I leave half way through the film because my head is about to implode from tiredness. As I get up, I see that Uncle Henry is asleep too. What should I do, leave him there? I’m too weak to possibly lift him up, so I do leave him there.
The smell of the bed is different, the ceiling is different, and I hate peeing in a different loo. It’s all so foreign! But I wanted to come here, so I will suck it up!
The next morning, my first official morning of coming here, I smell eggs cooking. What time is it? The clock reads nine: I woke up late! My mobile buzzes, as it has been on vibrate. I check it and surely enough, Dad’s rung, from two in the morning? I remember the cameramen talked about how Rwanda is seven hours behind eastern U.S. time…so he’s just called! Maybe the vibrations woke me up!
“Dad?” I answer as soon as he picks up.
“Violet!” he shouts, “I just rung you up! How are you? How’s Maine?”
“It’s great Dad. I love Uncle Henry’s house and the beach right next door is brilliant! How’s Rwanda?”
“The airport was hell”
Airports are always hell.
“Where are you now?”
“This Hutu family that the news company contacted has taken us to their house. We’re just going to be going around, reporting the nearly two decade aftermath of the genocide”
“Cool. How’s Mum? Is she there?”
“She’s suffering jet lag” Dad sighs, “I’ll just let her rest”
“Right, Dad well I just woke up and I’m starved. Can I call you back later?”
“Of course. Bye darling”
“Bye Dad. Lots of love”
“I love you too” Dad hangs up.
Hopping out of bed, and brushing my teeth (messily clipping my bangs out of my face and not tying my mass of hair up), I run downstairs to see if I can be of assistance.
I can never get used to the amazing kitchen. The early sunlight gives the place a delicate, ethereal quality that I think can never be duplicated into any other house but this. I really wish this can be my future house.
“Good morning, Uncle Henry” I greet, a yawn suddenly filling up my lungs. Rubbing the crystals out of my eyes, I find the shirtless figure of my uncle. His left arm moving a fork in the pan causes the muscles of his back to ripple like water, so smooth and elegant in movement. What the teens the night before have said is true. He’s hot.
He turns around, a smile curving up his face, “Good morning Violet! How did you sleep last night?”
“How did you? I left you on the couch” Uncle Henry looks too upbeat to possibly be the man who fell asleep on a hard couch all night in a strange position.
“I slept perfectly well”
“What are you making?”
“Scrambled eggs, tea and croissants”
“That’s my favourite!” I exclaim, surprised. That’s exactly my favourite breakfast!
