Bittersweet (40 page)

“How are we going to do this?” she finally looked at him and asked. There was obviously no way they could stay apart here. The circumstances were impossible, and looking at him made her realize how hopeless it was.

“Maybe we just have to grit our teeth and live with it for a while,” he said, searching her eyes. “I'm so sorry, India. Never in a million years did I think you'd be here.”

“Neither did I. They just offered me this story a week ago. It sounded great, and Doug and his girlfriend agreed to take care of the kids.”

“Both of them?” Paul looked surprised. That was new since he'd been on the scene.

“How long have you been doing this?” she asked, referring to the airlifts she knew he was organizing. She had heard from everyone in the camp what an extraordinary job he and his friends had done. Paul was the organizer, the chief pilot, and he was providing the lion's share of the funding.

“Since March,” he said quietly. “When I went back to the boat, I knew I couldn't just sit there for the rest of my life.”

“Where is it now?”

“In Antibes. I thought if I really got the airlifts going again, and one of the other guys to run them, I could go back by next summer. If not, I can always stay here.” It
was a hell of a life for him, but he was doing a wonderful thing. “Anyway, I'll stay out of your hair as much as I can for the next three weeks. We've got a couple of runs to do this week anyway. Other than that, there isn't much I can do. They need me here. And they also need you.” The international press attention she was going to give them was necessary for the very survival of the project, and attracting funds. She was as important as he was. Neither of them could just leave.

“It'll be all right,” she said slowly, thinking about it. There had to be a way to make it work. They were both there with good intentions, there was no reason why they should be punished for their good deeds. And then she looked up at him sadly. For six months, he had given her so much hope, and then he had taken it all away. But now she had to find that for herself, and so did he. “Maybe this will sound crazy to you, it does to me a little bit,” and it hadn't been what he wanted, she knew. He had made that very clear. “But maybe we can be friends. That's where all this started, way at the beginning. Maybe that's where it has to end. It could be that's why this happened to us, that we found each other here. As though some higher power decided to make us face each other, and make amends.”

“You have nothing to make amends for, India,” he said fairly. “You never did anything to me.”

“I scared you. That's enough. I tried to lure you into doing something you didn't want.” But they both knew that wasn't true. He was the one who had told her he loved her. He had opened a door and invited her in. And then, within days, threw her out again, and slammed the door on her forever.

“I scared myself,” Paul said honestly, “you didn't scare me. I was the one who hurt you. At least remember that. If anyone should feel guilty here it's me.” She couldn't deny that, but in spite of that, she thought that it was simplest if they put it behind them. Whatever she still felt for him, or the hurt he had caused her, there was no room for any of that here.

“You told me long before you came home that you didn't want to be the light at the end of the tunnel for me. And you aren't. But you gave me fair warning, you made it very clear.” She remembered standing in yet another freezing cold phone booth while she listened to him. His words had seemed even colder to her than the air around her. The only thing that had confused her was that, in March, he had changed his mind. But only for a few days. That brief moment was an aberration, a shattered dream, a time that would never come again. And whatever hope she had now, she knew she had to find for herself. And so did he. She could no longer give it to him. And he didn't want it from her. He wanted his memories of Serena, his hold on the past, and his terrors all around him. And he didn't want India. She knew that very clearly. “We have to put what happened behind us. This is some kind of test, for both of us. We have to meet the challenge.” She smiled at him sadly, stood up, and touched his hand. But just looking at her, and listening to what she said, he was confused again. But he had understood the wisdom of what she'd said. “Can we be friends?” she asked him point-blank.

“I'm not sure I can,” he said honestly. Just being close to her was impossible for him.

“We have to. For three weeks anyway.” She was the
one who had chosen the high road. He had preferred to close the door in her face, not to call her, or let her call him. And she had no intention of ever calling him again. But for the next three weeks, in whatever way she had to, she would be his friend. She held out her hand to shake his, but Paul refused, and kept his hand in his pocket.

