A few moments later, Peter knocked softly and walked through the door. Both, for a moment, remained speechless. Slight smiles said enough. Even if they had been able to embrace, they would not have done so, for that would have released too many pent-up emotions that were on the verge of erupting.
Peter finally spoke. “That was pretty scary shit. Do you remember much?”
“Gunshots, that’s it.”
“You’re lucky.”
“So … what happened?” Chad tried to sit up. He winced and let his body relax.
“Do you really want to know now?”
“I think I need to know.”
Peter gave the account of the ambush, of those killed, those injured, of Kebo’s evil smile and wink, and of his self-righteous decision to spare their lives once again for who knows why. He talked about the screams, the terror, and the endless buckets of blood. Peter finished his narrative, bit his lower lip, and said, “A flip of the coin, eh?”
“Yeah. Damn coin.”
Peter poked the bag of blood and watched it going into his friend’s vein. “You realize some of my blood is in there.”
“Good God! I’ll be transformed into a hopeless depressive.”
“Might balance you out. Most of it is African blood, native blood. You can truly say—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Africa is in my blood.”
CHAPTER 29
Family Reunion
The morning of his third day in the hospital, Chad woke up in a ward with fourteen other patients. Two were the German and the Swede who were injured in the attack. The two traded stories, reliving the events of that morning countless times. Chad remained silent, aloof for some time, but eventually he did join in. He decided that perhaps sharing his experience would decrease the intrusiveness of the terror, that talking about it might help prevent nightmares of the attack from haunting his nights quite so much. The two men discharged that evening, and suddenly Chad felt isolated among patients who could not imagine the horror he had experienced.
At nine that evening, Chad became agitated when Peter did not return from a simple errand. He had requested a Coke, a candy bar, and a bag of chips. “Damn your budget!” he had told Peter, who had now been gone more than half an hour.
Peter returned with more than the anticipated treats. Chad’s mouth dropped when he saw his parents walking with Peter down the ward. As they approached, he felt his chest tighten.
Chad’s father, Patrick, wore a sport coat, which looked out of place given his unshaven face, disheveled hair, and bloodshot eyes. Though heavyset, Patrick’s physique appeared fit enough to jog several miles a day. Graying hair and wrinkles forming across his temples caused him to appear somewhat older than a man of forty-seven.
His mother, Lucinda, was dressed in loose black trousers and a flowery red blouse, both carefully chosen to veil a figure that had finally succumbed to the cruel onslaught of middle age. As compensation to her own supposed fading attractiveness, she adorned herself with an assortment of matching gold jewelry, which highlighted her fair complexion and blonde hair. Both parents looked weary and harassed, but Lucinda appeared very relieved.
Peter said, “Look who I ran into.”
Chad said nothing. He was afraid his emotions would become too overwhelming, too embarrassing if he opened his mouth.
“My God! Look at you.” His father said this with blunted affect.
His mother put on an awkward smile. She did not speak, but gave a delicate and prolonged embrace. She finally let out a pained sigh and let her tears flow. She whispered in Chad’s ear, “Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.” His father stood silent and still as his mother gave him no room to join in this reunion.
Lucinda finally let go and took a step back to examine her only child, scrutinizing every exposed inch, looking for any scratch or bruise the doctors may have missed.
Chad complained, “I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine.”
Patrick’s mouth contorted as he said, “Yes, so you are. We thought it was much more serious.” For Chad, the translation was obvious: “Damn it! We made this trip for nothing. Why did this woman drag me to the other side of the world?”
“I didn’t ask you to come, Dad. How did you find out anyway?” After Chad said that, he looked at Peter, who simply shrugged his shoulders.
Lucinda replied, “It wasn’t Peter. It was Simon who called. He scared us to death. He said you had been in an attack of some sort and that it was very serious … that … that they were not sure you survived. We thought …we thought we would be bringing you back in a coffin.” Such words cannot come out of a mother’s mouth without tears – tears of guarded joy for what did not transpire, mixed with tears of bitter anguish for what might have happened. She pressed her lips together and fumbled for a tissue in her oversized handbag.
“Yes, it was quite a scare.” His father’s words seemed accusatory to Chad. He bit his lower lip to prevent any words coming out. Patrick then asked, “What did happen? What the hell happened?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“I need to know,” Patrick said, showing a twinge of emotion, although Chad was not sure what the emotion might be.
“No, Dad, you don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.” Chad looked at Peter, moisture welled up in his eyes. “Peter, you can tell them. You were there. You tell them.”
With reluctance, Peter told the story. He told it with no emotion, as if it were a mundane affair hardly worth mentioning. He told only the essentials. They did not need the details. They did not need to hear about the pool of blood, their son’s vein squirting out blood six feet. There was no need to talk about the screams of children, soldiers having their brains blown out, and his own clothes burned because they were drenched in their son’s blood. They did not need to know they had met the terrorist who had masterminded the attack. No, they did not need to know such details. He would never tell his own parents, and he was not about to tell Chad’s. Peter finished his tale and excused himself, knowing Chad needed time with his parents, whether he liked it or not.
