Chai Tea Sunday

by Heather A. Clark

  I was confused and wondered if Wekesa had returned to speak with me about the rent details. “Who is it?” I asked, blowing a blonde strand of hair out of my eyes, which had fallen from my ponytail on the walk over.

  “I don’t know. He in the common room.”

  More confused than ever, I walked to the common room to greet my visitor. “Hello?” I called out.

  Then I saw him.

  Eric.

  He was perched on the edge of the fraying red couch, looking nervous and out of place. My heart constricted and I struggled to breathe.

  “Hi, Nic.”

  I tried to find words, but could only remain silent. I couldn’t make sense of the situation. I was in shock that Eric was actually in front of me.

  “Nic, I really need to talk to you. I’ve tried reaching you over and over, but you won’t return my emails or phone calls. I didn’t know what else to do, so I got the address to the orphanage from Maggie and caught the first flight I could to Nairobi.”

  I stared at him. He stared back. Our eyes locked.

  “Please, Nic. Just give me ten minutes. I came all this way. . . . I really need to talk to you. To tell you something I should have said a long time ago.”

  Somewhat begrudgingly, and still very confused, I agreed to speak to Eric. “Let’s go outside,” I suggested, fully aware that Mama Bu, Johanna and the children were still standing behind us. We made our way to the porch, and Eric took a seat, motioning for me to sit beside him.

  “Thanks, but I’ll stand,” I replied, not wanting to get too close to Eric. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he was even there. Seeing Eric again had shaken me to the core, and having him in front of me, actually within my African world, felt as incongruous as it was unsettling.

  “Nicky . . . I actually don’t even know where to start. I just spent my entire plane ride rehearsing exactly what I wanted to say and, somehow, I can’t remember any of it. . . .”

  I listened, waiting for him to continue. I had spent too many of my days in a one-sided conversation with Eric, talking at him and begging him to respond, only to find silence. If Eric had come all this way, he could do the talking. He had to do the talking.

  Eric cleared his throat, then began. “I miss you so much, Nicky. More than words can ever describe . . . even though I’m going to try. Because it’s important to me that you know how I feel, and I know now the only way you’ll know what I’m really feeling is if I tell you.”

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “I . . . I have so much to tell you, and I know I should have told you long before now. I just . . . well, I couldn’t for some reason. I was totally broken inside and hurting more than I ever thought possible. And to be honest, I didn’t know how to fix it. Talking about what happened . . . even speaking to you about it . . . well, it just made it harder. It made it hurt even more, and I wanted to forget everything so I could move on.”

  He paused, and I waited. I needed him to continue.

  “But I couldn’t move on. Once you left, I thought I could rid myself of all the memories, like I had tried to do for so many months. But they just wouldn’t go. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I could barely work. I tried everything, but nothing helped. Nothing could make me forget you.” He paused, looking down. “Or Ella.”

  “Because it doesn’t work that way, Eric.”

  “I know that now. Eventually I came to realize that. But it took a long time. Too much time, unfortunately.”

  I nodded, thinking of all the time that had passed since our separation.

  “I joined a bereavement group for dads,” Eric continued, sounding almost proud. “Dr. Covert recommended it, actually.”

  “Oh really? I don’t remember her mentioning that.”

  “She didn’t. At least not in front of you.” Eric looked down at his hands, linking his fingers together in a way that almost looked like he was praying. “About a month after you left for Africa, I had tried everything else I could think of to make me feel better, so I finally went back to see Dr. Covert for a one-to-one session. In the beginning, I think I subconsciously did it to feel closer to you, because I knew how important your sessions with her were. But then a strange thing happened and I realized that, somewhere along the way, talking through everything with Dr. Covert . . . well, it really helped me. Dr. Covert got me to see things in a way I had never considered. She pushed me to explore everything I was feeling and had been feeling all along. She got me to understand — and, more important, believe — that I needed to feel my emotions, and live through them, so I could move on. So I could find some sense of happiness again.”

  “And do you? Feel happy now?” I asked.

  “I’m not happy yet, but I’m certainly more at ease. And I’ve learned to cope. How to deal with all of the emotions that hijacked me for so long.”

  I kept listening.

  “Once I was able to sift through what I was feeling, when I started to make sense of it all, or at least some of it, I realized that, no matter what else, I can’t live without you. Not for one more minute.” Eric glanced up then, and looked straight into my eyes. “I love you, Nicky. More than you’ll ever know. And I’m ready to fight for what we had. For what I know we can have again. I know it will take time, but I’ve got all the time in the world, and want to do nothing more than prove to you how much I love you. To show you how much I believe we belong together.”

  “And what about when you need to run back to work? What if there’s another case that desperately needs your attention?” My voice was lined with sarcasm I wished I could take back the moment the words crossed my lips.

  “That won’t happen. I quit my job . . . so I could come here and find you. ”

  “You quit? Your job?”

  “Yes, I did. Do you remember the McDonnel case?”

  I nodded. How could I forget? Eric and a team of about ten other lawyers had been working on it since before we sold our house.

