Hello again! Thanks to britgirl2003 for the TWO reviews!!! TWO WHOLE REVIEWS FOR ME!! No seriously, thanks. A skidoo is a kinda snowmobile, by the way. Read on, people – this one is just Carter in the Congo. Please review it, if ya can. Enjoy. Love LJ xXx
The atmosphere in the Congo is very different to that of any other place on Earth. Dr. John Carter, M.D., unshaven, grubby, sat on the wooden veranda steps of a hut that served as a hospital. He batted mosquitoes away and smiled to himself as he imagined Weaver's face if she had come here and seen the replacement ER for the Congo and its slowly rotting beams. This was a place where all that mattered was helping people and, for simply being able to bandage a broken leg or suture a cut, he got huge amounts of gratitude and respect. Yet, somehow, it all meant nothing – he had no respect for himself.
He plugged in his MP3 player and let it randomly pick a song for him to listen to while he stared out into empty bleakness, gazing at something that wasn't there – just lonely, faded memories of her. His earphones began to play R.E.M.'s 'The Apologist'.
You know at first it really hurt. We joke about these things.
I've skirted all my differences, but now I'm facing up.
I wanted to apologize for everything I was.
So, I'm sorry, so sorry...
A smile rose faintly on his face and lit his eyes – the CD that this song came from belonged to Abby – he had taken it and transferred it. It reminded him of her, but then, everything seemed to remind him of her. It was like he couldn't get her out of his mind and he would long for moments of peace like this when he could just sit and think. He came to the Congo to get away from everything – to sort things out and work out how everything had gone wrong. He hadn't been very successful – he was still clueless about everything. Maybe Abby was onto something – what was the point in all of this if he didn't know her at all?
I'm good, all is good, all's well, no complaints.
When I feel regret, I get down on me knees and pray.
I'm sorry, so sorry...
Frowning, he tried to work out what the date was – how long exactly had he been away from her. As he glanced about the same old surroundings, sunk in shadows before the Congolese dawn, he realised with some shock that it was Christmas. He had been away for five whole months. He gazed in wonder at this world completely untouched by the typical commercialised festival but the realisation brought with it an aching yearning – it was Christmas Day and he wasn't with the only person he had ever wanted to be with.
I live a simple life, unfettered by complex sweets.
You think this isn't me? Don't be weak.
There I go.
I'm so sorry.
Did he really feel that? It was true, there was only one person in the whole world he wanted to be with – and it wasn't just on Christmas; everyday. He remembered last Christmas spent at Susan's. It was just so relaxed and normal – if he had known that a year from then he would be sitting on decaying planks of wood, in blistering heat, with his only comfort being fast-fading memories – well, then he would have hung onto her and never let go. And he would have found it in himself to get down on one knee and ask her like he always wanted to. Ask her and keep her forever. Ask her: will you marry me?
Thank you for being there for me.
Thank you for listening, goodbye.
I can forfeit selfishness
I hope that you can apply
This happiness
This peacefulness
I'm sorry, so sorry...
So why didn't he? Why the hell didn't he? He asked himself the questions just like she had said – he'd do anything she said because he loved her. And he told her. But that wasn't enough because the words were so overused – people said it when they didn't mean it. Maybe he didn't know her at all. And maybe there was no point in their relationship. And maybe she had felt this all along. But it didn't feel right. If he wasn't meant to be with her forever then why did he miss her more than anything?
I live a simple life
Unfettered by complex sweets.
You think this isn't me?
That's so sweet.
I'm so sorry.
He missed her. It was as simple as that. Out of all the things he could have missed – basic luxuries that he was spoilt enough to take for granted in Chicago – out of everything – electricity, air conditioning, basic medical supplies – there was just one thing he knew he prayed for more than anything; the hardest to get. He missed her. Had it taken all this just to realise that? Did it take travelling thousands of miles to Africa to realise that there was just one thing in his life that made it brighter than anything.
He missed Abby.
And he was going to go home.