frail life is. How easy things can change from good to bad in the twinkling of an eye.

I needed to take life more seriously, or should I say, less seriously. My mind went to father. How he must have felt when I had my appendix removed after it busted in my stomach. My mind travelled, unbidden, down memory lane.

I was just twelve and had this terrible habit of not chewing my food. I would wolf everything down in record time, always in a hurry to go play with my friends.

Mother kept warning me to slow down, chew my food, but I

paid her no mind. One fateful day I was playing foot ball and fell down on my stomach, I blacked out instantly as a result of the acute pain I felt in my abdomen. I woke up three days later. Father was by my bedside, red - eyed, silent and holding my hand.

That day, I knew how important I was to my parents. I also knew how important a child was to a home, the joy it brings and the tears. I was experiencing some of mine right now.

When I got back into the hospital room an hour later, Osagiede was sitting on the bed, breastfeeding our baby and singing to her. She was wide - eyed and awake. I was ecstatic.

I rushed to her bedside, my steps lighter than usual, since I'd first heard the sad news.

Osagiede smiled at me and said the doctor had come and given her the okay to breast feed Eseosa. She was in the clear. It seemed the cloud of darkness hanging over us was gradually moving away.

I sat in the chair in the corner, watching them. Eseosa slept off and I watched as Osagiede dozed off, too. I took our baby from her arms and laid her back unto the bed. I tapped Osagiede awake and led her to the chair. She settled in comfortably, giving the situation of things.

A knock on the door came not long after, and the doctor came in, a smile on his face. He was held a file in his hands. "Hello Mr. Osazuwa, I see mother and daughter are sleeping." He paused, unsure of what else to say, but pushed on. "Can we please talk outside, I wouldn't want to disturb them." He motioned with his head, to Osagiede and our baby.

I nodded and followed him outside, where we stood facing each other. "Yes doctor, talk to me." I was trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

He looked at me solemnly and then said the words that will forever remain etched in my memory. "The test results are out. I'm afraid the diagnosis is not good." With a deep breath, he plunged on. "Your baby has stage two leukemia." He finished, regret in his eyes.

I blinked.

"Come again, doctor." I asked in a stupor.

He sighed, but didn't say anything.

I couldn't believe my ears. How did we go from a common bacteria to stage two Leukemia?

Is this doctor joking?

I stared at him, open mouthed.

He nodded, looked at me with sympathetic eyes and continued speaking. "One hundred and fifty babies develop Leukemia when the DNA of immature blood cells, mainly white cells, becomes damaged in some way. This causes the blood cells to grow and divide continuously, so that there are too many. Healthy blood cells die after a while and are replaced by new cells, which are produced in the bone marrow . . ."

I tuned out his voice after some time.

"Doctor!" I cut him off suddenly.

"Please tell me there's a cure, please." I was so damn scared at that point.

"Well, there's chemotherapy and then there's stem cell therapy. I would advice you to do stem cell therapy so as to eradicate once and for all, the bad cells in her body." He went on to explain about getting a donor that was compatible with my baby's DNA. Osagiede and I needed to do cheek swabs for that.

The hope that blossomed in my heart earlier on, completely got snuffed out. Shaking my head in silent despair, I followed him to the lab to do the test and came back to the hospital room.

How was I going to break the news to Osagiede now, when I thought we had already turned a bright corner?

I had to wake her.

As I got into the room, she stirred and opened her eyes. Seeing me hovering, she became instantly awake.

"Baby, we need to talk."

She was immediately alert, and sprang up from the chair.

I told her in softer terms, what the doctor had told me. When I was done, a myriad of emotions flitted across her face.

I understood what she was feeling, for I knew my face mirrored those same emotions. Fear, pain, anger, turmoil. But the one particular emotion I saw on her face that I didn't seem to understand, was guilt.

She suddenly seemed to find every other thing interesting, except my face. She looked everywhere, but at me. Her fingers toying nervously with the hem of her dress.

