Meeting Sol-Luz (fin.)

Adebayo Ogunleye hated hospitals. She hated the persistent pacing of people as they waited for news from doctors who buzzed around with bloodshot eyes and coffee-scented breaths. She hated the fluorescent light that gave her deep dark skin a sickly glow. She hated being ignored when she tried to speak to someone in scrubs or a white coat. And she especially hated hospitals because her girlfriend, Sol-Luz Santiago was there.

When she received the call from Sol-Luz’s mother, Señora Santiago, that she and her husband were at Jamaica Hospital Medical Center in Queens because Sol-Luz was involved in a car accident, Adebayo travelled from Brooklyn to the hospital and arrived breathing hard after running from the station. She sat with Sol-Luz’s parents, her arm around Señora Santiago, cradling her tiny figure as she watched Señor Santiago’s tall figure pace back and forth, mumbling in Spanish. They spoke little English and Sol-Luz served as an unofficial translator in situations where their English didn’t suffice.

Sol-Luz taught Adebayo bits of Spanish, a word here, a phrase there until Adebayo understood a percentage of what Sol-Luz said to her. She hadn’t told Sol-Luz that she’d been studying on her own, using an app to teach herself, making notes of all the words and phrases she’d learned. It would be a birthday surprise, Sol-Luz turned twenty-five in a few weeks and Adebayo planned…