Chai Tea Sunday (19 page)

After our mandatory evacuation at the orphanage, I told Mama Bu I would see her back at the house. I wanted to use my free afternoon responding to a few friends' emails that I had been avoiding. I had always intended to respond properly, but it seemed that every previous minute I had spent in Kenya was with either my host family or the children at the orphanage.

I paid my fee and sat down at the only open computer left in the small room. I waited through the click-click-click of the slowly creeping internet; I was now used to its speed, but no more patient with its sluggishness.

When Yahoo! finally flipped from that day's headlines to my inbox, the third email nearly flattened my lungs.

Eric.

I hadn't spoken to him in 127 days — not that I was counting.

The subject line was a casual and breezy “Hi.” I paused before opening the email. A big part of me was desperate to soak up every word he wrote — the other part of me nervous, and not really sure I wanted to communicate with him at all.

Read or delete? Read or
delete
?

I promised myself that I would count to ten before making a decision. I started counting: one . . . two . . . three . . .

Forget it, I couldn't make it to ten.

I clicked the email open.

Nicky,

I don't know what to say, except that I miss you.

I think of you every minute of every day.

How are you?

Love, Eric

I read the email fourteen times before his words sank in. Then, following a solid minute during which I stared blankly at the screen and contemplated what to write, I began my reply.

And then I deleted it.

Hi Eric — I'm great! I'm in Africa and it is fantastic — I am loving my time here!

I started again, and hit the backspace key once more.

Eric — I miss you too. So very, very much! I'm miserable and cry myself to sleep every night without you. Even my host mother knows how upset I constantly am — she heard me crying at night, which I'm pretty embarrassed about. What happened to us?

Again.

Hello, Eric. Nice to hear from you. It has been a while

Until — finally,

Hi Eric,

Thanks for your email — it was really nice to hear from you. I miss you too and think of you often. A lot, actually.

Not sure if you heard or not, but I am in Africa, volunteering in the classroom at an orphanage. I needed the break. Needed to clear my head. It has been challenging, but rewarding. There are so many people (particularly the children who I am working with) who need so much, and I really struggle with it since I only have so much to give. But the kids are adorable and full of life, energy and happiness — despite having next to nothing. A wise person once told me that they would give me far more than I could ever give them, and I already believe this to be true.

How are you doing? I would love to know everything.

Love,

Nic xoxo

I took a big breath, reread the email one final time, and hit send. I knew I wouldn't be emailing my friends back that day, as originally planned. I was too distracted and practically chewing my nails to nubs.

I paused to let the emotions sink in. For the first time in as long as I could remember, my spirit was breathing again. And my soul felt comfort; it was like being under an oversized quilt with a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a snowy, Saturday morning.
With
Eric.

And then there were other feelings of recognition.

Trickles of excitement.

Hints of bliss.

The flashback feelings took me to a previous evening many moons before, when Eric finally got the nerve to ask me if I'd like to join him for a beer after one of our lifeguarding shifts. The same butterflies resurfaced. The buzz in my brain was reborn. And it was all from a simple email, no more than a few lines long.

I tried to push the memories from my mind. The feelings from my heart. I knew I would be headed into dangerous ground if I couldn't clear them.

Just as I was about force myself to sign out, my inbox notification showed a new message was waiting. Apprehensively, I checked.

More Eric.

Hi Nic,

So great to hear from you! Thanks for emailing me back — I wasn't sure if you would. I was just about to hit the gym for an early morning workout when I saw your email — and I wanted to write you back right away.

I loved reading about how you are doing. I had heard through the grapevine that you were in Africa, but it was nice to hear the details from you. Congratulations, by the way — it sounds very exciting, and I'm happy for you. It's great to know you are making such a difference over there — not that I'm surprised at all. You're one of the good ones, Nic. Always have been, always will be. You have a way with people and I have no doubt you are touching everyone you meet over there with your generosity, spirit and kindness.

Things are okay with me. We're pretty busy at work. Too many cases if you ask me, and we're all going crazy. I'm working longer hours than ever before, but I guess that's a good thing. . . . It is pretty tough to go home to an empty apartment at the end of the day. I'm considering getting a dog. Just a small one. Maybe a wiener dog, or a wrinkly pug. I've always wanted one, as you know. I think I'd call him Griffin, after Family Guy. I'd need to get a dog walker, but they are all the rage in the city so it would be pretty easy, I'm sure. We'll see.

Love,

Eric

P.S. How is your family?

I couldn't hit reply fast enough. I craved his words and needed to hear more.

Eric —

A puppy?! Wow. That would be a big change for you. I know how much you've always wanted a dog though, so I'm not surprised to hear you are considering getting one. My vote is for a wiener dog — they are so adorable! A former colleague of mine had one and she said they are the most lovable, cuddly dogs. Apparently they are burrowers . . . so they sleep under your covers at your feet. (That is, if you decide to let him or her sleep in your bed — although I think I already know the answer to that one!)

