Ordinary Obsessions

by Tom Corbett

  One or two other staff members were likely to be there, though he was not yet sure which ones. They would have come down from the main offices in London, the size of which had grown over the years. In recent months, he would look around in wonder at the faces he did not recognize. What had started out as a challenge to prove his professors wrong was now an internationally recognized service organization. He smiled at a private recollection. There was a story he ran across once about the founder of Federal Express who had gotten a low grade on a paper that proposed the concept of what became a multi-billion-dollar operation. He was told by his business-school professor that his concept lacked feasibility. That drove him to prove them wrong and he did. In any case, the topic today would be an upcoming trip to the Middle East. It was time to take stock in several programs, particularly one close to Chris’s heart: Afghanistan. It had been there that he had met Azita and Deena and, of course, his wife Amar. That was where he had discovered his life.

  He always smiled at the thought of those early days as things came to a head with the Taliban and he frantically flew into the Panjshir valley to set things right. He would drag Kay out of harm’s way. Kay had bridled at the thought that her twin brother was being protective of her, as if she were a child. After all, she was fourteen minutes older than he was.

  Kay had her choice of medical careers. She had chosen a position where, night after night, she would face the detritus of society as they poured through the doors of Chicago’s biggest public hospital, victims of a broken society’s carnage. He certainly knew why she had defied their Father, that bastard had raped her repeatedly when she was a young teenager. He even knew why Kay eventually fled the States to work for Chris’s operation in Pakistan. Then, she had defied him and joined Amar in the Panjshir Valley. Who was Chris to tell her what to do? After all, he had fled to England, ostensibly for a Rhodes scholarship, but then had never returned. She well knew the reason for his personal exile: he was running away from his tyrant of a Father and a family falling apart. She eventually would do the same, by running away to a place even further away. The home of the Northern Alliance was just about as far away as anyone could run.

  Chris came out of his daydream, retrieving his ringing phone. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Amar, calling him back. He seldom got to her on his first call when she was on duty at the hospital. Surgery was a morning routine, but her afternoons were also very busy.

  “Hi, glad you called back.”

  “No problem, I have saved enough lives today already. Did you know we have a quota on that, how many lives we can save in a day? In any case, you are my favorite husband today but, then again, the day is yet young.” Over time, she had fallen seamlessly into his incessant dry wit and loving banter.

  “Yeah, that is what all the girls say, you have no idea how burdensome it is to be a sex object.” Then Chris thought about a fact that always concerned him. Men must come on to his wife all the time, she was a beauty. Funny, it used to be the women in his life worrying about his roving eye. Now, the roles were reversed though women were still attracted to him. He was not blind.

  Amar let out an involuntary chuckle. “The burdens of being a sex object…you would not have a clue, of that I am sure. What’s on your mind, stud?”

  “Here’s the thing. I had a serious chat with our oldest and dearest.”

  “Something wrong?” There was concern in her voice.

  “Well, yes, and it is something that needs a woman’s touch, not that I don’t have a well-developed feminine side.”

  “Go on while I search for a barf bag,” she joked but her voice betrayed her concern.

  “There is a semi-serious and a serious issue.” Chris remained on point. “Which do you want first?”

  “Start with the less serious.”

  “She is having problems with Ben,” he said simply.

  “Only a man would not consider that serious…developed feminine side my ass. What’s the problem?”

  “It is something we have wondered about before. She thinks he is having trouble with his parents, they apparently have never come around on this love affair. Remember when we thought they would set a date after she got her last degree? Well, I suspect the parents had first waited things out, assuming it would never last. I am sure they applied soft pressure on him, trying to convince him that this Muslim-Jewish partnership could never work without confronting him directly. You know kids, saying no might drive them to do the opposite. I give the boy credit, he hung in there, but I suspect they are upping the pressure and he is buckling. Of course, he might just be taking time to finally find his balls. At least, that is how I see it.”

  “Quite astute for a guy, but then you do have that feminine side.” Her sarcasm was obvious. “Yes, it is time for a mother-daughter talk. I have never had the talk with her.”

  “Sex.”

  “No silly, about the fact that all men are total jerks and complete idiots.”

  “I thought all women knew that instinctively, it was something they inherited through their mothers. Anyways, now to the bigger one: I think she is going through a ‘meaning of life’ crisis.”

  “We all do that from time to time, I question my marriage choice all the time.” She sounded light, concluding that his bigger issue was not that big.

  “Yeah, well, joke if you will but here is the thing: she wants to go with Karen and the group on the Mideast tour, and especially back to her home. She said she needs to reconnect with her culture, her roots I guess.”

  “Shit,” he heard over the phone. She seldom used even the most innocent of foul language, and this caught his attention. “I don’t want her going without me, us, me.”

  “Well, she is technically an adult. We can’t stop her, and she would be helpful to the team. I could tell Karen to simply refuse to take her, but she would be furious with me. I mean Zita would be furious. Though Karen might also be pissed that I was interfering.” Chris had used his pet name for his adopted daughter. “The problem is that Karen would be delighted to have her along, as would Deena.”