***
Peter walked down a long sterile corridor to a payphone near the front entrance. It was lunchtime in Oklahoma. His father would be home, sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a ham and tomato sandwich and an ice-cold Dr. Pepper. He would be nattering with his mother, complaining about difficult tenants. He called collect. He feared Simon may have called them as well and that they would be panicking. More than that, he needed to hear their voices.
”Mom? It’s me … Yeah, it’s great to hear your voice too … No, nothing special … Really. I just wanted to call … No, I am fine. Everything’s fine … Dad? Yeah, Hi. No, I am fine … Yeah, we just left Victoria Falls … It was amazing, incredible … Yes, I’m sure I’m all right. How are y’all? … Great! … Really? When’s it due? … That’s cool … So I’ll be an uncle when I get back home. Wow! … No. No problems at all … I know you’ve been worried … Yes, I know it’s been scary for y’all. We’ve been fine, honestly. We should be back in South Africa at the end of this week … Yeah, I suppose it is safer there … Yeah, a lot safer … I know you have … I know. Keep praying, Mom … I know you will … I love y’all too … I miss y’all too … I love you both … Okay, I will, I will … Bye…Love you.’
Peter hung up and slid down the side of the wall under the phone. With his head buried in his knees, he wept and wept. At that moment, he longed to be home where tragedy and terror were distant anomalies that rarely became reality, where life was simple and safe.
***
Chad’s mother pulled a chair up to his bed and gently held his hand. His father stood at the foot of the bed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Lucinda said, “Oh, Chad. We have been worried sick since we heard you were in Rhodesia. You didn’t even tell us you were here! We had to hear it from dear Natalie.”
“I knew you’d worry, Mom. I didn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry.”
“
And to think now what could have happened … I can’t think about it. It was bad enough for you to go to South Africa. I am sorry, Chad … I have been worried sick. I’m just being a mother.”
“It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay. I’m sorry you had such a scare. Simon shouldn’t have called you until he had all the details. Really, he shouldn’t have called you at all.”
“Of course he should have!” His mother stood, bent over and kissed her son, then put her head on his cheek.
Patrick spoke from the foot of the bed. “See what this has done to your mother? See how hard this is for her?” He crossed his arms and turned his head away from Chad. “Look what you’ve done to us! I don’t know what you’re doing in this godforsaken, goddamn country anyway. Where did you get this harebrained idea anyway?”
Chad refrained from responding. It was clear that even the near death of his son could not touch his father’s heart. It did not appear to evoke an iota of sympathy and certainly no empathy.
His mother’s tears resumed. She reached into her handbag, searching for some more tissues.
His father turned, took two steps toward the window, stared out and said, “You’re going to come home with us. You will not put us through this nonsense anymore. It is well time you came home.”
“There is no way I’m coming home. No fucking way! I’m staying here. That is my decision. Stop treating me like a goddamn child!”
“Chadwick, don’t speak to your father that way.”
Chad was immediately sorry for speaking like that in front of his mother, but he did not regret his tirade.
Patrick turned and looked at Chad with eyes proclaiming anger and hurt. “You will come home.”
“I will go to hell first.”
“Please stop it! Please stop it, you two,” Lucinda pleaded in a near whine.
“I’ve had enough.” Patrick turned and strutted down the ward through the swinging doors and disappeared.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I am. I hate that. I couldn’t help it.” His mother gave the look a mother employs to declare disappointment.
Chad was not sure who had disappointed her the most. “Why does he do that? Why does he treat me like that? Like … like a …?”
“Your father wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love you.”
“Oh, Mom! You made him come. You know you did. You wouldn’t have come on your own. Stop defending him, Mom. He’s always treated me like … like nothing is ever good enough, like …like I’m never good enough.”
“Your father loves you more than you can imagine, Chadwick. He just doesn’t know how to show it. He doesn’t know how to connect with anyone. That is not your fault, and Chad, it’s not his fault. He has never known what to do with emotions, so he ignores them. He just pretends they don’t exist. To do that … well, he has to push people away … and he pushes away those he truly loves, even though he doesn’t mean to.”
“Don’t make excuses for him, Mom! There’s no excuse for being an asshole all your life.” Chad paused, and his tone eased. “I only ever wanted a little love, a little acceptance, a slight nod of the head, a pat on the back. He shouldn’t be a father if he can’t do that.” He paused and closed his eyes. “And I don’t understand why … why you’re still with him.” He looked at his mother. “Mom, sometimes I’m angry at you for putting up with him. I’m sorry, but I am so angry at you sometimes.”
Lucinda looked down. “I used to be angry at myself … some days.” She looked again at her son. “But Chad, I love your father, and I know he loves me. He proves it in his own way, and I have learned to accept that. I don’t expect more of your father than he can give.”
“That’s not fair to you, Mom – to us.”
“Chadwick, your dad loves you. However, you cannot expect him to be anything other than what he is. If you can do that, accept him as he is, well, then you will be able to let a little bit of his love inside there.” Lucinda pointed to Chad’s heart.
“You’ve deluded yourself. You know you are utterly deluded,” Chad said with an impish grin that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m through with him ... and I wish you were too.”
