The Eternal Intern (Contemporary Romantic Comedy) (9 page)

She didn’t answer but I could hear her deep breaths.

“Loretta, if you’re able to speak to me you can speak to your brother,” I said in an understanding manner.

“Loretta, wouldn’t you advise your friend to do the same?
,” I tried to trick her in changing her mind.

“Wouldn’t you?
,” I repeated my question.

“Yes I would
,” her voice was extremely low.

“So, then go and talk at least to your brother
,” I went on.

“I don’t know
,” she responded again.

“It’s nice to hear your voice again
,” I tried to distract her thoughts.

“It’s nice to hear yours as well
,” she replied.

“I’m sorry that I am calling you under these circumstances
,” her voice gained some strength.

“No, please. The reason doesn’t matter. What matters is that you still trust me
,” I explained.

As I was saying these words I could see her standing in front of me. Hearing her voice, thinking of the past that I had with her, reactivated my feelings for her again.

“I thought about you a lot,” she said.

I could see her hair being blown in the wind and her hand reaching out to hold mine. In my imagination I took her head in my hands and brushed her hair to the side wanting to kiss her neck.

“Me too,” I responded focusing again on reality.

She was thousands of miles away but in this moment I felt closer to her than ever before. That scared me.

“How is everything with your job?,” she asked.

“It’s going great. I even have my own show on the radio and I met a lot of very kind people down here
,” I told her.

“Are you seeing someone?
,” her voice shivered.

“Why do you want to know?
,” I asked.

“I know, it’s none of my business
,” she pulled back.

“No, I’m not” I interrupted her.

“Oh OK” she sounded relieved.

“But why should you care?
,” I got slightly annoyed.

“No I’m only asking
,” she responded.

“I’m sorry
,” I blurted out.

“It’s only that I haven’t heard from you in months and now you are back again. Somehow at least
,” I explained.

“I should have never called you
,” she apologized.

“No, it’s good you did. I am happy you called
,” I told her.

“No. It was selfish. You are trying to move on and live your life and I am bothering you. But I didn’t know who to turn to and I still really trust you
,” she explained.

“Thank you. I feel the same
,” I replied.

“I think I better go
,” she said taking a deep breath.

“OK. But please call me whenever you want to
,” I encouraged her.

“And please go to the police or at least talk to your brother
,” I urged her again.

“I will. Thank you Patrick for being there for me
,” she said.

“I always will
,” I whispered.

“Good bye Patrick”.

I have heard these words before.

“Take care Loretta
,” I told her and hung up.

I was thinking of my words that I said to myself as we talked the last time. I was right back then that it is not really over and I believed that I will be right again. But for now I was more concerned about her safety. If she wouldn’t, I would call her to see how things are.

I looked at my wristwatch. It was 3:20 a.m. I had to get up in three hours. As I got back into bed again I wasn’t able to find any rest.
She did it again
. She confused me and got me out of balance. I started to think that maybe she would have never called me if nothing had happened. That made me sad.

The next day I wasn’t myself. I made stupid mistakes. I played the wrong reports at the wrong time. Confused the music titles. Mistakes I normally wouldn’t make. As Uncle Kracker’s “Follow Me” was playing I stared at the microphone in front of me. That is where I realized that I still felt more for Loretta than I wished I did. I still loved her. And it would not go away that fast.

The days went by and I called her again to see how she was doing. She talked to her brother and they went together to the police. They weren’t able to find any drug traces in her blood because too much time had lapsed since the incident.

M
y time in Africa was coming to an end and I was hoping to get an offer to stay. They never made me one. But I tasted blood and I liked the flavour. Christmas was approaching and I was looking forward to coming back home. But I was anxious about my next step in my career. Should I study or try to land a real job?

Shortly before I left South Africa I had a little going away party at the station. It made me feel sad. I really found a second home here. A lot of people say that about Africa and now I understood why..

As I got to the plane heading back home my thoughts were again with Loretta. It has been now one month since she called me that night. Besides the conversation we had the following day we haven’t talked since.

During the flight I was looking down on the clouds being haunted by her face.

As I landed I called my father to pick me up. He refuses to pay for parking. He rather waits at home until the plane has landed. Then he gets into the car and drives the thirty minute route to the airport believing that I will still be claiming my luggage in the meantime. How often did I wait for ever until he eventually arrived. I got my mobile out of my pocket and hit the recent call button. Loretta’s number appeared at the top.
If she knew that I was  back?
I tried to erase the thought and scrolled down to my parent’s number.

“Patrick, I’ll come and pick you up
,” my father answered the phone.

Why waste time and say hello
.

“OK, I’ll wait outside
,” I replied and hung up.

I went out to the pickup zone. The cold breeze was cutting through my tanned face. Now I knew why I went to Africa in the first place. I am made for the sun, not for the cold weather.

People were loading their trunks with cases and bags. Hugging each other and showing their happiness that their friend, lover, parent, or child is back with them. Especially now a few days short of Christmas everybody was very affectionate. Suddenly a silver Mercedes stopped in front of me pulling me back to reality.

