By Paul Yeenie Paul
It is said that the aroma of love always smells in the air, but it is smelled only by those whose olfactory nerves are specially arranged by Aphrodite, the goddess of love. And the two, Cecelia and Pelo, were two of such people.
The two had accidentally met at a clinic where each had gone for a purpose different from the other. He was a doctor, and she was a patient. Cecelia entered the room, called the doctor’s office, in a building accommodating the clinic.
Upon entering the office, she quietly shut the door behind her and stood, waiting for some words from the man. She was being respectful. The doctor, Pelo, whose head was bowed, as he tried to finish writing on the chart of the patient that had just left his office, had his glasses virtually hanging on his nose like an old Congo lady trying to sew her clothes using a needle and thread.
He finished the writing and said, “Have seat.”
Cecelia sat and adjusted herself in the chair. “Thank you, Sir,” she said.
“What happened to you, fine lady?” he enquired.
“My chest hurts,” she responded.
“How long?”
“About two days now.”
He left his seat, took his stethoscope and went to the lady. “Could you pull your blouse up to your chest? I want to check you,” instructed the doctor.
The girl put her handbag on the arm of her chair and obeyed the instruction. He held her chest with his left hand and placed the equipment on her back, placing them at a few spots. He listened.
Then he changed positions. He placed his left hand on her back and placed the equipment on her chest, moving it and positioning it at various spots. His eyes had already viewed her slim and well-shaped body. He looked at her stomach and looked at her breasts. His heart beat. He swallowed spit.
He placed the equipment between her breasts, his eyes penetrating the bra hosting the girl’s breasts more than his ears were listening to the beat of her internal organ. He swallowed spit again.
As he moved his hand, the girl, too, observed his smooth light-skinned hand move between her breasts romantically. She took a deep breath and sighed. She almost kissed his hand. Thank God something called self-control exists.
“Take another deep breath and release it slowly,” the man instructed, his hands virtually trembling near Cecelia’s frisky breasts.
The whole examination was now focused around her breasts as if the sickness were sitting there and were refusing to leave. In fact, instead of holding the stethoscope professionally, his whole palm was virtually resting on Cecelia’s chest. And, in her heart, it was “Let your hand remain there.”
Doctor Pelo managed to complete his diagnostic examination on Cecelia. Whether what Doctor Pelo was hearing during the examination was Cecelia’s heart beat or his own heart beat may be a question that, perhaps, only Doctor Pelo or a psychologist can answer.
But one thing that was certain is that they had fallen in love with each other. Many of the I-want-you-to-know-that-I-love-you questions and statements were exchanged in the process. It was impossible for each to hide the feelings in them, and each knew and understood what was in the heart for the other.
She was the last patient before his launch break. Was it coincidence that made it possible, or was it fate? One didn’t have to tell the other, “I’m in love with you,” or “I love you.” It is said that love easily recognizes love.
Quickly, discussion about going to launch together that day was finalized, and in his car they sat. A doctor was taking his patient for additional examination which could not be done in the clinic. Professional doctors are more concerned about their patients’ well-being and, it seemed, Doctor Pelo wanted to be one of such doctors for Cecelia.
Equally so, careful patients never go far from their doctors and, it appeared, Cecelia wanted to be one of such patients.
In the restaurant, Cecelia sat first, followed by Doctor Pelo, who sat directly opposite her, with the table between them serving as the boundary that was not recognized and would not be respected.
“Why is this happening like this,” asked the doctor, his eyes deemed from love.
“I don’t know,” Cecelia responded, ending it with a smile that was rich in romance, while directly peering at Doctor Pelo. Women have a way of subduing men, including men considered smart and well-educated.
Dr. Pelo extended his hands across the table to grasp those of Cecelia. She easily and quickly pushed her hands into those of Doctor Pelo. He cuddled her fingers for a while, peering at her. She bat her eyes romantically and smiled.
“What are you doing?” asked Cecelia, pretending not to be aware of what Doctor Pelo was doing to her hands. Women are extremely good at accepting romantic overtures rejectingly. They reason that they are smarter than men in such affairs.
“Nothing. Just holding you,” answered the doctor.
“You haven’t said anything yet,” Cecelia pushed the doctor.
“Say what?” he quipped.
“That you love me or something,” she clarified.
“Do you love me?” asked Doctor Pelo, forcing Cecelia to be the one to make move first.
“My heart beats. What about you?” she cleverly avoided the question.
“I feel as if I’ve caused some trouble. That’s the feeling I’m having,” said Doctor Pelo, as if the two were trying to win in an I-am-smarter-than-you competition. Their hands were still held together on the table.
Suddenly, they slowly and romantically and emotionally brought their heads together as if they wanted to talk some secret, but it turned out that they were shooting for a mouth-to-mouth togetherness.
Thank God they were sitting in a corner where they could hardly be seen by others. They allowed their tongues and lips to bathe with enough spit. Like Jesus on the cross, they might have said to themselves, “It is finished.”
It was certain that love, like the Holy Spirit, had descended and descended upon Pelo and Cecelia, evaporating the doctor-patient relationship that should have been. Oh, Love, how great thou art! Anyway, my people, da how I see it-o!