“Chad, if I was half as unhappy as you think I am, I would have left long ago. I love your father. I accept who he is, and overall, I am happy. I am.”
Chad took his mother’s hand and spoke solemnly with a sad resignation, “What about me, Mom? I was never happy. You should have left him for my sake if nothing else.”
Words stopped; tears came. They honored one another’s tears: tears of regret for lost years and tears for hurts that begged forgiveness but could find no solace.
***
The next morning, Dr. Shelby discharged Chad with stern instructions. “Avoid straining your neck. No twisting and no sudden movement. As much as you are able, look straight ahead, straight ahead.” He emphasized this by pointing his index finger down the corridor. “I want you to give this three good weeks to heal. Do you understand? Be extremely careful. You are a very fortunate human being. Just be careful.”
The nurse gave Chad a neck brace and with a firm tone told him to keep it on for at least two weeks.
Chad, Peter, and Lucinda walked through the hospital door into the warm morning air. It smelled fresh, exhilarating, and alive to Chad. He took off his neck brace as they walked toward the rented car. He was about to take the bandages off when his mother declared adamantly, with many threats, that he would not touch those bandages and would do exactly as the doctor had instructed. Chad put the neck brace back on.
Patrick stood next to a large sedan, holding the back door open. He forced a smile as Chad approached.
Chad noticed his father’s lips quivering, evidence to him that his dad was working hard to maintain a façade. Chad refused to get into the car. He declared with all seriousness, “We’ll hitchhike. We don’t need a lift.”
Peter shook his head and looked hard into Chad’s eye. He nearly shouted, “That’s idiotic. Just get in the car, Chad.”
“I’ll get a taxi to the train station. We’ll take the train. We shouldn’t make them drive all the way to West Nicolson just to go back to Bulawayo to catch their plane.”
Peter said, “Stop being the fool. The train’s too rough and too crowded.”
Chad’s father shut the car door and got in the driver’s seat. His mother leaned toward Chad and quietly pleaded, “I want some time with you, Chad. I wish we could stay longer, but you know your father has to get back. Do this for me. Spend a little more time with us.”
Chad placed his head next to his mother’s and whispered, “I’m afraid of what I might say – what he might say.”
Lucinda held his chin and leaned close to his face. “I am, too, but please, please make the effort.”
Chad got in the car. He vowed to himself that he would keep his mouth shut and his ears closed.
Peter sat in the front passenger seat. Lucinda joined her son in the back seat. Peter read the map as they maneuvered through Salisbury’s city center to the main road and then headed first to Bulawayo and then to West Nicolson.
When the car reached its optimum highway speed. Lucinda intruded on what had been a cruel silence. “We all know what happened last night.”
Peter did not know, and he was not going to ask – though he did have had a fairly good idea of what might have transpired.
“We are going to enjoy this journey, and we’re going to enjoy this time we have together. Dad, do you have something to say?”
Chad turned and looked out the window. He rolled his hidden eyes; this was obviously a rehearsed attempt at reconciliation.
Patrick picked up the cue and with a subdued tone said, “I was out of line last night, son. It was a long trip. Things didn’t come out in the right way. I’m … I was out of line.”
Chad muttered, “So was I,” and that was good enough. Chad had nothing else to say or add. Let’s just get this trip over with was his only thought and concern.
His fat
her continued. “It’s just … I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought … I thought I had lost you. I was so scared. It was too much. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was upset with what happened, not with you. I know things came out all wrong. I’m sorry I came across as I did, but I’ve never been as relieved in all my life as I was last night. I … I really am … I love you, son… I’m so …”
Chad could see his father was working hard to suppress any further emotions, and he noticed a single tear surface. His dad quickly wiped it away.
Chad wondered what to make of his father’s rehearsed speech. It did not sound like his mom had told him what to say, so perhaps he was sincere. But, Chad thought, it is not enough. It can never be enough. He turned his shoulders to the window and closed his eyes. After all, that was what his dad had taught him, to never give in.
Lucinda asked countless questions about what had happened in their lives over the past six months. It was up to Peter to field the questions. His account of their adventures was abridged; he edited out important twists and turns in the story, such as Chad’s romantic interest and the turmoil with his true love’s father. Edited as well was the growing conflict he and Chad had experienced as they immersed themselves into two different and separate worlds. He also left out the ugly tales of apartheid, the secret South Africa that all Whites seemed to ignore.
***
Andrew and Nick ran to embrace Peter and Chad as they disembarked from the rented vehicle. It nearly turned into a tackle.
Lucinda held in a scream and managed to say, “Now be careful. Be careful now.” She stated this in a normal tone of voice, though her face communicated absolute terror.
Richard and Amanda took their turns giving enthusiastic but gentle hugs. They overflowed with worry, concern, and relief. They greeted Peter and Chad as any parents would – that is, parents who understand that death comes swiftly and indiscriminately in this, their homeland.
After a cup of tea and a snack of yellow-topped cupcakes, enthusiastically prepared the evening before by two hyperactive young lads, Chad’s parents got in the car to drive back to Bulawayo and catch a late plane to Mombasa with a connecting flight to JFK.
The Smoke That Thunders Page 25