“Hello!
,” my father smiled at me through the open passenger window.

“How was your flight?
,” he asked as he opened the trunk for me.

“Good
,” I replied lifting my bag into the back of the car.

On our way home we didn’t talk much. It was always hard to talk to him. It’s not that there isn’t much to say but I never used to talk to him much anyways. I guess it became a habit and now it feels weird to break it. As we arrived home and I entered the door my mother showed me the exact opposite. She came charging at me hugging and kissing me like I just returned from war. Ben, our springer spaniel, was jumping up and down my leg. I wasn’t sure who was happier to see me, my mother or the dog. Well, my mother wasn’t drooling all over me. So, I guess Ben was happier to see me.

“You look fabulous,” my mother said holding my face with her hands.

“Thanks, but I’m a bit tired
,” I replied pushing my bag to the side.

“Sure, go up and rest and I’ll prepare you a nice meal
,” she said rushing into the kitchen.

As I climbed the stairs to my bedroom I had the urge to call Loretta. I wanted to know how she was. This girl truly tormented

me. But it was my own fault. She didn’t force me to have her on my mind. I chose so. I was glaring at the phone.
Should I, shouldn’t I?
Seconds felt like hours. I was trying to visualize the conversation we would have. Playing through the scenario, I always got stuck at the question why am I really calling her? The truth was I missed her. I hoped to start a new relationship with her. Now, that I’m back again, I believed that it could be different. After all, she didn’t leave me because she lacked the love for me. She left me because she was scared and overwhelmed with the situation. Suddenly, I felt a vibration in my pocket. Someone was calling me on my phone.

Private Number
.

“Hello?
,” I answered anxiously.

“Welcome back
,” a masculine voice answered.

“John?”.

“Who else did you expect, Pat,” he replied happily.

“Let’s have some beers tonight. I want to hear all about the African ladies
,” he said excited.

“Ahm, sure. Well, I just got in. Say 8 p.m.?
,” I suggested.

“Sure. It’s only two in the afternoon right now. Rest and I’ll meet you later at Harvey’s
,” he said hanging up the phone shortly thereafter.

As the evening got closer I was looking forward to meet John.

He waved at me from the bar as I entered Harvey’s. The TV’s hanging from the ceiling were showing soccer matches in South America, Snooker competitions from England, Tennis matches from France and so on.

“Hey stranger
,” John greeted me happily giving me a strong hug.

“Another beer please
,” John said turning to the bar keeper.

“So tell me. How was Africa?
,” his eyes sparkled.

“It was fantastic. The people were so nice. The food was really good. I had…”.

“…blablabla,” he interrupted me.

“If I want African food I’ll go to an African restaurant
,” he explained impatiently.

“Tell me about the ladies? How many did you do?
,” he rubbed his hands.

“Seriously, is that all you are interested in?
,” I asked him being slightly disturbed about his question.

“Sure!
,” he smiled taking a sip of his beer.

“So, how many?
,” he continued asking poking my side with his elbow.

I had to smile. I knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way. John has been my friend since I was a little kid. His family moved next door. I knew how to take him, as a constant horny guy.

“Believe it or not I didn’t do anything,” I answered relaxed.

“What? Nothing at all? You must be kidding me?
,” he answered in disbelief.

“No, nothing. And I feel fine about it
,” I replied.

“It’s her, right? You stupid asshole. Even thousands of miles away you still have a woman rule your life
,” John stood up from his bar stool reaching for his forehead.

“Well…
,” I tried to explain.

“…bloody Loretta. She called you when you were in Africa, right?
,” he pointed the finger at me.

“Yes. Kind of
,” my voice started to break.

“Seriously. You are so dumb. You were single, in a country where no one knows you, and you are young
,” he was walking up and down along the bar.

“Sure she’s a nice girl. She is good looking. But she bloody left you and pleased herself. As you were crying in your pillow out of sadness because you missed her she was crying in her pillow out of joy because someone was doing her
,” he painted a very hurtful picture.

“No, I don’t think so
,” I replied still with the vocal strength of a mouse.

“God, right now at this moment I am ashamed to call you my friend
,” John sat down again.

“Pat, I love you. Well, not the way the guys in San Francisco love each other but I love you as a friend. You are nearly like a brother to me. So please drop the shit with Loretta and start to live
,” he advised me. 

“It’s easier said than done
,” I replied.

“No it’s not. You just have to figure out what you want for your life. That’s it
,” he explained gesticulating with his hands.

“Well, let’s drop that topic. You’re old enough to know what to do. What are you doing now? Looking for a job?
,” he asked.

“Actually, I was thinking of applying to radio stations and enrolling in school”.

“School? You mean University? I never regret that I started to study business. Any idea what?,” he asked.

“Psychology or Law. Not sure yet
,” I replied looking around the room.

“Well that’s good. But I don’t see you as a lawyer. Why law?
,” he asked puzzled.

“Studying law doesn’t mean you have to become a lawyer. It opens up all kinds of other possibilities
,” I explained, “We will see where it takes me,” I continued taking a last sip from my beer before I headed back home not sure what my future has to offer for me.