Frankly Told: Stay in Motion
The sun shone through the windshield with an intensity only justified by the month of January. The line of tint at the top helped with shading the light but the heat was getting unbearable.
With the windows down and the AC on full, he still could feel the beads of sweat racing down the sides of his face, neck and his back. He could bet without looking that the back of his unbuttoned shirt looked like he had just come from swimming. It did not help that the usual lunchtime rush plagued the roads with unyielding traffic. The traffic police were up to their usual antics with their sunglasses and tiny electric fans, barely directing any traffic anywhere.
He sighed in relief as his line was released into the roundabout and further down the highway they sped. Letting his foot rest on the accelerator, he sank back into his leather seat; confirming the mess his vest couldn’t even save. He flipped his indicator on and changed lanes to overtake a driver and just as he slipped into the lane, his car was abuzz with his ringtone. He tapped the phone icon on the steering wheel and the speakers made a tone.
“Hi babe!” her voice came through the speakers.
“Hey,” he responded as he manoeuvred around a truck.
“Wha- Where are you?” she cut herself off. “Are you on the road?”
“Yes,” he threw back, cooly. “Just something came up last minute at the office.
“I told you,” she complained. “You need to be resting. Did I not forbid you from showing up at the office this week?”
“I feel fine,” he argued. “It is just a quick dash and I will be back before you know it. In fact, the fever and dizziness from the morning ended so I’m good. Hydrated and rested.”
“You told me that you leave all instruction to me and I gave you a stay at home order,” she asserted. “Turn that car right about and head home. If I get to the house before you, you will see…”
“Ah,” he exclaimed. “Just a minute and I will be back.”
“I swear to God!” she was nearly screaming at her phone. “Do you want to kill me with worry? That’s what you want? The boys at the office will sort out whatever the issue is. You already gave them your December and worked yourself to the bone. Can I not have you for just one month? Just resting ni kitu ya kujinyima?”
“I promise, my love,” he tried to sweet talk her. “I will be in and out in a second. To assure you, I am even in my slippers and shorts.”
She kissed her teeth and cut the phone. He grinned to himself, feeling triumphant. He tapped the steering wheel to the song that resumed after the phone call ended. In his mind, he knew he was in for it when he got home. Turns out my dad was right, he thought to himself.
Slowly, he felt his breathing become laboured. He closed the windows thinking it was the smoke and dust but it continued to get worse, feeling like he couldn’t get enough air. Every breath was shallow. His vision became blurry little by little and his head felt heavy. His chest felt tight and he could feel his body become feint. In quick thought, he started to veer off to the side not thinking to indicate nor check his side mirror.
Tyres screeched and the last he heard was the sound of metal crunching and glass shuttering before it all went black.
…
She stormed through the hospital doors and ran in a frenzy to the reception. She spattered his name between her panting and the receptionist obliged.
“Down the hall, the door at the end,” she said.
She walked briskly whilst still trying to steady herself. Her hands clenched in fists as she walked down the hall, passing nurses and doctors with a quick nod. She got to the door and burst into it without hesitation.
There he sat. A bandage around his left forearm and a few bandaids on his face. He caught her eyes and smiled.
“I swear you will kill me,” she said.
“It’s just a few scratches,” he explained.
“Give me your phone,” she ordered.
“My phone?” he looked at her confused.
“Yes,” she insisted. “Hand it over.”
He raised an eyebrow and shrugged then gave it to her. She snatched it from his outstretched hand and stuffed it in her bag. Huffing she sat on the visitor’s chair and crossed her legs away from him.
“I’m sorry,” he started after a beat of silence.
There was silence once more and one could cut the air, so thick it was with tension. Her breathing was deep and fueled with rage.
“You need to listen to me,” she started, her eyes still looking away. “I am not going to let you just kill yourself. Especially after you told me, in marriage, that you wanted to do life with me.”
He pressed his lips together. Her disappointment tied a noose around his neck and he could feel it tightening.
“Why is it so hard for you to rest?” she turned to him.
He had no answer so he sat there just staring at her.
The doctor walked in. He gave her a courtesy nod and smile. She returned, albeit, short of the smile.
“So everything seems to be fine,” he said. “However, it seems like the very thing that brought you in last time. Your cortisol levels…. worrying. You need to take it easy.”
She looked at him with “I told you so,” written all across her face.
“Please doctor,” she turned to the medic. “Ask him, since he can’t answer me. What is so hard to just take a break? Why must he constantly stay in motion? I need him to rest!”
“I don’t want to lose him to this fear of remaining stagnant.”
