Moore Than Forever (18 page)

How could this be?
The ocularist’s words surfaced one of the darkest nightmares a parent could ever face. What if Nathaniel were to be diagnosed with a life threatening or life altering disease? What if one day he was no longer be able to see her smiling at him? Would she have the strength to live through it?

“Will you be with the prosthetics staff in the new rehab center?” Mia finally was able to push past the burning lump in her throat.

“Yes, I will be. Are you here with the group that is responsible for it?”

“We are,” Lily announced, proudly.

“Well thank you. I will finally get out of the hall and have an actual lab to work in. I am so appreciative.”

“Well, we don’t want to keep you from your work any longer. It was very nice to meet you. I’m Mia and this is Lily.”

“I am Johan Baer. Very nice to meet you and thank you.”

Walking off to find the others, Mia and Lily were quiet for a few moments. Mia couldn’t shake the thought of babies losing their eyes to cancer. Her heart was shattering for the children and for their families.

“I have a feeling we are going to have a lot of very profound moments this trip, Lily.”

“I don’t think we’re ever going to be the same, Mia.”

Truer words may never have been spoken
, Mia thought to herself. Schooner was Lily’s age the summer he came over and Mia was finally getting a glimpse of the experience that transformed him into the man he would become and provide clear direction for his life’s path.

Mia couldn’t help but wonder how this chapter would rewrite all their lives.

Chapter Thirty-three

“Where have you been?” Schooner casually slung an arm over Mia’s shoulder as she and Lily joined the group.

“Lily and I just met the gentleman who makes prosthetic eyes. I was able to get some pictures of him creating an eye.”

“Ah, you met Johan,” Sonkwe seemed pleased. “He will be housed in the new facility when it opens. I know he will be pleased to be vacating his desk in the middle of a hallway.”

Following along, they came to a door, “First I will show you the grounds for the new facility and then I will introduce you to my wife. She is the director over at the orphanage.”

The construction site had already been surveyed and colored flags dotted the property. Mia looked up at Schooner, he was beaming, his sapphire eyes glowing. The look on his face was the same one she had seen the night Charles first showed them the L9/NYC property. Watching his head nod slightly as he examined each inch of the property, from left to right, like a panoramic photo. He was envisioning.

Mia began to take pictures. These would be the baseline shots to show progress as the facility was built. Training her camera on Berto and Schooner, deep in conversation and pointing to things only they could see in their heads, Mia was envisioning something very different - the promotional materials she would produce to help fund ongoing projects and programs.

“I think he is happiest over here,” Marit observed, watching the two men. “This is how he was about medicine twenty years ago. Now, it’s the work he does over here.”

“This is where Schooner got the inspiration for L9. And I know that look on his face. This is where he is truly a visionary,” her words resonated with awe and respect. “My pretty boy jock,” she shook her head.

Waving for the women to follow them, they crossed the field to a small white, wooden house.

“We currently have nine children and they range in age from eight months to eleven years old.”

Entering the house, they could hear different sounds coming from all corners, the soft speaking voice of a teacher, a baby crying, the springs of a rocking horse pinging, a microwave dinging.

The first room was lined with freestanding chalkboards and bookshelves, four children sat with a teacher, going over their lessons, using old style notebooks with hard cardboard black and white covers. They all looked up, smiling in unison.

“Say hello to our guests,” Sonkwe told the children, who then greeted in unison. Three boys and a girl made up this group; Francis, Theone, Ezekiel and Trina.

Next was the nursery, bathed in bright yellow walls with white trim and sunshine pouring through the windows. It was impossible not to smile walking into the room. Three cribs were set up, but only two had babies, Thomas and Sena, who were just going down for their naps.

The remainder of the children, two boys, Kelvan and Chibesa and one little girl, Msikana, were playing in the pre-school room. Again, the visitors were greeted by a chorus of hello.

“Hello,” Mia crouched down next to the kids, “my name is Mia. What are you playing?”

“Star Wars,” Kelvan picked up a Darth Vader figurine. His British accent making him sound so formal.

Mia laughed, thinking about how truly global some of the elements of pop culture had become. Kelvan and his figurine could’ve been part of little boys’ play almost anywhere in the world.

Msikana came and sat down next to where Mia was crouched. Looking up at Mia, her big dark eyes excited to share her news with a stranger, “This is my doll, her name is Roberta. Today is her birthday.” She handed the ragdoll to Mia

“She’s very pretty. How old is she?” Mia smoothed down the doll’s messy hair.

“She’s only two,” Msikana was very serious.

“Maybe we should have a party for her,” Mia suggested, pointing to a doll’s tea set on one of the shelves lining the room.

Msikana ran across the room and gathered up as many teacups and plates as her little hands could carry and dropped them with a crash on a small round table. Immediately, she began to properly set the table. Running back to Mia, she grabbed Roberta and put her in one of the chairs.

Picking up her Nikon, Mia began to shoot frame after frame of the precious little girl. Checking her LCD screen, she couldn’t help but smile. The lens loved this little girl.

“Lady, come have tea with us,” was her invite to Mia.

With her British accent, Msikana could have been a little girl in London sitting with her dollie, as opposed to an orphan in Zambia. Mia felt the lump in her throat growing at the thought and quickly hid behind her camera lens.

“I need to visually document all of this,”
she reminded herself harshly,
“there’s going to be a lot of heartbreaking moments, stay neutral. Do your job.”

“Mia.”

Hearing Schooner’s voice behind her, she gathered herself and quickly turned around, a smile painted on her face. With Schooner and Sonkwe was an attractive woman in a flowing brightly colored batik dress to her ankles. She was barefoot.

