The Exception to the Rule (2 page)

 Anthony Vallia, my dad, was old-school Italian. He had a strong belief in hard work and commitment to getting what you wanted in life. These were qualities that he instilled in me very well. He was a newly retired police officer who had dedicated his life to me and my education – in short, he was my hero. He was always afraid that I would miss out on things that other girls my age got to experience with their moms. He did a great job making sure that I didn’t, by fulfilling both roles. 

He was tall, rugged and very well built, taking care to keep in shape by hitting the gym each day. He was the type of man who could jump into a cowboy movie and take over the lead. He had dark brown hair, which now had just a touch of gray around the edges. I was always envious of his hazel eyes with flecks of gold. But I felt a little more special whenever someone would remark about how much my eyes looked like my mom’s. 

“I’m fine, Dad,” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee, realizing how much weight he had lost. I immediately became angry with myself for becoming too busy with work and pining over Jake to recognize this.

“Swiss or cheddar?” he asked.

“Swiss and you may want to put some extra in yours,” I answered, taking a sip of my coffee. “What’s with the supermodel skinny look—have you been hitting the gym a little more?” I asked, trying to mask my concern with laughter.

 He looked down at himself. “Hey, the ladies like the lean look.” 

“Well, don’t lose any more or you’ll disappear.” I walked over to the stove to flip the bacon.

 He tapped my hand lightly, signaling to get away from his culinary masterpiece. “Well, you’re one to talk, you can afford to put some meat on your bones too, kid.”

I decided to drop the subject because I wasn’t going to get anywhere. Another trait of his that he passed down to me was stubbornness. Unfortunately he had just a tad more in him, which never allowed me to win any argument, unless he let me.

I sat down at the table waiting for my omelet to be done. I was sensing a new appreciation for my home and what it was going to mean to be away from it for so long. Most people can’t wait to move away from their hometown and make their mark in the world. I guess I was a lot different. Sure, I wanted to make something of myself. I felt like I had already done that by accomplishing my lifelong dream of becoming a pediatrician. I was well aware of how fortunate I was to be doing something that I absolutely loved for a living. I was thankful every day to my father and the sacrifices he made to make sure that I achieved this. I couldn’t ever imagine myself living anywhere but the tiny little bayside town that I grew up in, just outside of Cape May, New Jersey. It was a secret little gem with some of the most beautiful sunsets that not many people knew about, keeping the summer crowds to a minimum. My parents had stumbled upon the place by accident when they had first gotten married. They were vacationing in Cape May and decided to go out for a drive. One wrong turn and my mother was hooked. They bought a one-story, three-bedroom, fixer-upper just before I was born. They restored it into something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine.

 I was excited about leaving but through the excitement there was still some apprehension. Being in a remote village in Nigeria where sickness prevailed was hardly a dream vacation and to be leaving the country for nine months was drastic for me. I wasn’t much of a traveler and this would be the first time that I was even leaving the East Coast. 

“These are my best omelets yet.” Dad said placing the plate in front of me.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said as I took the first bite. “I’ve had better,” I joked.

He smiled and lightly smacked my arm with the dishtowel he had hanging on his shoulder. 

 “Nine months will fly by, Kat,” Dad said as if he was sensing my apprehension about leaving. “Besides, it will give you a chance to forget about that bum.” My dad, who once treated Jake as a son, now despised him for what he had done to me. 

“Oh, come on, Dad, you were the one who practically had me walking down the aisle with that bum.”

“That was before I knew he was a bad guy,” he said as he buttered his toast, not missing a beat. I nearly spit my coffee out, laughing at his police mentality. “He wasn’t the one, you will know the one, and once you find him nobody will ever be able to replace him.” The conversation was quickly becoming more serious.

 For him I knew my mother was the one. They grew up in the same neighborhood and had known each other their whole lives. By the time high school came around he didn’t see her as the shy, pig-tailed, freckle-faced girl and she didn’t see him as the scrawny awkward boy always getting in trouble for being the class clown. They married a few years after high school graduation and the rest was history. I often wondered why he never had any interest in finding anyone new. Even though he dated from time to time he was never serious about anyone. I sometimes wondered if I was the reason why. But he always seemed so content with the way things were. Ironically, I was the one who wanted him to find someone.

