The Eternal Intern (Contemporary Romantic Comedy) (4 page)

Chapter 4

The ticket to Africa

A
few months went by when suddenly the phone rang. A deep and very sexy voice sounded out of the telephone “Hello, this is Ms. M’Beka from Radio Sun in South Africa. Can I speak to Patrick, please?”

“Hello
! Speaking!” I responded anxiously.

“Patrick, you sent us a very nice voice demo of yours. We can imagine inviting you to South Africa to intern for us”. 

I was not able to answer right away. It was too hard to believe to be true. This was my ticket to Africa.

I
met up with Loretta later that day. I picked her up from work. It was my day off.

“You look beautiful
,” I told her as she emerged from the office building, “I have exciting news!” I blurted out before she was even able to greet me, “I got it! I got it!,” I said overly excited.

“You got what?
,” Loretta asked confused.

“The internship in South Africa!
” I took her hand as she listened to my words.

“Oh, yeah, right. I remember. Congratulations
,” she answered powerless. 

“Are you OK with me getting it?
” I squeezed her hand slightly as I asked.

“Sure, it’s great news. When are you flying?”.

I could sense from the sound of her voice that she wasn't happy about this development.

“I don't know yet for sure but I am only gone for three months
... I’m not getting good vibes from you,” my voice shivered as I talked.

I was afraid to hear what I didn't want to hear.

“Look Patrick, I don't know if I can do this. I mean, we just met and it's fun and beautiful with you but I am too young for a long distance relationship,” her look was filled with fear. I knew that she couldn't be serious and just end this from one day to the other.

“I understand you very well
,” I said calmly.

“As I said it's only for three months and then I am back. Time will fly
,” I tried to persuade her.

“Maybe
you’re right, but I am not sure if I want to wait,” she said looking at me as if she was sorry for her feelings.

It was like a kick in the groin as I heard her words.

“Patrick, why don’t you go to Africa, follow your dreams and we will see what happens. But I cannot promise you anything.”

I sat down at a nearby bench.

“Are you sure you want this?” I asked hoping for a miracle.

“Yes. I was thinking about it for a while
,” her voice was still filled with fear.

“I understand
,” I replied not looking at her.

“Patrick, I have to go. I think it's best if you don't
come with me.”

As she walked away
, I remained, sitting on the bench for a while, thinking if I should cancel the internship and stay with her. Maybe that would turn things around. But then I remembered what my brother once told me. The end of the first relationship is always the hardest. You believe that you will never again find a person like the one you were with or you maybe never even find anyone at all. Crazy thoughts. At that time I didn't understand what he was trying to explain to me. Now I do. He was right, and I knew that life would go one no matter what. If I was able to find such a great girl to begin with, why shouldn't I be able to find one again? I had to go to Africa.

A
s it got later and dawn kicked in, I got up to go home. I was walking to the train station hoping she would call, saying that she thought through it and realized she missed me.

The train was running late. Standing there at the train station looking into empty space was a weird feeling. My thoughts were going wild. I looked at my phone every three seconds checking if she called or sen
t me a text.
Maybe I didn’t have any reception?

I was becoming stupid. The station was deserted. It seemed I was the only one waiting in this tunnel. I looked around and spotted a vending machine
against the wall.
Ice cold drinks and snacks
were making me feel slightly thirsty. I found some coins in my pocket.
Let’s get a coke.
The coins rattled down the machine as I fed it.
5, 2.
I punched in the numbers and a little wheel started to transport a bottle of Coke to the front of the glass. Right as the bottle reached the edge, it got stuck and didn’t fall into the chamber.
Great!
I breathed heavily, and then started to kick and shake the heavy machine. The bottle didn’t move.
Nothing seems to work right in my life. Why did this have to happen?
I broke down at the machine sitting on the floor, crying. I didn’t know a human body could create so many tears. I was happy no one was at the station to see me in this state.  
     

I
called Michael, the magazine owner, the next day and told him that I was leaving for Africa and wouldn’t be coming in any more. I actually didn't have the guts to see Loretta again. I knew that even if I stayed, the relationship would not be saved. Something else would come up and cause problems...and Africa could be a life-changing opportunity for me.

A few days later I was able to get back on track. I met a childhood friend for drinks that evening. It was a welcoming distraction to the mess that was happening in my private life. We met down at a local bar. John took a gulp out of his glass
full of beer and said “Patrick, get yourself a Latina.“

“Loretta was of Italian descent
,” I reminded him sitting beside him at the bar.

“I know, but honestly get yourself a real Latina, not some descent from Europe
,” his voice was passionate.

“Why is that?
” I asked, seeing our reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

“The heat gen
e my friend,” he responded grabbing his beer.

“The heat gen
e?” I laughed.

“Exactly. The heat gen
e. Latinas can get mad in an instant. We men don't even know what hit us. I could be sitting there thinking of nothing bad and suddenly she gets all mad at me. But as fast as she gets mad she cools down again. I'm still working on the issue for days and for her it's already forgotten,” he explained to me. “That's bull. Every girl can get mad sometimes. Regardless of where she is from,” I tried to counter argument.

