Fragments of Faith

Aminat Shehu pointed the needle up and tapped the syringe. She was a nurse, and today, she had a new patient.

Oh, he was a big man, and his type made her blood thrum and her heart swoon, but she was working, and Mr. Tall, Dark, and ill was about to be pricked. "What are you doing?" The patient blinked, his once arrogant grin tightening into a grimace.

"Making sure there are no air bubbles. Wouldn't want one in your vein, would you?" He jerked his arm back. "Wait, what happens if I get an air bubble in my vein?"

"You'd get an embolism, light-headedness, shortness of breath, pass out and die. Nothing to worry about." She said nonchalantly as she latched on to his forearm. "Hold still."

Snickers came from the other nurses beyond the privacy curtain. The man leaned forward, winking at her with sultry eyes. He flexed his bicep. "Bet I can break that tiny needle of yours."

"And get it embedded in those precious muscles? She scoffed, I don't think so. Chance of infection, septic shock-" She shook her head slowly. "Possible amputation."

He closed his chocolate eyes and turned toward the curtain. "You win, little nurse."

Arrogant wuss. The bigger they came, the harder they fell.

Aminat might be a petite nurse, but she held the advantage and the needle. She jabbed it in the skin of his muscular upper arms. He winced, the playful glint in his slanted eyes dimming a little. A chiseled jaw, straight nose with a slight flair over full fleshy lips, and slightly long hair that was made for hands to be run through them.

She rubbed his arm with alcohol-his body heat and a hint of brut body spray inviting her to linger. Probably a player. Bet he flirts with all the nurses.She picked up the second vial, of tetanus injection. "How many am I getting?" Mr. sexy-and-scared asked.

"Two. Since you're new, then we will see you in six weeks and after that, you will be at maintenance dose, which is every ten years."

He trained dark-chocolate eyes on her. "Guess I'll be seeing you in six weeks then?"

Aminat steadied her breathing and stuck the second needle deeper. "Depends on the rooster and who is on call. You might get Chizzy or Temi"

"Ow! I have a basketball meet coming up. Is my arm going to be sore?"

She dabbed the tiny spots of blood with a tissue. "No, but you might experience massive swelling, itching, vomiting and an anaphylactic reaction."

"Ana what? Aminat kept a straight face. "Don't worry. We observe you for forty-five minutes before letting you leave." "I hate needles. Did you have to poke so hard?"

Aminat waved the syringe she just used, teasing. "I like poking you."

He caught her wrist. His long elegant fingers stroked the back of her hand. "Not fair when I can't poke back."

Her hand warmed under his grip, and her willpower wavered. Ever since she tried and swore off sex, she'd been tempted by a host of hot guys. And Ismail Abubakar, by the information on his chart, was an smoking hot-six foot four inches, a hundred eighty two pounds, a triathlete, blood pressure one hundred five over seventy-five, resting heart rate in the fifties. Her gaze raked his bare chest dotted with sprinkles of tight curls. Would they feel soft, silky or coarse?

She tamped down her hormones as she pressd down on the injection site.

"Wayooo! Kai! That was very painful. What did you do that for?" His deep voice vibrated close to her ear.

Because I'm not gonna let you fool me. Aminat handed him a tissue. "I'll call you in forty-five minutes."

She couldn't fall off the wagon this quickly, not with the bet she had with her bestie, Chizzy. Whoever held out the longest against pre-marital sex and received a marriage proposal would win a spa weekend. Aminat and Chizzy have constantly been getting into the wrong sort of relationships, both of them have been childhood friends and devout Christians. Recently due to their bad luck in the love department they decided to ask Aminat's foster father for advice and what men really want. He introduced them to Islam and asked them to try the abstinence and dua exercise, where they observed the 5 daily prayers as per Islam and also avoid pre-marital sex in any relationship they embark on. At twenty-seven, Aminat was tired of being burned, and the man in front of her was volcanic hot. She suppressed a sigh as Ismail pulled on a tight Naija football jersey.

"What?" His gaze moved to her chest before resting on her eyes. "Hasn't the pleasure of pain and torture been enough? My arm is tingling and buzzing. I might pass out any minute, a drop my blood pressure and die, and you don't even care?"

She disposed of the used needles in the disposal container and closed his chart. "I'm on break now."

"Wonderful. Let's grab lunch together then." He pulled aside the privacy curtain and swept his hand in an after-you gesture.

Her pride would have been hurt had he not hit on her, she knew she was an attractive woman and she made sure to take care of herself and strived to keep herself healthy, but she'd show him she was not to be trifled with. She took her purse from under the table and opened the door to the waiting room.

"Mr. Abubakar." Aminat put on her most professional tone. "The waiver you signed says Solace care is not responsible for you if you don't follow the policies. Someone has to watch you in case you have a reaction to the shots."

He opened the door for her. "I'll be okay since I'm with you. Come on, let's go get lunch."

The swell of his full lower lip spread, triggering fantasies of more than a mere bite.

