Promise To Keep

by Rainwater, Priscilla Poole

  Jenny looked at the pictures again. She felt she had been to all those places herself, through Aisha’s camera lens and emails. Two years prior she had decided to put the pictures together, along with the emails, and make them into a book. This had been a dream of hers, something she wanted to do for her friend, and to share it with the rest of the world. That dream too would go unfulfilled.

  Going over to her desk she sat heavily, and reluctantly dialed her father’s number, trying to stifle her resentment. She wasn’t surprised when his answering machine picked up. She left a message but really didn’t expect him to return the call. He had never been there for her, and she didn’t expect him to start now. She sent emails to all her customers informing them that she would no longer be able to take care of their animals due to poor health, and recommended a vet she knew personally, who practiced in a neighboring county. The man was kind, dedicated, and skilled.

  She then typed an email to her brother who was serving in the Army, and was currently deployed in Afghanistan. It was brief and to the point. They had never really had any kind of relationship. As matter of fact he had never seen her children, or even met Connell.

  She composed her last email with more care. As the words flowed, so did her own tears.

  Dear Aisha,

  I hope this email finds you doing well, and safe. Where are you? How are you?

  Things aren’t going so great here, and that just may be the understatement of the year.

  But before I go any further I want you to know that I love you, I truly do. I’ve cherished our friendship so very much over the years, you will never know how much it has meant to me. You have always encouraged me, cheered me up when I felt down, and even when I married, as you put it “that red-haired redneck” (our first fight..lol) you still stood by my side. We have shared fears, joys, and tears; you have always been the sister I never had. At times I’ve felt I never told you that enough, so I’m telling you now, while there’s still time.

  You always said if I ever needed you all I would have to do is ask. Well my friend, I need you.

  There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’ll come right out and be as straightforward as I can. I found out today that I have an inoperable tumor, cancer, and as they say, “the end is near.”

  Can you please come down? There are some things I would like to discuss, things very near and dear to my heart.

  I know it may be a few weeks before I hear from you, but I’ll be waiting patiently.

  I love you,

  Your friend, Jenny

  She clicked “send,” and closed her eyes.

  Rubbing her temples, she got up and stretched. She stepped to the window and looked outside, knowing somehow that Connell was still in the barn. Looking at her watch she saw it was 10 in the evening, he had been working several hours non-stop. She decided she would leave him alone for the time being, sensing he needed time to work off his hurt, frustration, and anger. More importantly, he needed time to learn acceptance.

  Trudging upstairs to their bedroom to get ready for bed, she took the pain medication the doctor her given her, to help with the sharp, blinding pain.

  ************************************************

  Connell waited until the house was dark before coming inside. Taking off his boots at the door, he stood wincing, his body aching from the hours of backbreaking labor. He had actually done two days worth of work in one evening, but he had needed a diversion. He just couldn’t face Jenny, didn’t want her to see his pain. He couldn’t face the children and pretend everything was going to be all right.

  He moved through the house quietly, peeking in on their sleeping little angels, making sure they were safe and secure, and his chest was heavy with sorrow. He used to think he could protect his beloved family from nearly anything, but the harsh reality was he had no control over this at all, no one did.

  Going into the kitchen he opened the refrigerator, knowing there was a plate waiting for him. Looking at the food he thought, I’m not hungry, I don’t know if I’ll ever have an appetite again….

  Closing the door, he shut his eyes and leaned his head back, wanting to forget the entire day. He wanted to forget his wife was dying, and forget that she felt she had to reach out to Aisha for support when he was here. He wanted to forget how powerless he was. He wanted to forget about everything and simply disconnect himself, shut down. He wanted oblivion.

  Tiredly, he opened his eyes and went to the basement, where he had his own shower. He flipped on the lights, went into the little bathroom and turned on the hot water.

  Looking around the room he recalled how he and Jenny had remodeled the four-bedroom farmhouse when they were newlyweds. He frowned, thinking about how Aisha had even had a hand in it. As a wedding gift, she had ordered and paid for all the furniture in the entire house. He had told Jenny he didn’t feel right accepting such an extravagant gift from anyone, and of course Jenny had mistaken his pride for a put-down on her best friend. After a long, heated conversation, he had swallowed his pride and let her keep the furniture.

  He knew he had never been able to hide his resentment towards Aisha very well, especially not in front of his wife. Sometimes when he looked at the pictures she sent Jenny, and listened to her relate stories from her numerous emails, there was so much excitement in her voice he couldn’t help but wonder if Jenny wished she could be there with her friend everyday, instead of with him. It made him feel sick, wondering if Jenny had ever regretted the choice she made, being a farmer’s wife, instead of a jet-setting single, traveling around the world.

  Stripping off his dirty clothes he stepped into the small shower, washing away the grime and dirt. He thought about how things would never be the same.