“Well, I don’t know if I will ever find the one, and I am perfectly okay with that,” I lied. I wanted more than anything to find true love and have a family. The dream of becoming a mother was equally as strong as my dream to become a doctor. I loved children and couldn’t wait until I had my own one day. But that dream would have to be put on hold for now. 

“Oh no, Kat, it will happen when you least expect it—trust me,” he answered.

I got up from the table and began to load the dishes into the dishwasher. I was scrubbing away at a frying pan going over my to-do list in my head. To my surprise it was pretty much all checked off. I just had to throw some last minute things in my bag and I was set. 

Dr. Charles Morgan, one of the doctors who would be accompanying me, was picking me up for the airport at 7 p.m. Charles, my mentor, was around the same age as my dad. I respected him and his knowledge immensely. I had become very close to him and his wife, Claire. They never had children but Claire had such a motherly way to her, which I found very comforting. They had become an extended family to me. The fact that he was coming, helped to put my mind greatly at ease. 

The two other doctors joining us were Tricia Aller and James Wiltshire. Tricia and I had met a year ago when we both joined the same practice. We were the youngest in the group, alongside three older stuffy gentlemen doctors. It was like a breath of fresh air having someone my age to relate to. We became instant friends; I couldn’t help but love her. She was so bubbly and her appearance was just as cute as her personality. She had beautiful green eyes and short spiky brown hair that was perfect for her small face and petite frame. She and I were to be roommates and I was relying on her positive outlook to help get me through my bouts of home-sickness. 

James was another pediatrician at our hospital. He too was around the same age as Tricia and me. I had gotten to know him fairly well over the past year and became fond of his jokester personality. He and Tricia always exchanged jokes. She was too naïve to see that he was actually flirting with her. They had great chemistry, even though she was only 5’2” and he was almost 6’5”. He was an above-average looking guy with light brown hair that he wore a little longer all around. He didn’t look like your typical clean-cut doctor, but he was able to pull off the longer hair look very well. He had big brown eyes and a boyish way about him. The matchmaker side in me thought that he and Tricia would make the perfect couple.

The day flew by and before I knew it the clock on the fireplace mantel was chiming seven times. The butterflies were released from the cage inside of my stomach when I looked out the window and saw the limo in the driveway. The moment that I had been dreading most about this trip was finally here—saying goodbye to my dad.

 My dad and Charles were deep in conversation over last night’s baseball game. I stood by the front door with my bags in hand waiting for them to get done with their chatter. Charles was tall and thin. He began to shave his hair off years ago when it started thinning and was now completely bald – it was the perfect look for him. He had a deep bellowing voice that made you stop and take notice of what he was saying. 

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror waiting for my presence to be acknowledged. I noticed for the first time the perfect light blonde streaks that the sun had left in my dirty blonde wavy hair that I had pulled back into a ponytail. I wondered why my hairdresser, Raymond, could never get that right shade of blonde, no matter how hard he tried. I examined myself from head to toe, realizing that once again my dad was probably right about putting meat on my bones. I was 5’5” and just about 100 pounds, which only made my already small chest, look even smaller. Although people would tell me how pretty I was, I never believed it. I was never the type of person that beamed with self-confidence and I was envious of those that did. I felt like a bored kid making faces in the mirror waiting for my dad and Charles to finish their endless chatter. 

“Hey Kat, are you ready to get this show on the road?” Charles asked, as if I hadn’t already been standing there for the past five minutes.

“I guess so,” I answered hesitantly. 

“I’m going to take these to the car,” Charles said, grabbing the bags and shaking my dad’s hand, saying their goodbyes as he walked out the door.

“Well, it’s time kiddo,” my dad said, embracing me tightly.

I was unable to keep the promise that I had made not to cry and the tears began to roll down my face. “I love you, Dad.” 

