SEPUYA

EPISODE 3.
It was raining. I stood by the door leading out of our apartment as I seriously contemplated the savage-like idea coursing through my veins at the speed of light.
I was thinking of going into the rain, and imagining the feel of each pellet-like drop on my skin.
Every other time I had been in the rain, it had been by mistake and had been so short-lived that I couldn’t enjoy it fully.
The thought of Miss Tara giving a war-like panic filled cry of ‘Sepuya, get into the house!’ made goose bumps appear on my skin and sent a chill down my spine. I had mastered all her intonations and knew what each was for, getting lost in them whenever I was bored.
Her screech-like voice passed across a message of anger; going up a tone to pass across one of fear. The mixture of anger and fear almost completely deflated her lungs. 
Hours earlier, I had taken in the misty smell of the pre-rain, eagerly awaiting the rain so I could lay out my previously imagined and well-hatched plans. I would run into the rain and stay for only about 10 minutes. That should suffice. Miss Tara, thankfully, was sleeping. I felt like I was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.
With defiant zeal, I finally launched into the rain, glad to be finally disobeying one of Miss Tara’s injunctions. With her robust knowledge on the subject of sickle cell disease, Miss Tara could as well write a book on the condition.
I would have changed my mind if not for Posi, the girl who lived with our neighbors, the Lanres’
I had heard the banging sound produced by the gate 5 minutes earlier only to form a myopic image of a female in a knee length blue gown, none other than Posi. She came closer, standing at their verandah, drenched in the rain and visibly panting. I was green with envy.
‘Sepuya’ she called
‘Where is Miss Tara?’
I ignored her
‘Dey act like say you no hear me o!’
‘You know Miss Tara always asks you to stay indoors when its raining. Sepuya, go inside!’
She was such a bully!
Hadn’t she just come in from the rain? And didn’t I make out a smile tugging at the corner of her lips when she got to their verandah? She had obviously enjoyed being in the rain, but for heavens’ sake, who wouldn’t have?
I pretended to go into the house, watched through the curtains until I was satisfied that she had gone in while praying intermittently that Miss Tara would remain asleep indefinitely.
Finally, I came out and thankfully, the rain seemed heavier!
I started out by wriggling the toes of one foot at the rain teasingly and then, mustering all the courage I had within, I launched into the rain with frenetic strength.
Yes! My victory had come at last, I almost shouted as I felt the long awaited pellet-like drops on my skin.5 minutes later, the drops had stopped feeling like pellets and now felt like missiles. I suddenly felt glued to the ground, unable to move, petrified by the thought that this could signify a beginning of one of my crises. Theoretically, I was aware that the cold weather could predispose me to a crisis but till now, I never really believed in it. Miss Tara had always ensured that I stayed warm, sometimes against my will. There was no air conditioner in my room!
My chest hurt badly.
‘Miss Tara!’ I tried to scream. The sound of my cry was engulfed by the heavy rain.
And now, not only did my chest hurt; but my legs and back hurt terribly.
I heard Posi’s scream as she rushed into the rain, lunged forward and caught my little frame.
Miss Tara was out in her night robe and I heard her tiny sobs from our verandah as Posi took me into the house.
‘Oh my God, Sepuya! Why did you do this?’
I couldn’t explain my rebellion to her. Tell her that for once, I had wanted to act like a normal teenager. This was my teenage act of defiance at the world for placing me in this body. This body that looked like nothing I desired. I had always loved 6-packs but all I had was a protruding forehead and a more protuberant abdomen. That using drugs on a daily basis was bondage and the hospital wasn’t ideal as a second home. My second home should be Mamia’s place! I wanted to tell Miss Tara that not being able to adequately plan my future without keeping a mind a probable early death was sarcastic.
2 hours later, I was in the hospital, the aftermath of a vaso-occlusive crisis I had brought on myself. I was tired of Miss Tara’s injunctions anyway, and none of her pleas could have kept me from my self-aggrieved defiance.
It was too early to be frustrated if I wanted to have a good life; the doctor said. I looked at her and saw a measure of doubt in those eyes, for even she doubted that I would live long enough to have a good life. Where was the hope, with this crippling disease of mine?