Old Lovers Don't Die (4 page)

The living conditions for the majority of the black population had also not significantly changed since the era of the white government. Building programmes had been undertaken, but it was nowhere near what was needed. The social needs of the black population were not being met and there was growing discontent amongst the youth who were advocating nationalisation of industry as a way of redistribution of wealth. Would his father, he wondered, have said integration is such an unnatural thing that it produces systematic chaos, or would he have been of the opinion that integration requires generations to overcome racial bias in order to succeed.

“Have you thought about catching up with Isabella if you go?” Renata again interrupted his thoughts.

Christian again looked at his mother. He had never really discussed with her what had happened to the relationship that he had with Isabella. However, he knew that she sensed that they had had an intense albeit short affair. The chemistry was something that he had not experienced since and not something that he thought he could discuss with his mother. He was also uncertain as to whether it was unique to Isabella, or whether such intensity was because it was the first time for the both of them. Strangely, he had not been able to replicate that intensity with other girlfriends. Inside, part of him longed for the intensity again where colours were brighter and desire became an all-consuming fire. He knew if he was to have any peace and success in future relationships, he needed to find out if the chemistry he had with Isabella was just a first relationship phenomenon. If it was, he needed to accept such intensity could not be replicated and move on.

That the relationship had not survived due to the distance he could understand. However, that the flame for Isabella still flickered after all these years intrigued him. Looking back, there were so many things that they had in common, so much so that initially he had even thought about trying to study medicine in South Africa, so he and Isabella could be together. When they had enquired about whether he could, they discovered the difficulties of being admitted into medicine in South Africa for someone who was white and Australian. Finally, he had been persuaded by Renata to return to Australia and leave Isabella behind. To Christian at the time, it all seemed so desperately unfair; two people who had a wonderful attraction for each other could not be together.

They had tried to maintain the relationship when he returned to Australia. Certainly, for the first few months the combination of e-mails and Skyping maintained their intensity and hope. Christian even planned to return in his first holiday break to Cape Town; however, as the full immersion into university life in Adelaide progressed, the intensity of their relationship seemed to diminish. They could both sense it and in the end, they agreed that given the distance between them, it was better just to try to remain friends.

“Well mum, we have maintained a friendship but Isabella has moved on and has another boyfriend now.”

“Is that so? I had an e-mail from her mother Nadine the other day who suggested that Isabella still asked after you, suggesting I would have thought that she is still interested.”

Renata looked at Christian with the small smile she reserved for occasions when she wanted him to know that, despite not having had a relationship since his father, she still understood them.

“Mum, it is probably too difficult for people such as Isabella and me, from very different cultural backgrounds to have a successful long-term relationship.”

“That sounds like a well-thought-out response, or a reason not to try again, but thoughts don’t always effectively deal with emotions. I think you should see her and make sure the flame is not flickering.” Renata said with another knowing smile.

Christian was a little taken aback; he was not used to his mother venturing into his emotional space. She had been a brilliant mother in terms of providing support and organisation, but he had always found it difficult to discuss the emotional side of his life with her. It was not that she lacked emotional intuition; he knew that she did from several things that she had said during his various relationships. However, that is all they were, comments with no real emotional depth or understanding. Fortunately, the mother of one of his friends from primary school had an uncanny ability to both bridge the age gap and understand emotional conflict. Gabriella had become his confidant, and in many ways she was like a big sister to him, providing him with the inside into relationships as he grew up. It was Gabriella, whom he talked most to about Isabella.

Christian looked at his mother, wondering whether to respond in the way that he had with Gabriella. Past experience suggested it wouldn’t be a discussion but more an analysis and recommendation. Then he thought about how Gabriella had taught him to always be prepared to take a chance. Her favourite ‘The heart that’s afraid of breaking, will never learn to dance.’ He decided to take a chance.

“Mum, Isabella was my first love. She was the first girl I had sex with. The intensity of that whole experience invaded my whole being. I felt like I had been taken over by a greater force, which was propelling me in a direction that I could not and did not want to control. Part of me found it difficult to deal with that lack of control, but part of me loved the feeling. You know that I have had relationships since then without the feeling that Isabella generated. I can now see that that intensity was possibly all part of the first experience, and that what we had was probably surreal and not survivable. The girls that I’ve since been out with, that intensity or chemistry has been lacking, even though they were each in their own way a wonderful experience.” Christian rushed through the last few sentences wondering whether his mother was embarrassed by what he was telling her.

