The ramshackle bus dropped off Kuzie in front of Healthyes Hospital. The malodorous mound of dirt heaped by the side of the building nauseated her. Colorful as the mess of plastic bags, disposable plates, and juice packs was, it was trash, just like her life. She studied the pale-looking signboard that had been rain-washed and sun-mopped: HEALTHYES HOSPITAL we cure, but only God saves. Kuzie smiled. She could bet on her left kidney, the only kidney left, that Fee had no hand in the hospital’s ridiculous name. Peeping into the unmanned gateman’s post, only one name came to mind: United Clutter of Spiders. The leather skins of the two chairs in the gateman’s shack were torn and its brown foam had teeth-marks. Kuzie walked toward the hospital’s reception, cursing them for leaving the ground as sandy as a savanna anthill. The doctors’ quarters stood a distance away from the hospital building, looking like icebergs. The brown hospital tiles looked very clean.
The sad-looking receptionist was curt. “Is Dr. Fee expecting you?”
Kuzie smiled. “Yes.”
“Have you called her to inform her of your arrival?”
Kuzie lied. “Yes.”
“If you have, then you should have known that she is conducting surgery at the moment.”
Kuzie wondered if this receptionist’s small intestines and brain had switched places. The lady was still giving Kuzie directions to Dr. Fee’s office when Kuzie walked away. The complicated directions would only lead her to the evil forest, she thought. She would rather ask questions along the way. Kuzie counted five closed doors labeled, “Consultant.” Yet, the hospital was a market of outpatients. She wondered why Healthyes had not said yes to the employment of more doctors. What was her own, she thought. Yes to doctors or not, Fee must say yes to her (that was her only “own”). She approached a man wearing green scrubs. His frowning face made him resemble a skull. The man directed her to Dr. Fee’s office. It was in a dead-end quiet corridor. Kuzie sat on a plastic chair and played the Snake Xenzia game on her Nokia Torchlight. Well into the game, she looked up when she heard stamping feet. A lady passed by without acknowledging Kuzie. She did not even relax the fold on her forehead when Kuzie smiled at her. But her tiny figure and average height reminded Kuzie of her first daughter, Kene. She closed her eyes and sighed. What would she not give to see her children again? Her phone vibrated. “Game over” plastered on the screen. She bit the inside of her lips, careful not to smudge her red lipstick.
“Okuko Igbo!”
Only one person could call her that name in Healthyes. She raised her head and smiled. Fee was walking toward her, grinning.
Fee protruded her mouth like a trumpet. “Kukurukuu!”
Kuzie bent her head and chuckled. “School Fees!”
They settled into each other’s warm embrace.
“Kuku, na your eye be this? After how many decades?”
Kuzie giggled. “I’m so happy to see you again, Fee.”
Fee laughed, fumbling the pocket of her blue scrubs. Her well-packed black weave hung beneath her surgeon’s cap. Kuzie envied her bright brown skin.
“Your Facebook message made me laugh. When I saw ‘Dear Feechukwu, all hailings be unto you,’ I laughed eeh.”
Kuzie laughed even if she found nothing funny. Her eyes were on the oval-shaped pendant and necklace dangling from Fee’s neck as she turned her key in the lock. It was the same pendant in all of Fee’s Facebook pictures. Fee’s nails were short and unpainted, contrasting with the red claws Kuzie saw on Facebook.
A column of fresh air swirled around Kuzie when Fee opened the door. The room smelled of neither air freshener nor disinfectant, but like the air after heavy rainfall. Fee turned on the lights. It was a tidy doctor’s office.
“Please sit, Kukuru.”
“School Fees, please, call me Kuzie.”
“But you just called me School Fees.”
Kuzie laughed, remembering all the nicknames that her secondary schoolmates assigned to her. Kukurukuu was the most demeaning one they used when they wanted to get on her nerves. And when they did, it was only Fee who came to her rescue. Kukurukuu was a sound mimicking the crowing of a rooster. Kuzie made the mistake of complaining that the crowing of a rooster was cock-a-doodle-do. They told her that cock-a-doodle-do was particular to only American roosters. Nigerian roosters crowed kukurukuu. That was also the day they added Local Fowl, Okuko Igbo, to her nickname.
Fee removed her surgeon’s cap. “Kukuru, I’m starving. Have you had lunch?”