  There was a momentary silence as Amar processed the choices. “We cannot forbid her to go.”

  “Damn,” Chris clearly was exasperated. “I don’t think I can go with her. Something came up this morning that will take me back to the States. On the other hand, I agree. I don’t think we can say no if she is serious.”

  “At the same time,” Chris could hear anguish in his wife’s voice, “I don’t care if she is the next Albert Schweitzer and wants to save the world, that place is still dangerous. The war there has been going on forever.”

  “Just since 2001, the current American one that is, and before that the civil war and before that the Soviets. Not so long, really. Europe once had a one-hundred-year war, which in truth went on longer than that. Of course, we don’t know if this one will ever end. Maybe when America runs out of money.”

  “Don’t.” She obviously was concerned and beyond his attempts at levity. “Okay, this is all boy trouble. That is all it is. I can handle this. By the way, what commitments back in the States? I don’t recall you mentioning anything.”

  Chris didn’t want to go there, he should not have mentioned it. “Not now, later.”

  “Okay, later for sure. Right now, I am getting a medical page. One last thing, if she goes, I am going with her.”

  She was gone. On the one hand, he was glad not to have to get into the issues Azita raised that morning about her deeper conflicts over cultural identification. On the other hand, he wanted to tell her that this was more than Azita’s feelings for Ben. His daughter felt torn in two fundamentally opposed directions. Amar should know that from her own background. Sometimes she had confessed missing India, the beautiful but conflicted area of Kashmir, over which India and Pakistan contested for control. Then it hit him: both his daughter and wife might be going into harm’s way. Damn, everything had been so good.

  Chris walked on. He was debating whether to call her back when he n
oticed Karen and Deena standing outside his local ISO office. Obviously, they were waiting for him. With them were Carlotta, a long-time staff member who also had doctorate in nursing, and a young man that Chris did not recognize. After perfunctory greetings, Karen announced: “To the Hairy Hare, your favorite watering hole. Ricky and Kay are waiting for us there.”

  “Ricky? I had heard rumors that he would make it but thought my luck might hold out.”

  “He called to say he desperately needed to once again make your life a living misery, those were his exact words I believe,” Karen chirped. “Came in from Brussels this morning on his way back home. He could not miss out on our torture session of you. Very kind of him, no?”

  A few minutes later they entered the darkened interior with its faux 16th-century English pub ambiance. Chris suddenly exclaimed excitedly: “Oh look, Karen, the barmaid still has it. Her rack looks just great after all these years. Good thing you never left me for a job here, you just wouldn’t make the grade with this competition.”

  “Bite me, you idiot, that is the original barmaid’s daughter. Hell, she might not even be old enough to work here and she is certainly too smart to give you the time of day. You are way too long in the tooth my friend. By the way, her mother now owns the place.”

  “Really, why didn’t I notice that?” Chris squinted to get a closer look. “Hell, the tips here must be great if her mom could buy this place.”

  “They are if you have a great rack, like the one I have. Besides, she probably robbed the former owners blind.”

  “Deena,” Chris yelled. “You would know. How good is Karen’s rack?”

  “You are terrible.” Karen’s domestic partner mumbled, hitting him lightly on the arm, though with a smile. Unlike her sister Azita, it had taken Deena a longer time to become accustomed to Chris’s irreverence. He often wondered how the attraction between Karen and Deena had begun. On the surface, they were so different. Then again, Azita’s sister was a real looker, a fantasy or two had nibbled at his own conscience at first before being pushed away. He often laughed at the men who almost tripped over their own feet to get a better look at this dark-haired beauty. Then he realized that he would have been one of those foolish men were she not a part of his life.

  “No, Deena. Like I taught you. Like this.” With that, Karen gave Chris a good whack.

  “Ok, I give,” he said, wincing with some real pain. Now the answer about how these two opposites connected was clear. They were co-conspirators in a plot to inflict great pain on him.

  They joined a table where Ricky was already was seated with Kay, Chris’s sister. He hugged Ricky, whom he had not seen in a while, and exchanged warm greetings with his sister. Odd, Chris thought, he and his twin sister seldom hugged despite their growing affection for one another, a connection that had fallen on hard times for a while.

  “Well,” Ricky intoned. “I see nothing has changed, Karen is yet beating the shit out of you. I wasn’t sure if I would need to call the EMTs or the local constabulary. It was worth the effort to bust my ass getting here.”

  “And to think,” Chris intoned without expression, “when she came to me begging for a job, she was hanging around street corners, plying the most ancient of all trades.”

  “Careful, Chris,” said Deena. “You will have to deal with the two of us now, maybe four with Ricky and your sister. And never forget that now I am well trained by Karen.”

  “Okay, I surrender. I am an idiot but not a total idiot.” He knew a witty comeback was coming his way, so he preempted it by continuing. “So, Ricky, been doing the Lord’s work around the world. Nice of you to stop by on your way back to the windy city.”

  Ricky smiled with the confidence of someone who had come far from a ghetto on the west side of Chicago. “If you mean your sister Kat’s work, yes. I have been visiting the money makers in Asia and Europe to firm up the far-flung enterprises of the Crawford Empire. You can thank me personally when your share prices increase even further. Also raised a little money for your international efforts; my heart is still with this program.”