“Now it’s my turn, my favourite son. I have never heard you talk like that about something that was obviously important to you. That is such a privilege that you wanted to share that with me, you cannot know how many times I wished you had in the past. I know that Gabriella has been a fantastic emotional resource for you, but there were times when I was so envious that she could discuss things like this with you. I realise also that is not one of my abilities, but that never stopped me wanting to share the special emotional side of things with you. Just remember, and this is my humble contribution accepting I’m outside my area of organisational expertise, but the reason that I never had a relationship with anyone after your father, is that there is no one who lit my fire like he did. There are many of my friends who have successful relationships, but from what I have observed, many are also business partnerships. I would much rather be single than have to get the warmth in a relationship by sitting at the fireplace.”

Christian stood looking at his mother for quite some time, neither of them speaking. He after all these years now at least partly understood why there had been no man in her life. She had not been prepared to compromise on love just to have a relationship and sex. Perhaps therefore it was not just an intensity associated with a first relationship with Isabella; it had been something so special that he had not been able to find anything similar since.

“Okay young man, I can see that you’re deep in thought so let’s get back to the facts of what you want to do. You want to go and spend time in Rwanda. Have you any idea how you going to get there and where you are going to stay?”

“I’ve made contact with the superintendent at Garanyi hospital, and he has a house close to the hospital where I could stay.”

“And how are you going to get there?”

“I’ll go to London and then fly into Kigali. Or I could go via South Africa?” he completed the sentence with a slow deliberation, winking at his mother and enjoying her responsive smile.

“I know that you are teasing me but in my humble emotional opinion, you need to see Isabella and sort out your feelings. Something to think about in the next few weeks as you finish up your duties at the Adelaide hospital.”

Christian was not looking forward to visiting the travel doctors. Travelling to Rwanda, he knew, meant eight vaccinations. He could either have them all at once, as one of his friends William had suggested, although he seemed to remember that Will had felt quite strange afterwards to the point of vomiting. The alternative was to have them as two separate series of injections a week apart. As he walked up King William Street in the large cool shadow that stretched across the western side of the street, he still had not made up his mind which option to take. Getting closer to Hindmarsh Square and the travel doctors, he made up his mind. He would take the chance of feeling unwell for twenty-four hours and have the eight injections; getting it all over with at one consultation was the right decision.

The travel doctors had a bright yellow banner advertising their presence on the front window, as well as a small mobile sign in the street. With no wind blowing, the sign hung lifelessly, its large arrow pointing enervatedly at the front door. As Christian approached, the door automatically opened and he walked into a small reception area with a large map of Africa painted on one of the walls behind the receptionist. In the middle of the map he could see, straddling the East African Rift Valley, the small nation of Rwanda. He stood in front of it for a minute absorbing the vastness of Africa and the remoteness of the country he was intending to visit. Rwanda, he had read, was the most densely populated African country with eleven million people, although shortly after the genocide a census had indicated there were only ten million people, one million people having been killed in the genocide. For such a small country, it seemed inconceivable that it should have such a violent history. From what he had read, it fascinated him that it was still described as a Garden of Eden. The resolution of the genocide fascinated him as much as its history. Two major tribal groups, Hutus and Tutsi, were apparently now in peaceful coexistence despite the hatred which had driven them to kill each other. What would he find in such a remote part of the world, he was wondering, when the woman behind the appointment counter spoke to him.

“Good morning, Dr. de Villiers, you have an appointment with Dr. Jaeger I think.”

“Yes, I am having vaccinations done as I am travelling to Rwanda.”

“He’s running about ten minutes late so if you don’t mind waiting, I will let him know that you’re here.”

Christian took a seat opposite the large map on the wall. The chairs were wooden, with small, dark green cushions tied to the top. The backs were made from bare wood with African woman ornately carved into each panel. The legs had African animals, mostly monkeys, carved into them. The arms, except for a small wooden shelf to rest your hand, were inlaid with white shell. He had not seen anything quite like the chairs before and wondered which country they had come from. He made a mental note to ask Dr. Jaeger.

