Ordinary Obsessions

by Tom Corbett

  At dinner, they unanimously complained that they should have found an authentic Afghan restaurant to dine in. The food was of a decent quality but more suited to bland, Western tastes. Why had northern Europeans and so many Americans settled for such uninspiring cuisine? Perhaps it was a manifestation of their tendency to seek out similarly bland lives where they entombed themselves in hermetically-sealed suburbs. Karen concluded that such a life was death by dripping compromise with anything real shunned as if it were the reprise of the bubonic plague.

  As Karen propped her laptop on her thighs, she smiled. She remembered frequent debates with Chris when they had traveled in safe, European cities. She would argue that they did not have to waste money on the best hotels, they could easily stay at accommodation with a lower rating. Chris would give her his are you nuts look and make his usual joke about wanting the toilet to be inside his room. She would call him a snob and he would retort that she was still a peasant. Then they would register at a fine offering with which she was secretly pleased. Oh my God, she thought to herself, I hate the fact that he is back in America. I will miss him terribly.

  She had completed some routine correspondence with her staff back in London. She leaned back a moment. She was both energized and taken aback by her newly attained position. She had been nominally in charge of the service organization for some time now but had never quite shaken the sense that she was the associate director on paper, acting director in reality. Yes, she was making the day-to-day decisions but always with the knowledge and comfort that Chris was nearby, down the road in Oxford. She could pop down and he always made time for her. They would wander over to the Hairy Hare where she could talk through whatever bothered her at the time. Better, she could trade insults with him. There was no better sport than that. She wondered if any other subordinate ever treated their superior as badly as she treated Chris. Then again, she considered the matter and concluded that everyone treated him badly. He rather enjoyed it.

  In the early days, when they had traveled together, she sometimes let a nasty thought enter her mind after a few drinks in the evening. Perhaps she should give him a shot in the sack? Males held little interest for her, but she really did like him and had bedded some boys early on in life. He was such a hit with the ladies, her curiosity did cross over into the realm of considered interest to find out why. However, the man who reputedly would ‘mount a coatrack’ never made the slightest move on her, always treating her like a sister. In the end, she always realized that her affection for him was as the brother she had always wanted, unlike the one she had. She shook her head. Putting the moves on him would have been a disaster.

  Once, her curiosity did get the better of her. After they were very comfortable with one another, she asked him if he had ever been tempted to make a pass, perhaps her body had influenced his decision to hire her. She had never considered herself very attractive, but he did make many jokes about her great body, comments that would have been challenged in a more up-tight professional environment. No, he responded, that never crossed his mind. When he intuited that Karen found this disappointing, he rushed to complete his thought. She had a great rack, but he knew she was a lesbian from the beginning of the recruitment interview. When Karen looked puzzled by this, he offered that she had to be a lesbian since she was not drooling over his good looks and charm. She could no longer recall what she threw at him in that moment, but it was something with some weight to it.

  The truth was, however, that she sometimes was scared. She had hired more staff in London. They were good people who worked hard and seemed dedicated to the work and the mission. But they were new. She really had relied on the originals. Now, damn Chris had stolen Atle to take to America. To her relief, she found that finding quality staff was not difficult, the program had gained some interest in select circles. Moreover, Kay had remained as well as Carlotta, who now was one of the veterans. And, of course, she had her partner Deena who was now 100 percent again. Karen had insisted that Deena visit her sister in America. It would be a good test to see if her stamina and health had returned enough to withstand the trials of international travel. It had all been a ruse on her part. She could not stand the thought of her lover and partner returning to the country where she had been pushed to the very cusp of death by an assassin’s bullet. Terror seized her heart at the very thought. She dreaded the thought of the day when she could not keep Deena away from her home and her obsession to advance the education of young Afghan girls. Of course, they had educational initiatives for girls in the Mideast and the Horn of Africa. And the Muslim population of London and England was growing exponentially. But Afghanistan was where Deena’s heart lay. Karen understood that all too well. At some level, she understood one thing: her relationship with this woman would never last. It would break on two fronts: there was not enough desire to keep them together and Deena’s lust for her roots could not be ignored forever.

  Now, she stared at the screen. Should she email Deena or Chris first? She could not immediately decide so she sat there ambivalent. Her mind wandered to a strange occurrence that took place just before they left the UK. Ahmad Zubair showed up at her office. She knew the young man as the mysterious boy with whom Azita had become involved after her relationship with Benjamin had fallen on hard times. In truth, she could never figure out what was going on since Azita seemed conflicted and uncertain about the situation. Karen did not know the young man well but had recalled deciding that, if she were interested in boys, this would have been her choice, or someone like him. It was not his good looks and lean, athletic body. It was not even his easy charm and intelligence. No, there was something deeper in him, an innocence and naivete that proved irresistible. But what did she know about such matters?

