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“Sounds good.”
So that’s what we did. I made coffee, waited for Jake to settle into his recliner, handed him his mug, eased onto the other seat. It all felt very easy and so natural. We’d managed to move past the stilted politeness that had characterized what minimal interactions we’d had over the past decade. I had to tell myself not to like it too much, not to get used to it. We weren’t going to be the start of anything; this was just a one-time thing to help him get over the accident.
“Tell me about Cambodia.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What work did you do there, for a start?”
“When I first joined Doctors Without Borders, they sent me as part of a vaccine program. It was pretty easy, literally just travelling around the country jabbing people.”
“I’m sure there was more to it than that,” he observed wryly.
I smiled. “Yeah, a bit. I guess I only think of it as easy in retrospect. It was a huge culture shock, for sure. The poverty was almost overwhelming. I remember one little girl whose mother had made her a doll out of an empty pop bottle that she’d filled with dirt to give it some weight and then wrapped in a ratty blanket. And the little girl doted on it like you wouldn’t believe, because it was all she had.” I curled my fingers around the coffee mug for warmth, staring out across the yard, remembering.
“So, unbelievable poverty notwithstanding, the vaccine program was easy. What else did you do?” Jake prompted when I took too long to answer.
“Worked at the field hospital just outside of Siem Reap. Actually managed to see Angkor Wat when I had a few days off in a row. That was amazing. The hardest thing I saw, though, at least in Cambodia, was when there was a huge flood. We had to manage the evacuation of the entire hospital and, yeah, it wasn’t pretty.”
“And that still wasn’t the hardest thing you saw?”
“No. That was later, in Syria. At a refugee camp. Lots of mothers and babies. Lots that…didn’t make it.” I didn’t really want to say any more, to elaborate. “So much sickness and death, and nothing I could do about it. You know, I just felt like such a small drop in such a big ocean.”
“Sure, but every drop counts.”
“I guess, maybe.”
“No maybe. It does. You should be very proud of yourself.”
I cleared my throat. “Thanks.”
“I never would have pictured you doing something like that.”
I swirled the contents of my mug. “Me neither, but after…” I trailed off. I’d been about to say “after the accident,” but stopped myself just in time. This was a thing we never acknowledged. I couldn’t ever let him know that it was my overwhelming terror and helplessness at seeing his seemingly lifeless body slumped over the steering wheel that had inspired me to be a nurse. Just as I couldn’t let him know that it was his breaking up with me, and the way he did it, that made me run as far away from Esperance, and him, as I could. Just as I couldn’t tell him that the events of those weeks still haunted me. Nothing, short of the progression of my dad’s illness, could have dragged me back to Esperance and into close proximity with Jake Walker. But here I was, surprised at how much easier it was than I ever could have imagined.
The silence dragged on, and I had no idea how to fill it. I couldn’t look at Jake and was half tempted to get up and bolt out the door. But that would mean destroying the tiny little connection we’d managed to forge together. So I stayed put, for once. Searching frantically for something, anything, to say, I blurted, “Your garden is so pretty.”
Jake went with the abrupt change of subject. “Thanks. I’m pretty happy with it.”
“Our garden’s an absolute mess. Poor dad.”
“I can help you with it, once I’m on my feet again.”
“Thank you, but money’s pretty tight, with all Dad’s medications and stuff.”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking of charging you for it.” His voice was tight.
Great, now I’d offended him. “Jake, I wouldn’t expect you to work for free. It’s how you earn your living.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to do it. But if that’s your attitude, how about you invoice me for all the nursing you’ve done for me?”
“That’s different, I—”
“Is it? How?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
I huffed with frustration. Obviously, it wasn’t different at all. Dammit. “Fine. Thank you. If you can spare a few hours to come help in the garden, I would appreciate it.”
“Good.”
