Page 90 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“That was once. Okay, so maybe it’s happened a few times since then. But it hasn’t rained for a while now. I bet I could manage. Maybe.” If Kaya ever loaned Edith her vehicle again.
Kaya smirked. “I think I know now why God had us start you off with painting toenails in the delivery ward. Hewanted you to be familiar with the Xhosa word forpush, seeing as how often you were going to need it.”
Edith’s lips twitched despite her best effort not to smile. Kaya thought she was so funny, didn’t she? “I just want to do something important.”
“You are doing something important.”
“Painting toenails? Playing Go Fish?”
“Showing patients they’re valuable. Remember our expression?Njengosisi wam.It means—”
“‘As if she were my sister,’” Edith said, moving the pumpkins onto her lap. “I know. I remember. The head nurse, Mama Peace, told me about it the first week I was here—right after she dressed me down for calling an older patient by her first name instead of Mama. I’m not going to lie. I’ve been scared of Mama Peace ever since.”
“There’s always a learning curve. Don’t take it personally.”
“I’m trying not to. I just thought...” Edith slumped back in her chair. “I thought I would have made a bigger difference by now. I’m not even sure half the people here like me.”
“Relationships take time. And when you make the effort to give someone your time—even if it’s as simple as painting their toenails—you offer them not only a relationship. You offer them hope. Don’t ever underestimate the difference that can make. That hope could be the difference a patient needs someday when deciding whether to make the long trek to get their HIV medications or giving up and swallowing a tank pill.”
Edith nodded. She’d heard about tank pills. A poisonous insecticide that very few survived after ingesting. “You’reright. Of course you’re right. I’m not sure what’s the matter with me. Being here is important. And it’s what I wanted.”
So why, after six months, did she still wonder if she’d made the right decision in coming here? “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” Edith stood, forgetting about the pumpkins. They rolled off her lap onto the floor.
“Tell you what, Edith.” Kaya rounded the desk to help retrieve the runaway squashes. “I understand painting toenails and playing card games after you’ve worked as a registered nurse for several years might feel a bit... unsatisfying. Truth is, we didn’t train you for anything more, because... well, we didn’t think you’d last more than a month here.”
“Thanks a lot.” Edith pretended to send Kaya a withering glare.
“Since you can’t do anything clinically without a nursing registration, what if we try something away from the hospital? What do you think about moving in with one of the families outside of the village? Not that we haven’t enjoyed having you.”
“I don’t mind.” Especially if it spared her from waking up to Godzilla hovering two inches from her face. “What will I be doing?”
“Making home visits with Amahle. She’s what we refer to as a positive deviant. Despite growing up in the exact same circumstances as her neighbors, her babies have always thrived. We believe it’s because of her strong commitment to breastfeeding. Which is why we asked her to partner up with us in making home visits to see if she can encourage more of our mothers to breastfeed and make referrals on babies who don’t appear to be thriving.”
“Okay. Yeah. I think I might like that.”
“I think you might too. Plus, it’ll be good for you and Amahle to spend some time together, what with you two about to become family.”
“Right.” Edith adjusted the pumpkins in her arms. “Wait—what?”
“Amahle. She’s Junior’s sister.”
Edith trapped a pumpkin against her thigh before it fell. “Oh, I see. Yes, very funny. Ha-ha.” Junior ran this area’s version of Uber. He owned a run-down clunker, offering private transport to the few locals who could afford it. She’d met him her first evening in the village. And once he concluded she was a wealthy American, he’d been proposing to her at least three times a week ever since.
“I heard you accepted a chicken from him.”
Edith gave up and let the pumpkins bounce to the floor. “Yeah, his aunt was in the hospital with tuberculosis the other week. She must have been one of the patients whose toenails I painted. I guess he was saying thank you.”
Kaya pinched the bridge of her nose. “Edith, I hate to break it to you, but accepting a man’s chicken in these parts is the same as accepting a man’s engagement ring.”
“What? No. He never said anything about—well, I mean he has. Other times. But not this time. He just plopped the chicken into my hands. What about the chicken some guy gave me a month ago?”
“You’re engaged totwomen?”
“No, I didn’t know. I didn’t—” Edith pressed her lips together the second Kaya’s lips started to lift and her shouldersbegan shaking. She smacked Kaya on the arm. “You arenotfunny.”
“I wish I had a picture of your face.”
“I’m leaving now.”
