All through the night, the mosquitoes came riding in on horseback. The males hummed shrill love songs into our ears, the females sucked blood from our exposed arms and feet. Tired of swatting the air and scratching her limbs, my mother shut the windows against them. Minutes later, we were almost at the point of asphyxiation. She opened them again. The mosquitoes were clearly the landlords. But at some point, we must have set aside our troubles and fallen asleep. A young nurse shook us awake in the morning. I rubbed my eyes and scratched at a red swelling on the back of my hand.

‘You should bring a mosquito net for your father,’ the nurse suggested. ‘And bring a fan for yourselves. Even if NEPA takes the light, as long as there is fuel, the hospital generator is on from midnight till 4 a.m…’

‘The doctor who is supposed to see him,’ my mother asked, ‘what time is he coming this morning?’

‘He can come in anytime.’

The nurse handed me a sheet of paper. I studied the handwritten list. The items included a pack of cotton wool, bottle of Izal disinfectant, pack of needles, pack of syringes, roll of plaster, disposable catheter bags, bleach, gloves…

‘What is this?’ I asked.

‘Those are the things we need for your father’s care,’ she replied. ‘Any item you don’t find at the hospital pharmacy, you’ll have to go out and buy it from somewhere else.’

The list even included intravenous fluids!

‘Does the hospital not provide these items? Are they not part of the bill?’

‘Every patient is expected to buy their own.’

‘Let me see,’ my mother said.

I gave the list to her.

‘So what would have happened if he didn’t have any relatives here with him?’ I asked. ‘Who would have had to buy these things?’

‘We never admit any patient who is not accompanied by relatives.’

Irritation had assumed full control of her voice. The last thing I wanted was for someone whom I had entrusted with my father’s life to be angry with me over such a minor issue. My mother also seemed to share this thought. She handed back the list and surreptitiously poked my thigh. That was my cue to shut up.

The nurse tugged at some wires and peeked under my father’s clothes before exiting the room. As soon as the door clacked shut, my mother turned to me.

‘Kings, please hurry up and go to the house and get the cheque booklet for our joint account. It’s in my trunk box. Bring it immediately so that I can sign some cheques for you to take to the bank and withdraw some money.’

‘I’d like to wait and see the doctor before I go.’

‘Please, go now. You know they admitted us on trust.’

On my way out, I walked past a nurse who was pushing a squeaking wheelchair. The wheelchair was stacked with green case files.

The queue at the bank went all the way out the front door and round the back of the building. If only my parents would stop being conservative and transfer their accounts to one of the more efficient New Generation banks. Thereafter, I went straight to Ola’s house. Apart from all the questions I was eager to ask her, she needed to know that my father was ill. Plus, Ola’s hugs were like medicine, and every muscle in my body was sore.

As usual, Ezinne was pleased to see me. She unlocked the glass door and hugged me warmly. I waited in the living room while she went inside to inform her sister about my presence. Seconds later, she returned.

‘Brother Kings, Ola is not at home.’

I peered at her.

She stood there, pulling at her neatly woven cornrows and twisting her foot from side to side with her eyes fixed on the floor.

‘Ezinne, go back inside and tell Ola that I want to see her.’

She obeyed.

Ten minutes later, Ola came out dressed in an adire boubou and with an expression on her face like an irritated queen’s. She was accompanied by one of her friends from school. The girl bore some coquettish-sounding name which I had forgotten. Either Thelma… or Sandra… or one of those sorts of names. They greeted me and sat in the chairs opposite.

‘My father was admitted into hospital last night,’ I said. ‘He had a stroke.’

‘Stroke? How come? How is he?’

‘I’m on my way back to the hospital. I just wanted to see you first. How are you?’

I thought she might offer to come along with me. Suddenly, she became icy.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied in a voice that was well below zero.

‘I was surprised when I went to your school yesterday and they told me that you were in Umuahia.’

‘Yes, I am.’

Her answer sounded a bit off point. Nevertheless, I accepted it. She was wearing the same Dolce & Gabbana wristwatch of the other day. The former red strap had been swapped for a brown one that matched her Fendi slippers. Ola looked glum and rigid, like a pillar of salt.

‘Ola, are you OK?’

Her companion flicked some dirt – noisily – from one of her red acrylic talons. Ola took a deep breath.

‘Kingsley, I think we should both go our separate ways,’ she said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, there’s no future in this relationship.’

She spoke so fast, with her words bumping into each other. Yes, I heard the individual words, but I genuinely could not make out any meaning from what she had said.

‘Ola, what are you saying?’ I asked.

The other girl hijacked the conversation.

‘What essatly do you not understand? She has told you her mind and it’s your business whether you assept it or not.’

This tattling termagant, like many of her compatriots from Edo in the Mid-West region of Nigeria, had a mother tongue induced speech deficiency that prevented her from putting the required velar emphasis on her X sounds. They always came out sounding like an S. I ignored the idiot.

‘Ola, please let’s go somewhere private and talk… please.’

Ola tilted slightly forward as if she were about to stand.

‘Abeg no follow am go anywhere, jare,’ the termagant restrained her in her more typical Pidgin English. ‘Abi him hol’ your life?’

Ola sat ramrod straight again.

The termagant appeared to be the commandant of this mission. Abruptly, she stood up and nudged Ola. Their task was complete. They had dropped the atomic bomb. Ola stood. I wondered why she was allowing this Neanderthal to control her like this.

‘Kingsley, I need to go out now.’

I bent my knees towards the floor and reached out for her hand. ‘Ola, please… at least let’s go into the room and talk…’

I thought I saw a twinge of pain in her eyes, but it passed by so quickly that I may have been mistaken. She turned and walked quickly from the living room. Shortly after, she came out dressed in a brown dress, with the termagant following behind her. The scent of their combined perfumes invaded the atmosphere. Each molecule stank of good money. Without looking at me, they walked straight out of the house. I followed like an ass.

‘Ola…’ I called. ‘Ola.’

She did not even look my way. Any passerby could have easily mistaken me for a schizophrenic conversing with invisible KGB agents.

‘Ola, please just give me a bit more time.’

With me lurking at her side, they stood by the main road and hailed a passing okada.

‘Empire Hotel!’ the termagant shouted.

The daredevil driver did a maniacal U-turn and stopped with his engine still running. Ola climbed on as close to the driver as was physically possible, leaving just enough space for the termagant. When the driver had perceived that they had settled as comfortably as the laws of space would allow, he revved his engine and zoomed off.