The Eternal Intern (Contemporary Romantic Comedy) (5 page)

“African bird nests, my friend
,” the cab driver said to me as he was playing with the tuner of the radio.

I was anxious about the new experience that was
awaiting me. I was here to do radio, which I had never done before, and nothing else. I constantly tried to remind myself of that.

“Sun Radio, my friend
,” the driver pointed with his index finger to a large building complex on the other side of the road.

It was huge. The buildings rowed up becoming a white wall. As I approached the main entrance a shiver went through my spine. Fears of failure were going through my head.

“Excuse me, where can I find Ms. M’Beka?” I asked the receptionist in the main entrance hall.

“Ms. M’Beka? Let me see
,” she answered as she suddenly started to flip through a book.

“Ah yes, here. Go to building C, third floor, Room 3.58”.

Here I was. I left to a complete new continent to not only discover something new in life. I was here to work. I was hoping that this endeavor would give me better job chances at home. As I concentrated on this, Loretta’s last words constantly struck me. As I was pulling my case through the hallways of the station I started to doubt my recently discovered confidence.

3.56, 3.57. Ah, 3.58
, I was mumbling to myself as I was passing the offices.

Shortly after I knocked at the closed door
, I heard some movements coming from the inside. After waiting a few minutes I knocked again.

“Yes, please come in
,” a female voice commanded.

I stepped into a typical office room. Looking straight ahead a blond middle aged lady was standing up from behind her desk reaching her hand out to me.

“Patrick, I assume,” she said in a friendly manner.

“Yes, hello. I was expecting Ms. M’Beka
,” I replied confused.

“I am Ms. M’Beka. Surprised I'm white?
” she smiled at me giving me the impression that this was not the first time she was being mistaken for her skin color.

I had to think quick. Sure I thought she wouldn't be what she is. Well not with that name.

“No, no, not at all. I thought you were younger,”
you old charmer did it again
, I thought to myself.

“Good way of saving yourself
,” she laughed.

“Grab your back
pack and follow me. I'll drive you around the city and bring you to your apartment. I don’t have a lot scheduled today, so I have time,” she offered.

As we were driving through the city Ms. M’Beka was acting as a tour guide. Her mouth was moving but I didn't hear a word she said. All I could concentrate on was that last phone call I had with Loretta.

“Over here you can see the President’s palace,” she said.

“Well, I believe that's all I can show you. Do you need to get a sim card for your mobile?
,” she asked.

After hearing the word “mobile” I was suddenly completely alert.

“Mobile? Yes, that would be great,” I responded excited.

“OK. Let me first show you your apartment and then I'll drop you off at the phone store in downtown
,” she explained.

“Great, thank you
.”

I wasn't interested in my apartment. I only wanted to get to that phone store as soon as possible. We drove for another ten minutes through the city getting closer to a residential area. The houses were surrounded by high fences. Some with barbed wire at the top, the others with signs that the fence is electrically charged. “Even though South Africa is one of the safest countries in Africa there is still a lot of criminal
activity,” Ms. M’Beka explained, pointing at the buildings.

After passing row after row of private Fort Knox's
, the car stopped in front of a locked gate.

“Here we are. Your new home
,” she smiled at me.

An elderly man opened the gate as we were getting out of the car.

“Greetings!” the tall man said, “I hope you had a nice trip!”

His slim fingers wrapped around my hand shaking it heavily. His hands felt rough and dry.

“You must be tired. Your roommate moved in a couple of days ago” he instructed me.

“Roommate?
,” I asked in surprise.

“I didn't know I had one
,” I asked my new Boss Ms. M’Beka.

“Oh, I thought you knew
,” she defended herself.

“He's a nice guy. You'll like him. He just started the internship as well
,” she explained.

The sun was being reflected by the metal roof of my new pad. It must have
previously been a garage, based on its architecture. As the door opened, two dogs emerged from the inside.

“Hey girls
,” the man smiled bending down to stroke their heads.

“This is Donna and Rachel
,” he introduced me.

“By the way, I'm Max
,” he said as the dogs were jumping up at him.

“I hope you like dogs
,” he continued.

“Yes, I have one myself. A springer spaniel
,” I responded. “Lovely dogs,” he remarked.

“But I had Shepard dogs all my life so I stick to that breed
,” he explained.

His voice was filled with passion as he talked about his dogs. “Drop your bags and let us go to your phone shop
,” Ms. M’Beka demanded pleasantly.

“I have to get back to the station
,” she added.

“Sure
,” I replied leaving my suitcase just inside the door of my new apartment.

As we got back into the car my thoughts about Loretta came back to me. In the short time that I was interacting with my new landlord
, my brain gave me peace. But now, all I wanted was to talk to her.

T
he closer we got to the city center, the more people were filling the sidewalks.

“If you ever want to walk to the city, it's only twenty minutes by foot from where you're staying
,” Ms. M’Beka explained to me waiting for the green traffic light.

“Green!
” I responded.

Ms. M’Beka looked at me then swiftly turned her head upwards looking at the lights.

