Love above Babel

Love above Babel, Chapter Three

It was hard to ignore the harsh reality.

The earthquake was on every news channel, and if I tried to find a radio station with music to ease the suffocating suspense, it would be interrupted by breaking news. For Brazil the earthquake was like a shot to the chest---something like this hadn't happened in a long time---and it left a lot of damage.

Lovette's parents told me an aftershock made her a part of a sad population, those missing and/or dead, and I wasn't ready to accept that. Lovette was immortal; she had to come back. I wanted to bring her back, but was just as helpless as her parents who were glued to my television. The only difference was that I couldn't be silent and motionless, so I paced near the phone in misery. The old habit of biting at the lining of my mouth returned.

A firm hand warmed my shoulder, and I turned to see my dad offering a teacup. "Have some chamomile tea, it'll help calm you down."

I doubted that. Anything I had bothered to consume just seemed to increase the anxiety, and there was only one thing that could calm me down.

He watched me meagerly drink before giving one of his firm hugs. It was solid, strong and everything I needed to be.

"Everything will be alright," he whispered, then returned to the kitchen. When worried, brewing gallons of tea was his strange specialty. That and playing old blues, but there was no music that afternoon; just the voices of news anchors who would be paid for getting the job done right.

The echo of the doorbell announced the possible arrival of more relatives. Lovette's mom turned to give an apologetic gaze, but there were no Indians at the door except for a woman from the hospital. I guessed from the middle-ager's aura, and was familiar with the scent of an operating room no matter how faint it was.

The lady smiled. "Hi, I'm Dr. Sullivan of the Oncology Department from the Unity Hospital. I thought it would be appropriate to visit the affected families of my subordinates. Are Mr. and Mrs. Anand here?"

That was nice, but I wondered how she found Lovette's parents. It was possible that they had left instructions with neighbours.

"Yes," I shook her offered hand. "I'm Winston Epps, come in."

She entered, and as I closed the door, Dr. Sullivan asked of my relationship to Lovette.

"We're dating."

She nodded knowingly, "Ah, no wonder she was such a happy woman."

Was.

Dr. Sullivan spoke of her like a person present only in the past.

Lovette's parents greeted her, and she was there for a long time, giving encouragement and drinking tea.   The real moment happened when a phone call interrupting Dr. Sullivan midway through her memories.

"I have good news," the caller said. "Lovette Anand is alive."

•••

There wasn't a moment for rest. Lovette was barely breathing when they found her, and if a colleague hadn't regained consciousness in time, she would have been the undertakers' responsibility.

We were anxious.  In the days leading up to our flight, I pushed to get as much work as possible done. Everything went smoothly in that part of my life---Mr. Johnson was pleased with Holly Adams' performance so far, and research was half-way near completion.

The journey to Brazil was too long. Memories were my media, sweaty palms kept me uncomfortable, and though the space was sufficient, I almost felt claustrophobic.