  When she agreed to meet him that day, he told her that Azita had mentioned in an email that Karen and her executive team would be visiting Afghanistan and other sites in the coming weeks. Please let me become part of your party, he argued forcefully. I have lived in several Mideast countries and know the culture and several languages. I can be of great help. You don’t have to pay me, and I can take care of my own expenses. At first, she was most reluctant, but Kay convinced her to relent, arguing that the young man would be of great assistance in several ways. Not only did he have local knowledge and many contacts through his father, but his knowledge of Mideastern politics and economic circumstances was encyclopedic. Besides, she had wanted to get to know better the mystery man who was apparently causing such considerable anguish on the part of her adored niece. Karen relented and, of course, picked up his expenses. He was proving invaluable and such a quick learner. Karen quickly understood that his academic preparation in economics and international affairs could make him very useful if they expanded beyond traditional human services. Karen was already wondering how they might pull him into a permanent position with the organization. She would have to check with Deena on how the relationship between Ahmad and Azita was progressing, if it was at all.

  She would start with Chris. Yes, better to get that one out of the way and then she could focus on her message to her partner. The latter one might need more thought. Yes, that sequence made sense.

  TO: Chris Crawford

  FROM: Karen Fisher

  SUBJECT: How is the traitor doing?

  Now, I am not saying you are on par with Guy Fawkes or that American rebellion guy, Benedict something or other, but I am still a bit pissed at you for running off to America, just to save the world. Is that any excuse? And then you went and kidnapped my top technical guy, Atle. But you know me, forgive and forget. I won’t stay mad at you. After all, you hired me when I pretty much thought I was unemployable, just because I gave a snarky response to one of your questions. You do realize that I only gave that response since I had concluded you had dismissed me as a candidate? Hell, why not be honest when it was already over, but you felt the need to fill up an appropriate amount of time. So, let’s say we are even though you still might check on packages from me with th
e bomb squad before trying to open them.

  Who would have suspected in the beginning that I would be running the place? Who would have predicted that? I should not put what is coming in writing because I know it will come back to bite me in the ass. I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night in a panic. My personal demon is that I will fail you. I don’t want to screw things up after you put so much trust in me. Let me confess something: I may seem together and tough, but I still have this working-class girl inside me, not feeling that I belong. It doesn’t matter that I beat out the snobby public-school brats at university. As you always said, you never shake those early scripts.

  Bottom line, I guess I am scared that you are not nearby. Modern communications are great but not the same as looking someone you trust in the eyes. Whether or not you were aware of this, I watched you very closely when we worked together, in between my insults. You really did smooth off the rough edges and managed to shape-up this energetic but rather clueless sad sack into something of substance. There is no way I can thank you enough.

  Karen had not meant to go there and was shocked at the words on the screen. She almost deleted them but held back. No, she said inside her head. He should know these things. Suddenly, she realized the moisture on her cheeks. My God, she was crying.

  Wow, enough of this maudlin crap. To business. Afghanistan is the same - bloody hot and fucked up. What was in the minds of that long-ago marauding horde that invaded from the north and decided this was the place to set up shop? Were they nuts? Of course, it might have been right after an ice age and the place was still habitable. But that was not the case when my British ancestors tried to conquer the place and had their tails handed to them. Bloody idiots.

  But enough whining. The meetings today went well. Tomorrow should be very interesting. I am going to be visiting Bahiri and Ferhana Gupta, a husband and wife doctor team that serve women and try not to only heal their bodies but also nudge their female patients in the direction of greater self-respect and independence. You know, make them more like me. How great is that. By the way, I know exactly what you would say in response to that…

  Eventually, we will make our way to back to the Panjshir site. I am sure I will be a wreck there, not so much for me as the memories of what happened to Deena. Still, Dr. Singleton, Archie that is, continues doing great work, along with his wife, Agnes. He obviously was taken with Azita when she was there last year and still talks about getting her back, maybe even after she completes her internship. When I told him that she would then do a residency, he scoffed. That is for students who have never worked around bodies, but she has been doing that since her early teens. The man has a point, she has been working around bodies since she was a kid. Still, I wonder what you and Amar think?

  One other confession. It is a little odd to be travelling with Kay but without Deena or Amar or even you being in the party. Truth is, I still find your sister attractive. Don’t get your whitey-tighties in a bunch since nothing will happen but I do reminisce about my fling with her back in the early days during these long evenings. In my opinion, she has the most sex appeal of all the Crawford kids. Wow, it must be getting time for my cold shower.

  I will fill you in as we make our way around to the other sites. Syria really intrigues me. One thing: I hope you know that I do understand what you are doing and why it is important. Just miss you is all. You are such an easy target and I have such a hard time being nice.

  Much love,

  Karen

  PS: Give all my best to Amar and Azita. For the life of me, I cannot understand how you lucked out with Amar…she seems so sensible.

