Old Lovers Don't Die

by Anderson, Paul G

  “It has been amazing to chat with you and thank you for your encouragement and much as I would like to hear more from you, I think I’d rather get them all over and done with at once.”

  “Very brave. Do you realise having eight vaccinations at once you may not feel well in the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours?”

  “Yes, one of my friends had all the vaccinations together and felt totally washed out for three days. But I figure that it’s better to get that over with rather than the possibility of having two lots of three days feeling terrible.”

  “Okay, take your shirt off and let’s get started.”

  Chapter 4

  Christian knelt at the side of toilet. It was three o’clock in the morning and he had been throwing up for an hour.

  “Are you okay, Christian?”

  Renata’s voice appeared from somewhere behind him as Tia the golden retriever pushed her nose into the bathroom, concerned about the unusual noise.

  He was just about to answer Renata when he vomited again. As he pushed back from the toilet bowl, he felt his mother reach forward and wipe his mouth clean.

  “I have some Stemetil in the medicine cabinet. Let me give you an injection and that should stop vomiting.”

  Christian kneeling, half turned to see his mother standing in the bathroom doorway. Renata had switched on the kitchen light so he could see her outline: dressing gown pulled tight round her waist, sleeves rolled up, and a towel in one hand. In her inimitable doctor way, she had taken control of the situation. On many occasions, he had had to fight to be able to determine his own direction; in this instance he was pleased he could trust her to take over and make him feel better.

  “Just stay as you are. Christian, keep your head over the toilet bowl in case you want to vomit again.”

  Christian watched as she swabbed his shoulder with an alcohol swab and then he felt the sharp jab of the needle. The anti-emetic she injected quickly; he was tempted to try to smile a thank you but did not trust himself to turn away completely from the toilet bowl to look at her.

  “That will take about five minutes and the nausea and vomiting should settle.”

  Christian nodded his agreement, knowing that it would take that long for the Stemetil to be absorbed but hoping that it would be shorter. Tia, as if sensing it was safe left Renata’s side, pushed her head in beside him, tail wagging. Within three minutes, he was feeling better and able to stand up although not without threatening to fall over. Renata held onto him for a moment to steady him.

  “I know mum, don’t say anything – I know I should have done the vaccinations in two sessions but I honestly thought I would be fine.”

  “Now, would I say anything like that to someone who wasn’t feeling well?”

  Smiling, Renata guided him towards his bedroom.

  “That would be taking advantage of you when you weren’t feeling well; you know I wouldn’t do that, much better to save that for the morning when you’re feeling better.” She said as she helped him into bed.

  “Thanks mum.”

  “That’s what mums are for. I hope you sleep okay now, but here’s the towel and a plastic bag in case the Stemetil wears off. Although it has a six hour half-life so you should be fine, and I will make an exception for Tia on this occasion she can sleep in your room to keep an eye on you.”

  Christian slowly opened his eyes; he could hear his mother was in the kitchen moving pots and pans around. He had slept soundly and not vomited again; hopefully though, his mother was not preparing bacon and eggs as she normally did on a Saturday morning. The nausea had settled but he did not want it challenged by anything that was fried. As he pulled on his dressing gown and walked into the kitchen, Renata turned to look at him.

  “Not quite the son I know, but certainly a better variation of the one that I saw last night.”

  “Thanks mum – and good to see it’s not the normal bacon and eggs this morning. I don’t know whether I would be quite up for that, given last night’s experience.”

  “How about coffee, then? You will need some fluid replacement. Do you think you can manage coffee?”

  “Coffee sounds fine, mum. Thank you.”

  “So what happened at the travel doctor yesterday, other than obviously having all the vaccinations at once?”

  “Well I met and had a great chat with the doctor there, Dr. Mark Jaeger and as it turned out, there was a very interesting coincidence; he and his wife had been and worked at a hospital not far from Garanyi on the Congolese side of the border.”

  “That is an interesting coincidence. When was that that he worked there?”

  “From what he was saying, I think it was about seven years after the genocide, so that must have been around about the year 2000.”

  “Did he think it was now safe?”

  “Yes mum, but he said as an every situation in life, you need to have an awareness of potential difficulties and a plan to deal with them.”

  “So have you finalised your travel arrangements yet?”

  “Yes, I’m going to go directly to London.”

  “So you are not flying via South Africa and in particular Cape Town. You know there is a direct flight from Cape Town to London.”

  “I know what you’re hinting at mum, but I thought Isabella was going to be in Mauritius with her mother.”

  “My information, which may be more up-to-date than yours, is that she’s going to London to do a tropical medicine course. Moreover, being the interested mother that I am, I checked with Nadine, and unfortunately your arrival does not coincide with her course. Now on another topic: should we plan a farewell dinner similar to what we did last time, after your last day on call at the hospital?”

  “If it’s okay, I’d rather not this time. Last time it coincided with my birthday, so perhaps we can just make it a dinner here on a Sunday night with Sophia and a few friends?”

