Notes from a Spinning Planet—Papua New Guinea (23 page)

Finally the dinner dishes are cleaned up and put away, and Sid
announces she'd like to talk to Lydias parents about something important. We sit down together at their dining table with a pot of black tea and a plate of lemon squares that Mrs. Johnson made for dessert. The room is quiet, and I can feel the expectation in the air.

Sid clears her throat, then begins. “I don't want to overstep any boundaries here, but I'd like to tell you something I think is very exciting.”

It's clear by their expressions that she has their undivided attention, so she continues. “When we first met Lydia in Port Moresby, we were so impressed with her spirit and her compassion for AIÜS victims that we wanted to do something to help with her continued education. We know she's working to earn college money, but she's such a bright and dedicated girl that it seems a shame to delay her education, and we-”

“But what if Lydia isn't
ready
to continue her education?” interrupts her mother. “Perhaps she has delayed going to school for a reason.” She glances at Lydia, but Lydias expression is unreadable.

“I understand your concern for Lydia,” says Sid in a gentle tone. “I admit I didn't understand it the last time I brought this subject up. To be perfectly honest, I thought you were being overly controlling and not taking her feelings into full account. But now I know why you feel so protective of her, and if I were her mother, I'm sure I'd feel just the same.”

Mrs. Johnson blinks as if she's shocked.

“I told them about what happened to me,” says Lydia in a quiet voice.

“But why?” exclaims Mrs. Johnson. “I thought you wanted to keep this matter private.”

“I felt like it was something I needed to do, Mom. And I knew I could trust them.”

“And Lydia
can
trust us,” Sid assures her mother. “Of course, I'd love to use her story in my article, with a pseudonym to protect her privacy. I think the impact of her personal experience will help more people understand the devastating effect of the disease in this country and why it's so vital that people open their eyes, not to mention their hearts.”

“That makes sense to me,” says her dad.

Mrs. Johnson nods sadly. “Yes, I suppose it does. That is, if Lydia is comfortable with it.”

“I am,” says Lydia. Then she turns to Sid. “But I'm still amazed at your offer to help with my schooling. And, if my parents agree, I'd love to take you up on it. More than anything, I want to go back and finish my schooling. I want to specialize in immune-deficiency diseases; I want to make a difference in my country. More now than ever.

“To be honest,” says Mrs. Johnson, “part of our initial hesitation in regard to your help with Lydias tuition was because I was afraid you'd change your mind when you found out the truth.”

“The
truth?”
Sid frowns, and I can tell she's not comfortable with Mrs. Johnson's attitude regarding AIDS.

“I mean that she has, you know, the AIDS virus.” Mrs. Johnson looks very uneasy now. “It sounds terrible, and it's not the way I see
it, but some people might think sending a girl with AIDS through college, well, wouldn't be a very good investment.”

“Well, we think its a
fantastic
investment,” says Sid, smiling directly at Lydia. “I've never met anyone as brave as your daughter.” She looks at Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. “You should be very proud.”

They both smile. “We are,” says her dad as he puts his hand over his wife's.

“And I think she's going to make a fantastic doctor,” I say. “I've already seen her interacting with patients, and I can tell she has a gift.”

“We can go over the details later,” says Sid, “but be assured, my editor has been talking to some of his friends, as well as his church, and even some of the people back at the magazine, and this is something everyone is supporting.”

“This is so exciting,” says Mrs. Johnson, taking Lydias hand in hers. “I mean, if it is what you really want to do.”

“It is!” Lydias eyes are bright and hopeful. “More than anything, that's what I want!”

We talk until it's late, trying to decide which medical school would be best to apply to and when Lydia should start. Sid promises to put her assistant onto finding the best HIV treatments available in the United States. Then Mr. Johnson reminds us that tomorrow will be a busy day with the dedication of the New Testament, and we all head off to bed.

