DOWN LOW (EPISODE 16)

Previously on Down-low, Ronke Quadri has a small disagreement with her flatmate, Timilehin over Gozie, the man she is dating. And Martin reconnects with Rotimi, a past love of his life who broke his heart.

*

“Has the patient in Room 221 had his wounds dressed yet?” Ronke asked the nurse in charge of the second floor, who was arranging transparent sachets of coloured pills in a metal tray at the nurses’ station.

“Yes. I dressed him some minutes ago, when things calmed down a bit,” she answered. “The wound is getting really granulated.”

“Oh, that’s good news,” Ronke said with a heavy sigh.

The nurse gave her a warm sympathetic look. “You’ve really tried today, Dr. Quadri. Today has been really hectic but you handled everything wonderfully. Well done.”

“Thanks jaré, but to be honest, I don’t know how I did it. I didn’t know I could handle stressful situations so well.”

“It just shows how good of a doctor you are, my dear,” the nurse said. “Why don’t you take a break now that we can see road? Thank God Dr. Abeni will soon resume for night duty and you can go home.” There was something maternal about the nurse’s attitude, even though the two women weren’t that far apart in ages.

“Abi o. I’m really exhausted, physically and mentally,” Ronke said, stifling a sudden yawn.

The nurse patted her arm. “Pele dear. Let me go and distribute these medications so that me sef can go home. We have all tried.”

Ronke nodded in agreement and watched the buxom figure of the nurse sidle out of her station and proceed down the hallway with her tray. She turned around and proceeded down to the first floor to the office that she shared with Dr. Abeni. She sighed heavily and collapsed into her chair, kicking off her shoes, thankful that the day had ended and all the attendant incidents had been handled.

A frisson of irritation vibrated through her as she mentally went through all the emergencies she had attended to. Quite a number of them could have been avoided if only these people were more educated or simply had common sense – like the case of the man that had come in with three fingers dangling from his wrist. He had tried to fix an issue with his car without turning off the engine. Or the woman in labour who had been ferried in from one of those ill-equipped birthing houses after she’d been toiling for almost a full day. Ronke was just thankful that the resident Ob-gyn was skilled enough to save both mother and child.

Ronke took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, finally beginning to feel the tension ebb. Just as she was about to comfortably lodge herself in that sweet spot between sleep and wakefulness, the phone on her desk rang out, the loud sound jarring her rather rudely to full consciousness. She groaned, and looked at the display; the reception was calling. She picked up the receiver and placed it reluctantly against her ear.

“Dr. Quadri!” Funmike, the receptionist, squealed into her ear. “You need to get down here ASAP!”

“What’s the issue? Another emergency?” Ronke asked, already slipping into full doctor mode despite her exhaustion.

“Yes. And it’s something only you can handle! Please hurry!” Funmike was basically shrieking now.

“I’m on my way.” Ronke slammed down the phone. In a matter of seconds, she was out of her office and racing towards the ground floor. An emergency only she could handle? She sincerely doubted that, but appreciated the credit the other hospital staff gave her, even though sometimes, she felt undeserving.

She swung into the ground floor and raced towards the reception. As she neared, she began to notice just how chaotic the situation was. But something was off. The chaos she was sensing seemed more like excitement than panic as the case usually was with emergencies. Plus was that a guitar she could hear playing?

She got to the reception area and could barely get through the wall of human bodies gathered around some fascinating spectacle. Several phone cameras were flashing, and there was actually someone playing a guitar. She noticed a young nurse in the crowd and she grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Chioma, what is going on here?” she asked, irritation slipping into her voice. She could’ve been taking in some much needed nap at this moment.

Instead of responding to her, the nurse squealed, “She’s here!”

A collective gasp passed through the crowd and they all turned towards her, phone cameras flashing as they slowly parted.

“What on earth…?” Ronke began, but then she saw him seated in the centre of the crowd, surrounded by an elaborate arrangement of pink roses, strumming a guitar. She felt her heart catch as she relished the sight of the man she’d been dating for some months: tall with a sinewy build, light-skinned with really sharp cheekbones that Liliana had observed was reminiscent of Denola Grey’s features, and a tumble of dread locks around his head that only served to heighten his appeal both as a lover and as an entertainer. He looked up, flipping an errant lock over his head, and their gazes locked. His eyes lit up and a smile slowly spread across his face as he began to sing.

“Because I have you, I have tomorrow,

And I can’t live without you in my life,

I feel you so close by me, and I’ve almost forgotten what life was without you

I guess that’s love

Because I know how much pain tears can bring

I always want to find a smile in your big brown eyes

As I hope and pray that I’m the reason behind that smile.”

