Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death

by Karen Diana Montee

  Nervously, I opened the door. A well-dressed young woman stood at the door. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle. My name is Elisabeth Chopra. I stood behind you in the line for the toilet this morning. May I visit with you? I am traveling alone. You are traveling alone, oui?”

  “Oui.”

  “A friend would help with the boredom. Do you mind?” It was impossible to know if this woman was really seeking a friendship, or was a possible spy. I knew I couldn’t divulge much.

  After my surprise wore off, I answered. “Bonjour, My name is Margareta Sonnet. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Having a friend for this miserable journey would be lovely. Would you like to come in?”

  “Oui, this tiny room offers some peace. The dining room is full of people who speak of the ocean swallowing the ship or the storm getting us lost at sea. People can be too dramatic. Boats have crossed this sea for four hundred years. It’s far more fun to speak of the adventures we shall have in America.”

  I liked Elizabeth from the moment she introduced herself. She helped distract my mind from constantly thinking of Jean-Paul. We sat in the small space and shared our stories.

  Her dark brown eyes stared into mine. She watched me with grave intensity. Her smile seemed a bit too kind and her body just slightly too close. I felt thrown and confused by her overtly friendly gestures, although I responded with warmth and invitation. Something was different about Elisabeth. My mind worked to decide if I could trust this beautiful woman.

  “Tell me, what brought you on this difficult journey?” she asked.

  I thought of Jean-Paul on his three week voyage in third class or worse. In his weakened state, I wondered how he would fare under the difficult conditions. A sting of hatred for Andre shook me. Then the anger turned towards me, as I realized that I begged Jean-Paul to take me to the flat where we were watched. The suffering he experienced was my doing.

  “Oh, um,” I waited, wanting to know that I could confide in her. If I didn’t tell her all of the details then my story was probably safe. To begin with I would share a little and then more if I could trust her. “You see my love has already departed for America to set up a business. I am traveling there to join him. We are to be married. He’s also an artist. He paints beautifully.”

  “He paints? How charming. Has he done well as a painter? Will I have heard of him?”

  “Non, he’s not well known in Paris. He will be, someday.”

  “Why were you not married in Paris? Won’t your family miss your ceremony?”

  “My parents are not excited about this marriage. But we will either return to Paris to be wed or they can travel to America. My love is not planning on staying in America. He will establish the business and return to France after a couple of years.” I didn’t want to give her the real story, just in case she told the wrong person. “And what about you? Will you return to Paris someday?”

  “Non, I shall never return,” she said in a serious tone. She paused briefly and then changed the subject. Her story could be more interesting than mine, or perhaps similar.

  “Where are you going to live in the vast land of America?” she asked.

  “California, in the San Francisco area. What about you? Have you decided?”

  “I have no plans yet. I am ready for a new place, that’s all.” She looked off into the empty space of the cabin, dreaming, remembering something.

  “What brings you to leave our great country?”

  “My goodness, that’s a greater question than you know. Where to begin? Can I trust you Margareta?”

  “Oui, you most certainly may. I promise.”

  “Then you shall get an ear full.” She paused and swallowed. Then she took a deep breath and began. “I am running away from my family and they do not know my whereabouts. My family is furious with me. They consider me a rebellious child, an unruly girl and a sinner. If it were a few hundred years ago my family would have had me burned at the stake for disgracing them. My best option was to flee.”

  “My goodness, Elisabeth, dare I ask why they feel this strongly towards you?”

  “Dare only if you are brave enough to hear it.”

  I nodded my head, a bit hesitantly with wide eyes and much curiosity.

  Elisabeth continued. “My parents call me unchaste. They found out that I have been intimate with a boy…or two. As if God shall disown me. It doesn’t matter that my father has touched this body for his own pleasure, but that a boy my age has enjoyed me, means I am sinful, and worthy of hell. Well, I am a strong-minded girl. I don’t need my family’s judgment or morals to guide me. I will make a new life for myself in a new country with friends who do not judge me.”

  “Do you have anyone to help you in America?” I asked in amazement.

  “Non.”

