Rain

by Leigh K. Cunningham

  I’ve been working in the monastery office doing administration. It has been two years since I worked, and I must say it is good to be back doing something that requires brain activity although it is not that taxing. I like the routine and organization, but I doubt I could ever be a lawyer again – when I think of myself as such, it is as if it was some other person not me, and such a long time ago, another lifetime. I guess it was.

  What are your plans for Christmas this year? Are you going to Adelaide to spend it with his family again? To think it took eight years for him to ask you, and for you to meet his children and grandchildren. I can understand it if you do not want to go after last year, the way his children treated you – as if you are to blame for the dissolution of his marriage. Now I must resist the temptation to think and write why his first wife would have left him, and why you should similarly find a way out. I wonder how long it will take, living here, until such thoughts do not even enter my mind. I wonder if the nuns ever think ill of others or if their thoughts are completely good and pure all the time.

  What is the latest with Matthew? Have you heard more from him on when he is due home? If it will not be until after Christmas then perhaps I can arrange for you to come here for a few days should you decide not to go to Adelaide? It would be good for you, a time to think of your own life.

  You really should get yourself a computer and email. You are not too old, as you say, and you are still the intelligent businesswoman you were when you were younger. You were quite a trailblazer – getting a business degree back in those days. That was an amazing achievement and you should feel proud of yourself. You should not be afraid of learning something new – you need to keep your mind active, which is fine for me to say after the past two years doing nothing at all. Learning new things is the best way to keep dementia at bay, so they say – not that I think you need to worry about dementia. You’ve always been so clever with numbers and words.

  Each day I go for walks in the bush around the monastery to find a place to read, or attempt to read I should say. I lose concentration so easily, sometimes after a few pages, but often after just a few paragraphs. My mind always turns itself on to Ethan, torturing me with my own loss. I try to dismiss the thoughts and concentrate on the words, but with little success possibly because I do not want to abandon any thought of him in spite of the pain. I guess until I can overcome my mind’s power over me I will not recover or perhaps I have not yet found the right book – the one that will take my mind away, absorb me in its story. Maybe I should re-read the books that have absorbed me before like Angela’s Ashes and April Fool’s Day. If they can capture my mind again, then I’ll know the problem is not within me and it might just be the selection of books available in the library here.

  I have nothing else to report. Life is uncomplicated. I am happy to be here even though in reality, not much has changed in me. I will call you Christmas Day.

  Love

  Carl

  1 January 2004

  Dear Mum

  Happy New Year! I hope and pray the year ahead brings you everything you deserve and is one of new beginnings.

  I am so sorry to hear about your Christmas in Adelaide and agree – you absolutely should not go again. I cannot understand how or why they could be so cruel. It must have been uncomfortable for you, sitting there while everyone exchanged gifts, ignoring you. Did they at least thank you for the gifts you gave to them and their children? And as if you could afford to spend so much on them, but you did. They could have bought you something small, a token gift, but I guess that was their point. How can they still blame you because he left his wife and moved to Maine long before he met you? They are setting a poor example for their children on how to treat others, but I guess that is the example that was set for them by your Walter. Still, it does not matter how you grew up, but how you grow up.

  Christmas here was quiet, and mostly spent in prayer, but it was also a day of celebration.

  Have you thought of getting another pet? Another Basil might be all the company you need then you can get rid of Walter. Doctors should prescribe pets for loneliness and depression instead of drugs. If I do not end up staying here, I will definitely get myself a dog, one from the shelter so we can start out on an equal footing. I was not able to care for myself before, let alone a pet, but I have made some progress. Getting away from the real world has helped. The nuns have life in perspective unlike most of us who are just swimming around the goldfish bowl going nowhere in particular. Life with Ethan was not like that – I was soaring on the wings of an eagle before the fall to Earth. I do not expect to fly so high ever again.

  Love

  Carl

  8 January 2004

  Dear Mum

  I’m sorry to hear your news, well not sorry about the news, but sorry that you are so upset. You are better off without him. Sorry for the cliché, but it happens to be true. I wish I could think of something to say that might console you. It would be nice to be home again with Walter gone, but he will probably be back again soon so please do not cry over him. I pray that you might find the courage to turn him away the next time he comes back – he cannot keep coming in and out of your life as he pleases. How many times can you do this, once a year, every year? It’s not healthy, and definitely not good for you. You should have the telephone re-connected so I can call you, and put the account in your name this time so he cannot disconnect it again. It’s crazy that he would do this just to stop you talking to people, and I certainly don’t believe it is a sign that he cares for you – possessing someone is not caring, it is not love.

  I’m not sure that I’m suited to this life here. I’m finding it hard to establish a deeper relationship with God when I still feel so disconnected, and this obviously sets me apart from everyone else. They know their God, trust and love him, with their lives surrendered to him. I am numb. I want to feel normal again, feel something, but do not know how. Perhaps this is normal and I will not feel a connection anywhere with anyone ever again.

