Cupid's Lead Arrow Ch 1. - Purgatory
Ch 1. - Purgatory
Ch 2. - Euphoria
Ch 3. - Betrayal
Ch 4. - Revivification
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."
Shakespeare - A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 1, scene 1, lines 240 - 241
Ch 1. - Purgatory
"Matt; you realize this will be our last escape together," Lucinda reminded me in a rather somber tone. "In just three weeks my replacements will be here and then we'll both be going home,"
"Well, we must ensure that we make tonight special. Something for you to remember when you cuddle up with that guy or yours... Dylan, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's if he's still interested in me."
"You mean you still haven't enticed him to send you any romantic prose?"
As the waiter poured two Serengeti Beers into stemmed glasses, Lucinda held her response until he left.
"Each week I've sent him lengthy letters covering the work I do and... let's just say, intimate proposals for our future together. I'm lucky to get a reply once a month, but they're always so impersonal. He never comments about our future, so I'm starting to think he has his secretary write for him."
I was sure part of the problem was the poor phone service to the United States. Also internet service was only available at some of the cybercafes. I reckoned that back home most people had just forgotten how to write letters.
"You've said he works in marketing. Those guys normally have the gift of the gab, but perhaps he can't handle not being able to talk directly or electronically."
"I'll certainly know when I return. There is one thing I'm sure of; if he doesn't shape up, or I don't find any good husband material in the next two years, I will be looking you up."
While her comment was meant to be a compliment, it didn't particularly thrill me. To disguise my lack of similar enthusiasm, I quickly covered by proposing: "Well let's drink to happy and fulfilling futures."
As I lifted my glass of beer and tilted my head back for my first taste, I recognized the muck hanging from the unbalanced ceiling fan above us. It was hanging just as it had on our previous visits. It was probably only gathered strands of cobwebs so I placated my anxiety by reassuring myself that it wouldn't fall onto our meal.
I suspected that in the future whenever I heard the noise of a wobbly ceiling fan, I would remember this restaurant and our monthly secret retreat. Of course the head waiter had always sat us at this table to experience the luxury of the fan.
The cobwebs made me cognizant of how the last two years had changed me. When problems occurred, I no longer let them upset me, while conversely, I'd also become more innovative at solving them. I was more tolerant and had a clearer idea of what were the important things in life. I no longer took for granted the reliability of electricity, so I appreciated the occasions when it was able to run a fan.
Unfortunately my newfound composure didn't include my inability to forget Janet.
I had a second taste of my beer and noted the distinctive crisp taste that left a strong malty finish. The first time I'd tried it, I was shocked at how much more flavorsome it tasted than a Budweiser. Surprisingly, this local brew might be one of the few things I would miss when I returned home.
I looked across the chipped laminate table with its centrally placed posy of plastic flowers at Lucinda. She seemed to be studying me just as intensely. While technically she wasn't my work partner, we coordinated our activities. My language skills were initially barely adequate for shopping at the market, so I was more efficient when she could translate patients comments while we worked.
As there had been some urgency for me to start immediately, my 11 weeks of in country training in Kiswahili had been cut short. Now I was quite proud of my language abilities mainly due to some local tutoring after hours.
Due to our closeness, Lucinda was literally the only person I could confide in. I liked to think we'd equally supported one another through some really trying times.
These monthly escapes by community bus to the regional town, supposedly to collect medical supplies, were the only opportunities to completely relax and freely share my thoughts. I'd made good friends here, but with Lucinda I could drop my guard and enjoy conversation without worrying that I might offend our Tanzanian hosts. With no other possible confidant, we'd both unburdened all our personal issues.
We were both Peace Corps volunteers. I was a doctor and Miss Lucinda Serrano was a community nurse working as a Health Extension Volunteer. My role was similar, but I also assisted in our base village hospital. While the locals called it a hospital, it was really just the standard of a community clinic although still expected to undertake surgery. In this role I delivered several babies and set numerous broken bones. The local doctor was called a surgeon, however I often assisted as I'd realized my training as a primary care physician had provided me with better preparation for basic surgery.