  After she hit send, Karen scowled. Damn, she thought, why did I end with much love - way too sentimental. It was accurate, however. In fact, she did love him as a brother. Then she began to regret her comments about his sister, Kay. She should not have been so revealing there. But hell, she was lonely right now, and very needy. She would never have acted on it, would she?

  Three doors down, Carlotta Ciganda sat looking at her laptop. She had been trying to work up the courage to send a message to her colleague, Atle Bergstrom, who had recently left London for America with Chris. It should have been an easy message, so why was she finding it difficult to get going? After all, they had conversed nearly daily for over a year. Somehow, in her heart, she realized that deeper emotions might easily push her words from friendship to another, more dangerous place. After all, he had a partner, even if they were not married. This other woman was an artist of some ilk, an odd pairing she’d decided. She erased that running dialogue in her mind and started writing.

  TO: Atle Bergstrom

  FROM: Carlotta Ciganda

  SUBJECT LINE: Missing you.

  Hi,

  We are in Kabul right now. After we visit the Panjshir site, we will visit other Mideast and Horn of Africa sites. I am looking forward to the Syria visit with anticipation and apprehension. It is a new place for us and the situation is yet unfolding. There are two great pleasures to this job…starting something new and realizing that an established site is working. I am not certain which is the more exhilarating.

  You should have insisted on joining us on these trips. Even if you were seen as a central office type, I am sure you would have gotten so much out of the field trips. It would have made the work, the mission, more personal for you. I am convinced that those at the top of any organization must spend time with those who do the real work. Perhaps then, you would have not been so eager to move on to this new adventure in America.

  What I will miss is not having you there when we return. I always enjoyed telling you the stuff not included in the reports, the gossip and the small stuff. That was like sharing a bit of myself with someone close enough to understand. But the communication was not just one way. I remember you sharing with me the things that interested you. I can still recall one evening at the Hairy Hare. You went on and on about quantum bits where each had the property of being in the on and off position at the same time. This would lead to another exponential explosion of computing power. You were astounded when I came back with the observation that it was a bit like the Heisenberg uncertainty principle where you could only determine a particle’s position or speed but not both simultaneously. I thought at the time you were impressed that a Spanish gal could be so clever. You did think me clever, didn’t you?

  So, tell me. How is America? I realize you have not been there except for some visits but any first impressions?

  The comely woman sat back in her chair. For a moment or two, she played with her long, black hair, twisting it rather compulsively in her fingers. Damn, here she was in her thirties and had focused almost entirely on her work. Her parents were convinced she was a lesbian though never talked about it. That certainly was not the case. Still, she had largely avoided men, desperately wishing to avoid the fate of her two sisters who were already burdened with children and unfaithful husbands. She thought their lives hell on earth. At the same time, a desperate loneliness stalked her, something she could not shake. At times, it crawled up inside her, turning her stomach into an agonizing knot.

  Alright, I will get to my point. I am not interested in your impressions of America. I have visited there often enough to form my own impressions. You have my sympathy to be stuck among such people with so much ego and so little sophistication. Oh my, I have become such a snob. Don’t tell Chris…

  In truth, I am circling around what I want to say. I don’t just miss our conversations, I miss you and will really miss you when I get home and you are not there at the office. Do you have any idea of how many times I was on the verge of propositioning you? You seemed to like me but never made a move and I was raised not to be so bold. I just assumed you saw me as a silly girl or not attractive enough. No matter, I always saw us as complementary, you the cerebral Scandinavian and me the passionate, Iberian lass. In my dreams I saw us somehow coming together, making love on the sands of the Costa del Sol, the sun warming our bodies even more than the fires
of intense lovemaking.

  Okay, I just realized how juvenile that sounds. Still I am glad I got it out and am not taking it back. We live lives dedicated to bigger things and that is good. I don’t regret that for a moment. In doing so, however, we miss out on the human connection. You cannot tear yourself away from that. I cannot at least. Sometimes I think these longings are peculiar to my gender but so what? As the kids say today, it is what it is.

  Sometimes, I look at Chris and Amar, or Kay and Jamie, or Karen and Deena. They are couples and love one another. Each has children, their own or adopted. But each couple is pulled in separate directions. No one says anything but, if you watch and listen closely enough, you can see these things. These are relationships where there is great love but also forces, obsessions really, pulling them apart. Look at Amar. Can she be happy as a wife and mother and doctor to the affluent or does she need to be back here or, better still, in one of our troubled sites?

  Why did I even go there? I know. I look at these couples and see two possibilities or two examples for me. Sometimes, the lesson I draw is that it is better for me to focus on my work which I love and forget about conventional love. Other times, I see hope in the examples of my friends. If they can make their relationships work, then so can I…we? But then we don’t know if they can make them work, do we?