  “Well, it goes to trial next week. So, as always, there is a vacation blackout period for all the lawyers who are involved. I pled my case, asking for an exception, because I knew I had to come and find you, but the firm told me I couldn’t travel. So I had no choice but to quit.”

  The words were still not sinking in. “You quit? You really quit your job?”

  “I really quit my job. Feels pretty good, actually. No more strings. No more stress.” Eric grinned, somehow managing to still tickle my insides with the flutters I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It felt good. Eric continued, “This guy named Jack — he’s one of the dads I’ve become friends with in my bereavement group — well, he really showed me that I needed to do this. That I needed to come here and fight for you. And for us.”

  I nodded again, taking in all that Eric was saying.

  “Jack went through something similar to what we did. Except it was his second child. The baby, Mason, was born at twenty-six weeks and only survived for three days. Jack and his wife, Carol, didn’t make it past three months. They separated quickly and were divorced a year and a half later. Unfortunately, Jack realized too late that he and Carol had made a huge mistake getting divorced and, by the time he could tell Carol how he felt, she was already engaged to another man.”

  I was speechless, still in shock that Eric was sitting in front of me. And somehow he was saying so many of the things I’d longed to hear from him for so long.

  “That’s why I knew I needed to come now,” Eric said. “That I had to quit my job and do whatever else was needed to get you back. And I pray to God that I’m not too late. I love you, Nicky, and I’ll do whatever it takes to show you. To prove it to you. I will commit the rest of my life to making you believe this.”

  Eric searched my eyes and, surprisingly, I fought the urge to run away. To turn on my heel and bolt, just as Eric had done to me. Ironically, after wait
ing so long for Eric to actually speak with me and tell me how he was feeling, I wanted to flee the conversation. I didn’t want to abandon him, just as he had done to me, but I didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t know what to feel.

  Picking up on my hesitation, Eric kept going. “I know I’m very late in telling you all of this, Nicky. I know you needed to have had this conversation a very long time ago. To grieve with me and to deal with everything that had happened. Together.”

  I nodded, fighting tears.

  “You might not believe this, but even back then, I really wanted to talk about everything with you. Believe me, I did. And I tried. On most mornings, I would wake up and promise myself that I was going to sit you down, just so we could talk, and sometimes I would try, but it was like a knife was being sliced through my heart every time we started talking about it.”

  He looked down, took a deep breath and cleared his throat again. I knew Eric well enough to sense that he was fighting his own tears.

  “My God, I miss Ella so much, Nic. I loved her more than I knew was possible. I loved her more than life, and I would have done anything to save her, and somehow we only got to spend an hour with her. How is that fair? How is it right?”

  “I don’t know, Eric. I ask myself that every day,” I responded quietly.

  “And what I did to you? It’s unimaginable. To be honest, I wouldn’t blame you if you felt it was unforgiveable too. I know now that I abandoned you at the worst moment of your life, when you needed me the most. And I’m so, so very sorry for that. I wish you could know how much. I hate myself for not being there for you. I love you, Nic. I love you more than anything and I don’t know how to go on without you. I’m lost without you and I don’t know how to live from day to day without you in my life.” Eric’s words came spilling out, bubbling up in his throat and, eventually, turning into sobs that yanked at my heartstrings. The tall, silent man who had stood like a stone in front of me for so many months buried his head into his hands and, finally, wept. It was the first time I had seen Eric cry since Ella’s death.

  I sat down next to him and pulled him into my arms. No matter what had happened, or what would happen in the future, I couldn’t bear to watch Eric grieve so intensely and not try to provide some sense of comfort.

  Like a baby, Eric curled into me, folding himself into my embrace, and put his cheek next to mine. Our tears mixed, joining together before they fell into our laps, and we sat side by side, linked together in a tight embrace, grieving as one, and mourning the daughter — and the life — we both had lost.

  28

  “Mama Bu?” I called out, walking into the small host home that I had become so comfortable in. I was desperate to speak with her. After Eric and I had spent a long time together on the porch, I left him, saying that I just needed to think.

  When I went back into the orphanage to find Mama Bu, Johanna had told me she slipped out the back door to return home to begin her daily chores. Mama Bu knew I would find her when I was ready to talk.

  “I am here, Nicky,” Mama Bu answered, walking into the living room. She had been scrubbing the kitchen and was wearing a faded orange apron with blue ties around her neck and waist. Her hair was pulled back with her favourite red hair band.

  “It’s Eric. I just don’t know what to think about everything. He came to Africa. To find me. And to tell me that he loves me, and that he wants to get back together.”

  “I was wondering as much,” Mama Bu responded, turning away before she sat down on her favourite couch. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not, but it almost seemed as though she was trying to conceal a smile. “And how do you feel about that, chicka?”

  “I don’t know. Confused, really. I love Eric and, really, I want to be with him too, but I don’t know how to do that anymore.”

  “Did you tell him all of this?”

  “I did, and I also told him that I couldn’t go back with him because I had made the decision to stay here and be the orphanage director. I told him that I’d given a commitment to you, and to the kids at the orphanage, and that I couldn’t go back on my word when the kids needed me the most.”

  “And what did Eric say?” Mama Bu prompted.

