Page 61 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
“Minimize your needs. You’re the most nurturing, loving person I’ve ever met. You were born to be a mother.”
Her words hit me hard, breaking through the wall I’ve tried to build. A tear slips silently down my cheek, followed by another. The emotion wells up inside me, unexpected, overwhelming. “I don’t know what to do,” I choke out, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I’ve tried to keep inside.
“I don’t, either, but promise me one thing.” Her eyes find mine. “Trust in yourself.”
I promise her that I will, even though I’m not entirely sure what that means. Then a flash of memory comes to me. Alone on that rooftop in Florence ... “What’s crazy is the night I met him, I was in the middle ofprayingthat I would meet someone.”
Scarlet’s eyes widen. “That’s interesting.”
I wave her off. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”
Scarlet doesn’t look quite as sure.
Chapter Fifteen
Trust the Process
Nairobi, Kenya
“Folks, please fasten your seat belts. This may be a bumpy ride,” the flight attendant says over the intercom, and it feels less like an announcement and more like a metaphor for my life.
Scarlet’s words at the hospital still ring in my head. I’m torn because when I’m with Hart, it’s magic between us. When we’re apart, it’s easier to be objective and tell myself I won’t get swept up in the idea of us.
She was right about one thing, though—I doneedto be a mother. Some people don’t, and that’s great for them. I’m just not one of them. I ached holding her precious newborn, like there was an actual baby-shaped hole in my heart that could only be filled when I had one of my own nestled into my arms.
I downloaded a couple of books to my e-reader in preparation for the flight but haven’t been able to get past the first few pages on any of them. On trips I would often borrow one of my mother’s books, which ranged from women’s fiction to saccharine romance. I’d devour those in a matter of hours if left unattended. I loved the idea of love. I still do, even if it’s become more and more elusive as I’ve gotten older. On the pages of those books, it seemed so simple. A young heroine who wasready to take on the world, with her rosy cheeks and perky outlook. I feel a long way from being a young, hopeful twentysomething. In a lot of ways, that’s a good thing. I’m financially independent and know how to take care of myself. I know how to dress well and which hairstyles to avoid. Bangs didn’t work on me at all, and neither did neon colors.
Thankfully, the turbulence the captain was expecting never materializes and we land smoothly at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport.
Edmund, my driver, is waiting outside the terminal for me when I make my exit, exhausted but happy to be back. He helps me with my luggage and takes me to the apartment that will be my home for the next two months. There’s much to be done, and I’ve had Joslyn pack my days full with meetings with elected officials and members of the city council. I prepared my speaking points on the plane, and I feel ready, but you never know how these things will go. I’m an outsider here, something I can never overcome, despite all my work here over the past several years.
A history of scandals has plagued the city. High on the list of things the council is eager to put an end to are the water shortages, the unmitigated dumping of waste, and the informal settlements and illegal structures currently mushrooming out from the city center. We have many of the same priorities, and I aim to remind them of that when we meet.
Corruption has been rampant too. The city struggles with so-called ghost employees—nonexistent workers who collect a paycheck from the city despite not actually working.
But,this is Africa. A common saying here, it even has its own acronym: TIA. It’s sort of a general sigh or shake of the head when things don’t go as planned. Lack of services or the internet going down again—it is just the way things are in Africa. I often have to babysit my tongue. Still, this place holds a piece of my heart and always will. The hot, dusty climate feels like a second home to me now.
In the morning, I head into the office early. Joslyn is chipper, and things are running smoothly. David has decided to grow a mustache, which is all the talk at the watercooler. It’s nice being back. Just as I’m finishing up an email, David pops his head into my office.
“Hey, one more thing,” he says, looking cagey.
“Sure. What’s up?” I squint, wondering when I’ll get used to that mustache ... it really isa lot.
“I got a weird email. From a reporter.” He pauses, waiting like I’m supposed to fill in the blank. His eyes widen, latching on to mine. “Asking if I had any comment about your love life.”
My stomach drops like I’m on a Tilt-A-Whirl. “What did you say?”
“I said no comment, obviously.”
I practically sag with relief.
“Thanks for your discretion, David.”
“Sure thing.”
I wonder if I need to tell Hart, to warn him. But I can’t stand the idea that, like Sean, he’ll think I’m being too needy, that I’m overreacting and letting my emotions rule. Fighting off a panic attack, I tell myself to remain calm. As long as no one comments, everything will be fine, and this will blow over.
Right?