  Chapter 2

  Somewhere in Zimbabwe

  Aisha plopped down on the cushioned chair, letting her head rest against the back. She sighed and swung her head lazily to the side, then rolled her eyes back, closing them with pleasure, enjoying the cool air in the room, a pleasant contrast from the sweltering heat outside. She waited patiently for the thin bellboy to put down her bags and camera equipment.

  After weeks of going to villages that had been ravaged by war, she was ready for a change of scenery. She had recorded so many faces, mostly women and children enduring starvation, prostitution, forced virginity testing, she had even talked to and photographed women that had been captured by government youth militia. They had been beaten, raped, and starved, yet had barely managed to escape with the aid of a few boys that were ashamed of their comrade’s behavior.

  It angered her that so many “hard hitting” news agencies in the western hemisphere (and especially in the United States) thought that who won “American Idol” was a more newsworthy event than the tragedies she had personally witnessed. It seemed at times that no one even cared. These simple people had nothing to offer the world community, so the genocide was not reported. Thinking about the pictures she had taken, she was amazed at how human beings could be so brutal and unforgiving towards one another.

  “Ahem…“

  The sound of a man clearing his throat startled her from her brooding. She looked up to see the bellboy still standing there, smiling and waiting. Digging in her vest pocket she pulled out some cash and handed it to him. He thanked her and told her if she needed anything to call on him, then turned and left.

  Feeling her stomach rumble, she knew the first order of business was a good meal. Picking up the phone, she was grateful to hear the woman spoke broken English, so she could to take her order with a minimum of confusion.

  After spending two days on the road running from village to village, she wanted to get a much-deserved bath. Stripping off her shoes and clothing, she kicked them to the side. She strolled into the bathroom, smiling with pleasure when she spotted the large sunken tub. Turning on the water she poured in some lavender oil she always carried with her.

  Getting into the tub she slid down, sighing as the hot water soaked into her skin and soo
thed her aching back. She chuckled, thinking about how she had had to sleep in the back of a cramped jeep with another photographer for two days, as they made their rounds to the remote villages. It used to be fun when she was a little younger, but now it was taking its toll on her body. Idly she wondered if she should attend the party at the French Embassy, she thought it would make an excellent (and stark) comparison to the photo piece she was working on. A lavish party with dignitaries dressed in their finest, eating the best food, sipping the finest wines, only miles from so many people suffering, so much human misery. Not that showing the contrast would make any difference. After all, the world was separated by the “haves” and “have nots.” Always had been, and always would be.

  Shifting her thoughts to less depressing matters, she thought of writing to a few friends once she was finished with her bath. She knew she would have a lot of email. Closing her eyes again she smiled to herself, thinking of her friend Jenny. She could hardly wait to email her, telling her about the trip, and also with the news that she was planning on returning to the states shortly. She was hoping against hope that Jenny and the kids could come to her beach house for a visit, at least for a week or so.

  As she slowly and carefully washed her body she wondered if Connell would even allow them to come. Frowning, she let out a tiny snort of disgust. It had always pissed her off that Jenny, being a strong, intelligent woman that was more than capable of thinking for herself, was so submissive when it came to Connell. She would never understand what her friend saw in the big lummox, the man seemed completely unaware that the world had changed since biblical times. His idea of “sweeping changes” seemed to be living life the way people did in the middle ages. She had no doubt he held on to the belief that women should be silent, barefoot, pregnant, and their asses kept in the kitchen. Walking two paces behind their husbands at all times too. She shook her head in disgust, wondering how Jenny could stand being with the knuckle-dragging Neanderthal.

  Scooping water up with her hands she wet her corkscrew locks. She used to sport short cut hair, but always being on the move she decided something simple and easy to take care of was the best way to go. She loved the simple corkscrew locks. Besides, she could dress the look up when she needed to go to some formal event.

  Finishing up, she stepped out of the tub and toweled herself dry, feeling much better.

  Going into the bedroom she began to dress, thinking about her last long conversation with Jenny (in person) when she had went to visit. Jenny had just given birth to Shawn.

  She herself had been holding the baby, in awe of the miracle of birth. “He’s so perfect Jen…I wish….” she had said, unable to finish.

  Jenny, who could read her better than anyone in the world, had sensed something was wrong. “What’s wrong Aisha? What’s got you all chocked up?” she had asked.

  She had looked at Jenny almost as if she was going to deny anything was wrong, but then put the baby back in the cradle and sat at her friend’s bedside. She had replied in a weak, tormented voice, “I…you know that Max and I had tried to have a baby when we were married, and we couldn’t...I couldn’t. He had went to see a doctor and was told he was fine, that it had to be me. ” she had said, her lips trembling. She had shrugged as if trying to shake off the pain, or make it seem as if the confession hadn’t hurt. “I can’t have children. Then Max had that affair and knocked-up the little tramp, and I got divorce papers when I returned from Kenya. He left me, to raise his child with his mistress.”