“I love you too, but call if you’re planning on coming home early, so I can get the ladies out of the house,” he said, laughing. He always used humor to get him through tough situations. I guess it worked for him all these years.

“Deal,” I said, unable to keep myself from laughing.

I gave him one last hug and kiss as I headed out the door. I turned around before getting into the car taking one last look at my house and my dad standing on the front porch. I etched it into my mind right along with the Christmas picture of my mother and me.

The last thought on my mind as we pulled away was of Jake. I wondered if I would ever fall in love with someone, the way I had with him. I was hoping that this trip would serve its purpose and mend my broken heart.

Chapter 2

After what seemed like a never ending flight from Philadelphia International airport we finally touched down at Lagos International airport. I slept for quite some time on the plane and woke up feeling refreshed. This was Charles’ third time coming here, so we were heavily relying on him. We walked out of the airport and into the night. It wasn’t as oppressively hot as I had expected; not much different than the heat and humidity back at home in the summer months. There was a strange smoky smell in the air. The swarms of mosquitos that greeted us were no strangers to me, being from a bayside town you learn to deal with that. So I was a little better prepared for it than others may have been. The taxi pulled up and we loaded our bags in. The twenty-minute taxi ride seemed never ending down dark, narrow, bumpy dirt roads. Charles sat in the front seat having a conversation with the taxi driver, who spoke broken English. They sounded like they were long lost friends. I sat in the back seat crammed between Tricia and James, already doubting my decision to come.

We pulled up to a large one-story building that we would call home for the next nine months. To my surprise it wasn’t as bad as I had expected. It was surrounded by four other buildings very similar in size and structure. Charles explained in detail what every building was used for. He said that all the buildings were built by volunteers from around the world.

 “So what do you guys think about your new home for the next nine months?” Charles asked with a grin.

“Ugh,” was all Tricia could manage as she grabbed her bags and headed into the building with James not too far behind.

Charles chuckled at Tricia’s out of character reaction. “I guess she’s a little cranky from that long plane ride,” I said, laughing.

“Well Kat, what do you think?” he asked.

“Actually, it’s not as bad as I had expected; I was expecting something out of Gilligan’s Island,” I said. “I also thought it would be a lot hotter.”

We entered a big windowless room with painted cinder-block walls. It was the kind of room that automatically put you in a gloomy mood. It had a familiar musty scent that didn’t take me long to recognize, it was the same smell as my attic at home. Tricia and James were talking to a tall lanky man sitting behind a desk. He seemed to have a French accent. Charles automatically took over the conversation, getting us the keys for our rooms. He handed me a key chain with a big number nine on it. I made my way down the narrow hallway, taking in each number on the door. I finally reached door nine feeling like a contestant on Let’s Make a Deal. I opened the creaky door slowly, afraid to see what was going to be behind it. It was an average-sized room with two single beds and a nightstand between them. Just like the large entryway, there were cinder-block walls along with the attic like smell. There were two small windows on each side of the small closet and a large dresser that sat on the far wall. The small bathroom consisted of a pedestal sink, a toilet and shower stall.

I placed my bags on the bed furthest from the door and sat down to take everything in. The bed was as stiff as a board, making me painfully realize that the comforts of my nice tranquil bedroom really were a million miles away. 

Tricia entered the room and broke my daydreaming. “Yuck!” was all she could muster. Her sunny disposition, upon which I was depending, had disappeared. 

Ironically it was I who tried to spread the cheer about our new abode. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” I asked jokingly.

“I think I left it somewhere over the ocean,” she answered. 

My second wind that I had gotten when I got off the plane was suddenly blown away. I was overcome with exhaustion, and when I looked down at my watch it was 11:20 p.m. Charles had set my watch for me with the correct time while we were on the plane and I already lost track of what time it would have been at home. I cringed at the thought of the uncomfortable bed, but at this point I was so tired, I think I could have slept on a bag of rocks. I walked over to my bags, fumbling through them for a pair of pajamas.