Paradise Revisited

by Norman Filler

  And with kisses as light as butterflies, she began with the hollows below his ears and continued over his torso until she reached the belt of his trousers while he caressed her back with his hand. “Megan, my dear, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve imagined this. Even when I was in the deepest pit of despair, half unconscious from drugs, you’d come into my daydreams like an angel of light to remind me that I once had a life more beautiful than most people ever dreamed of. It helped.

  “Andy, even in the heat of Mike’s courtship, I would wonder if I’d chosen the right brother. You were such a source of life for us all. When Mike sent you away, it was like the lights all over Thyolo went out.”

  Together they sank onto the bed. Andy undid the buttons of her blouse and unhooked her bra. Her breasts, though mature, were beautifully shaped and the skin of them soft as silk. Lying on his side, he pulled her on to hers and cupped them one by one with his hand, worshipping them with his tongue, then taking in turn her nipples in his mouth, one by one, and sucking gently until they stood erect. She arched her back, thrusting them up towards him and felt the waves of passion flow through her. It had been a long time since she’d been treated as anything but an object of lust. Continuing to caress her breasts, he buried his face in the bowl of her belly and inhaled her fragrance, lifting her to his mouth with his arm. As he lay next to her, she sat up and undid the buttons of his trousers one by one, kissing the skin she exposed as she went. His erect manhood was already half out of his boxer shorts, and she reached in and caressed him, drawing his scrotum out where she could kiss it.

  Andy began to moan and the suddenly cried out, “My God, Stop! Stop! Don’t move.” But although Megan did stop, it was too late and Andy emptied himself onto the coverlet. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I’m sorry. It’s been too long. And the way I feel about you, Megan. It was too much. I’m sorry! The estate clown in action again! All together, now, let’s laugh at Andy.”

  “Don’t worry, Andy, it’s something that happens to all men, at least in my limited experience.”

  “Even Mike?”

  “Oh, yes! Especially when he was worried sick and tried to bury his fears in me.” Collecting some tissues from her dressing table, she cleaned him and the coverlet up, and lay down beside him again and with him in her arms, kissed his face,: his eyelids, the corners of his eyes, his cheekbones, his earlobes and finally his lips, a long languorous kiss of healing and forgiveness, of love and approval. “Don’t fret. No shame. No regrets. No remorse. You are my Andy, and I love you just the way you are.” It was lightly said, but also, she realized with a twinge of surprise, was meant.

  “I love you too, Megan, I’ve never been all that I wanted to be, not with Matambala, not with Mike, not with you. But with your help, I can at last find a way to be what I can be and be content with that.” And they lay together for a long time, content to be entwined with each other soul and body.

  Some time during the night, Andy went to his own bed, where Buddy was waiting patiently.

  ***

  Chapter 8 – A Difficult Visit

  The next morning, Andy woke up with the conviction that he had to see his brother. He couldn’t just sail in, commit adultery with his wife, and never visit him. So he told Megan what he was going to do, determined despite her disapproval, and after breakfast, drove up to Limbe where Newlands Home for Elderly Europeans was. Megan had given him directions to where the total care unit was and had phoned ahead to warn them that he was coming, so he was welcomed warmly and ushered into his brother’s room without delay.

  The man who was lying flat on the bed was scarcely recognizable as his brother. His flesh had melted away and he was skin and bones. His black hair had faded to a dusty brown and was close cropped to his head and his skin had taken on a yellowish tinge quite different from the ruddiness he’d had when Andy had last seen him. His eyes were dull and he looked at Andy without any interest. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Andy, Mike. Don’t you remember me?

  “I have a brother named Andy. A useless chap he is, too, but he’s in England or somewhere. “

  “No, Mike, I’m your brother, Andy.”

  The eyes looked at him with a slight stir of interest, but Mike spoke without inflection. “Oh, are you. Do you know where that bitch Megan is? You remember. The slut who married me for my money.”

  “She’s on the estate. Do you want to see her?”

  “No, not especially. I only want to tell her to go to hell, and if you know where she is, you can do that for me.” That utterance, almost shouted, seemed to exhaust him and he closed his eyes and mumbled, “Nice to see you Andy,” and seemed to fall asleep, but roused enough to mutter, “Life’s a bitch, isn’t it!”

  Andy, close to tears, turned and fled, but once he was outside the room, the nurse stopped him. “If you’re family, you should know that his kidney function is deteriorating. The doctors are sending his wife a report, but they say there’s not much that can be done and it’s only a matter of time.”