  Not much else to write about – I have another session with Sister Mary Catherine shortly to discuss progress. She is an angel, but I know she doubts my motivation and commitment just as I do, but I do not want to leave here. I wish I could stay on my own terms in this sanctuary away from life. Some days are better than others, but at least I do have good days now and again.

  Love

  Carl

  17 January 2004

  Dear Mum

  Happy Birthday! I hope you had a great day and did something special.

  I was surprised to read that you are back working again at that motel. Do you need the money? If you need money, you should draw what you need from my bank account. That is why I had you added as a signatory, so you would have access to funds whenever you needed it. I hate to think of you working because you need money, and worse that you are cleaning motel rooms. Your stories are awful – people really can be so disgusting. Please take the money from my account and do not worry about how long it will last. When it runs out I will be forced to find a job and that might be the best thing that could happen for me.

  It really frustrates me at times like this, to be away from you. I know I was not much help to you after Ethan died, but I am better than I was. I can function. I think I should come home, especially now he has left and not returned. Let me know what you think, but PLEASE stop working at that motel. What would Grandpa say? Sometimes I wonder why God does not seem to respond to my prayers, or maybe he is, and I am enduring the life I must for some purpose I don’t know yet.

  Have you heard from Matthew? Is he coming home?

  Must go now – I have another session with Sister Mary Catherine. At our last meeting, she asked me to think over a few questions and I have not yet found a way to answer them. This will be rather telling and may well be the only answer there is.

  Love

  Carl

  A commotion outside the monastery’s administration office caused Carl to stop work with the letter o
pener and stare out the open window. She laughed aloud. Sister Mary Paul and Postulant Collette had collided on their bikes with habits flying in unacceptable directions to expose stocking-covered legs. She did not hear Sister Mary Catherine enter the room, and only knew she was present because of the tsking. She stood beside Carl at the window and shook her head as the giggling nuns rolled around on the lawn. Carl thought she saw a hint of a smile.

  “Come, let’s sit.” She took Carl by the hand and held them firmly in her clasp. “So, child, how are you progressing with your discernment? Have you come to an understanding? Is God truly calling you to this life?”

  “I don’t want to leave, Sister. I feel safe here, but…” Carl sighed. “I know I don’t belong the way everyone else does, and I don’t know if that will change with more time or whether I just don’t belong, but I love it here.”

  “The sisters and I have come to the same conclusion. The problem is your motivation, child. You are running away from something, not running to God and I, we, do not think He is calling you to this life. He has other plans for you, and through your prayers you will come to learn what those plans are.”

  Postulate Josephine arrived with a tray of tea and biscuits, placing it on the small, round coffee table. Sister Mary Catherine turned the ceramic teapot three times anti-clockwise and smiled. “Jasmine,” she said, breathing in the steamy aroma. “Smells lovely, doesn’t it? Father Sebastian at Saint Anthony’s says it helps prevent cancer. I’m not so sure about that, but there is something wonderful about drinking flowers.”

  Carl nodded.

  “Novice Imogen told me you’ve been more distressed these past few days and she has been unable to console you. What has you so upset?”

  “I had another dream about Ethan. When I woke up, I was crying. I had been crying in my sleep. Since the dream, I’ve been filled again with the pain…as if it was only yesterday.”

  “God will ease your pain. You must pray, keep praying and He will be there for you.”

  21 January 2004

  Dear Mum

  I will be coming home sometime in the next few weeks. Sadly, the monastery is not the solution to my problem, even though this is the only place where I have found comfort. I came here looking for peace and isolation, believing that this is all I needed, but I at least now know, definitively, that this pain will never pass. Sister Mary Catherine says it will, one day, but I cannot see how. Nothing is going to change in my life.

  Sister Mary Catherine has been so kind. I will never forget the way they have treated me, so full of caring and compassion, not judging me, and not telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself or to “get on with my life”, as so many others have done without any understanding of what this feels like. Sister Mary Catherine said I should stay until I feel ready to leave, no rush, she said, and I am grateful for that. I will take the time to think through what I might do next.

  I am looking forward to seeing Matthew. It will be great for the three of us to be together again at Orchard Road after all this time. Knowing that I will be seeing you and Matthew soon will help me to step through the gates of the monastery.

  I am waiting for the rain to pass so I can hike again through the bush – I go there in search of my guide. There is something about the rain. I have always found it comforting. It makes me feel warm even when it is cold. I love the way it smells, especially the way the bush smells after the rain. I love the way it tastes and I love the way it feels on my skin. Rain is life – everything grows from it. Maybe I should go now while it is still raining, and tempt fate. Maybe I can catch the proverbial death of a cold. Maybe a dose of pneumonia is all I need to set me free. I wonder if that would be suicide, dying of intentional pneumonia. There is nothing quite like the rain.

