Eric approached the village from the east, sweat dripping off his back from his run. It had been two weeks since his return from Ethiopia.
He missed Jackie terribly, and her absence was a hollow ache in his heart and life. He saw her in the midnight of the sky, felt her in the softness of a passing breeze and caught her scent in the flowers of the Acacia tree and the sunshine of the day. Thoughts of her and Hyde rose from time to time, but he resolutely pushed them back, back with all other things that were dark and grim.
His footsteps were heavy as he approached the dark silhouettes of the many huts that made up the village. He had known that going back to Ethiopia after the year away wouldn't be any easier, but he had been unprepared for the agony of the memories that had assailed him. They had been even more vivid than his dreams of them, and upon coming back, his nightmares had returned with a vengeance.
The only difference, was that the nature of them had changed. Where once guilt, impotence and self-loathing threatened to choke the life out of him, they were now replaced by anger and a deep sort of disappointment and cynicism.
He had taken to running in the dead of the night again, running running running. But never far enough, never fast enough.
"Jambo, mah friend."
Eric glanced up, startled at the disembodied voice in the darkness.
Morathi chuckled throatily. "Eet appears dat ah have caught you off-guard. A rare occurrence indeed."
"Why're you up at this hour, Morathi?" Eric asked wearily, walking towards what he could clearly see now was the stoop of Morathi's hut. Morathi was sitting on a stool and white curls of smoke hung around his head.
"Waiting for you, Meester Air-reek."
Eric leaned against the post that supported the straw awning that extended from the door of Morathi's hut and provided the sheltered space where Morathi spent most of his time doing his craft. Eric's shoulders sagged under an invisible weight and he hung his head and stared at the shadowy ground, lost in the murkiness of his thoughts.
The sounds of the night filled the air around them, and the acrid scent of tobacco emanating from Morathi's pipe was comforting to Eric.
"Help me."
Eric's voice was low, barely audible, and there was an underlying echo of resignation, and underneath that, a touch of desperation. He turned conflicted eyes up from the ground to fix them on Morathi.
Morathi regarded him closely, and a great sadness filled his old heart. Such darkness should not belong in the eyes of one so young. He nodded his head slowly and exhaled. He pushed himself up to his feet with the help of his cane and shuffled back into his hut.
"Come."