  Andy thanked her and stumbled out to the car, his mind in turmoil. To see his brother like that had been torture and the thought of his impending death a blow. But at the same time he had been moved to pity and concern. Mike, whatever his faults, whatever his condition, was still his brother and deserved every consideration he could manage. The realization that sleeping with his wife was not part of that picture struck Andy with brutal power. Whatever lust he felt, and the night before had made it clear that there was plenty of lust, would have to be put under wraps. He couldn’t screw his brother’s wife when his brother was lying helpless and dying in a hospital bed just a few miles away.

  When he got home, cold meats and salads were on the table and Megan had just sat down. The table was set for 2 on the assumption that he would come for it, and he pulled out the chair at his place and sat in it.

  Megan searched his face for a clue as to how he was feeling, but whatever that was was masked. “How did it go?”

  “OK. He recognized me, but didn’t seem to care much.”

  “He doesn’t care about anything much.”

  He had to get this over with. “The thing is that I found I do care. He’s still my brother despite everything. I love him...”

  “I do too, Andy, despite everything.”

  “…so I can’t sleep with his wife with him lying helpless in a bed just a few miles away. Sorry!”

  There was a long silence and then Megan said, “Oh! Well, OK, we’ll shelve that part.” Megan spoke without expression, but in fact, she was deeply disappointed. The night before had roused passions she’d all but forgotten and she recognized that Andy’s decision weakened her position. “But you’ll stay on.”

  “Of course! It isn’t that I don’t love you. I do. I always have since the first day you arrived and got out of the car right over there. Nothing has changed about that.”

  Megan thought to herself that a great deal had changed, but didn’t say so. She’d have to find a way to live with and build on what she had. Failing to think of anything else that could be sad, she said briskly, “Well, then. Let’s get going with what we can do. While you were gone, I thought out some work I can give to you right away and then there’ll be more later.”

  Then Andy remembered then what the nurse had told him about Mike. “Oh, I almost forgot. The nurse told me that Mike’s kidneys are beginning to fail and it won’t be very long before they pack up completely.”

  Megan’s eyes teared up at that. She felt a mixture of emotions, in which relief was not absent, but predominant was grief. She had loved Mike, still loved him and the thought of his death was painful. “Oh,” she said. “That makes a difference, doesn’t it.” But she couldn’t have defined at the moment what difference it would make.

  “He’s not happy the way he is, Megan, and won’t mind dying.”

  “Maybe… probably… though we’re not able to get into his mind.

  “Yes, that’s true, but what will be will be anyway, not matter
what we think of it.”

  ***

  Chapter 9 – Healing Begins

  And so they worked amicably together for several weeks. Andy set out to learn the tea business as well as he could, and took over the supervision of the tea factory, careful to respect the feelings of the manager Megan had hired. In fact, he cast himself as the learner, which was exactly the right approach, and soon a level of mutual respect and friendship developed between the two men – quite unusual in similar circumstances on other estates in Thyolo. Each could make suggestions and even offer corrections to the other without strain. They dispensed with the formalities of employer and employee and used each other’s first names. Noah, for that was the manager’s name, told his friends that the new boss was very different from his brother, which would be better for all of them.

  Megan, as she watched Andy work himself into his new position developed a higher evaluation of him. He was no clown, and soon made himself a niche that would be hard for anyone else to fill. Their love of Matambala was mutually reinforced, and together they worked to repair what had deteriorated and spun plans for the future. The staff who had rather taken advantage of the fact that Megan was a woman, soon learned that they couldn’t do that unchallenged any more. There was a boss on Matambala again. And by and large, they preferred it that way, rather to the surprise of one or two.

  Their respect made Andy stand a bit taller within himself and began to overcome the feelings of failure that had dogged him the last several years. He also began to recover his ready smile and facility for clever quips. One day, he asked Megan if there was enough money for him to get a prosthetic hand. There never had been when he was on his own, and in any case he hadn’t felt he was doing anything that would make it worthwhile. But now things were different.

  Megan agreed enthusiastically that they’d find the money, no matter what it might cost, and immediately started to make enquiries. It soon became clear that he would have to go to South Africa for it and they made the appropriate arrangements as quickly as possible. Two weeks later he flew off to Johannesburg from Chileka Airport.

  Megan, seeing the old Andy re-emerge, found her old affection for him, and more, growing. They really were soul mates in so many ways, and when he grinned with mischief, as he now did quite often, her heart melted. She rather regretted the element of calculation in her original approach to him. It was clear that it had not been necessary. They both knew now that their partnership, business and personal, sexual or non-sexual was right and inevitable. She was able to relax as she hadn’t been able to since Mike’s accident, and as a result, the worry lines in her face began to fade, making her look younger. Whilst Andy was in South Africa, she drove into Blantyre and had her hair cut and dyed. What she had looked like never mattered before. Now it did.