“I'll see what I can do” was all he said, and then he stood up and walked away. He wasn't angry at her, but he still felt very badly, and seeing her only made it worse. He had also missed her desperately each and every day. And now, seeing her reopened all the same wounds. But he still belonged to Serena and he knew it. But he also knew that there was a lot of wisdom, and generosity of spirit, in what India had said. And now he had to absorb it, and decide how he felt about it. India already knew what she felt about him. And if they could no longer be lovers, for now, at least, she was willing to be his friend.

“Are you two arch enemies from a past life?” Ian asked her later that evening, as they walked back to their tents.

“Sort of,” she said, it was easier than saying they had been lovers, even if only for a few days. “We'll get over it. There's no better place to do it than here.” But as she lay in her sleeping bag that night, on the narrow cot that felt like it was going to collapse every time she moved or breathed, all she could think about was him. She had taken a lot of great photographs that day, and gathered good background information, but the thought that kept running through her mind was that Paul didn't even want to be her friend. He couldn't
even give her that much. It was yet another blow to add to the rest. But she had done her part, and it had cost her dearly. Every time she had looked at him, or spoken to him, all she wanted to do was cry. And she did that finally, alone and in silence, as she lay in her tent sobbing.

The next day he went to Kinshasa for two days, and it was easier for her not to see him at the camp, and she concentrated on her work. She visited sick children and took photographs of them, and talked to orphans. She watched the doctors treat lepers with modern medicines that Paul had paid for and flown in. She seemed to touch everyone in the camp with her quiet presence and her gentle ways. And she saw deep into their souls, always looking at them with her camera. And by the time Paul came back, she had made a lot of friends, and seemed to feel a little better.

On Friday night, the nurses gave a party, and they encouraged everyone to come, but India decided not to, since she was sure Paul would be there. She had promised him her friendship, but he had walked away. She really couldn't face him and this was his place now, his home for the moment, she didn't need to go to a party where she was bound to see him. She was only there for three weeks. It was easier just to stay in her tent.

She was reading quietly by flashlight, propped up on one elbow on her cot, with her hair piled on top of her head in the heat, and she heard a gentle stirring outside, and a sudden sound, as she jumped. She was sure it was an animal, or worse yet, a snake. She pointed her flashlight at the doorway, ready to scream if it was an animal. And she found herself looking into Paul's face.

“Oh,” she said, relieved, but still frightened, and he was squinting in the bright light she pointed at him.

“Did I scare you?” He put his arm up to shield his eyes, and she pointed the flashlight away.

“Yes. I thought you were a snake.”

“I am,” he said, but he wasn't smiling. “Why didn't you go to the party?”

“I was tired,” she lied.

“No, you weren't. You're never tired.” He knew her better than that. In fact, he knew her much too well. And she was afraid that he would see into her heart. She had told him all her confidences for a long time. He knew what she felt, and what she thought, and how she worked.

“Well, I'm tired tonight. I had some reading I needed to do.”

“You said we could be friends.” He sounded dismayed. “And I want to try.”

“We are,” she affirmed. But he knew better. And so did she.

“No, we're not. We're still circling each other like wounded lions. Friends don't do that,” he said sadly, as he leaned against the pole that held up her tent, and watched her with haunted eyes.

“Sometimes they have to. Sometimes even friends endanger each other, or make each other angry.”

“I'm sorry I hurt you, India,” he said agonizingly, as she tried to keep him out of her heart, as she would have a lion out of her tent. But it was no easier than that would have been. “I didn't mean to. … I didn't want to. … I just couldn't help it. I was possessed.”

“I know you were. I understand it,” she said, putting
her book down and sitting up. “It's okay.” She looked at him sadly. There seemed to be no end to the pain they caused each other, even now.

“No, it's not okay. We're both still dead. Or at least I am. Nothing has helped. I've tried everything except an exorcist and voodoo. She still owns me. She always will.” He was talking about Serena.

“You never owned her, Paul. She wouldn't let you. And she doesn't own you. Just give yourself time, you'll get it together again.”