“Dr. de Villiers.” The lady who had greeted him when he arrived moved from behind the desk and sat down next to him.

“We need some details from you, past medical history and allergies, but I guess being a doctor you understand the need for all that information. I’ll leave that there with you; if you have any questions just ask.”

Christian looked at her and smiled. He realised, despite being qualified for three years, he had still not really fully adjusted at times to being called Dr. de Villiers. That in itself was strange, as he had looked forward to the honour for such a long time. There was a time, he remembered, just after starting medical school, when he was flying to Melbourne with his mother and he looked at his mother’s boarding pass with Dr. de Villiers printed on it. He wondered at the time what it would feel like and how proud he would be to achieve the title of doctor. Now that he had been qualified for three years, he had mostly adjusted to the title, but knew deep down that each time he was called doctor, there was still a degree of pride in what he had achieved. What he had not adjusted to was the different ways people reacted when they knew you were a doctor. From many, there was a recognition that you had achieved something substantial which allowed you the privilege of being able to save lives and treat people.

For others the reaction was different. It was that being doctor was glamorous and sexy. He remembered all the discussions with his friends about how people reacted once they knew you were a doctor. The consensus he recalled, was that there had been so many television programmes promoting glamorous doctors that this is how doctors were generally now seen. He had worked enough late nights in Accident and Emergency and been sleep deprived and seen enough stabbings to realise medicine was far from glamorous and sexy. However, when he thought about it and was brutally honest with himself, he had to admit he did not mind someone thinking he was sexy because he was a doctor. The eye contact from the receptionist he thought fitted into that category. Recognising such a reaction he was capable of, but knowing how to deal with it he had found difficult. He remembered what his good friend Sophia had tried to tell him during one of their many relationship research sessions at their favourite student pub, The Elephant and Castle.

“Be cool, Christian; do not immediately return eye contact until you’re certain that you want more. Then if your peripheral scan is positive, remember shyness, or apparent shyness, is very appealing. It gives the appearance that you are unused to this kind of attention and do not quite know how to deal with it. Very attractive from a woman’s point of view, it even suggests that you might be relatively untouched from a relationship point of view.”

Christian looked at the floor, or more correctly at his feet on the floor, as he reflected on Sophia’s advice. He had always felt awkward making eye contact; he did not have to feign shyness. He picked up one of the travel magazines and began flicking through the pages in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. He looked at the photographs replaying in his mind Sophia’s advice when he heard the reception phone ring. He looked up and the woman behind the reception desk said,

“Vanessa speaking, how can I help you?”

Vanessa’s hair was cut short, coal black hair cropped neatly into her neck. On her right side, she had hooked it behind her ear. The curl of the hair drew attention to her high cheekbone and eloquent neck. A light blue T-shirt, with Travel Doctor embroidered across the front in large dark blue letters, matched her blue eyes and stretched itself over her pert breasts.

“Dr. Jaeger is quite busy but I will certainly bring that to his attention, and I’m sure he’ll get back to you as soon as he can.”

Christian quickly switched his gaze back to his travelling magazine. However, not quickly enough. Vanessa had noticed his covert appraisal. Christian felt uneasy; it was as though he had been caught doing something that he should not have been doing which brought with it a strange sense of guilt. Why that happened, he was never quite certain. Vanessa was very attractive and it was a natural instinct to admire beauty. Nevertheless, he had never been able to fully transition from ‘it’s rude to stare’, which he had heard as a child, to a guiltless appreciative appraisal. When he had discussed his problem with Sophia at yet another of their pub research sessions, her advice had been unhelpful. Get over it, she had said, everyone stares, just learn to do it with style. She had not elaborated on how he could achieve that which had quietly annoyed him. Instead, she had said in the forthright manner, which was particular to her,

“Part of your problem is that you think you need to project the confident doctor, accepting all attention as adoration of you and your medical degree. That you do not is more attractive. Stick with the appearance of shyness, but for God’s sake learn to look at a woman when she looks at you—not the floor!”

As Christian thought about the advice, he realised that he really hated his shyness. Medical school with all its requirements for grand rounds and presentations had eliminated his tendency to shyness on a public level but not on a personal one. He was confident in presenting to other doctors and even talking in public; he had done that many a time in his training and quite enjoyed it. It was just that somewhere deep inside, there remained a part of him that he did not want to or that he could not expose easily. He had been unable to figure out where that came from, a trait he thought he could not have inherited from either parent given their confidence. Although when he thought about it, he didn’t really know that much about his father. Perhaps the beatings his father had endured from his grandfather on the family farm in South Africa were because his father was not confident enough to stand up to him. Another question about his father that he knew may never be answered.