  The thought of traveling to a new land without a person to greet me at the disembarking of the ship scared me. Suddenly I felt concern for this girl who would find herself alone in a foreign place, if this story she told was true. It was possible that Andre had sent her to me to learn of my plans once I exited the ship.

  Although I didn’t know if I could trust her, I realized in some ways she was like me. Our families wanted to decide what was best for us. We had to flee our families if we wanted to make our own choices. We were alone on this ship, and we both had been intimate prior to marriage. We came from religious upbringing and decided to make choices against that dogma. Yet I had a man traveling to America who loved me and would protect me. She was alone. It hurt to think of how that must feel. People may take advantage of her. How would she find a job? Why did families put morals above loving their children? Would a loving God really do such a thing? Would a loving God want this beautiful girl to go into New York City alone?

  We visited for hours. She agreed to bring my lunch to me after I told her that a man on the ship had frightened me the first day with his strong advances and I preferred to eat in my room rather than the dining room. She didn’t like the dining room either and didn’t mind bringing our meals to the cabin to eat with me. We laughed and shared stories. For moments at a time, life seemed easy and painless. It was great to have a friend with whom to share the ride.

  The sea tossed our floating home for four days without reprieve. I considered myself to be a durable woman, yet I had never experienced the difficulty of this discomfort. The food served aboard the ship was poor quality. The only meat available was chicken bones with a small amount of overcooked flesh, along with a watery, onion soup. I consumed the meals only because of hunger. The cabins lacked fresh air. Many passengers became sea sick, while the stale air filled with a stench of vomit and urine, making it next to impossible to not become ill. There were not enough restrooms aboard the ship, and they didn’t seem to ever empty.

  Each day I lay in my cabin bed wondering how Jean-Paul survived these conditions with possibly broken ribs and swollen eyes. Sadness for his plight and discomfort, along with guilt for bringing it upon him, plagued me.

  Each day I visited with Elisabeth, learning more about her siblings, parents, dreams and the boy she loved. She left him when she left her family, knowing they would never accept him, or her. She never thought to ask him to come with her.

  On day five of the journey, the boat floated smoothly. Stewards came through the ship announcing that the sun was out and passengers were free to walk about the deck. “Elisabeth begged me to come on deck and see the sun with her. Reluctantly I put on my wig and followed her for some fresh air.

  I noticed that people were slowly leaving their cabins they had grown to appreciate for the safety they provided from the weather and to despise for the confinement and stench it forced upon them. My eyes squinted against the bright sunshine not seen for days. Other’s faces held a protective look against the new air and light, but then softened to one of relief and then joy.

  On deck people showed their enthusiasm for their new start coming soon. Travelers began to communicate with one another, asking about their plans, sharing their own dreams. Co
mradery was high as people felt a brother and sisterhood with their fellow, captive boatmen.

  Elisabeth danced to the harmonica and asked me to join her. I declined and tried to remain anonymous. Unfortunately my wig was beautiful and drew the attention of many men. I kept my face covered with the large locks.

  When the music wasn’t playing, Elisabeth and I stared off at the sea and made our wishes to the sun and waves. In a few days I would never see her again. That thought made me sad, but I also knew that we were different. She was looking for a different adventure than I. Her ideas intimidated me, and I didn’t want to see how her unplanned future turned out. Even if she was Andre’s spy, I would never forget her.

  ***

  Chapter Ten: Reality is Perception

  Nairobi, Kenya: Kenyatta National Hospital, November, 2005

  I blinked my eyes open to overwhelming brightness. Nothing came into focus. Shades of white and gray shadows surrounded me. Blurred objects moved about the room.

  “Her eyes are open! Nurse, she opened her eyes!” a man’s voice said loudly.

  A new shadow appeared closer to me, and she spoke with a strong accent I hadn’t heard before. “She be seeing. De pupil es responding. I will git de doctor.”

  “Dee, can you hear me?” someone said. “Dee, it’s Brian. Can you say something? Anything? Make a sound. Nod your head. Dee?”