  Jenny had leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her to comfort her. She had held her tight, kissed her brow and whispered, “I’m so sorry, I never knew. Why didn’t you come talk to me instead of keeping it bottled up? I wish I could make it better for you, but honey, you need to let things like this out, holding pain like this inside will eat you up.“

  And she had. She had broken down as she never had before, opening the floodgates. She cried for her broken, failed marriage, not being able to bear children, never having the chance of being a mother.

  Snapping back to the present she shook her head angrily. She didn’t want to think about what had happened with Max, she had finally gotten over him and moved on. Hadn’t she?

  Reaching for her bags, she pulled out her laptop and removed it from the carrying case. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened it, plugged it in, clicked on the icon for the satellite link, then opened her email account. She wasn’t surprised to see tons of email. She had several job offers from popular magazines, various letters from friends around the world, and one from Jenny.

  Smiling once again, she opened Jenny’s first and began to read, the smile slowly melting away. She was trying her best to understand what she was reading. She read the email three times, fervently hoping she had misread the words. She felt herself being wrapped in a cocoon of anguish.

  “Oh God, this can’t be right, this can‘t be happening…!” she croaked in horror, her nerveless hands fluttering to her face. Her vision was quickly blurred by tears threatening to spill. Having trouble breathing, she wiped her eyes and double-checked the date on the email. The shock paralyzed her for several minutes. She didn’t want to even entertain the horrifying possibility that she could be too late, too late to see her friend, or at least talk to her. “Please God, don‘t let it be too late. Two weeks, TWO WEEKS I‘ve been running around…not knowing….” she moaned in horror.

  She had to get to Jenny, and regular channels would take too long for her. She wasn’t going to deal with customs and security checks.

  Grabbing her cell phone she dialed a number she had thought she would never dial again. When a woman answered, Aisha reminded herself to be civil. She asked in what she hoped was a friendly tone, “Can I please speak to Max Giordano? This is Aisha, his ex-wife. It‘s very important.”

  Silence for a moment, then she could hear the woman’s muffled voice, high pitched and very much annoyed, calling for Max to come to the phone. Any other time she would have been amused that the woman was upset about her calling, but not today. It also occurred to her, for the very first time incredibly enough, that she had never asked the woman’s name. All she remembered was sitting in shocked disbelief as Max callously told her he was leaving her for another woman. Most everything else she had always shunted off to the side when she began thinking about it too much.

  “Aisha? I can’t believe it’s really you, calling me, of all people.” her ex-husband’s thick Italian accent crackled across the line, and she was certain his surprise was genuine. She could understand it, seeing as how the last time they ever spoke was when she told him she would never speak to him, or lay eyes on him again as long as she lived.

  “Max, I need your help, please..” she begged, a sour taste in her mouth at having to swallow her pride and eat her words from so long ago. She bit her lower lip until it throbbed like her pulse.

  “My goodness dear, whatever your situation, it must be dire indeed! You actually said please, and admitted you need someone! Careful my dear, lest you ruin your carefully cultivated image of the strong, independent career woman! What has happened darling, did you kill someone? Or did you give another high ranking politician a good tongue lashing? Let me guess, you’re languishing in some filthy, dank prison cell in some third-world country, needing me and my connections to come to the rescue? Do I paint a correct picture, or do I exaggerate?”

  Suddenly, her mind flashed back in time:

  She had first met Max when he saved her from being arrested in a village in Pakistan, after she had told a council elder to go fuck himself when he made unwanted advances towards her. Insulted, he had ordered her punished.

  She had been seized on the spot, and was only seconds from being dragged away when she saw an extremely handsome, well dressed man step forward and have a word with the elder.

  Max had been taken by her beauty immediately (he had explained later) and had came to her defense. It seemed he had considerable influence in the small community, and asked the man
in a reasonable tone, “Please don’t, it’s not the American woman’s fault, she hasn’t been taught her proper place. Such is the way of the American people, they‘re both weak and foolish…”

  Hearing that, she had turned and tore into him, but the council elder did allow her to leave, stating that he agreed, her poor upbringing had made her speak foolishly and out of place. The men had relinquished their hold on her, and she had stormed off.

  Max had followed her to the hotel, apologizing every step of the way, explaining that he had simply been trying to save her, that he never actually meant the things he had said. As a peace offering he had offered to take her to dinner to make up for it.

  After the dinner theirs became a whirlwind romance, as to her amazement he turned out to be quite charming. They became traveling companions as well as lovers, and he followed her from country to country, continent to continent. In a spur of the moment decision, they had decided one day to get married. They were married by a village medicine man, in a beautiful rainforest one afternoon. Even after all the hurt she had been through, the memory of that day still held some magic for her. She had truly been in love with him, truly believed he was the one….