The Possibility that Wasn't

Yesterday, the program in Senegal closed up. The team I'd been mentoring was rapidly becoming autonomous and, even if I'd scheduled an additional week of work I doubt I could have delivered much more. My brain hurt. I was exhausted. I am still exhausted.

We returned to the hotel: Eve and John and I. John needed to change out of his uniform so we could get lunch. These people are good company. Eve has been my ally for years and, even though I've only now met him, I like John. I like the work he does and his attitude about jumping into any situation. I like that he throws himself into work instead of waiting to be invited. Also, he brought us stroopwaffels when he joined us on Tuesday. This earned him points in my book.

As the week went on I began to realize that I was enouraging John to talk more and more - that I relied on the sound of his voice: the pattern of his words, the rise and fall of his intonations, and his lilting Dutch accent. Even the way he tells stories and jokes. It was only yesterday that I discovered why: it reminds me so much of Sjors. There are few things in the world I would not trade to hear his voice again and to have the words be the kind and loving Sjors I fell in love with.

I was relieved to have the program finished yesterday, and I laughed and talked with Eve and John dring lunch. Then they talked about their lives outside of this work. This was somehow difficult for me to hear and, after a while I shut out the words, looking across the water at Goree Island and the blue stretch of ocean between. Eve returns to her husband and daughter; John to his wife and children. I have no analagous portion of my life. This program is my life and, when it stops, I can feel the darkness beneath me again. It is difficult to acknowledge this missing piece which will never be filled.

We shopped in African markets after lunch, buying batik paintings and baobab seed jewelry. These are lovely gifts for people. I wanted to buy baby dresses for Emily's baby and for Amanda's baby, too. We found a shop and negotiated prices for beautiful tiny dresses and I packed them away. In the car as we returned to the hotel, John enjoyed my pleasure in the purchases and so he shared a story:

"I was leading a battalion of men in a difficult area," he told us. "We had some time off and I wanted to buy baby clothes because my wife was expecting our first child. There was another man with me who also had a baby so we went shopping together. We wanted to get the best quality clothes, of course, and the people in the market were so surprised to have these two tough marines checking the quality of baby clothes and buying bags of them."

In the market with Eve buying paintings and baby clothes

If I did not look at John, I could almost imagine it was Sjors saying those words. I remembered the time in Mauritius when we spoke on Skype and he described the baby's nursery he would build me. He talked about the children we would have together and wondered aloud what they would look like. Would they have my eyes? Would they have his laugh? Our mutual need for adventure? He wanted our children to love physics the way that I love physics. I wanted them to have his boundless energy and curiousity. On that day, in a rug shop in Mauritius, I had purchased a wool rug which had a pattern of butterflies and flowers. I had felt so strongly and with such pleasure that I would put this in the nursery and that I would see it every day when I sang to our children. I remember telling Sjors about this and the look on his face as he reassured me that he would give me a place to put that rug.

Without meaning to, I suddenly saw Sjors in that market, doing what John described: buying baby clothes for our infant. The image came as involuntarily as breathing and the sensation brought with it an unutterable rush of pleasure. Then, with horror, this image blanked out as I remembered the truth: I remembered the terrible look on his face and the way his body and voice trembled when he saw that the condom had broken. I heard his yelling over the phone, demanding that I take the morning-after pill. I remember the fear and anger on his face when he told me I would ruin his life. I remember the awful months of messages and silences when he decided to close me out and throw himself back into his organization. I remembered the awful meeting in Rheims. I remembered the way that he sided with his group, negating the past between us and trying to discredit me for them. We will not have a child. I let him take the possibility of our child away from us and every day since that day has been so tremendously sad.

I could not check the tears that fell silently down my face. I did not alter my breathing and I looked out the window at the bright flowers and the women dressed in their bouquets of color. I watched the cement buildings go by and I tried to calm myself. Next to me, John continued to speak. He asked about the program and I answered with my head turned so that he would not see this. He would not understand and it would only make him lose confidence in our program to see me cry. Also, if Sjor's organization debriefs him about me, I want him to tell them that I'm strong and shouldn't be fucked with.