  Brian? I wanted to say, Do I know you? My mouth didn’t obey me. “Auhet.” A sound came out of me, but it wasn’t a word. “Ahnn.” Another sound escaped. What’s the matter with my mouth?

  “Dee! That’s fantastic. Wow. You had me worried. This is amazing.”

  What’s amazing? I can’t form a word. I can’t see where I am. I can’t remember why I’m lying here without vision. I have no idea who is speaking to me. Where is Cherie? This must be a dream! God I’m sleepy. I’m incredibly sleepy.

  “Dee, wait! Don’t sleep. Dee. The doctor’s coming. He needs to check on you. Please don’t sleep. Wait just a few minutes. Please.”

  “Uh wheet. Ahuu!”

  “Everything’s all right, Dee. Your jaw was broken. It’s still healing. Your mouth is stiff from when it was sown shut. See if you can wiggle your jaw. Can you see me?” A shadow formed above me, hovering over my bed. “I’m here for you, Dee.”

  I blinked my eyes and squinted. But I couldn’t make out any features. What the hell? “Ahhhhuuh!!”

  “It’s okay, Dee. The doctor said that when you woke up you could have trouble with speech and motor skills. Don’t worry. You just woke up from…from…an eight week coma. There’s no easy way to say this. You were in an auto accident. You had several injuries, including a head injury. You’re now in the Kenyatta National Hospital in Nairobi. There are excellent doctors here who have performed…”

  “Am I hearing you complimenting our good staff, young Brian?” A man with an Indian accent, interrupted the man speaking to me and a new shadow approached my bed.

  “Doctor, we have great news. Look at Dee. She’s awake. She made sounds too. This is great, right? Just like you said. She will get better now, right?”

  “Be taking some breaths, Brian. It is good to be breathing and relax when beside Miss Dee. Keep her knowing that all is well. Yes, this is all bery good. We expect her to be awaking as the swelling is subsiding. More improvement should be happening with de time. Let me examine our good patient and see de progress she’s making now. Look at the light in front of you Miss Dee, please.”

  A small bright light appeared directly above my head. The intensity irritated my eyes, causing me to blink several times. “Excellent response,” replied the doctor. “Squeeze my finger if you can Miss Dee.”

  A finger slipped in against my palm. With focus, I pictured closing my hand, but I couldn’t tell if it was actually making the motion that I visualized. Then I felt my fingers close around the finger against my palm. I tried to smile but I couldn’t tell if my mouth moved.

  “You will feel some tapping Miss Dee. Not to worry. I’m just testing you reflexes.” I felt tapping on my elbows and knees. Then I felt fingers pressing under my chin and at my neck. “Her progress is most wonderful. You can be smiling now for certain, young Brian. Your friend is getting much better now.”

  “Oh, thank God. Thank you, doctor. Thank you.”

  “Mostly it is God and Miss Dee that did the miracle. I’m just the servant. She will still want to rest much. Please let this lady take the sleep so often. You will do this, yes?”

  “Of course, doctor. Whatever you say.”

  “I will see you later, Miss Dee. Don’t be fearing no things. You’re healing bery fast going forward.”

  The doctor walked away and I tried to piece things together in my mind. This couldn’t be real. It didn’t feel real. I couldn’t move, speak, see or remember. It was definitely like a dream. It had to be a bad dream. Soon I would wake up in a ship leaving Paris, or…or I would wake up in Seattle, Washington. Wait…if I woke up from this dream where would I be, Kenya, Seattle, Paris or on the ocean? Nothing made sense, or felt clear. I just felt tired, extremely tired.

  The nurse woman spoke again. “Miss Dee, de doctor tells me to gives you de bath while yous es awake. He is saying that de stimulation is good pour the body to wake up to. You could be tired Miss Dee, but first you must have de bath. You must be going, young Brian. I will tells you when you can come see her.”

  Two women undressed me in my bed and used warm water and towels to wash my skin from head to toe. Without seeing them, I lay naked before them and they could see all of me. It felt uncomfortable to not see the women who were intimately caring for me.