  “That’s fine with me, and the money that we save from the restaurant, I’ll contribute to your trip.”

  “Thanks mum, that would be great as I was going to take some medical equipment with me which I could use that money to buy. Dr. Sudani, the medical superintendent of Garanyi, had said that they needed intercostal drains.”

  “You let me get those. I have contacts and we might even be able to get them donated, so keep the money that I’m going to give you as a contingency fund, agreed?”

  Christian looked at his mother and knew from experience that while it sounded like a question, it was actually a statement that just needed his confirmation. They had done this many times, so he looked at mum straight in the eye, smiled and said,

  “Sounds good to me, mum.”

  Renata laughed. She really was going to miss him, he knew her so well, and the way that he responded to her assertion was never confrontational.

  “Oh, there was something that I wanted to ask you. When I was in the travel doctors today, Dr. Jaeger was singing a song that I’ve heard you play but I wasn’t quite certain what it was and forgot to ask him.”

  “Can you tell me the words or sing it for me?”

  “I could play the first few bars for you on the saxophone and then I’m sure you would recognise it.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  Christian walked through the open door into his bedroom. His saxophone sat alone in the corner, stabilised by a pair of old running shoes. It was ages since he had played it: studying medicine left little spare time to practise. As he picked it up and wiped the mouthpiece, he felt a slight misgiving about playing the song that Dr. Jaeger was singing. That misgiving he knew was related to the fact that when his mother played it, there was often a tear in her eye. The song obviously had an emotional association with something in her past. Maybe it was the memories of his father. Not wanting to stir up any of those emotions, he put the saxophone back in the closet and walked back into the kitchen.

  “I don’t think I can remember the notes well enough to play it, mum.”

  Renata turned to lo
ok at him.

  “I’ve known you now for twenty-seven years. I know your ear for music. I know once you have heard a tune, you do not forget it. If you do not want to play it, say so. But now you have me extremely curious, so if you don’t mind, I would really like to hear it.”

  Christian walked back into the bedroom annoyed with himself that he had tried to bluff his mother. In addition, he was doubly annoyed that he had not been smart enough to realise the potential emotional association with his father. The only thing to do, as he picked up the saxophone out of the closet, was to hope that it was just the words in the song that affected his mother emotionally. Hopefully, the saxophone by itself would not have the same effect. Sitting on the wicker chair in the kitchen with the saxophone he thought he would try one last time.

  “Mum, I remembered when I heard you listening to the song that it seemed to upset you. I’m sorry I don’t want to play it if it brings back some painful memory for you.”

  “Thank you for your consideration, my sensitive son, but just for your information, there are quite a few songs that can do that to me just because of the way they are sung. So stop fiddling with that saxophone and get on and play it.”

  Christian fiddled with the keys a little more and then blew into the mouthpiece a couple of times before playing the song as best as he could remember. As he finished, he looked at his mother who was now staring quite intently at him, and she did have a tear in the corner of her eye.

  “You see mum, I didn’t want to do that.”

  “It’s okay. I asked you to and while it still affects me, it is a song which is really special and it gives me a chance to share that specialness with you now.”

  “It’s related to dad in some way, isn’t it?”

  Renata looked at him for a few seconds before responding.

  “Yes it is. That is an old Tom Jones song called ‘She’s a Lady’. Your dad used to sing it to me. He used to love Tom Jones. I can still remember the last time he sang it to me. It was our fifth wedding anniversary not long before he was killed. He did not have a very good singing voice, unlike you, and perhaps for that reason I can remember most of the words.”

  Renata picked up the soup ladle and pretending that it was a microphone softly sang,

  “Well, she’s all you’d ever want

  She’s the kind I like to flaunt and take to dinner

  But she always knows her place

  She’s got style, she’s got grace--she’s a winner

  She’s a lady

  Oh, whoa, whoa, she’s a lady

  Talkin’ about that little lady

  And the lady is mine ‘

  Christian looked at her as she finished the last line. The tear in her eye had disappeared. She was smiling at him in a way that he had not seen previously and with a shyness that he was not used to. Maybe that is where his shyness gene derived. Looking at his mother and noticing that she seemed relaxed with the memory, he wondered whether it was the fact that she now had shared it with him, which made the memory less painful.

  “Well there you go, now you know that your dad was a big Tom Jones fan,” Renata said interrupting his thoughts

  “Not quite my cup of tea mum but, great words, but just out of interest now that you’re talking about it, I can’t imagine you relating to that third line: ‘But she always knows her place’.”

  Renata laughed.

  “Yes, we used to laugh about that quite often. Initially I thought that was one of the reasons, with your dad’s South African background, that he liked the song. We certainly talked about it often and I think your dad deep down did like it that it was in there but just because it got my attention, and in the end it was really our special song for our anniversary. That’s why you used to hear me play it, for it reminded me of all the good things about your dad.”