Extending a hand and a smile to Mia, “Hello, Mia. I am Sonkwe’s wife, Bupe. We have been looking forward to this visit. Sonkwe’s so excited about the new facility.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” Schooner was telling Sonkwe. “I’m meeting onsite with the architect and construction foreman.”

As she turned to say goodbye to the children, she felt a tiny hand slip into hers. Msikana was smiling up at her. “I’ll see all of you again tomorrow,” Mia promised.

As Sonkwe led them back to where their driver was waiting, he put a hand on Mia’s arm, indicating she should fall behind with him at a slower pace.

“Thank you, Mia.”

Cocking her head and smiling, “For what?”

“For Schooner. You brought him to us. Had fate not unraveled for you, he never would have come to us that summer. And now the fates have seen fit to bring us all together at last. There appears to be much work to be done.”

Mia nodded, not sure she fully grasped all that he was trying to convey, but his words bounced throughout her brain, a pinball slamming into bumpers and ricocheting, leaving light trails in their wake.

Was it all unfolding the way it was supposed to? It had certainly shaped Schooner’s life. While tennis had been taken from him, it had been replaced by something so much larger, something that touched and impacted so many more people. Had his hand not been broken, he probably would’ve had a career on the tour, at least for a few years. He would’ve played Australia, France, England, The Open and then he probably would’ve coached younger players on the tour.

But he never would have had the experience and inspiration that his summer in Macha gave him. Sonkwe would never have been taught CPR and Oral-Rehydration Therapy when he was eight years old by a motivational young American who brought soccer tournaments and tailgating to his little village.

“There appears to be much work to be done,” Sonkwe had said to her. Mia couldn’t help but feel that they were nowhere near the end of this journey.

Chapter Thirty-four

As they strolled the crafts rondavels at Kabwata Cultural Village, alone for the first time all day, Schooner pulled Mia in close under his arm, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her arm tenderly.

“How are you holding up, Baby Girl?”

Looking up at him, she could see the compassion in his eyes, “It’s a lot to process, Schooner.”

He just nodded and they walked along in silence, stopping to look at the indigenous wood carvings of masks, figurines of people, birds and animals and beautiful hand-hewn bowls.

“That moment between you and Sonkwe today practically killed me. When he was coming down the hall toward us and he smiled, I immediately knew he was the little boy with the soccer ball in the picture you gave me,” her eyes teared up just recounting it, “and my heart just wanted to burst out of my chest for the two of you.” She was silent for a moment, “I’m so glad I’m experiencing this with you.”

He pulled her tighter to him as they walked, but remained silent. Stealing a glance at his handsome face, Mia couldn’t help but wonder what fate had in store for them.

As if reading her thoughts, he looked down at her and smiled, “I just keep thinking it’s all unraveling as it should. Do you feel that, too?”

She nodded, but words wouldn’t come. Today’s reunion with Sonkwe was a sign. What exactly it was a sign of, she just wasn’t quite sure. Things were starting to feel bigger than the two of them and control was no longer theirs, it somehow fell to the fates and Mia silently prayed that the fates looked upon them kindly.

“I know he’s a little young, but look at that little drum,” he steered her over to one of the thatched roofed stands. “We have to get this for him.”

Mia laughed, “Look at these beaded necklaces, they’re gorgeous. I should pick some up for my mom, Kami, Gaby and Seth.”

“Seth?” Schooner looked surprised.

“If everyone else gets beads and he doesn’t, I’ll never hear the end of it and can’t you just see him wearing these out dancing on Fire Island?” Mia picked up a strand of brightly colored, chunky beads.

“Yeah,” Schooner laughed, “I actually can.”

After a lengthy conversation with the stall owner about where they were from and why they were there, they paid for their purchases.

Leaving the rondavel, “Are you ready?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Ready for what?”

“Lunch. I’m taking you out, Baby Girl,” and he pointed to a shack down the dirt road and started dragging her along at his long-legged fast pace, “for the best nshima and ifisashi you will ever eat.”

“Do they have beer?”

“Do they have beer, she asks. Do they have beer? I’m going to get you trashed on Mosi Lager and spend the rest of this afternoon fucking your brains out.”

“Promises, promises.” Mia snarked.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Mia crashed into him, “That you will pay for, Ms. Silver,” and with a flash of his All-American boy smile, he dragged her into the shack for a traditional Zambian meal to later be followed by a very All-American dessert.

Chapter Thirty-five

The first facility of the morning was located on the edge of the city in an economically depressed neighborhood. The halls were lined in institutional green tiles and the smell of disinfectant accosted the senses immediately upon entering the building. The impact on Mia’s spirit was instantaneous as she intuitively felt the emotional ante upped significantly.

Specializing in prosthetic services for victims of disease, accidents and violence, the patients on this particular hall had lost various limbs and many had been waiting months to be fitted for their prosthetics. Others were in various stages of rehabilitation.

The hall was lined with at least sixty patients patiently waiting for their turn to see the lone prosthetist. Sitting down to talk with them, learn their stories, hear of their attempts to assimilate back into their former lives and livelihoods was engrossing, fascinating and devastating all at the same time. With rapt attention, Lily, Marit and Mia listened, the Castillo women recording the stories as Mia visually documented the whole experience.

Prosthetist Mubita Lungu was a bear of a man, although Mia suspected that this imposingly large figure was in actuality more of a teddy bear than the tough grizzly he appeared to be. Watching him work with a patient to adjust the fittings for a new transtibial prosthetic leg, his precision, patience and expertise were a joy to observe. This was a man who took pride in making a difference in others’ lives.