  Most of the warm towels felt nice against my skin. Some areas they touched were very tender or the skin felt hypersensitive, as if I’d been burned there. Flinching was a challenge because my muscles wouldn’t obey me. Sounds escaped my lips, and the nurses tried to understand. “Does dat hurt Dee?”

  “Aaann.”

  “Maybe dis hurts. Be careful dere.”

  They dried my body, dressed me in a fresh hospital gown and changed the sheets right underneath me by leaning me to one side and then the other. The bath was very medicinal, and didn’t feel like a dream. But it didn’t feel normal, nor did I. Pain surfaced all over my body. It seemed suddenly cold and as if involuntary shivering could begin at any moment. Weakness, discomfort, confusion and frustration overwhelmed me all at the same time. Wake up, wake, up, wake, up. I want to wake up!!!! This can’t be real.

  The nurse invited Brian back into the room. He stood over me. “How do you feel now Dee? Was the bath okay?”

  “Ah ouu…wha wha.” My mouth just would not express the words I wanted to say.

  “You’re going to be good as new, Dee. The doctor said that after an injury like yours, it will take time to walk, talk and be functional again. Just keep trying. It will be easy to get frustrated, but this is all a part of recovering. Would you like me to tell you what happened?”

  I wanted to turn my head towards him or nod my head, but could do neither, so I blinked my eyes twice. It was all I could think of.

  “Okay, I think that was a yes. The doctor said that you may not remember much, so I will start at the beginning. You and I live in Seattle, Washington. You have three daughters, and two son-in-laws. You and I are friends, but moving towards being more than friends. We met two years ago. I invited you to come to Kenya with me to take some pictures. I’m here to talk to different Masai tribes about allowing education for their young people. You came to photograph the Masai people and traditions, such as circumcision, to help the world understand the problems that the Masai face in Kenya and the surrounding countries. Are you following me so far, Dee?” he asked.

  I blinked again.

  “Oh good, you and I were in a van traveling towards Mt. Kilimanjaro for pictures. You were standing up in the van when we were hit from behind and then hit head-on by a delivery truck. Our van tipped over and slammed into the ground. You’re very lucky to have survive
d the crash from where you stood. You wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for Leboo.”

  My whole body jerked. Goosebumps formed all over. That name, Leboo. Yes, I knew it. That name makes me smile. It’s a boy right? Was Leboo a little boy who smiled a lot?

  Brian continued unaware of my reaction to the boy’s name. “Leboo grabbed you. He got your head into the van before we tumbled. Your head might have been chopped off otherwise Dee. Sorry. Maybe you didn’t need to know that. The driver and I were wearing seat belts. We survived better than you and Laboo. When I finally got to you, Leboo was wrapped around you, even though he was unconscious. You both were thrown against the side of the van when it tumbled over and hit the ground. The window busted and you each had cuts and abrasions covered in dirt and head injuries. You broke your arm and Jaw. Leboo broke his shoulder socket and color bone. His neck is injured, but not broken. Your hip is bruised and you have a puncture to your leg. We don’t think you have any paralysis from the head injury, because the doc says your reflexes are good. You have swelling in the back of your head and you need to have brain surgery, but they won’t do it until you are awake and will consent to the risky surgery. Hopefully you’re ready to hear all of this. For eight weeks I sat here wondering how I would tell you all of this. I guess it’s best to just tell you everything.”

  I began to cry. Tears pooled in my eyes. I felt sad for Leboo. He saved my life, again, and it cost him greatly. Perhaps I cried for me too. I couldn’t move my body, speak or see. I tried not to panic, but all of it felt unfair. How would I survive this life if I didn’t get better?

  “Um, here, let me get you a handkerchief for those tears. Relax. It will be okay. You will get better. It’s okay to cry Dee. I’ve sat here with you since they released me from the hospital. I always knew that you would wake up. You’re strong Dee; exceptionally strong.” Brian grabbed my hand and held it. It felt strange to be so intimate, but it helped me not feel alone. I wanted to squeeze his hand as a return gesture. All I could do was lie still. I couldn’t even turn my head.