  Love

  Carl

  Chapter Fifty-three

  March 2004

  CARL and Matthew huddled in a window alcove at The Caffeine Fix, ten years since they had last talked.

  “So you’ve been living in a monastery? What was that all about?” he asked.

  “I was looking for something.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “No,” she replied with a sigh. “It can’t be found.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Peace.”

  “I could’ve told you that. There’s no peace on this Earth, and no goodwill to men either, if the truth be known.”

  “You sound bitter…more bitter.”

  “Occupational hazard I guess.”

  “Where exactly have you been? Mum was a bit vague on the details—said you were in Europe somewhere.”

  “After Rwanda, I went back to Atlanta to finish my documentary. Then I went to Afghanistan and I’ve just come back from the Sudan.”

  “You must have a death wish.”

  “It’s all I know.”

  “What’s it like, in the Sudan?”

  “Not for the faint-hearted. Human slaughter and nobody seems to care enough to stop it. It’s absolute lawlessness. Like the days of the Vikings.”

  “You’ve survived so far. God must be protecting you.”

  “God? I don’t think so. I survive thanks to good management and good luck.” He sipped pensively from a white mug. “I spent some time in a Congolese prison.”

  “What for this time?”

  “We were covering a story on the disappearance of a French journalist who had been kidnapped and murdered. Certain people didn’t appreciate the direction our story was taking, and thought we should spend some time in custody to think about it.”

  “Were you charged? Did you have a lawyer?”

  “Unfortunately the Rule of Law doesn’t exist in these places. They have something else—personal law—that’s the law of the person holding the gun. We were lucky to get out—that’s what it all comes down to—luck.” He picked up a teaspoon to add more sugar to his coffee then waved it at Carl. “Did you know there are over a hundred journos stuck in prisons throughout the world with no hope of release? Abdullah Ali al-Sanussi al-Darrat—heard of him?”

  Carl shook her head. “Could you put that teaspoon down? It’s rather threatening.”

  “He’s been in prison in Libya since 1973. No one even knows where he’s being detained or if he’s still alive.” He dropped the spoon from a height onto the unclothed table.

  “Why do you do it, Matt?”

  “I don’t have an interest in anything else. It makes me miserable and cynical, but it’s also very rewarding, like when we help a family or make a change in someone’s life. I mean, real change—change that is the difference between eating and starving, life and death.”

  “Aren’t you afraid?”

  “Every single time we head into a war zone. We lost a member of our film crew in Afghanistan. That’s where I got these new scars.” He lifted his shirt to reveal an abstract cluster of ill-formed scar tissue. “I have them on my legs as well. I was lucky.”

  “Don’t you think God might have something to do with your luck?”

  “Don’t go there, Carl, you know I don’t believe in any of that, but tell me more about your monastery adventure. I am curious.”

  “I wouldn’t call it an ‘adventure’. That demeans it.”

  “I’m sorry. Go on, I really am interested.”

  “Nothing much to say really—it was just a place to go to get away from the rest of the world and all the noise insignificant things make. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it has helped me move forward. Maybe I can even see my new reality now…maybe…I’m not sure.”

  “So what’s next for you since becoming a nun didn’t work out?”

  “I sent an application to volunteer with Doctors Without Borders. Sister Mary Catherine suggested I get into volunteer work. She seemed to think it would help.”

  “Medecins Sans Frontieres. I take it you didn’t somehow manage to get a degree in medicine these past few years?”

  “I’ve applied for an administrative role. I am a lawyer—not e
ntirely useless.”

  “I wouldn’t have put it that way. Some would say—” He stopped. “We should order lunch.”

  Carl scanned the one-page menu. “I’m really worried about mum. I wish I could convince her she’d be better off on her own, but she keeps taking him back.”

  “I hate that he’s living in our house.”

  They stared outside, and watched a procession of sensible sedans pass by.

  “How are you coping, Carl, seriously?”

  “I really don’t know yet. The memories…he was such a good man, and a perfect husband.”

  “He really was a top bloke. I liked him a lot.”

  “He tamed me, calmed me, and I no longer had a temper.”

  “You had a temper? No, really?”

  “There’s that Baden sarcasm again. What about you, Matt? Anyone in your life?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been in relationships. Nothing meaningful. It’s not possible with my work, and anyway, I’m better on my own. I can go anywhere I want when I want and…that’s enough on that topic.”

  “Avoidance—another Baden trait lives on. That one is male-specific, though.”

  “Back to mum,” he said. “Have you noticed how she flinches whenever he speaks to her? I was wondering if it’s because he hits her.”

  “It’s been going on for years, Matt.”

  “What have you done about it?”

  “What could I do? She lives the life she thinks she deserves. Anything is better than being alone.”