“They said you were in surgery. Hope it went well.”
“Oh, we lost him,” she said, covering a yawn with her fist. “Right now, I can eat a breathing animal.”
“You talk as if he was an animal. Are you a vet or a doctor?”
Fee creased up her entire face but then slouched as though she had decided against responding. She opened a drawer, closed it, and got up. “Let’s go for lunch please.”
As they walked to the canteen, Fee told Kuzie that she did not make it abroad as she’d hoped. Fee also was single by choice and she lived in the hospital staff quarters for convenience’s sake. Kuzie avoided talking about herself because she had failed in everything but failure. They sat opposite each other in the empty canteen and placed their orders. Fee was enthusiastic and very beautiful. Kuzie did not notice any change in her. Kuzie’s only concern was how best to divulge that she had not come to catch up as she’d claimed in her Facebook note to Fee. The waitress brought two plates: eba and ogbono soup, which she placed in front of Fee. Kuzie noticed the wet patch of sweat splotched on the underarm of the woman’s shirt. She hoped she did not have the same. The waitress returned with a plate of porridge beans and four discs of yam for Kuzie. Fee got to it immediately, not allowing the food to stain her clothes or lips. Kuzie could hardly eat. She did not want her red lipstick to smudge and have Fee see that it was a cheap one.
“Nice pendant.”
Fee nodded, chewing. Kuzie sensed that Fee was accustomed to that compliment.
“Do you ever take it off?”
Fee shook her head.
“Why?”
“You are not hungry?”
“Fee, I did not come here for food, honestly. I came to discuss something very important with you.”
Fee nodded, molding another eba into a ball.
“Fee, things are hard for me o. For four months now, I’ve gone from office to office, job opening or not, submitting my résumé. Please if there is anything you can do for me.”
“No problem. I will help you with some money. You don’t have to pay back.” She winked.
Kuzie watched her scoop soup with the cup of her fingers and feed it into her mouth.
Kuzie lowered her head and closed her eyes. She did not want to be looking into Fee’s brown eyes when she talked. “Please I need you to help me get a job here.”
When Kuzie opened her eyes, Fee looked lost. Her eyes were as wide as a vast plot of land. Her fingers all pointed into her bowl, dripping soup lazy drop by lazy drop. Shame washed down Kuzie’s head like a waterfall.
“I’m sorry, Kuzie, I cannot.”
Kuzie opened her palms. “Why?”
“Because I just can’t.”
“But…”
“Look, Kuzie,” she said, wiping her hands, her food halfway eaten, “I will give you all the money you want, but you,” she shook her head as if she had no control of its movement, “you cannot work here.”
Kuzie sighed. “Fee, give me fish and I will be back tomorrow, but give me fishing net and I will provide for myself.”
“It is not about Igbo proverbs, Kuzie.”
“What it means…”
“It does not matter.” Fee thumped her fist on the table. The plates jumped. She moved her hand up and down as if to tell herself to calm down. “Kuzie, please, you cannot work here. Besides, I am only an employee.”
Kuzie pressed her lips together with her fingers. She no longer cared about her lipstick. “You’re a senior doctor, Fee. Please, help me.”
Fee rubbed her fingers on her forehead as if massaging herself. “Kuzie, send me your CV, let me refer you to another place to work.”
Kuzie chuckled and scratched her eyes. Her mascara and kajal greased on her fingers. “Why don’t you want to help me, Fee? Why?”
Fee closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Kuzie. I can only refer you elsewhere.”
Two days later, Kuzie arrived on time for her job interview at the bank. She ducked into the nearest bathroom because she needed to calm down. Thank God the weather was not sunny or her face would have cracked like drought. She went to the ladies and caked her face with more foundation and brown powder. She raised her hand, tilted her face closer to her armpit, and sniffed. She brought out her shaving stick and ran it up into her armpits. She brushed her tangled wig. Her red sleeveless dress was not too bright for her chocolate skin. She sprayed the cheap perfume she bought from Aboki who paraded the motor park. The scent of the perfume overpowered the space. She fanned her nose until she started coughing. It was time to go.
The man looked at her CV and references. His eyebrows curved like two commas. His closed lips flattened and stretched across his face. When he looked up, he fixed his glare on her breasts.
“You came in highly recommended, so I am willing to put you on a trial period as a marketer.”
Kuzie flashed her best smile. “Thank you, sir.”