“Oh yes, thank you,” she responded slowly accelerating the car. Further down the street I could see a long line of people. It literally went for at least a block.

“You have to get out here
,” Ms. M’Beka smiled.

“We are here
,” she continued.

Her finger pointed to an entrance.

“Go in there, get yourself a waiting number and then get in line,” she explained.

“Thank you. But why are they all standing in line if they have a number?
” I asked.

She laughed. “You'll see why”.

I walked past the long line of people to get to the entrance. There was a young mother with her baby wrapped around her chest. Right behind her an older man. His eyes looked empty as he was focusing on the floor. As I got closer to the building’s entrance a woman shouted towards my direction “HEY, YOU. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

I wasn't sure if she meant me and therefore kept walking.

“ARE YOU DEAF? GET IN LINE!” the woman's voice got more aggressive. 

I stopped, turned my head in her direction
, and said “Me? Cutting the line?”

“Yeah, she's right. You get to the back of the line
,” a younger man demanded assisting the woman.

“But I’m just going to get a number
,” I tried to explain calmly.

“So are we, moron
,” the woman said aggressively.

“Wait, you’re standing in line for a number to wait for a clerk?
” I responded in disbelief.

The woman just glared at me not saying a word.

Welcome to Africa
, I thought. What else could I do but stand line to pull a number. As I was waiting my thoughts were with Loretta again.
Was she thinking of me as well
. Damn, I really do admire asexual people sometimes. Just look at me. I mean, I am in Africa to eventually do what I always dreamed of, radio. And what am I doing? Instead of enjoying this I am only thinking of her, standing in line with more than thirty people.

Eventually, I got a ticket.
89
. I looked up to the digital board.
14
. Great! Well, at least that gives me more time to think about my next step. As the hours were passing I visualized different scenarios. Me flying back if Loretta would ask me to. Me calling her unsuccessfully. Me not calling her at all.

“Pardon
,” a deep voice interrupted my thoughts.

I turned my head and was looking into the blue eyes of an elderly man.

“I think it's your turn,” he said pointing at my ticket.

I looked at it.
89.
I blinked to the board hoping he was right.
89.
“Thanks!” I said moving forward to the counter.

From there on everything went extremely fast. I received my new phone and walked straight out of that crowded place. I was looking at the phone as if it was an ancient artifact. This was my lifeline to Loretta. I was walking along the street to find a quiet spot. I didn't want any background noise to distract this important conversation. My God, what was I thinking? It was only a telephone call. I acted as if my life was on the line. I took a deep breath, punched her number into the keypad, and put the phone to my ear.

Beeeep
,
Beeeep

I was rubbing my toes against each other as I always do when I'm nervous.

Beeeep
,
Beeeep

I began scrambling the words together in my head.

Beeeep
,
Beeeep

I kept waiting for another few seconds and eventually hung up. I felt empty. Maybe she wasn't around, I tried to convince myself. But I called her mobile. How can she not be around? I was beating myself with self-doubts as suddenly my phone started to vibrate.

“Oh my God!” I shouted out loud, “This must be her!” 

I took a deep breath and answered confidently with the word “Loretta?”

God, I did not say this. Now, I must look like a desperate loser.
“Who is Loretta? It's your mother,” the other side answered in a sharp tone.

“Mom? How do you know my number? I just got it!
,” I asked surprised and disappointed at the same time.

“You just called us a minute ago
,” she explained.

“I see
,” I acknowledged trying not to show that I did a mistake. 

“How are you?
,” I asked.

“Great. Your father and just had some
Sekt. It was unforgettable”.

“WHAT?
” I yelled. “I don't want to know if you had sex!” I replied, disgusted.

“Patrick William Wright, you have a dirty mind. We had Sekt, the German champagne
,” she laughed.

I wasn't sure what I was more embarrassed about, the fact that I

accidentally called my mother Loretta or that I thought she was telling me about her sex life?

“Oh, OK
,” I answered hastily.

“I hope you’re wearing a jacket. It's awfully cold
,” she advised me.

“Mom, I'm in Africa. It's not cold
,” I explained patiently.

“Well here it's freezing cold. You better dress warm
,” she said. “Sure, I will,” I puffed.

“How is it anyways? Have you met your new colleagues, yet? Are they nice? How is the apartment? Are you...”.

“Mom,” I interrupted, “I'm fine,” I said quietly.

“Ok. That's good. Here
, talk to your father,” she put the phone away.

“JIM, YOUR SON IS ON PHONE” she was screaming.

“What do you want,” his sarcastic voice asked me.

“How is everything at home?
,” I ask.

“Good
,” he replied dryly.

Talking to him on the phone was like pulling teeth. But he did have his phases. Sometimes he didn't stop talking, other days it was me doing all the talking.

“Have you been robbed, yet?” he asks with a smile in his voice. “Jim, stop that. Don't scare the child,” my mother’s voice sounded in the background.

“Not yet, but
I have to go now,” I answered.

In reality my only thought was to call Loretta as soon as possible. “OK, take it easy. Do you still want to talk to your mother?
” he asked.

“No, it's ok
,” I responded.

“Give me the phone
,” my mother demanded.