Thank you for your kind words — they were really encouraging and nice to hear. I'm going through a rough patch here right now, and I'm not quite sure what to do. To be honest, it felt a bit serendipitous to get your email today . . . all I've been thinking of lately is how much I wanted to be working through this problem with you, to talk to you about it and get your advice. If you're willing, I'd still love to hear your perspective. It has always made me feel so much better. No one seems to have clearer judgement than you when it comes to these things.

Love,

Nic

P.S. My family is great. Things are the same as always for my parents, and my sister is now in Vietnam . . . always the world traveller! How is your family?

A couple of minutes later, his response came,

Nic — I would love to help you in any way I can. More than happy to listen to what's going on and to help you figure out what to do. I'm at work, but able to chat. Can you log in to MSN Messenger?

After our agreement of no communication, I had deleted Eric's name from my
MSN
list — and thought it would never reappear. But with his invite, I sent the cursor flying to the “Add a Contact” key and started typing his email address from memory.

Then, like a jolt from nowhere, I couldn't get up from the computer fast enough. The chair I was sitting on flipped behind me as I stood up abruptly.

My heart had sung when I got the first email from Eric, and I had temporarily gotten caught up in it. I even asked him for his advice! But chatting with him so casually now sent fear through my veins.

I had flown thousands of miles around the globe to a world that couldn't be more opposite from the one Eric and I lived in — and I had, in an instant, reverted right back into the simple and comfortable conversation of our past. We couldn't go down that road again. I wouldn't let it happen.

I flew out the internet café door, barely escaping a smackdown with a speeding
matatu
. The driver screamed at me, hanging out the window. “
Chunga! Chunga!
” he screeched. Watch out! Watch out! The driver's arm hung out the window, giving me the finger as he blew by me, leaving a trace of dusty red dirt on my sneakers.

“Where have you been for so long,
rafiki
?” Mama Bu asked when I returned to the house. She had just finished scrubbing the floors, which were still a bit wet, and had moved on to dusting the tables. I grabbed a second cloth from the kitchen and began to help her.

“I was emailing a bit and then I took a walk through the market. I thought it might clear my head and make me feel better. No dice, unfortunately.”

“No dice?”

“Sorry, I forget about expressions. We use it back home to mean there is no chance or possibility of it happening. My head is still a muddy mess of thoughts!”

“Poor thing, I wish you found your dice. What is on your mind?”

“This whole thing with Jebet is really getting to me. I'm desperate to help the kids and so scared for them. What if one of them gets really hurt? A big part of me thinks I should just go back to the orphanage, even though Jebet kicked me out.”

“I know it is different here, Nicky. And I do not like what is going on there any more than you do. But you have to know what you can change here and what you cannot. It is different here than in your Western world. What Jebet did to Gracie is not right, but it happens here all the time. I am not saying we should not keep watch over the children at Kidaai, but fixing all of the problems we have got here in Kenya . . . well, it would be easier to boil the ocean.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“We wait,
rafiki
. We wait.”

Mama Bu turned from me then, quietly humming a song I recognized from church. She stopped suddenly. “You have got to trust in God. He knows what is best. He will take care of you, no matter what. He knows. He always knows, and He will guide you to the right spot.”

“I heard from Eric,” I said gently, anxious to speak to someone about what had happened. I wanted to know Mama Bu's thoughts on it all. “He emailed me and we bounced a few messages back and forth. Pretty casual . . . nothing complicated.”

“And how are you feeling about that, dolly?”

“I don't know, to be honest. At first I was excited and so happy to hear from him. I really miss him, you know? It felt like old times . . . before . . . well, just before. But I'm not sure it's a good idea to go there.”

“Remember what I told you before, Nicky. There is not a right or a wrong answer. You will know what to do. And whatever you do will be the right decision. Want to know how you will know that it was the right decision? Because you made it.”

Mama Bu started humming again, but my thoughts ran rampant against her tune, flipping between the kids at the orphanage and Eric. We continued working, side by side, dusting furniture, washing walls, fluffing couches.

That night, I lay in bed, frantic for sleep and hopeful I wouldn't cry out once I found it. The hard bed seemed to be even more uncomfortable than other nights and my right side was numb from lying on the hard surface.

I tried to ignore my thoughts of Eric, struggling to stop my mind from reeling through our earlier email conversations — yet every word played out in my mind, over and over and over.

I wanted to ignore Eric. Yet I couldn't. I wished I wasn't so happy that he had reached out. I had no choice but to force myself to ignore him and, hopefully, start to stifle my feelings for him. I would block him from my email. Permanently remove his name from anything that would allow him to communicate with me. We were over. Finished. And I needed to move on, or I would never find happiness again. It really was as simple as that.

I waited for sleep to take over. Wanted it to find me. When it didn't, I listened to the sounds of Africa that I finally found calming.

Muted bongo drums beat in the distance.