Deep in that thought, he barely noticed that Vanessa had moved out from behind her desk to come and sit in the other ornately carved seat next to him. As she sat down clutching an information sheet attached to a blue clipboard, she said

“While you’re waiting, if you could give me some of your details that would speed up the process.”

Christian moved into recovery mode noting that everything seemed to be colour-coordinated, from the clipboard to the paper. He wondered whether that was also Vanessa’s influence.

“And don’t forget to put your phone number in there.”

As she got up from the chair next to him, she left him with the clipboard and a knowing smile which annoyingly caused his shyness to resurface. Despite Sophia’s advice that shyness was attractive, he wished that on occasions such as this he had the ability to overwhelm it.

Filling out the form, he was conscious in his peripheral vision of Vanessa now glancing over at him. He briefly wondered if there was something funny that he could say that make her laugh - one of Sophia’s more helpful suggestions he remembered.

“Always remember,” she had said, “making a woman laugh means you have touched her soul, and touching her soul inevitably means that she might trust you with touching other parts.”

How Sophia had ended up having so much personal wisdom when it came to relationships intrigued him. It was not that she had had many boyfriends. He seemed to recall there had only been three or four, one more serious than the others. Perhaps it was more related to the fact that her mother was a psychiatrist and as a family, she had witnessed lots of discussion about life and personal issues and how best to deal with that.

Christian decided that if he had to think about what would make Vanessa laugh that it probably would not. He stood up to give the clipboard back when the side door opened slightly. A racing bicycle appeared. Christian placed the clipboard on Vanessa’s desk as she turned to see who was coming through the door. The bicycle was followed shortly by someone whom Christian assumed was Dr. Jaeger. He looked every inch a serious cyclist, dressed in a white and black hooped Lycra top and shorts.

“Good afternoon, sorry I’m late, dam P platers slowing down the traffic again.”

Christian watched as he disappeared with the bicycle into his office. A few minutes later, Christian could hear the shower start followed by less than tuneful singing
.

“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.”

Christian smiled to himself. The singing itself was not that good, although Dr. Jaeger had a deep voice which should have been melodious. Christian was not quite sure either of the words of the song or who had sung the original version. What he did remember was that it was a song that his mother played often. There was one month particularly in the year when she always played it. The week before Easter, if he remembered correctly, although now that she had an iPod he had not heard it as often as he used to. He resolved to try and remember to ask her what the song was and who sang it. Dr. Jaeger’s singing continued and he noticed that Vanessa was smiling. She was obviously enjoying the singing without the slightest embarrassment that Dr. Jaeger’s voice was filling the waiting room.

A few minutes later Christian heard the shower stop with the singing becoming a low humming and shortly after the surgery door opened.

“Dr. Villiers, I presume. I’m Dr. Mark Jaeger, please call me Mark.”

Christian took his outstretched hand and decided instantly that he liked Dr. Mark Jaeger. There was a kindness in his eyes, which Christian had always taken as a sign of inner goodness in people. Not that he had any science to back his observation it up. Conversely, he had learnt to be wary when there was no warmth or kindness. In countless patients high on methamphetamines, there was blackness as if their soul or the soul connection had gone into hiding.

“Vanessa tells me that you are going to Rwanda.” Dr. Jaeger interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes, I’m planning to go to a small hospital down the Congolese border at a place called Garanyi.”

“That’s adventurous, no tripping off to a safe comfortable place like New Zealand or Asia to further your medical experience!”

“I wanted to go to some place which would be medically challenging and where my medicine and surgery would be useful.”

“Well, Rwanda will certainly do that for you. It may interest you to know that my wife and I visited a hospital in a place called Goma about six years ago, which is just across the border from Garanyi in the Congo. It was a hospital, which had a strong Australian link as it used to be visited each year by an Australian surgeon, who did a fantastic amount of surgery. If I recall, there was another German surgeon who used to come down and help from a mission hospital that he ran in the mountains of Rwanda.