“
Sure but not in this sexually passionate way my friend. I'm telling you. This last chick I dated, she was from Mexico. I gave her some red wine from Chile and she got extremely mad at me. She acted like I insulted her family. She was shouting at me that she doesn't like it and I don't respect her. Jesus, then after just five minutes, I swear to God, she was fine. I sat there like a train just hit me, and then she was talking about her language school,” he was jumping off his seat as he was telling the story.

“John, it's not the heat gen
e. It's only has to do with your weird taste. Stop dating wackos. Get yourself a decent girl!”

I tried to bring him back to reality.

“Believe me, you will never want to miss the positive effects of the heat gene,” he said taking another gulp of beer.

“Positive effects?
” I asked.

“The sex. I'm telling you. After
you’ve driven a Lamborghini, you won’t want to get back onto a bicycle,” his face lit up.

I liked the picture he drew. But it was still hard to believe what he was saying.

“I must admit, that sex with Loretta was sometimes awkward. It didn't seem to flow. She always asked me which position I would like next,” I explained to him.

“You see. With the heat gen
e everything happens automatically without having to check back,” he replied.

“Ok, the next girl I
date will be 100% Latina. Happy?” John's eyes sparkled with joy as I made my promise.

“I hope you’re not messing around
,” he warned me with a smile.  

A
s the days went on I had a lot of organizing to do for my upcoming journey to Africa. Four weeks after I got the confirmation from Radio Sun, I was on my way. Everybody came to the airport to say good bye: Mom, Dad, my brother, and some of my closest friends. It was a very moving moment for me but, on the other hand, I was so excited about what laid in front of me. As I cleared security, my phone rang.

“Hello?
” I answered.

“Hi Patrick
,” a very familiar voice said.

“Loretta?
” I recognized her voice but I couldn't believe it.

“Are you about to take off?
” she asked calmly.

“Not yet. I still have about an hour or so
,” I replied still in shock that she was actually calling me.

In four weeks I didn't get one single life sign from her and now shortly before I am leaving she reaches out to me.

“I just wanted to wish you a safe flight and please have fun there.” she said.

“Thanks you but how do you know that I’m flying today
,” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know, I miss you and I am sorry!”

She nearly knocked me out of my socks with this confession.

“You really hurt me when you told me that you are leaving but I know it’s for the best
,” she continued taking a deep breath to reconsider her next words.

“I tried to forget you and move on
, but you are burned deep inside my heart and mind,” she explained.

“I don't want to lose you. I hope we can stay in contact and see how things work out when you are back
,” she suggested.

“You are still the love of my life
,” she added quickly.

“Well, I don’t know what to say. You dumped me and now you want me back?
” I replied passionless.

Even though I understood her motives at the time, I still had my doubts about her sudden change of mind.

“Yes, but I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. I messed up,” she realized.

As we were talking I got closer to my gate. The seats were all taken and my battery was about to die.

“Loretta, I missed you a lot and there was no day that I didn't wake up at three in the morning thinking of the precious times we had, fearing that they would never return,” I answered.

“I was dreaming of you and me how we met at work. How we danced together at the night club and experienced this magical
connection. Sometimes I woke up feeling depressed because this was all in the past and would never occur again,” I continued.

My phone was beeping warning me that the battery w
ould deplete any minute. I tried to ignore the sound.

“Can you imagine how I feel now that you are calling again?
” I asked her.

The other side stayed silent. No reaction.

“Loretta, are you there?” I said after waiting for a few seconds. Still no answer.

I looked at my phone and it was off. I tried to switch it on but it didn't let me. The battery was gone. I wasn't sure when exactly

the phone died. After my last sentence, before, or during? I felt terrible. I looked around but couldn't see any phone booths or plug molds.

“PASSENGERS OF FLIGHT NA 143 TO DURBAN, SOUTH AFRICA PLEASE PROCEED TO GATE 26. WE ARE STARTING TO BOARD”

The speakers blared at me.

I didn't have time to look for a phone anymore. I had to leave the country. During the eleven hour flight I couldn't stop thinking of Loretta.
Was she really honest about her words or only emotional? How will she react when I call her from Africa? Will she still feel the same?
The questions were haunting me. I fell asleep for a little while but suddenly woke up, thinking Loretta was sitting beside me. Glancing to the wrinkled elderly man in the seat next to mine, I was disappointed. She wasn't here.

As I got off the aircraft
, I expected the heat to hit me, but it was only mildly warm. It was early in the morning and I was wide awake, despite the fact that I could hardly sleep during the flight. As I stepped into the terminal I was bombarded with requests to take a cab.

“SIR, YOU NEED A RIDE TO CITY. COME WITH ME, ONLY ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR
,” one man shouted my way.

“Come with me. I know where you can find girls. I take ninety dollar” another cab driver told me trying to take my luggage.

Girls at 9 a.m.?
Despite that, I couldn't get my thoughts off Loretta. I have to call her but first I wanted to get to the radio station. I negotiated with a few more taxi drivers and got one to take me for far less money to the station.  As the car was driving along I was fascinated by the scenery passing the window. Well, I didn't see Elephants and Lions but I saw the beauty of this mysterious continent. The trees didn't grow upwards; the top was flat and spread out like a plate. There were giant round cocoons of dirt, branches, and leaves hanging down from some of them.