She flicked her shoulder-length hair at him. "Follow me if you want, but I'm not giving you mouth-to-mouth."

He was definitely handsome, with a smooth baritone voice guaranteed to melt any woman into a puddle. He caught her eye and winked. Her face heating, she quickened her pace through the clinic doors. He stumbled after her and collapsed, grabbing his throat and coughing.

"Mr. Abubakar. Oh, Jesus!" Aminat poured out the contents of her purse. "My EpiPen injection, where is it?"

She fumbled in her purse while bystanders formed a circle, peppering the air with excited exclamations. Ismail's body jerked with spasms. She had to do something, so she took a deep breath and plastered her mouth over his. His chest tightened and thrashed under her. He was having a seizure, going into shock, choking from lack of oxygen.

Beads of sweat prickled her forehead, and she blew again. A hand caressed the back of her neck, and the lips underneath hers puckered. A light breath fanned from his nostrils and... What the? A velvety tongue swept her mouth with tantalizing grace, and the air was sucked from her lungs. Her head swirled, and her lips responded hungrily, unable to pull away from his minty, refreshing taste.

Cheers and applause rang from the crowd.

"She saved his life."

"Woo hoo! Hot! I got it on video."

"Mommy, that man's faking," a child's voice piped in.

Aminat covered her mouth and gaped at the audience while Ismail rolled on the ground holding his stomach. A gale of laughter erupted from his chest. Idiot! Fool! Even worse, she had kissed him back and she liked it.

A security guard helped her up. "Everything okay? Man having a seizure or what?"

"No, he's fine." But I'm not. Head down, Aminat gathered her belongings and wove through the dispersing crowd.

Did everyone think she enjoyed it?

She was a professional, but at the same time, how could she not?

He was dreamy, and the kiss was hotter than she'd thought possible. Still, he was a patient, and she had better stick to the "life-saving" story, no matter how fake it was or sounded to her.

The next morning, Aminat ducked into the clinic and opened the curtains to the waiting room. Mr. pretender better not be hanging around and embarrassing her. She might have been easy pickings a couple of months ago, but after taking stock of her life and the nowhere road she was going on, as well as all the stuff she was learning about Islam, no more.

She'd be respectable and desirable for marriage. No more selling herself short.

She sensed trouble as soon as she walked by the receptionist's desk. A colorful mixed bouquet sat on the counter.

"Who left these here?" Aminat asked the patients. "We're not supposed to have flowers in the allergy clinic."

No one replied. The note card was addressed to "Nurse." Real bright, not! They were probably for Chizzy. Petite and beautiful, she had a string of suitors, although none of them were the marrying type. Her last boyfriend ended up in prison for kidnapping, human trafficking and possession and use of hard drugs.

Aminat was busy bringing up her charts when a commotion caught her attention.

"Nurse, nurse. We need some help here," a patient said.

She rushed into the waiting room and found a young woman coughing and hunching over with her hands on her knees.

"Can you walk?" She helped the patient stagger into the clinic and announced, "Patient having an asthma attack."

Her boss, Dr. Charles, rushed over. "Put her on a nebulizer with a dose of albuterol. And if that doesn't resolve, a shot of epinephrine."

"You're going to be okay." Aminat prepared the medicine and strapped the nebulizer mouthpiece over the woman's head. "Take a deep breath and hold it as long as you can, then breathe normally."

The patient nodded weakly, her eyes wide open, and her breathing stabilized after a few puffs.

"We'll have you rest for thirty minutes," Aminat said. "Someone will check on you, but if you need anything, please pull this string."

Aminat asked Priye, the senior nurse, to monitor the woman and went back to her workstation to prepare for her next patient.

Dr. Charles's hand rested on her table. "Get rid of the flowers."

"Yes, sir." She grabbed the bouquet from the receptionist's desk and bumped into Chizzy at the door.

"You're late," Aminat said. "Dr. Charles is pissed, and you have to remove your flowers. I have a patient due in a few minutes."

"I had to drop off my niece at school , and the traffic was terrible."

"Mhhhmmm, save it for oga." Aminat shoved the bouquet into Chizzy's hands.

"Hey, I covered you yesterday after your long break. The security guard said you saved a patient's life. What happened?"

"I'll tell you later." Aminat cut her off, knowing Chizzy was suspicious and she was also tenacious. She pointedly stared at her computer monitor and clicked the mouse to open her patient schedule. Ismail Abubakar's booming laughter echoed from the day before. He hadn disrespected her; he thought she was an easy lay, a cheap girl that good looks and a toned an fi body could fool.

Priye tapped her shoulder. "Your first patient's here, and those flowers were for you.

"Who are they from?" A feeling of dread shadowed Aminat's stuttering heart. What if it was her evil ex, Rotkang Shindol? That man never understood the word 'no.'"

"Ask Chizzy," Priye said. "But you better tell whoever it is to stop."

