Old Lovers Don't Die

by Anderson, Paul G

  “I was thinking exactly that and how wonderful that might be.”

  Christian heard the theatre door open again. Mike and Galela walked in, followed by Josef Strauss and Isabella. Josef had removed his surgical mask, and without looking directly at Christian, sat on the chair next to his bed. Christian looked more closely at Josef; strangely, it was like looking at a bearded, older version of himself. Josef turned and looked Christian directly in the eyes; a shout of primal recognition reverberated deep within Christian followed by a strange sense of peace. It was a feeling that Christian had never experienced before.

  “Christian, do you remember what struck you most when you first went to Dr Sudani’s house?”

  Christian thought it was a very strange question with which to begin a conversation, especially with someone you had just operated on. In addition, he could not imagine that Dr Sudani’s house would explain all the looks that had been exchanged between everyone in the room previously.

  “I thought it was very reminiscent of some of the houses that I had seen in Cape Town.”

  “You are absolutely correct. I designed it when I thought that I was going to live here. Then unfortunately I couldn’t.”

  “Well, I’ve heard that the houses in Cape Town are very similar to those in Holland or Germany. I guess, though, the interesting bit is why you couldn’t live there?”

  “I know you’re not prepared for this, although a few minutes ago I sensed a brief recognition in your soul. What I am going to tell you next there is no preparation for. For more than twenty years, you have had no father and for more than twenty years, I have had no son. However, there is not a day that has gone by that I have not thought about you or your mother. I am your father Jannie, who you thought had been killed in Cape Town. A man named Van der Walt tried to kill me to prevent me disclosing information, which would severely embarrass the South African apartheid government. It was only because Galela fought with him that I wasn’t executed in the back garden of our home in Wynberg. I knew the threat of documents being released would keep you and your mother alive, but if Van der Walt knew I was alive, he would not rest until he found me and tortured me for the location of the documents. When I arrived at the mortuary in Cape Town, a doctor friend of mine pronounced me dead although it was he who resuscitated me. I thought I could live and do surgery in Rwanda as Josef Strauss but someone recognised me from the time I had been here doing research. Therefore, despite my newly acquired beard, my German name and accent, I had to disappear before Van der Walt came looking for me again.”

  Christian could have touched the silence in the room. All eyes he knew were on him as he struggled to take in the enormity of Josef’s revelation.

  “Are you really my father? I saw you shot by Van der Walt next to the pool at our house in Wynberg Cape Town and mum and I weren’t unable to resuscitate you.”

  “When Van der Walt shot your father, he was about to put a bullet through his head and then kill me so that I would get the blame for the killing. We fought and the noise of the fighting attracted the lady next door. That combination saved your father a fatal headshot,” said Galela.

  “I saw all of that,” Christian said. “I’d climbed back up on the tree stump and saw what was happening.”

  “I seem to remember telling you to stay hidden no matter what you heard,” Josef said smiling at Christian. “Must be those rebellious genes which you inherited from your mother.”

  “But she was certain that you were dead, and she is a good doctor!”

  “Your mother could not feel a pulse because I had lost a significant amount of blood. The paramedic also thought I was dead and took me directly to the Salt River mortuary. A friend of mine, Dr Sandy van de Merwe, was a pathologist working there and was about to put a tag on my toe which would identify my corpse, when he noticed some eye movement. He started CPR again. Sandy sutured my neck wound with some of the suture material he used on the corpses, and put up an intravenous line. He said that within fifteen minutes, I was sitting up and talking.”

  “Seeing you dead next to our swimming pool gave me nightmares for many years. Almost ten years ago, I went back to Cape Town and our home in Wynberg, to try to put the memory to rest.”

  “Mike and Galela have told me that part of the story and that you went back just after you finished high school and found the folder that I had buried in the back garden.”

  “It was Isabella who worked out the cryptic clue from the Wind in the Willows.”

  Isabella interrupted. “The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the pool, he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories. And when tired at last, he sat beneath the willow, while the pool still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.”

  “Perfect memory, Isabella, and it was there by the side of the pool that I had changed the original quote that you both worked out which led you to the folder.”

  “That’s right,” Christian said. “But surely you could have in some way let us know that you were alive.”

  Josef looked at Mike and Galela before replying.

  “Van der Walt, as I said, would have hunted you down and killed you and your mother. If he knew that I was alive, there was always a threat, not only to himself for crimes against humanity, but also to governments which had been covertly involved with the South African apartheid. Before he tried to kill me, I was about to reveal the South African apartheid government’s involvement in a secret germ warfare programme. I also knew about South Africa’s nuclear weapons development in which France, Israel, and the United States were covertly involved. I wasn’t certain that the security forces in those countries wouldn’t have cooperated with Van der Walt’s threat to find and kill me if he thought I was alive.”