The Bible dedication is a huge success, attended not only by the Lomokako tribe but some neighboring tribes as well. There are speeches and songs and more speeches and more songs, followed by
what they call a
mumu.
This is a New Guinean-style barbecue with a whole hog cooked on hot rocks in a pit beneath the ground, along with a lot of local vegetables and fruits that are truly delicious. Anyway, the party goes on and on, and by the time it s over, everyone seems genuinely happy to have their New Testaments in tok pies.

On Monday morning we fly back to Port Moresby with Lydia, Our flight out of the country looks like a tight connection, but fortunately (and typically), its running late, which allows us a few more minutes to tell Lydia good-bye. We hug and cry in the airport terminal, and it honestly feels like I'm leaving a family member behind.

“You've got my e-mail address and phone number and fax number?” Lydia asks me, although I'm sure she knows I do.

“Yes,” I assure her. “And I'll fax the community-college schedule to you as soon as I get home. Just in case there are some classes you haven't taken yet.”

“Wouldn't that be amazing,” she says, “if we got to go to school together?”

“It would be awesome,” I tell her. “I would totally love it. I just hope they have some classes you still need.”

“And that they've got an opening.”

I wave my hand. “I'm sure they do.”

“Then you could both transfer to the University of Washington for winter or spring semester,” says Sid. “As I told your parents, Lydia, I've heard their med school is outstanding, but I'll send you all the information.”

“And I'll check out their Web site,” says Lydia.

“This could be so cool,” I tell Lydia. “I know my parents would totally love you. And you could have Jakes room. Most of his stuff is out of it anyway.”

“I'll be praying that God opens the right doors,” says Lydia.

“Me too,” I say as I hug her again.

Then it's time for the plane to load, and we wave good-bye and climb aboard our Air Niugini flight headed back to Australia.

“I was checking e-mail in the airport,” says Sid in a slightly mysterious tone, “while you and Lydia were getting those fruity drinks.”

“And?”

“And your friend Ryan wants to know what happened to you.”

“Huh?”

“He e-mailed me to ask why he hasn't heard from you since we left. He sounded really concerned, and I can tell he's worried that something is wrong between the two of you.”

“But I e-mailed him a lot,” I point out.

Then Sid asks me who my server is, and I tell her. “That could be the problem,” she says. “They're not terribly reliable, Maddie.”

“So Ryan was really worried?” I say hopefully, not even admitting I'd been worrying about him too, worrying that he had forgotten all about me.

“Yep. I think that boy is into you, Maddie.”

I smile and lean back in my seat. “Cool.”

Sid sighs and leans back too. “Wow, I can't believe we've only been gone a couple of weeks. What a trip this has been.”

“You can say that again.”

“So you're not sorry you came?”

“Are you kidding? I'm sorry we have to leave.”

“It was different from Ireland, wasn't it?”

I laugh. “Well, they're
both
islands, and they're
both
green, but that's about where the similarities end. And, you know, I really loved Ireland, but I think this trip was even better.”

She smiles. “Well, I think I'll keep you on as my assistant. You certainly earned your keep.”

“Cool.” I glance at her. “So do you have some other big trip planned already?”

She just shakes her head. “Actually, I wouldnt mind a
real vacation.
I've been working steadily all summer, and this New Guinea trip took a lot out of me. I'm feeling pretty worn out. What I wouldn't give just to stretch out on a nice quiet beach somewhere-I mean a
safe
beach.”

“Do we get to stay in Hawaii on the way home?” I ask hopefully.

She frowns. “I wish.”

Then she pulls a slightly wrinkled travel brochure from a pocket in her briefcase. “My friend Barb gave me this right before I left. She said I should check it out.”

“Cabo San Lucas?” I read. “Where's that?”

“On the tip of Baja, Mexico.” She smiles. “They say the beaches down there are delightful, and you can get a great big, padded lounge chair where the cabana boys bring you frosty fruity drinks with little umbrellas sticking out.”

“Need any company?”

She laughs.
“Si, si, senorita.
But of course!”