  Karen reached over and grabbed his hand. “And we thank you, you are the best of all the men associated with the Crawford clan.”

  Ricky smiled. “You always were the discerning one in this crowd. I will say one thing, for a black kid from the ghetto I have gone far in this world. While in Asia, I visited this coastal city that was little more than a tiny fishing village in the late 1970s. The government selected it for development and now it is an ultra-modern metropolis of over 12 million. Unbelievable accomplishment and the investment opportunities there are amazing. What the Chinese are doing with renewable energy sources…but we are not here to hear my adventures as a contemporary Marco Polo.”

  Chris decided to follow up with Ricky later regarding what he was seeing. Rather, he looked at his sister. “Say Kay, what will you and your far better half be doing once Jamie is no longer healing her majesty’s finest?”

  “We will take some time to look at our options, I have a teaching commitment this fall. But, then, maybe we might look overseas again. We still feel the pull to be where the need is greatest. Helping Karen run the medical program has its rewards, but I miss getting my hands bloody.”

  “Oh, I do know of this international organization that used to do good work. However, I hear that they have fallen on bad times, poor leadership.” Chris deadpanned as Deena threw a pretzel at him. “Or you can attend to me after the daily beatings. Et tu, Deena?”

  “The young woman smiled. “I have learned from the best.”

  Karen took over the initiative. “Before we get serious, though nothing is more serious than torturing this poor excuse of a man.” She nodded toward Chris. “Let me introduce Atle Bergstrom. Not all of you know him since this is his first trip to Oxford. For some reason, he wanted to meet the great founder of our enterprise. Despite this deplorable lack of judgment, he has been a great addition to the staff. He has done some work with UNICEF and Oxfam, but he likes us the best. Go figure. Anyways, he is a computer whizz and hales from one of those Scandinavian countries. I forget which one, they are all pretty much the same.”

  Atle laughed. “Don’t say that when you have a Swede and a Norwegian in the same room. Professor Crawford, you will be happy to know that I read a paper of yours when I was an undergraduate, the one on better organizational strategies for delivering humanitarian services. That is probably why I am here.”

  “If I had known that,” Karen smiled, “I never would have hired you.”

  “Atle, I can see you are a man of considerable acumen and an exemplary judge of people and ideas. Welcome aboard and call me anytime if Karen gives you trouble.”

  “Barf bag, barf bag,” Karen called out, making the universal hand gesture suggesting she was throwing up her lunch.

  Chris missed this banter. The academy was too stuffy, too formal. Academics tended to take things, and themselves, way too seriously. People who worked directly with the underside of society needed a release through dark and unforgiving humor. “Okay,” he said. “let’s do a little bit of work before we get too drunk or I am stoned to death by some angry females.”

  Karen started: “Nothing terribly unusual. On our proposed tour, we are mostly going to our sites in Pakistan, Jordon, Gaza, and Afghanistan, then over to the Horn of Africa. We will do the usual site reviews, but just in the more problematic sites. Deena will evaluate our educational programs. Carlotta will assess the service needs. Jamie, as I think all of you know by now is mustering out of her majesty’s service, but not in time to join us, so your dear sister here will evaluate the medical services if he is unavailable. More likely, he will stay with the children. One big issue is ISIS and how we might respond to the damage they are doing. Osama is gone only to be replaced by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. There is an endless supply of assholes ready to make mischief, so we will give Syria a hard look. Of course, we will look at opportunities to insert medical teams into some new sites there, the medica
l teams remain the heart of what we do. Perhaps we can lend a hand if we can get some of our top people to go.”

  “We are still talking about Jamie, right, for the sites near the fighting? Not…” Chris did not finish but looked at Kay, his sister.

  Karen smiled at Chris and said: “Still the protector, I see. You can relax. If we nail Jamie to help with the overseas start-ups, your sister here will stay behind to care for the kids. She thinks they are still a bit young to be left behind.”

  “Wait,” Chris needed to regroup. “I am not protecting my sister. Hey, she is a big girl, she can take care of the young ones all by herself. I’m not worried. After all, she raised me all those years.”

  “Girl?” This came from Carlotta. “Is that what I heard?”

  “Oy vey, for such a highly educated guy, I really am a dumb shit. Most people don’t know this but, until I was twenty-seven, I thought my legal name was dumbass.”

  Ricky just smiled. “This makes the trip worth it, to watch the master screw-up try to wiggle his way out of all the trouble he gets in with his big mouth.”

  “This from the man that would yet be a gang-banger in Chicago had I not discovered him during his misspent youth.”

  “Karen, you finished with the barf bag yet.” Ricky smiled. “I need it next.”

  Chris suddenly turned serious, the others noticed and paused to see where he might go next. “Listen, here is an unexpected twist you might have to deal with. Azita wants to go, I think.”

  Deena let out a muffled shout: “Really? How brilliant!” She was obviously ecstatic. The sisters had grown close but had trouble finding time to be together. Then it struck her that Chris might not share her excitement.