He licked his lower lip, his eyes still focused on her chest. “When can you start?”
Kuzie wanted to say last week, but she said, “Now, if you don’t mind.”
Two weeks later, she called Fee, crying. “He molested me.”
“What did he do to you?” Fee sounded angry.
“He squeezed my butt.”
She listened to the sound of Fee’s breathing.
“The-main-the-main or from the cloth?” Fee asked.
“Of course, the cloth.”
“And you quit? You’re not serious. Mtchew!”
Kuzie heard the disconnection beep. She marveled at the displeasure in Fee’s voice. Kuzie knew she would have endured it had the man stopped at one squeeze. God would bear witness to her that she did not complain when he grabbed her waist. Even when he placed his coconut head on her chest, she overlooked it. But when he rubbed his hand on her belly, her mind raced back to the man who cost her her family. He always rubbed his hand on her flat belly and said, “Your belly reminds me of a screeded wall.” Kuzie pushed her new boss away and smacked his neck. Her apologies meant nothing. He called the bank’s chief security officer and had her escorted out of the building.
The next day, Kuzie went to apologize to Fee. She pelted her truth on Fee. She saw Fee shrink, her eyes turned red and fluttered.
“Kuku, are you with your CV and references?”
Kuzie nodded. She came prepared because she’d hoped Fee would give her a job at Healthyes. But Fee picked up her car keys and said, “Let’s go.” It was in the car that she told Kuzie she was taking her to another acquaintance to employ her.
“What about employing me at Healthyes?”
“You are better off in this new place, trust me.”
The meeting went well. Cheerful Mrs. Adedoyin could not stop rambling about how indebted she was to Fee for saving her husband’s life. Of course, she would employ Kuzie, she promised Fee. She collected Kuzie’s CV, wrote herself a note on it with a red pen, wrote the day’s date, signed, and promised to get back to her very soon.
Kuzie returned to Fee’s office three days later. Fee did not look pleased to see her. Kuzie did not mind. She dropped a translucent paper on Fee’s table and pushed it to her. Fee picked it up. Mrs. Adedoyin’s note, written, dated, and signed in red ink.
“The akara my roommate bought yesterday came wrapped in it.”
Fee leaned back in her seat and rubbed her forehead. “So Mrs. Adedoyin donated your CV to roadside food sellers?”
“The roadside food sellers must have picked the CV from the dump!”
Fee threw her head back and exhaled. Kuzie brought out fresh copies of her CV and references and pushed them to Fee. “Employ me at Healthyes, Fee, please. Don’t allow me to die when you have the power to give me life.”
Fee closed her eyes and dragged in a long breath. She looked anything but happy.
“I’m sorry, Kuzie. You’re hired.”
***
Kuzie banged at the huge gate of her home, demanding access. It was a very sunny day but Kuzie was not bothered about her makeup melting or cracking. Fee had bought her a new kit two weeks after she’d started as an accountant at Healthyes.
The guards at the gate shook their heads sadly and said, “Sorry, ma, it’s oga’s orders. Why not call him?”
Well, she called oga, her husband. She placed the phone on speaker so that his instructions to the policemen to let her in would be loud and clear. He answered on the seventh ring.
“What!”
“I heard Kene is very sick. I’m at the house to see her but they won’t let me in,” she said politely.
“They did well.”
“She is my daughter and…”
“Well, you should have thought about that before going to open your legs for that riffraff.”
Kuzie closed her eyes and fought back tears. She unclicked the phone from the speaker and placed it to her ear. She heard the squeaking and banging of the gate. Looking back, the policeman was gone.
“I made a mistake. I’m sorry, but please allow me to see Kene, I beg you…hello…hello.”
She looked back at the house, one hand on her hip, the other on her forehead. She was seething. But she gathered herself and returned to her car, the one Fee lent her, and went back to the hospital. She went to see Fee but her office was locked. After six months of working in Healthyes, she still could not guess Fee’s work schedule. Kuzie went home. Work over or not, she did not care.
She spent the night turning in bed. Her stomach protested the lack of food but she could not get herself to eat. Her hands trembled. She read, prayed, listened to music, and even cried. She moped until it was almost past four. She stood by the mirror. A tired woman with sunken eyes stared right back. She spoke to the woman.
“I am going to Fee’s at sunrise.”