“Come to the party with me. As a friend, if you like. I just want to talk to you. I miss that,” he said sadly, and there were tears in his eyes as he said it. Inviting her to the party was the only peace offering he could think of.

“I miss it too.” They had given each other so much for six months that it had been hard to get used to not having it anymore, and never having it again. But she had. And there was no point going backward. “It's probably better if we don't push it.”

“What's to push?” he smiled ruefully. “I already broke it. We might as well sit together and cry over the pieces.” He stood there looking at her, forcing himself not to remember what it had been like to kiss her. He would have given anything at that moment to hold her. But he knew that was crazy. He had nothing to give her. “Come on. Get dressed. We only have three weeks here. We're stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Why should you sit in your tent reading by flashlight?”

“It builds character.” She smiled at him, trying not to see the fact that he was as handsome as ever. Even in the light of her flashlight, he looked terrific.

“You'll get glaucoma. Let's go.” He looked as
though he would refuse to leave unless she went with him.

“I don't want to,” she said stubbornly.

“I don't care.” He was more so. It was like playing Ping-Pong. “Get your ass out of bed, India. Or I'll carry you on my shoulder.” And with that, she laughed. He was crazy, and she knew she would always love him. And now she'd have to forget him all over again, but for three weeks, what the hell. She had already lost him. Why not enjoy a little time together? She had mourned him for two months. This wasn't a reprieve. It was just a visit, a glimpse of the past and what might have been.

She slowly got out of her sleeping bag, and he saw that she still had her clothes on, a T-shirt and jeans, and after checking her hiking boots for insects or snakes, she put them on and stood looking at him. “Okay, mister. We're buddies for the next three weeks. And after that, you're out of my life forever.”

“I thought I already was,” he grumbled at her, as they made their way back up the hill to the field hospital, where the nurses were giving the party.

“You sure gave a good imitation of it,” India said, looking at him, careful not to touch him. “That farewell scene at the Carlyle looked real to me.”

“It did to me too,” he said softly, and so did the scar she was wearing, he thought, as he gave her a hand over a rough spot. It was a beautiful night, and the sounds of Africa were all around them. Rwanda had its own special sights and smells. There were blossoms everywhere, and their heavy perfume was something India knew she would always remember. And there was always the smell of charcoal fires mixed with food in the camp.

They slipped into the party quietly, and Paul went to talk to some friends, and then chatted with his two pilots. He felt better that he had gotten her out, she had a right to some fun too, but he didn't want to crowd her. He felt as though he owed her something now, and even if there was no way he could repay it, he felt better being friendly at least.

India talked to the nurses for a long time, gathering more information for her article, and she was one of the last to leave the party. Paul watched her go, but he made no attempt to follow her. He was just glad she looked like she'd had a good time. He had a lot to drink, but he was still sober when he went back to the tent he shared with the other pilots. There was no luxury for any of them here. It was about as bare bones as it could get, even more so than her life in the Peace Corps in Costa Rica. But she found it very comforting, and good for the soul, and it was so familiar to her.

The next day India was busy photographing some newly arrived orphans, and when she tried to talk to them in the little bit of Kinyarwanda dialect she'd learned, all of them laughed at her, and she laughed with them. She was slowly beginning to regain her sense of humor. She was busy all week, and on Sunday there were religious services in a nearby church that Belgian missionaries had built, and India attended with some of the others. And that afternoon, Ian, the New Zealander, invited her to go for a ride in the jeep, to show her the surrounding territory, so she could take more pictures. She hadn't run into Paul all day, and Ian told her he'd gone to the market in Cyangugu. At least they had a little space from each other, which was rare
here. For the past week, they had been constantly running into each other everywhere.

And the next day, when she was getting dressed, there was a funny knock on the pole that supported her tent. She looked out the flap as she zipped up her jeans. She was standing there barefoot, just as they had told her not to do, and her hair was hanging loosely and framed her face with blond silk as she saw who was out there. It was Paul.