  “He’s dead. Galela shot him.”

  “Yes, I know. Mike and Galela told me.”

  “Does my mother know yet that you’re alive?”

  “No. What we are planning on doing is a medical evacuation of you to Cape Town.”

  “So that would mean that Nadine, Isabella’s mother, knows that you’re alive. Don’t you think Renata should know, especially since you had an affair with Nadine?”

  “I know that you know about that, and for that you may judge me harshly and quite rightly. Isabella and I have talked about it and she knows it’s one of those mistakes we both made which we regret, but more importantly in the years that I have been in Rwanda, I have realised how much I loved your mother.”

  “What’s your favourite song?”

  Christian scrutinised Jannie’s face as he thought about the response. Jannie held his stare, and Christian knew that he knew and therefore what he would say.

  “‘Tom Jones, She’s a Lady’. Did I pass?”

  “Not so fast.” Christian smiled. “Sing or hum the first four lines.”

  Christian watched as Jannie took a deep breath and then in a deep baritone quietly 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’

  Everyone applauded as Jannie finished and Isabella bent over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Okay, well, I think you have a chance,” Christian said with a wry smile.

  “That means we can keep it a surprise from your mother?”

  “I won’t tell her. Does she know that I’m okay?”

  “I have spoken to Renata and Nadine,” Mike said. “I told Renata what had happened and that you are okay. She’s obviously anxious to get to Cape Town and makes certain for herself that her number one son is intact.”

  “We need to discuss a bit of business,” interrupted Galela. “With Kariba still being alive and having all kinds of informants in this area, we need to take p
recautions. He has been known to travel to Angola just to kill someone who crossed him. He still may want to even things up with you because of his son’s death. We’re going to keep you here in this area because it’s secure and easier to control than a general ward. We will each take turns to do a shift keeping an eye on you. If you are okay after three days, we will move you to Dr Sudani’s.”

  “Christian, now I need to tell you this as your anaesthetist. Your dad is going to tell you about the operation when we leave you two alone to chat in a few minutes. If for any reason you start bleeding again, we would need to operate fast. So do not be concerned. In that table next to your bed I have left 100 mg of propofol drawn up in a syringe. That is so we know where everything is just in case we need it. So if you open that drawer, don’t get concerned that I have just left drugs lying around; it’s to make everything easier if there was an emergency, which we don’t think there will be. If you have a plan B, then you don’t usually need to use it if you follow the logic.”

  “I understand that. Mike, is there anything else? What about analgesics?”

  “Those are locked in theatre. We will take those out as we need to or as you require. Isabella is going to do the first shift until 6 PM and then your dad will take over until midnight. Dr Sudani is going to put a bed in here, so you’ll be able to find out whether your dad snores.”

  “Thanks, everyone.”

  “All right. We will leave you and your dad to get reacquainted, and let him tell you the neat piece of surgery that he did inside you.”

  Chapter 23

  “Your blood pressure and pulse are good. Do you need any analgesic?” Isabella asked, folding up the blood pressure cuff and placing it on the chair at the foot of the bed.

  “No thanks, Issy. That last injection of morphine seems to have taken away the pain completely.”

  “That’s good; I like my patients to be comfortable and happy with my care.”

  “Well, no complaints from this patient. Although, it is a very strange way to be reacquainted, do you not think?”

  “I agree; certainly not the way that I visualised seeing you again in bed - as my patient. Well, part of that I could rephrase.”

  “Yes. I imagined picking you up from the bus and wondering whether those original feelings and chemistry would surge back as I saw you.”

  “Lying on that piece of plastic burning up from malaria, I imagine that would have been furthest thing from your mind and you would have had only feelings for survival?”

  “That’s true. I cannot remember whether there were any feelings really other than the primal one of being glad to see someone who knew what I desperately needed to survive. Seeing you walk in there was part of me that just was relieved knowing you were someone who knew what they were doing. I thought if I did die, least it wouldn’t be because someone hadn’t done everything possible.”

  “It was awful seeing you lying there, weak with a fever and dehydrated. Certainly not the memory of that strong and vibrant person you were in Cape Town. My feelings for you at that moment were as a doctor and what I needed to do to get you better.”

  “I did wonder what you would remember when you saw me.”

  “I think it was only once I got you back to Dr Sudani’s and that I could think about you and what you meant to me then and how I felt now. You are still very attractive to me, if that is what you are really asking. Which, being the boy that you are, it probably is.” Isabella looked at Christian and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  Christian smiled. “I see you have lost none of that insight which was so attractive.”

  “Nine years ago, Christian, neither of us had discovered what sex was about. We met, we were enormously attracted to each other, and thought this was a love forever; it seemed to us at the time like winning the relationship lottery. In addition, we turned our virginal hormones loose on each other. There was no rational thought after that for quite some time. Indeed, for almost eighteen months, I thought that there was no one else in the whole world that I could be compatible with. This may disappoint you, but I tried a number of times to create that intensity with others before I realised the intensity of something which you do for the first time is really difficult, if not impossible to recreate.”