  “Well there you go, mum. Now there’s something else positive I know about my dad.”

  “Okay young man, enough talking about the past. Tell me a little bit more about where you’re going to go.”

  “I will, mum, but firstly one last duty at the hospital.”

  Chapter 5

  “That was such an action packed last night at the hospital, let’s just go through and check some of the things and make sure you’ve got everything. Now you have passport, yellow fever and vaccination certificates?”

  “Yes mum – you went through all that last night and nothing has changed since then – provided the golden retriever didn’t steal them in the night.”

  “Now, do not be cheeky,” said Renata smiling at him a way that was the opposite of admonition.

  Christian looked at her and smiled. He would also miss having someone to tease, and with his mum there was usually a guaranteed response, which made it even greater fun. They walked together to where he had placed his two suitcases next to the front door. Sitting in the doorway next to them was Tia. Her head was on her paws and she looked at him disconsolately. Strangely, she always seemed to know when he was going away and parked herself next to the suitcases at the front door. Her big brown golden retriever eyes down cast but staring intently at Christian, willing him to take her with him and a perfectly still tail waiting to spring into action should she be invited along. Christian knelt down and scratched her behind the ears. She did not respond as she normally did by sitting up, tail wagging uncontrollably. Instead she just stared back at him, unmoving, knowing that he was leaving and would not be back for some time.

  Tia had arrived in the house as a puppy when he was sixteen years old. His mother had told him she was the only puppy in the litter. Subsequently without any competition at her mother’s milk bar, Tia had rolled into their house looking more like a polar bear cub. Her subsequent antics and playfulness soon captured their hearts and she became part of the family. While his mother had undertaken her training, she had firmly become his dog.

  “Don’t look at me that way with those big brown eyes,” Christian said holding both her ears, imagining she understood his every word, before giving her one final stroking and standing up. Tia did not move, her head remained on her paws and her eyes just followed him seemingly begging him not to leave.

  “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Christian reached and took hold of both the suitcases, determined not to look back but feeling she was still intently looking at him. As he took both the suitcases out to the car, out of the corner of his eye he could see that she had moved to the front window, her eyes still watching him intently.

  As he half ran up the front steps not wanting to make eye contact with her, he recognized part of him did not want to leave her either.

  “Okay, I’m already to go. Have you said goodbye to Tia?” Renata called out from her bedroom.

  “Yes mum, I have.”

  The drive to the airport was well-known to each of them. They had both done it a number of times together and usually chatted all the way. This time they hardly said more than a few words to each other. Christian could understand and feel his mother’s anxiety over this trip to Africa. She had not been concerned about his last trip to South Africa, until he had been kidnapped and held to ransom by a white supremacist organization. She in the end had been the key to their freedom, supplying the encrypted key to the genetic research that had eventually led to their release. Those memories obviously were still fresh in her mind.

  “You sure you don’t want me to come in while you check-in.”

  “No, I’ll be fine if you just drop me at the Qantas departure point, and that way we’ll both avoid any tears.”

  Renata pulled up between two taxis and flipped the boot open. Then getting out of the car, she walked around to the boot. They then both lifted the suitcases out in silence. Stacking them on the sidewalk, Christian looked around for a trolley. As he did so, his mother tugged at his shirtsleeve.

  “I want you to take this, honey. It’s US$500 that I’ve had and it might come in handy somewhere. I also joined you up to the frequent-flier lounge. Now give
me a hug and I’m going to get back in the car and leave you because I don’t want you having your last image of your mum with tears in her eyes.”

  “Thanks mum – you’re fantastic and I will e-mail and Skype you when I can.”

  Renata turned and quickly closed the boot of the car and with one final wave, Christian watched her disappear down the exit ramp and into the traffic again.

  Christian checked his bags in at the Qantas desk. His first stop was Singapore; he had decided just a stop rather than a stopover, even though he knew that would make it an extremely long flight. He was delighted therefore when the lady behind the Qantas check in counter looked him up and down and said,

  “Dr. de Villiers, with your height I think we need to find you extra legroom in an emergency exit seat. Let me have a look and see what’s available.”

  As she checked on the computer, Christian thought it would be a great start to the adventure to have at least a comfortable seat.

  “I’m assuming as a doctor that you are happy to act in the event of an emergency.”

  “Yes, of course,” Christian said trying to contain his smile.

  “Well that’s done then and all the way through to London – so enjoy your trip. Is it business or pleasure?”

  “A bit of both, I’m hoping,” said Christian.

  As Christian walked into the frequent-flier lounge, it reminded him how different this was to travelling as a student. There was a bank of computers for businessmen, multiple coffee machines, tables with newspapers and magazines on them—more comfort than he had been used to in his backpacking days. At a quick glance, all the tables looked like they were occupied. Then he spotted one table, with a newspaper and half a cup of unfinished coffee on it; either someone had just left or if they had not, he hoped they wouldn’t mind him joining the table.