Seeds of Plenty by Jennifer Juo Page A

warmth of his hand on her shoulder had steadied her. She wanted him to stay with her, but it was now eight o’clock at night. Of course, he had other patients, other lives to save. He left the room and went on his rounds. She watched the IV flood more antivenom into her baby’s system trying to stop the toxin from doing its deadly deed.
    They were given a private room, but she stepped out into the hallway overflowing with patients. Some of the children were naked, dressed only in torn T-shirts. A dirty mosaic of brown fingerprints covered the lower half of the clinic’s walls. These same walls absorbed the sound of children in pain.
    When she returned to the room, she noticed Lila was drooling. The nurse kept suctioning the excessive saliva, so Lila didn’t choke. But what did this mean? Didn’t paralyzed people drool? Sylvia was frightened. Where was Winston? Was this the way it was going to be, him absent when she needed him the most? She wished Ayo would come back into the room; his presence alone was somehow reassuring.
    ***
     
    She watched Lila’s heart rate pulse rapidly on the machine. Ayo had explained that this rapid heart rate was to be expected. Her body was fighting an attack. It was one o’clock in the morning. On the table next to Sylvia was a half-finished plate of food—gari and a spicy stew of muddy river fish.
    The nurse came in and began her periodic vital signs test, testing for paralysis by jabbing Lila’s legs hard enough to see if she would react or cry. Luckily for all of them, she cried.
    Ayo came in, looking concerned.
    “How are you holding up? You should get some sleep.”
    “I can’t,” Sylvia said. Sleep was the last thing on her mind. She wanted to be by Lila’s bedside every waking minute.
    “I’ll get a cot for you.”
    He returned carrying the kind of cot the military used, made of dark green material and wooden legs that could be easily disassembled into a bag. He gave her a pillow, sheet, and blanket. She sat on the cot and started to cry. He hesitated at first, but then he sat down next to her and put his arm around her. She pressed her face into him, craving that warm feeling of being held by someone. She could smell him—sweet yet bitter, yesterday’s fading cologne, his sweat, the pungent smell of life. She felt his heartbeat and hers, both were beating fast.
    ***
     
    In the morning, she found herself lying in the cot. She must have fallen asleep in his arms. She felt disorientated, her hair tangled. She got up and checked on Lila. She felt the regular rise and fall of her little chest and was somewhat reassured. She peered out of the room, hoping to see the nurse or him. Ayo was standing in the hallway full of sick children, looking ragged, unshaven. Their eyes met and he said softly, “How are you doing?”
    Had she cried in his arms? She couldn’t remember, but she had probably fallen apart. No one had just held her like that in long time. Winston rarely hugged or kissed her.
    “Lila…” Sylvia began.
    He came over to her, put his arm over her shoulders. “Her vital signs are improving a little. That’s the direction we want things to go. So that’s good. But I’ll be honest, we’re not out of the woods yet.”
    A part of her wanted to collapse in his arms again, he had that effect on people, women of course. It wasn’t just his looks—it was his confidence, openness, a kind of vulnerability, all of it drew her in—but she tried to be strong and stepped away from him.
    “Thank you,” she said, formally and awkwardly. “Thank you for…your kindness.” She wanted to say thank you for holding me, but how could she say something like that, even though her heart ached to tell him how good it had felt in his arms.
    “Come,” he said cheerfully, this time careful not to touch her. “Let’s go and get some breakfast. I’m famished.”
    “But Lila…”
    “The nurse will be with her the whole time. I promise.” He spoke in Yoruba to a nurse in the