The spectators erupted into raucous screams and applause, and the camera flashes burst to life around them both as she ran into his arms.

“Oh my God, Gozie!” Ronke screamed. “How? Why? Oh my God, this is amazing!”

“No, Ronke, you are the one that is amazing. I love you so much and I want everyone to know this.”

“Oh Gozie…” Ronke whispered, as she leaned in for a kiss.

Gozie met her halfway and their lips met in a passionate kiss, as they stayed completely oblivious to the cheering crowd, Gozie’s slightly embarrassed PA, and the kaleidoscope of camera lights and flashes.

***

The movie theatre was dark and cool and best of all, virtually empty. Apart from Martin and his companion, both of who were cozily ensconced in a corner on the top row of seats, the only other person in the hall was a middle-aged-looking woman seated several rows in front.

“I really hope this movie doesn’t suck, this one that the theatre is empty like this,” Martin muttered.

“Relax joor,” Rotimi chided. “This is the first showing, and it’s still early in the day. It’s a really good movie.”

“Have you seen it before?” Martin asked, with a sneer that Rotimi probably didn’t see.

“Well, IMDb gave it a good rating, even Rotten Tomatoes as well,” Rotimi replied sheepishly.

“Wonderful.” Martin rolled his eyes and Rotimi laughed.

“Can you keep an open mind please?” Rotimi said. “It’s a sweet romantic drama, it’s great.”

He leaned closer to Martin and added, “Besides, who doesn’t like an empty cinema hall? Isn’t this more…intimate?”

The word seemed to caress Martin’s face and the coils of desire that he had been keeping at bay ever since he met up with Rotimi that morning hammered against their confines, demanding to be released.

Not today Satan, he rebuked. This was already a huge mistake and he would not make any more today. At least he would try.

The screen lit up, shedding enough light for Martin to covertly admire how delicious Rotimi looked in his simple grey cotton T-shirt with denim shorts that hugged his thighs and delineated every muscle.

This was a bad idea.

The adverts began, and seemed to go on forever, but they didn’t mind. Most of them were stupid yet funny and Rotimi and Martin had a good time making fun of them. The others that were quite brilliant served as talking points, enabling them both to dissect the concepts and executions. And all this while, Martin scarfed down popcorn. As the movie started, Martin reached into his popcorn bag and his hand came out with just hard brown kernels.

“Well then, I guess I will have to raid your popcorn,” he muttered, dipping his hand into Rotimi’s bag of popcorn which was nestled snugly between his powerful thighs.

“Wow you’re still such a foodie and yet your body is this great,” Rotimi said.

“Well, I do work out and I have very active hobbies like dancing,” Martin said. He suddenly remembered Ricardo and felt a pang of guilt. Ever since Ricardo had announced that he was going to live with his mother’s family in Spain and that he loved him, Martin had not had contact with him and that was rather cold.

He sighed mentally and reached between Rotimi’s thighs for another fistful of popcorn, but met only air. He extended his hand lower and his open palm came directly into contact with Rotimi’s denim-covered crotch.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry…” The apology trailed off as Rotimi grabbed his wrist and held his open palm in place against his crotch. Martin felt the material beneath his palm swell and harden and his body echoed the reaction.

Don’t do it, hoe! the voices in his head screamed in unison.

“Is this a good idea, Rotimi?” he choked out.

“I don’t care. I want you. I always have,” Rotimi growled. He leaned towards Martin, pulling his head in for a kiss. Martin stifled a groan as Rotimi’s heady scent overwhelmed him, and Rotimi took the chance to invade his mouth, caressing the inside of his lips with his tongue.

What is happening?

End this now!

Push him away for godsake! This can’t end well!

The voices of reason shouted in Martin’s head.

But he’s so hot and this feels so good and I have missed him, Martin thought. And surprisingly the voices agreed and kept quiet. YOLO after all and all that, right?

“For Christ sake, the movie just started,” Martin whispered against Rotimi’s lips in a half-hearted attempt to put a stop to Rotimi’s invasion of him, even as his fingers were sliding up and down his crotch.

“It’s a shitty movie anyway,” Rotimi mumbled, biting Martin’s neck and pushing his straining erection against his palm. “Besides we can always torrent it if we really want to see it. Your house isn’t far from here, right?”

Martin smiled and squeezed Rotimi’s erection through the denim. He moaned against Martin’s neck.

“Not far at all. Let’s get out of here.”

Written by Santa Diaba