But she could hardly wait for the sun to rise. She dialed Fee’s number. The phone operator reminded her that she was out of airtime. She would go anyway; Fee would understand. After all, Fee would begin preparing for church soon. She figured she would dress in Fee’s flat and they would go to their usual 6:00 a.m. Mass. She wore dark blue jeans and a black body-hug halter-neck top and drove to the hospital. Darkness swaddled the corridor in the doctor’s quarters.
She knocked once on Fee’s door, opened it, entered, and froze. Fee’s room was full. All six Healthyes doctors stared at her, their lips and fingers stained in a red liquid. She screamed! One of them rushed to her, grabbed her, and pinned his palm over her mouth. She perceived blood on his fingers. Two other males overpowered her. They bound her hands behind her with a tie. They gagged her mouth with Fee’s headscarf. They restrained her on a sofa by tying her ankles. They looked normal in their dresses and jeans and ankara shirts as though they were having a party. Whose blood is this, she wondered. Quivering, she strained her neck and looked into the black plastic bowl between them. She was able to make out the features of a fresh heart and liver in the lake of blood. She felt warmth and wetness on her thighs as if someone had poured hot water on her. She pressed her thighs together, afraid to look away from her colleagues. But the smell of sweat oozing from her was not lost on her. It was as if her head was expanding. She sat there transfixed. The words flashed in her eyes but made sense for the first time: HEALTHYES HOSPITAL we cure, but only God saves. Fee sat on the bed, staring into Kuzie’s eyes. Her look was blank. Her amulet shone under the fluorescent light.
The doctors resumed digging their hands into the bowl and eating. Once, Fee had said that she could eat a breathing animal, Kuzie remembered. Was there an animal somewhere? She did a quick scan of the room. She saw the corpse of a girl, about twelve, the age of her second daughter. Her cornrows were still neat and tight. Her green gown was soaked in blood. She remembered her first time in Fee’s office when she asked Fee how the surgery went and how Fee casually said, “We lost him.” She wondered now if they had eaten Him’s heart and liver in the theater before stitching him up. Terrified, she wriggled like a captured snake. One doctor turned and smashed his bloody fist into her face three times.
Kuzie drifted in and out of consciousness but she willed herself to stay conscious. She soon heard the sound of running water. She heard the words doctor, lye, conclude, room. She heard shuffling of feet. Then she felt a hand on her thigh. She jerked awake, her vision blurring and swirling. There was no corpse, no bowl, no blood on the ground, no proof that she saw what she saw. The gag that had been in her mouth now hung around her neck. Her hands and ankles were still bound. Fee sat on the bed, legs crossed, fingers crossed on her knees, reeking of blood.
“Kuzie, I warned you never to come to my house without calling me first.”
It came from Kuzie’s stomach, through her mouth — not the words, the puke — the rice-filled yellow thing that repainted the table and floor.
“Bastard,” Kuzie shouted, “you will rot in hell!”
“I tried to protect you, Kuzie. Believe me, I tried.”
Through her blurred vision, she saw Fee rub her amulet. It started shinning. Kuzie was not sure if it was the white light or her blurred vision that did the magic.
“Kuzie, we take only the useless ones…”
“Fuck… you, Fee.” She wiped her tears on her shoulders. “You bloody vampire.”
“It’s just for the knowledge and money, Kuzie. We are only dedicated to saving lives.”
Kuzie remembered the blood-stained, green, flay gown of the little girl. She puked again.
“I quit.”
“But you know you cannot quit, Kuzie.”
Kuzie knew it was true. “Watch me.”
Fee sighed and wiped the top of her nose on her shoulder. “We have studied them, Kuzie. We know everything. Please, be reasonable. If you quit, they, your family, will be in our bowl. And I cannot prevent that.”
Kuzie’s spirit and mind crashed like an avalanche. As if her body took a clue, it gave way as well and she fell on her vomit. She became awash in anger. Her anger fed her life. No more. No more would her life be as pale as a night lit by a half-moon, inky, and bitter as yellow flagyl juice. No more would her life be as colorful as a heap of trash. She looked at the ceiling, seeing the creases in her children’s eyes when they smiled. She heard her husband’s loud laughter. She smelled the scent of her house that had somehow engraved itself in her nostrils.
The rooster crowed, Kukurukuu!
“The Price of Fee” was first published in Allegory, Volume Forty