"Sure, thanks." Aminat appreciated Priye's mentorship. Not only did she mentor her and helped her navigate the hierarchy in the clinic, but she was also the one who convinced Aminat and Chizzy to look into Islam as well as consider abstinence, she was also the younger sister to her foster father. Surprisingly they were not born Muslims neither were they from the predominantly Muslim part of Nigeria but from the south-south where Islam and Muslims were barely tolerated.

Of course, she hadn't gotten a proposal or a ring. Not yet. She'd gone out with several men who lost interest when she wouldn't have sex or factor in sex. Not that they had bodies worth compromising for. Not like an athlete's with firm, taut muscles. She shook off the image of Ismail' inviting chest and picked up her next patient's paperwork.

"Hello, Mrs. Julcit," Aminat said, leading the way to the examination room.

"Why, hello there," Mrs. Julcit wheezed. "You're looking busy already. You need to slow down."

"I wish I could," Aminat said. She turned the corner and crashed into an open file drawer. Charts scattered all over the floor, and Aminat fell over a secretary's chair. It rolled her across the aisle and flipped her against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Mrs. Julcit said while Aminat picked herself up. She was so frustrated, she put her forehead on the wall for a minute before she bent down and retrieved the papers.

"I can't catch a break." Her voice wobbled, and she was seriously afraid she would burst into tears.

"You look upset," Mrs. Julcit said as she sat in the patient's chair. The motherly-looking woman was always free with her advice. "Man trouble?"

Aminat took a deep breath and attached a blood pressure cuff to Mrs. Julcit's arm. She pressed the button to start the reading. "Just the usual idiots hitting on me."

Mrs. Julcit's eyebrows bent in a quizzical angle. "Hold out for the one who's different. Remember what we talked about last time?"

"Yes, don't give in." Aminat detached the cuff. "Normal, a hundred twenty-five over seventy-six; you're doing great."

She hated being so short with the kind woman, but crying on her shoulder was worse.

Mrs. Julcit rubbed her arm. "There'll be someone who thinks you're special. Mark my words."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Aminat entered the data for the breathing test and encouraged Mrs. Julcit while she took a deep breath and blew into the tube attached to the breathelizer machine.

If only Mrs. Julcit could see visions that could tell her if she was special enough to warrant a man who'd care enough to put a ring on her finger and lover her sincerely.

Sighing, she left Mrs. Julcit in the doctor's office and called another patient for a skin test. She was extremely busy for the rest of the morning and used her break to catch up on patient e-mails. When lunchtime came around, she was the last one left.

Good thing Chizzy had gone without her, because with her bad mood, she wouldn't have been good company.

Aminat slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the waiting room. Annoyance hit her when she spied the scattered plant and flower fragments on the receptionist's counter. Couldn't Chizzy have at least wiped it down?

She swept the allergenic plant matter from the counter into the wastebasket and pushed the button to lower the rolling shutters. A man's hand slipped under the corrugated metal right before it hit the countertop. Aminat tripped over the receptionist chair and missed the switch, but the shutters reversed automatically.

"We're closed," Aminat yelped, catching her breath. "Are you okay?"

Ismail Abubakar flashed a sideways grin and rubbed his upper arm. "My arm's swollen, and I wonder if you could take a look at it."

Yeah, right. More like something else is swollen she thought to herself. She pushed the button to lower the shutters. "Sorry, I'm on lunch break. Don't try that again."

She locked the clinic and strode past him, keeping her eyes averted. He was the last straw to this awful morning.

Unfortunately, his footsteps kept pace behind her. The automatic doors opened, and bright sunlight assaulted her. She fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses, and her EpiPen fell onto the ground.

Ismail picked it up. "Ever poke yourself with one of these?"

"Haven't had the pleasure." She put on her sunglasses.

His upper lip twitched. "Want me to try?"

She snatched the EpiPen and marched toward her car. Maybe if she ignored him, treated him like a pesky mosquito, he would get the hint and leave. That fake-choking scene wasn't funny, and neither were his pickup lines.

He followed her to the side of her car.

She crossed her arms. This guy had the social skills of a rat and the body of a fashion model. Her eyes involuntarily settled on his too-tight jeans. And why did he have to wear those stretchy football jerseys?

"I'd rather drive around with you. I'd feel safer with my own nurse." He put his hand out. "Miss Shehu, I presume."

He tried too hard. And his pick-up lines were awful.

"You presume too much, Mr. Abubakar. I have thirty-five minutes left for lunch, so if you'll kindly return to the waiting room, or better yet, check yourself into the emergency room, so I can go and eat in peace."

"Are you sure you don't want to eat me instead?"

Since she didn't respond, he laughed at his own joke. "Hah, hah, hah."

Aminat rolled her eyes and unlocked the car. "Where'd you learn those rubbish toasting lines? AY Live? No, don't bother answering."

She opened her car door and slid into the driver's seat. He bent toward her face. Aminat held still, not backing away. Was he going to kiss her again? Or ask for mouth-to-mouth?

This time, she'd bite him first and ask questions later.

"Call me Ismail, and I'm sorry." He stepped back, leaving Aminat's lips high and dry.