  When he got back from South Africa, Andy was in high spirits. The hand would be ready in two weeks or so. The surgeon who had dealt with his stump at the beginning had done a good job, so new surgery wasn’t going to be necessary. And he wouldn’t have just a claw, but something that looked just like a hand and worked a good deal like one. He hadn’t realized how depressing the thought of being one-handed for life had been. He’d gotten used to it. When he saw Megan for the first time, he stared for a minute and said. “It suits. You look younger and happier.”

  “I feel that way too,” she replied.

  The next month went by quickly. In no time at all, Andy went back to Blantyre to get his new hand and began to learn how to use it and rejoicing in discovering how many of the awkwardnesses he had gotten used to were gone. He would break out in a snort of delight at odd moments that puzzled everybody but him. Megan, free from many of the everyday chores of supervision began to make detailed plans. They repaired and filled the swimming pool, long left dry and half filled with leaves and made the stables habitable again. It took Andy a while to have the courage to try riding again, but once he was actually on a horse, he knew he could do it. He and Megan rode around the estate, inspecting parts that had hardly been visited since Mike’s departure. Andy got up the courage to visit the forest again and found that it was as Megan had said, beginning to regenerate around the edges, giving hope for the future. He rode up into the undamaged remnant, learning from close inspection that there was a remnant of the wildlife there – enough to repopulate the reborn areas when they were mature enough.

  Andy joined Megan in her regular visits to the staff housing, learning for the first time what straitened circumstances they lived in. Together they decided to set aside a percentage of whatever profits the estate made to improve them. It was Andy who caught the mechanic who had been ordering unnecessary replacement parts and selling them, and figured out what was wrong with the huge wood stove in the kitchen, making Joshua’s life easier and saving them immense amounts of money as the estate was sustainably self-sufficient in firewood.

  In the evenings, after dinner, they had coffee and sometimes liqueurs, and when it was time to go to bed, they embraced warmly, their eyes full of the promise that when the time came, there would be more.

  And then one morning, the doctor from Newlands rang to say that Mike’s kidneys had ceased to function, so they’d better come if they wanted to visit him when he was still conscious. They dropped everything at once and drove up to Limbe. When they got there, Mike was clearly close to death but surprisingly lucid. He started out saying, “Come to gloat, have you?” But shook his head and said, “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from. It wasn’t real. I know I’ve given both of you a hell of a time…” He closed his eyes and then after a moments’ silence re-opened them. “Shocking way to treat people you love… and who love you.”

  Both Andy and Megan were overcome and speechless, but moved to flank him on either side of the bed and held him close, best they could, their tears falling on his face. When Megan stopped sobbing, she managed, “It’s OK, Mike. We knew it wasn’t the real you.”

  He opened his eyes at that and with a ghost of a smile said, “Good.” And that was his last word. His eyes closed and didn’t open again before he died, a few minutes later.

  Andy and Megan, supporting each other, thanked the Newlands staff, who had gathered the moment they heard. There were some who had helped take care of Andy’s mother, and one or two who remembered Mike from happier days, and there were warm condolences and a few tears. Megan asked the Newlands staff to make arrangements to take the body to Limbe to the mortician, and assured them that they were invited to the funeral in Thyolo.

  Megan was too shattered to drive, so Andy took over, driving an estate car for the first time. On the way down to Matambala they able to gather their wits together enough to discuss the details of the funeral. It would be at All Saints’ Church, of course, and on a Saturday afternoon so as many people could come as possible. When they got to the house, they told Joshua, who burst into tears and ran back to his quarters to tell his wife.

  Dropping Megan off, Andy went to the factory to tell Noah and ask him to let the rest of the staff know, and declared the rest of the day a holiday except for those absolutely necessary to look after the machines until the ovens cooled and everything could be shut off. News travels fast in Africa, and soon a quiet settled over the Estate. There were those who mourned and those who didn’t, but none who didn’t give due respect to death.

  ***

  Chapter 10 – The Funeral

  The funeral was a grand affair. A retired priest and an organist, both living a Newlands, provided their individual services. The church was stuffed with glorious flowers from various estates. All the Thyolo whites attended, as did many from the estates in Mulanje, the tea area down the road. Others travelled from Bvumbwe and Blantyre.

  All the staff of Newlands and Matambala were specifically invited to the church, and as Africans don’t wait for invitations to funerals, many from neighboring estates were there, a large crowd on the lawn. When the coffin was carried out the door and around to the grave dug in the churchyard, the whites broke int
o groups, filling cars to go to the nearby club where tea and funeral meats were prepared, and the Africans massed around the grave as the coffin was lowered into it and the grave filled in. It was demanded by custom, and any who left before the mound was complete were in danger of being suspected of having a hand in the death.