I gently nudged her face towards me. "Baby, listen to me," I started. "You've been a good mother to our baby, thus far. None of what's happening now is your fault. There's nothing for you to feel guilty about. Our baby will be well again, mark my words. We will come out victorious, you wait and see. You need not feel guilty because none of this. . ." I wove my hand around for emphasis. ". . . is your fault, so quit feeling guilty."

She nodded, seeming appeased. I held her as we went to do her cheek swab test, my hand a constant help on the small of her back.

Osagiede

I guess I must have forgotten the saying that 'whatever you give to life, good or bad, will come back to you.'

Perhaps, it was the bad that I'd done that was finallycatching up with me.

My head was full with the thoughts of what the doctor had had told Eyare. And now, one of the biggest secret of my life would soon be revealed.

I shook my head miserably.

At a time like this, a moment like this, I thought of myself and how to save my skin. I knew I should think only of Eseosa, but how was I to get out of this situation?

How was I to save my neck?

I felt guilty for what I had done.

Guilty for what was to come.

I was guilty all around. Guilty as charged.

I looked listlessly at Eyare as he talked, not hearing, just seeing his lips move as I followed him to the lab. I felt like an offender following her executioner to the execution ground.

I opened my mouth for the lab attendant to take a sample and watched as she bagged it. The test would be ready tommorow morning, we were told.

I followed, as Eyare led me back to the ward room, his hand on my back.

I will feel the harsh contact of this hand on my face tommorow. This hand that has lovingly caressed me. This hand that has shown me love. Love in all its rawness. Love in all it's passion.

Tears slid down my face silently. I was broken inside. The ache in my heart was too unbearable for me to bear.

I slid to the floor at the bedside of Eseosa and broke into heart - rending tears. Eyare held me while I cried, crooning sweet nothings into my ears, reassuring me over and over again, that our baby would be okay.

What would you think, dear husband, when you find out tommorow, that this child isn't yours?

Hours passed, with me tossing and turning, still I couldn't sleep.

I got up to check Eseosa. I changed her diaper and breast fed her. Eyare was passed out on the floor, one arm across his face to shield his eyes from the bright glare of the hospital's fluorescent light. He had removed his shirt and used it as a buffer for his head. His chest was bare, his face relaxed in sleep.

I was drawn to him. Tracing his chest with my fingers, I felt the warmth of his body. He stirred, and turned towards me and wrapping me up in his arms. "Can't sleep?" His mouth was close to my ear.

I said nothing, but putting my arms around his neck, I drew his head down to mine, and whispered. "Kiss me, please."

He hesitated, but then did so slowly, moving back, after only a few seconds. "We can't do this h -----"

"Here? That what you were going to say?" I asked, already getting angry.

He sighed. "I don't want to hurt you. You just gave b -----"

"Two months ago Eyare, two months ago, the doctor said we could have sex after fourweeks." My voice began to rise.

"Have you looked around you? We are in a hospital, Osagiede, your baby ---- our baby is on the bed, she's ill and ----- " He was getting exasperated, too.

"And it is being handled.

Eyare please, I need you now. I need the comfort only you can give." I looked pleadingly at him.

"What if the nurses come in now?" He asked, uncertainty in his voice. "They will think us depraved. Our baby ill, while we get our freak on." He was clearly agitated now.

"They will see a husband and wife who love and need each other at a difficult time such as this, and will give us space."

After some seconds of contemplation, he capitulated. "You strike a hard bargain madam." And he moved close to me and took me in his arms.

We touched each other with wild abandon. It was bitter sweet for me because I knew what the morrow would bring; Tears and regret. So I would enjoy this while it lasts. I planned on telling him about my liaison with Geoffrey the next day.

An hour later, we lay sated in each other's arms.

"That was. . . something." Eyare said, kissing me on my lips and holding me close to him.

"Hmm." I mumbled, my mind already on the task ahead.

There was no going back now, the paradise I thought I lived in, was in trouble.

I needed to fix it!