  “He said that he would move to Africa. That he would stay here. To help me, and to be with me. He said he would do whatever was needed to make us work.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t know though . . . I just don’t think that will work. I can’t imagine us both here, together.”

  “First, rafiki, I think you must realize what is in your heart. Decide on what you want. Everything else — whether he lives here or you live there — that can be figured out later.”

  “But how do I do that, Mama Bu? How do I figure that out? How do I know?”

  “I cannot tell you what to do or what the answer is. But I will tell you that you already know what it is. Your answer is buried deep within your soul and I am quite certain that you will find it. You will know what is right for you. All you need to do is open your heart to the answer and it will be there. It is waiting for you to realize what it is. To figure out your truth and find your destiny.”

  “I don’t know, Mama Bu.”

  “I think you should go for a long walk, rafiki. Go into Ngong town. Or just walk to whatever spot your path leads you. Go on. Walk, and clear your head, and find your answer. It is there, waiting, I promise you.”

  I accepted Mama Bu’s advice and gave her a hug before I headed out. I walked past Barika’s house and, before I knew it, was headed to the market. I wanted to clear my head, yes, but I actually needed busyness. Noise. Chaos.

  I walked the hectic aisles, looking past the people around me and, on occasion, accidentally running into them. My mind was far away. A man wearing a hat bumped into me. “Poleni,” he said. Sorry. I snapped my attention back to all that was around me.

  I stopped to hold a ripe red tomato and purchased some bobby beans to contribute to the kids’ dinner that night. I bought a banana for my breakfast, but then realized I wasn’t hungry. I tossed it in my backpack.

  I kept walking through the market. Watched Kenyans shake hands and greet each other good morning. A skinny man with a shaved head called out to a friend buying cinnamon and slapped his back in a friendly salute when he met up with him. His friend responded by putting his arm around the skinny man’s neck and pulling him in for a tight hug.

  I found a large rock. I sat, not sure what I was waiting for, but also not knowing where else I could go.

  After a while, two small children appeared from nowhere and jumped into a leftover puddle from the rain that had fallen a few days before. Once the rain had started, it hadn’t stopped, bringing on the wet season and relief to all of Kenya. The children, one of whom seemed to be just younger than two and the other about five, splashed each other with the water, their clothes soon soaked. Within moments, the children surrendered to being wet and sat directly in the middle of the puddle, still splashing each other over and over as their hands hit its surface.

  Their laughter rang out loud. I wanted to smile, as so many people would, but the sound actually hurt my ears, reminding me of what I no longer had.

  The younger child stood up from the puddle. She took off her pants and threw them aside. Once free, the little girl danced in the puddle, jumping up and down, her diaperless bum soaking up the sunshine.

  I wondered where their mother was. How she could leave two young children alone, by themselves, where anything could happen to them?

  Sometime later — I can’t be totally sure about how long I sat there watching — the mother found her children. She was a young woman, no older than twenty-five. She wagged her finger, lightly scolding them for getting so wet in the puddle. She lifted the toddler into her arms and lightly kissed her on the nose.

  It was such a simple maternal gesture and it yet hurt my heart because at that pre
cise moment I realized the toddler was about the same age that Ella would have been.

  The mother wrung out the toddler’s soaking wet pants and placed them in the sisal handbag she was carrying. She removed a clean cloth and rubbed her children’s faces, wiping them free of the mud splatter that had clung to their faces as they had jumped and splashed.

  Still holding the youngest on her hip, the mother took her five-year-old child by the hand and the threesome walked away, leaving me, and the now-still puddle, once again alone.

  When my legs grew cramped from sitting too long, I rose and walked back through the market. I entered one of the middle rows and almost walked directly into a small woman carrying her baby on her hip in bright red material tied around her waist and in a large knot thrown over one of her shoulders. She had an oversized basket on her head, bursting with breads and vegetables. With the stacked gold bangles around her wrist, and the bright beads she wore everywhere, I recognized her as Maasai.

  In our near collision, the woman smiled. “Samahani,” she said. Excuse me. I returned the smile and kept walking, turning back to look at her baby. He had large eyes that peeked over the red cloth, his hair just starting to come in. In my time in Kenya, I had learned a lot about the Maasai people, and knew the baby’s hair would soon be shaved, representing a fresh start that would be made as the baby passed into another one of life’s chapters.

  “Neeecky? Neeecky!” A familiar voice called to me, yet I couldn’t place it. I looked around and saw Moses, energetically waving at me from behind his food stall. I dropped the mango I had been holding at a competitor’s stand and crossed the aisle to greet him.

  “Where Bu at?” he asked.

  “She’s at home, tending to her chores. I’m just taking a walk. I needed a bit of a break.”

  “Well, I glad to see you. I have something for you. I found it after you left that day. It must have fall out of your pocket. I sorry not to give it back more soon. I thought I see you here sooner. Was going to bring it to Bu’s, but I work so much. Every day!” Moses walked behind his food stall and pulled something from the portable safe he kept his money in. Holding it up to the sunlight, diamonds danced. Moses had found my cross necklace. He’d had it the entire time.