FINGER PROBLEMS

I lifted the foot mat in front of the house and found only grains of sand under it. I held the door's knob and twisted; the door did not bulge. I held it with my left hand and leaned against the door, exhausted and wondering what to do. Mom would be at work and my brothers would have gone to school. No one knew I was coming, and no one left the spare key under the foot mat.

I remained this way with my head pressed against the door. Then I heard a faint sound inside the house, and I listened. The sound turned into footsteps, and they drew nearer to the door. I heard the turn of the key on the door, and it swung opened.

Jasper's eyes widened and a huge smile spread over his face.

'Big Brother,' he cried, and hugged me. 'Welcome back.'

'Thanks,' I said, stretching my hand away from his body. 'Are you alone?'

'Yeah,' he said, pulling back. 'You didn't call to say you were coming. How was Lagos?'

'Fine,' I said, following him into the house. 'I lost my phone.'

'No wonder,' Jasper said, drawing back to look at me. 'We tried to get in touch last night, but your phone was switched off. Mom was worried. She said she was going to see Uncle Bulus after work if you don't call today. Then they will go to the police or something. I told her not to worry, but you know mom; once she is worried, she is worried.'

'Yes, I know.'

Jasper stared at me. 'Are you alright? You look thin—as if you had a rough time in Lagos. Did you get the job?'

'No,' I said. 'What are you doing at home?'

'The academic staff union started another strike today,' he said. 'Didn't you hear about it? It's all over the news.'

'I missed it. There is little time to mind the news in Lagos.'

'Yeah,' he said, and I heard the doubt in his voice. 'Where is your bag?'

I moved into the parlor, keeping my hand behind me.

 'It's in Lagos,' I said. 'I will pick it up soon.'

I thought about my credentials in the bag and for the umpteenth time wondered what Eric was going to do with them. Mom must not hear I left them in Lagos; she would burst a vein.

'Are you going back?' Jasper asked. 'I don't think mom will allow you to. She is blaming herself for allowing you to go in the first place.'

'I am not a kid,' I said, my voice rising. 'I can go wherever I want to without her supervision. I am not a kid.'

Jasper stopped from the kitchen door and turned. 'Yes, of course. I guess she's worried and blaming herself something happened to you.' He paused, looking at me. 'Are you okay?'

I sat on the old, battered settee—which seemed more battered now—and looked around the room, keeping my eyes away from him. Everything was in place—the old TV still sat on the old TV stand and the old refrigerator was still standing close to the kitchen door and the drapes on the window looked fainter and older. My gaze finally settled on the carpet on the floor, and it looked as worn as a carpet in a civil service office. 

Jasper's eyes were still on me by the time I looked back to him. 'I am fine; just tired.'

'Can I get you tea? There is no bread though.'

I shook my head. 'I want to clean up first.'

'Okay,' he said and was turning away when I saw his eyes widen and his mouth felL opened. 'Oh, my God! What happened to your hand?'

I pushed the hand between my knees. He walked back to me. 

'What happened to your hand,' he asked again.

 'I had an accident,' I said and raised the hand so he could see it. 

'Oh, my God; your finger is gone.'

'Yeah,' I said, looking at the hand. The stump looked darkish red and ugly, as if red wine had poured over it the previous night. The rest of my hand was covered in dark brownish caked blood. 

'What happened?' Jasper asked.

'A snakebite. The finger was cut off to remove the poison.'

'A snake? When? Where? Have you been to the hospital?'

'No. The poison came out with the blood after I cut off the finger.'

Jaspers eyes grew to the size of a quail's eggs. 'You cut off your finger?' 

'It was either the finger or my life. It's a price I had to pay to stay alive.'

'But have you been to the hospital? How do you know some of the poison is not still in you? Look at your hand; it's swollen.'

'I will be okay. The swelling will subside eventually.'

Jasper's face looked like the face of a Chinese gangster—it was gaunt with worry. He left the living room and ran into their bedroom, and I heard him speaking with mom after a couple of seconds. I stood up and walked to my room and slumped on the bed, keeping my hand away from the bed sheet. I looked up at the ceiling, still hearing Jasper's agitated voice. 

Jasper barged into my room about a minute later and I saw that he had changed his clothes. 'Mom said we should get to the Teaching Hospital. She said she will meet us there.'

'There is no need for that,' I said and turned my eyes to the ceiling. 'I am okay.'

'Paul,' Jasper shouted. 'You could die right this moment. Please get up let's go to the hospital. Mom is leaving the office to meet us there.'

'I am tired, and I am not going anywhere.'

Jasper stared at me. 'Do you want to die?'

I raised my eyes back to the ceiling and counted fourteen squares in my mind. 

'Is that what you want? Do you want to kill yourself?'

I counted more squares.

'Paul!'

'What?' I said, turning to him. 'What's the point of living? Let the rest of the venom kill me; it will be a relief from this life of incapacitation.'

Jasper stared at me for several seconds before he walked back to the living room. I heard him taking on the phone again and a moment later he went out of the house.

I counted more squares and thought about Talatu and Maria for a while and then my mind drifted to Mr. Potter and Tolu. My thought was still on them when Jasper re-entered the room.

I looked up at him and saw Mr. Kingsley, our next-door neighbor, standing behind him. He wore a white singlet over a black jean, and I knew he was dragged out of his house in a hurry. 

I sat up on the bed and glared at Jasper. 'Good morning, Mr. Kingsley.'

'Get up, Paul,' Mr. Kingsley said, coming to stand by the bed. Mr. Kingsley retired from the civil service two years ago and everyone on our streets respected him because you can never find a more perfect gentleman than Mr. Kingsley. But now a frown crested his face, and the gentle look was gone. 

'Let's go to the hospital,' he said. 'Quickly, please!'

I remained on the bed, my face turned to Jasper. 

'Did you hear what I said?' Mr. Kingsley asked. 'Get up and let's go, please. You need to be in the hospital right now. Let the doctors check you and certify that you are okay, and we will come back as soon as they are done.'

Seeing Mr. Kingsley's gentle face masked with worry bled my heart and broke my resolve. 

I stood up. 'Okay, Mr. Kingsley.'

'That's it, Paul,' he said. 'We will go in my car and will be back before you know it. It's just a checkup.'

I gave Jasper another glare before following Mr. Kingsley out of the room. Jasper followed from behind and locked the door when we got outside the house.

'Give me a minute to put on my shirt,' Mr. Kinsley said and dashed toward his house with the pace of a man afflicted with acute diarrhea.

I turned to Jasper. 'Why did you involve him in this?' 

He shrugged. 'Mom insisted I go to him; I had no choice.'

'I don't know why I came back,' I said, moving my hand to and fro, to keep away a naughty fly that had begun to circle it. 'I should have remained and rot in Lagos.'

Mr. Kinsley emerged from his house in a brown checked short sleeved shirt and walked briskly to the 1986 Honda Accord parked in front of the house. He pulled the door open and jumped behind the wheels. He started the car and it coughed and barked and coughed some more before it came to life. He reversed the car and brought it close to our door. 

'Come in,' he yelled above the engine's cranking. 'Be careful with the hand.' 

Jasper walked to the back door, and I took the front seat. Mr. Kinsley drove the car forward, going at the top and emergency speed of forty kilometers per hour that the old car could bare.