  “It was really intense, wasn’t it? You were my first lover and in many ways, I knew nothing but felt I knew everything. Since then, I have also struggled to replicate the intensity of those feelings and wondered whether it was just because it wasn’t you that I was with, or that it was just the first time where, as you say, that it’s impossible then to recreate that intensity.”

  “I think part of the issue is you can only climb Everest once, and there are not many who would get the same kind of feeling even if it was possible to climb it again. Which means it can then be hugely confusing if you have had that kind of experience for a first relationship. Chemistry and its intensity become defined by what you first experienced and you think that should be present in every relationship. When they are not, you accept that what we experienced was a one-off event in terms of intensity and adjust to a lesser chemistry. However, like you, I have a curiosity, partly through not being able to achieve the level of intensity in other relationships, and wonder whether that meant that I could only achieve that with you because of our unique interaction.”

  “Yes, it has been the same for me.”

  “It didn’t come back when you saw me again.” Isabella flicked her hair back and smiled in the slightly flirtatious way he remembered.

  Christian laughed, hesitated for a few seconds, and then said,

  “It’s difficult to answer that given the state that I was in, wondering whether I was going to die in Africa.”

  “That’s not like a surgeon to squib on an answer; although I suppose it was an emotional question and we know how surgeons don’t deal with those.” Isabella laughed again.

  “I hesitated a little, Issy, only because I didn’t really know how to answer your question properly, given the circumstances that we met under again. I have had girlfriends since you and we’ve had good physical relationships, but I kept thinking back, wondering whether ours was better, or whether it was just because it was the first time for us. Did we have something special that I couldn’t find in another relationship?”

  “When did you lose that feeling that ours was the only chemistry that would work?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t think I ever lost that feeling that our chemistry was unique. It might be that what we had was so different to anyone else, that it wasn’t just the first encounter, that it really was something special to us, and us alone.”

  “Or it could be that it was just the intensity of the first time, just to keep your feet on the ground, and so that you are not disappointed when you are feeling better.”

  “Realistically, I know you could be right. Did you lose the feeling that our chemistry was unique?”

  “Like you, after I got over our relationship, I tried quite a few others. I hope that doesn’t shock you, but most girls have on average five relationships before they make a choice.”

  “I don’t think I ever want to hear the details about other lovers, but if surgery has taught me anything, it’s that you have to deal with the realities of life, or withdraw and be incarcerated with your hopes and fears.”

  “Okay, well I wouldn’t go into detail anyhow. However, I think it is important to give you just some background so that you understand a bit better, how I have evolved. I realise there is a risk in this that you may not want to try again but I think it’s important that you have insight into me beyond what you remember as a seventeen-year-old. The first boy I met was called Manfred, not really like the first part of this name unfortunately. He was very sweet, dressed beautifully, and was considerate but too effeminate. I was left thinking what a contrast to the raw physicality what we had. Manfred lasted six months and then Benjamin swept me off my feet. He was a coloured South African like me. Very good-looking, charisma
tic, and I hope this is not too hurtful, but he was wonderful in bed.”

  “Sounds like you found a perfect replacement for me then,” Christian said with a rueful smile.

  Isabella laughed. “I see surgery has dissected out humility.”

  “I was mostly just teasing, but I guess I wished in some strange way, that you had said that there had been no-one else who was as good, and therefore that what we had was not replicable with anyone else.”

  “Now where is that surgeon who is grounded in reality?”

  “Well, there is part of me that still retains romantic delusions. Surgery hasn’t completely excised the dreamer.”

  “Alright, no more details about Benjamin. Suffice it to say that I thought I had someone with the same kind of chemistry as you and I had, then the relationship broke down after several months, partly because he was more in love with himself, which I doubt you would ever be. The postscript therefore is the chemistry that you and I had was still superior.”

  “I had one of those relationships that you described with Benjamin. April was a design arts student, who looked like she had just stepped out of Teen Vogue magazine. It took her an hour to prepare if we were just going to go out for a drink or barbecue. She was obsessed with her beauty and while she was gorgeous to look at, it was almost as though when you went to bed, the primary point was to admire her body. There was little of what we had, in addition to which she was incredibly insecure and jealous. I would get multiple text messages through the day asking where I was and who I was talking to.”

  “It was a little bit the same with Benjamin. After we broke up, I then swapped sides, thinking that another female at least be on a similar wave-length when it came to understanding needs.”

  “You have really tried to answer the chemistry question. A female lover, how did that work?”

  “Are you sure that you are able to deal with this. Should I check your blood pressure and pulse again to make sure that we’re not stressing you too much?”