A taste to remember

Chapter two

Munnira pov

The devil you know is better than the angel you don't know. At this moment, I think Ahmad forgot this. Throughout the three days I have been with him, it has not been easy. We keep fighting over one thing, and he keeps complaining about another. Allah knows that I have been trying to do my best and give him the best care. But it looks like Ahmad has plans to make my life a living hell. He keeps choosing who washes his toilet and mops the room. He doesn't want me to inject him, even though I am the nurse sent to take care of him. He complains whenever I touch him to check his temperature. And the most annoying part - he calls me every five minutes, either to open his food for him, fix his pillow, buy something, or just stand there and look at him without saying a word. "Is that all?" I asked after standing for five minutes. He nodded his head, and I left the room. I couldn't wait for the day to be over. All I needed was a fresh bath, and most importantly, I needed to rest. "Al Kerry!" he shouted, and I wasn't even far from the room. This guy will kill me before my time, I thought, nagging under my breath. At that moment, I didn't know how long I would be patient with him or when he would be discharged.

Suddenly, Dr. Tahir called me and informed me that Ahmad insisted on getting a new nurse to take over for him, someone older. He said that I was lazy and careless and that he needed a different nurse. I was relieved when Dr. Tahir reassigned me to a six-year-old girl. I wouldn't have to deal with Mr. Al Kerry anymore.

A few days later, I heard from my source that Mama G was Ahmad's new nurse. Mama G is the oldest matron we have in the hospital, a hot-tempered, mean, impatient nurse that we all fear. I burst into laughter when Naomi told me. She was exactly what he needed.

My small Hafsat had recuperated and was discharged early that morning. I would surely miss her; she was one of a kind. I was fixing her bed when Dr. Tahir sent someone to call me. As I entered his office, I was not expecting to see Ahmad. I acted as if I didn't notice his presence and greeted the Doctor.

"Munira, I heard that Hafsat was discharged," he said, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, sir, I'm going to miss her; she is a wonderful child," I replied with a smile.

Dr. Tahir looked at me, then turned to Ahmad, who had been quiet since I came in. I didn't understand the look they exchanged and didn't care. Dr. Tahir smiled and, after taking a deep breath, said, "I don't really know where to start. Um, I know you're a good person, a wonderful one with a good heart. What I am going to ask you is going to be very hard and difficult, but I know you will do this favor for me."

What he said at that moment made me wonder what it was. I just prayed it wasn't what I was thinking.

"Munira, is it possible for you to be Ahmad's nurse again and replace Mama G?" Dr. Tahir asked.

That's why Ahmad had been acting so innocent and humble - this was the game he wanted to play with me.

"No, sir, it's not possible," I said firmly.

"Munira, I know I should have said this before, but I will say it now. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making fun of you, for picking fights, for everything. I'm sorry for everything. Really, I am," Ahmad spoke with a calm and sincere voice. This was unlike him; he wasn't cold, rude, or arrogant. He talked as if he had learned his lesson. What he said made me laugh inside. Oh, life can be so funny.

"You will never know the value of something until you don't have it. Now I understand what this phrase means, Munira," he added. The way he said my name made my ears tingle; I was used to him calling me Al Kerry. His tone made the name sound sweet and cute. I wanted to smile, but I didn't want to spoil the moment when I was supposed to get my revenge.

"Hmm, I'm sorry, but it's too late to cry when the head is cut off. I wish there was something I could do, but unfortunately, there isn't," I said playfully, toying with the edge of my veil. I was enjoying the moment.

They continued to beg me, but their pleas did not change my mind. After minutes of begging, I told them I would think about it and left the place. I intentionally missed work for two days, which was unlike me.

The day I returned to the hospital, Naomi informed me that Ahmad had been asking for me. I agreed to take him as my patient again, but under certain conditions: I would be in charge, and my decisions would stand. Without hesitation, he accepted.

It has been a week now, and Ahmad has changed. It was as if Mama G was a transformational machine that improved his demeanor to be calm, humble, and friendly. He does not complain and follows my instructions.

"Al Kerry, thank you for everything," he said as he held my hand while I was checking his cannula. His hands were soft and warm, like a baby's. I pulled my hand back and smiled at him.

"My name is Munira, not Al Kerry," I corrected him. He scratched his head and responded, "I'm just used to calling you Al Kerry."

He changed his sitting position. "It didn't seem like it when you were begging me," I said, laughing. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on me without a blink; it was weird. The smile on his face did not fade away.

"Hello, can I help you?" I said, trying to break the silence. He turned his face away.

"You know what, we haven't really talked."

"What do you mean? Aren't we talking?"

"No, not that type of talk. I mean real, deep conversation. We have never really sat down to talk about ourselves," he said, waiting for my response.

I looked at him, smiled, and said, "Talk about what, Mr. Man?"

"I don't know, I want to ask you a question. Promise me you will answer it honestly," he said.

"I promise," I replied, grabbed a nearby chair, and sat facing him, waiting for his question.

"You promise, don't break it," he repeated, pausing before speaking. "Who's the guy that always calls, the one you talk to on the phone? What's his name?" he asked, closing his eyes with his hand to think.

"Yusuf?"

"Yeah, him. Who is he to you?" he asked.

I lifted my eyebrow and laughed because his question was quite amusing.

"That's a personal question. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, you promised," he said, readjusting his pillow.

I cleared my throat and nervously rubbed my palms.

"My fiancé."

"Wow, look who has a fiancé. That's a strong word to use: Fiancé. Do you love him? Where did you guys meet? I want to know your love story," he said, supporting his jaw with one hand.

"Wow, Ahmad, I didn't know you could ask questions like this. You're supposed to be in journalism, not engineering," I teased.

He didn't respond but continued waiting for me to answer his questions.

"I've known him since I was a kid. There's no huge story; it was arranged. He's my brother's friend," I turned to him, and his eyes remained fixed on me.

"Do you love him?" he asked again.

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "Yes, of course."

Almost immediately, I got up, preparing to leave.

"No, I'm not done. Are you happy with him? Because if you truly love him, you won't hesitate to answer me. Do you know what marriage is? You will spend the rest of your life with that person. For example, your family is the most important people in your life, but that doesn't stop you from annoying each other; it doesn't stop you from arguing. Just imagine spending the rest of your life with a man you don't love, waking up every day and seeing him by your side. I'm not trying to say anything; I just want you to know what you're getting into. I just want you to sit down and think if this is truly what you want because love is crucial in marriage. You are a beautiful lady, you still have time, so think," he advised.

I took a step back, giving him a look and smiling. I wasn't expecting to hear all of this from him. For once, I never asked myself that question before; I just knew that our families wanted us to marry.

"Why do you care? Dr. Love, what do you know about love?" I asked.

"Everybody has experienced love in their lives, but not everyone is lucky enough to experience true love. For marriage, I recommend true love because it never fades."

"What's the difference?"

"Love doesn't last; someone can love you deeply, and the next minute, they meet someone else, and the feelings fade. The other party will be left with questions: Why? What happened? True love is when you both passionately love each other regardless of flaws and differences in ideas and preferences. It lasts forever," he explained.

"Have you experienced true love?" I asked curiously.

He glanced at me with a slight smile.

"I don't believe in love; it's just a fantasy."

"Says the guy who just finished lecturing me on it. After all that speech, how come you don't believe in love? What's the story behind it? I want to hear," I pressed.

"You will, but not today; I'm sleepy," he yawned and stretched. I smiled at him and bid him goodbye.