The Endless Deep Chapter 10 (5/11/09)

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partygirl43

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FICTION!!!!!FICTION!!!!!!FICTION!!!!!!!!!!FICTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 10

Finally after a few intermittent e-mail’s, Bono called the day before my departure.

“Are you ready for the trip?” He inquired.

“Yes, I’m almost done packing. The cameras are ready.” I said.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I’m well.” His voice sounded far away and weary.

“You sound tired.” I replied.

“Well, I’ve been busy here at home. Some things came up with the girls. It’s been a little crazy. Even for me.” He said, sounding like a frustrated father and less like a rock star. I nodded into the receiver. I had read in a tabloid that his girls had been partying in London with the Geldof girls. I sighed, not really knowing what to say. “I’m sure it’ll work out, I remember those days.” was all I could muster.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m good.” I replied.

“You sound tired too,” he said “what’s up?”

I smiled to myself that he noticed, “Oh, I think I’m nervous about the trip.”
“Oh you’re an old pro,” he said “what’s to be nervous about?”

I laughed nervously, “Getting shot at.”

“Shot at?” his voice was surprised. “You’re going to Burkina Faso. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way.”

“I know,” I replied “I know it’s safe.”

There was a pause of silence on the line.

“How bad was it when you went?’ He asked, his voice sounded concerned.
I was quite for a moment.

“Ansleigh?”

“It was bad enough. I was evacuated out by the UN. The rescue was very scary.” I said.

My mind went back to that day, and I saw it in flashes. The Land Rovers speeding through gunfire towards the helicopters. Goran throwing a Flak jacket on me, hustling me towards them, engines roaring, using his body as a shield. He picked me up and shoved me at a UN soldier. I held onto his jacket, screaming at him; ‘This is it?’ His eyes went blank, and he pushed me away.

I did not want to concern Bono. I wanted to change the subject.

“Don’t worry about me.” I said “Burkina Faso is different than Somalia, I’ll be fine.”

“OK.” He replied

“God, I miss you so much.” I said, feeling like I might cry.

“I miss you too. A few more weeks, my love.” He said.

I hung up the phone and looked out the window; snow was mixing in the cold October rain.


The journey was long. I’d forgotten that the toughest part of the trip was the 18 hour journey there. The sun was blinding as I stepped out of the small plane. It was good to see it though; Chicago had started to go grey. I was met at the airport by a no-nonsense Irish woman named Bonnie McClellan. She was in her late fifties, one of those always on the go spit fires who amazed me. She had seen everything, yet maintained grace and good humor. We settled into the foundations small complex of buildings and started our work the next day. We spent the next two weeks travelling dusty roads, going from village to village. Everywhere we went we received a warm welcome. At the schools, the children would gather around and sing and dance for us. The village chiefs would happily pose for photos and eagerly look at the small screen on the back of the camera to see the picture instantly. The world had a way of reminding me of the simple joys. There was plenty of ‘stupid poverty’ as Bono would say, but people were always filled with joy and happiness. It was good to see that many of the projects were working. I thought about my work at home in Chicago, at Lincoln Elementary School and how those children; children of one of the richest nations were also affected by ‘stupid poverty’. The children of mothers who worked at the corner drugstore or fast food place making minimum wage trying to make ends meet. I enjoyed my work in Africa, but it made me anxious to get back home. I also missed Bono like crazy; I wished he was next to me, sharing this adventure with me.


On my last day Bonnie and I went to the central market. I wanted to bring back some souvenirs to share with the students at Lincoln. I browsed through the various stands and stopped at one that had beautiful hand crafted jewelry. As I browsed a stand across the way caught my eye. It was a stand selling food and drink. It was a small make shift café, complete with a few plastic tables and chairs.


I blinked hard; my eyes were dry from the dust and heat.

There he was, sitting under the awning of the make shift café. I blinked hard and squinted again. My eyes did not deceive me.

It was Goran Stolar.

I dropped the jewelry that was in my hand. I felt trapped. How long was he sitting there? Was he watching me? Bonnie came over.

“Luv, ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said.

I nodded “I have.” I motioned towards the café, “I know that man sitting there.”

He was sitting at the table nursing a beer. He had on his usual cargo khakis, white linen shirt, and boots. His silver watch flashed in the sun. I could not see if he was armed or not.

“A friend here?” She puzzled.

I looked at her, “It’s a long story.” I replied. “I’m going over; can you come get me in a few minutes please?”

Bonnie nodded and she watched me storm over. Goran was wearing a self satisfied grin.

“What the hell are you doing here?!?!?” I demanded.

He still grinned madly, “I don’t get a hug first?”

“Why are you here?” I demanded again.

“I heard through the grape-vine that you’d be on the continent, so I came to say hello.” He said.

I was incredulous. “It’s not like you jumped in the car and drove five minutes to get here.”

“Well, that’s true.” He smiled. “I was between assignments, thought I’d make the trip.”

I’d forgotten how handsome he was. I started to remember the familiar feeling of irritation.

“So you came all the way here for me?” I asked “What if you missed me, if I wasn’t here? How did you know?” I was talking fast, almost stammering.

“Ansleigh,” he leaned forward “I have access to a lot of information.” He kicked the other seat out with his foot. “Why don’t you join me?” his tone was menacing. “I came two thousand miles to see you, the least you can do is sit down.”

I sat, half collapsing in my seat and stared at him. I could barely believe any of this was happening. A man came out and put down a cold, sweating bottle of some random, no name cola. Goran flicked a couple of bills his way.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, you know” I said.

He took a swing from his beer. “I have a room here.” He said simply.

“Goran, I’m not going to stay with you. I’m seeing someone.” I answered.

“Who’s this guy?” he questioned.

I shook my head, “I can’t say. Someone. Does it really matter?”

“If you can’t say, than it’s not real.” He said.

I exhaled, “Goran, we weren’t real either. Whatever it was, it wasn’t love. I was scared, you were there.”

“That’s it?” he replied “You’re a bitch.”

The words stung for a moment.

“Goran, think about it. We would not work. I’m not going to Croatia with you, and can you see yourself in Chicago? What are you going to do there? Work at some security firm, wearing a suit, working 9 to 5? You’re not happy unless you almost get killed every day.” I said emphatically.

His eyes locked onto mine, and I grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry you came all of this way. I told Frieda I didn’t want to contact you. I’m sorry for everything.”

Bonnie appeared, “You OK luv?” she said looking at both of us. I nodded.

“So this is it?” Goran said. I stood up and went over and hugged him. “Please stay safe Goran.” I said into his ear.


This was the good-bye I needed, that I didn’t get to have the first time.
 
ooh...me like...:applaud:
"The village chiefs would happily pose for photos and eagerly look at the small screen on the back of the camera to see the picture instantly." this reminds me of when i've gone to foreign countries, they LOVE to have their picture taken...
 
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