Lightning streaks behind the clouds that make the day look like night and the breeze scudding drizzle, make the silent trees cheer.
Sealed from the uproar in a Camry, Itika nods to rap music playing low while he controls the steering. And because I think about nothing, I focus on the fine formation of drizzle on the windscreen after the wiper wipes it.
I don't wonder where he takes me or why he drives slow.
He circles our block, nodding to music, unbothered about the thick clouds heralding a storm or my silence. He relishes it too. Rather this, than touching myself and fantasizing it is Sammy's Tongue.

I lose track of time watching the continuous reformation on the windscreen, so when he takes a different route, I am unaware. He slows and stops by Cafe, an eatery we walk by from school every day. It isn't evening, although it seems so, and the solar street lamps aren't programmed to come on.
On the other hand, the effulgency of the eatery makes the see-through glass a mirror from inside, preserving the privacy of the Camry parked outside.

"What about the boy? The one who is sorry?" He reduces the music and presses a button that slides the glass down. Droplets of drizzle and a low rumble of thunder accompany the billowing wind through the small crack.

"What b..." I start but It rushes back to me and I sigh. "What about him? I was enjoying the silence."

"What silence?" Thunder, enough to jolt one, follows but we do not flinch.

"Do you want to go inside?" I point to Cafe.

He shakes his head. "I want to show you a girl." He points towards the cafe.

If I had not been to Cafe with Chimdi and had conversations with Prisca, the attendee, I will not guess it is Prisca he speaks of. I can see her wiping a table.

"Who? Prisca?"

"You know her?"

"Yea, Chimdi brings me here sometimes. Their customers are regular."

"And old," He adds, "Her grandmother owns the place. She has this book club something."

"Oh," I don't know that much. I know Chimdi is romantically involved with her uncle. Prisca told me her name after she told me that. "So, is it Prisca?" I smirk.

"I used to like her."

"Used to like? What happened?"

The tingling drops of drizzle send chills over my body. "Can you close the glass? I don't like rain touching my body."

He does as I say and once again, the uproar outside is sealed away. "So bad you hate rain, it is the raining season."

I ignore that and pressure, seeking to chip him for information to leak. "So...Why did you stop liking her?"

"I still... I don't know. You can say she stopped liking me."

Maybe it is his voice or expression but It feels like I am overstepping but I can not hold myself. "Why?"

He inhales defeatedly, then looks into my eyes as though searching for something he knows isn't there before the unexpected leaves his mouth. "I am sick," he says as casually as a hungry person who has food in the kitchen would say I am hungry.

I furrow my brows, containing the thoughts bombarding my mind, hoping it doesn't print on my expression. I turn and face him head-on. Cancer? Malaria? Hiv? Stds? Or is it Dad's sickness?

"Sick, how?"

The silence stretches tension like rubber at its limit. I am about to say something when he speaks.

"Can we not talk about it?"

I want to respect that and not ask further but my tongue moves faster than my brain.

"Please. Please. You can trust me."

"No. Just leave it." He isn't shouting but his voice isn't particularly calm. His tone surprises him more and I can tell he didn't mean to raise his voice.

"I am sorry," I say and look away.

The weight of his hand delicately lands on my shoulder. "It is fine. Zere. Let us go home."

"Why? I don't want to go yet, home is boring. Can you continue driving around?"

He cuts the steering and just as he steps on gas, he breaks in response to the honking that manages to pierce through the sealed glass. My heart sinks because I envisage a car slamming into ours. The red Audi that almost rammed into us screeches to a stop and without a headlamp, it almost camouflages with the day. As though nothing happened, the Audi drives ahead and a middle finger sticks out the window. Itika had told me about Dave and his twin brothers. They drive a red Audi. They are part of the people who do drugs, whore around, and rape. Allegedly.

Itika does not move until the car takes a right turn.

"I hope you are not going home," I say when the car starts moving.

"I need to."

"Why?"

"Zere, you keep pushing," he says like one who wants me to keep pushing. He keeps his eyes on the road and does not mind the heat of my stare.

"Okay. I... I have to take my med."

I tighten up. "What med?" I ask and the answer silently presents itself. I reach out to touch him but my hand hover inches above his body, as though he is too delicate to touch.

He chuckles.

"Talk to me."

"Okay." He increases speed. "I have not been taking my med. My mum gives them to me but once I get to my room, I throw it up."

There is cause for me to say, "Why?" once more.

"Because they make me feel dizzy and tired."

I wonder the type of medicine he takes and can not think of any.

"I keep telling her that I can do it without the medicine, but she never listens. I can do it!" He increases speed and when he takes a sharp turn, the tires screech.

"Hey, slow down," then as though I understand what he is saying I ask, "So, can you do it without your meds?"

He laughs and it sounds alien as if he is not the one laughing. "It doesn't seem so, because..." The car jets into full speed, and I grip my seat tight. "because, right now... I can not control myself." He grips the steering like a track racer and there is unmistakable freedom in his smile.

"What are you doing? Slow down!"

"I need my meds!" he says through a crazy expression. "Woah!"

"Itika slow down!"

A fence rushes towards us. "Itika! Stop! What are you..."

I can not tell if I am awake or dreaming, if I am lying down or standing, if my eyes are open or close, if I am deaf or hearing, if I am breathing or not.

D E S I R E S

Next Chapter on 13/3/22

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