SOMEWHERE SOUTH OF SUEZ

A Novel

By

Gene C. McCoy

CHAPTER 7

The rapture of this first coming together never diminished. Each time they met the delight was as sweet and tender as those first moments of mutual submission and discovery. At first, Maggie had no trouble managing her lives. They were compartmentalized and separate; she carefully planned and calculated the activities demanded of her as a diplomatic wife and mother so as to give herself more freedom in her role as Antonio's lover and mistress.

Feigning nervousness or tension she explained away her frequent drives into the bush by saying that the sight of the nomads and the freedom she felt in the vast emptiness of Africa relaxed her and made her more appreciative of her own culture and civilization. From conversations with Antonio she increased her knowledge of nomadic life and she began to record her impressions and new knowledge in her journal.

In the beginning her interest in these people, who seemed to have been forgotten by time, was a cover, but gradually it grew into a genuine passion, and she shared her thoughts with Greg who was delighted that Maggie had, at last, come to peace with herself and her environment. She learned more of Somali history, and made an effort to learn a few words of the unwritten Somali language. In time she could ask simple directions, make greetings and ask for things in the markets as well as inquire about their prices; she found herself chatting easily with local officials at cocktail parties and receptions.

It was not long before Maggie realized that Antonio's existence in Somalia was very precarious. Although the present government was friendly and pro-western, there were determined anti-colonial elements with strong Marxists tendencies who were just waiting on the sidelines, and many of the Italians were already selling out and looking for innovative ways of circumventing the foreign exchange controls that prevented them from getting their money out of the country. Some bought expensive jewelry in the gold bazaar in the souk in Hamar Uin which they smuggled out on their persons, while others bought wild animal skins, especially the skins of the much coveted Somali leopard, and attempted their illegal export. When she mentioned the uncertainties of the future to Antonio he said that he knew that his situation was dicey but that he planned to stay until he was thrown out. "This is my country, too," he said. "If I have to I'll claim my Somali nationality, and maybe even convert to Islam."

She developed a skill at entering and leaving the beach hut without being seen on those days when they agreed to meet there rather than at the farm, and even though Greg's drinking seemed to increase he functioned at a high level. More and more she ignored Greg's problem and pursued her own life and interests, and the infrequency of his demands for sex from her became a blessing since in her heart she knew that her body belonged to Antonio.

It was on an afternoon that she was leaving the beach hut that she became aware of the disintegrating tug on her emotions that her divided loyalties were producing, and for the first time since starting the affair with Antonio she knew that she was living a lie in all of her lives. She was not being true to Greg, Antonio or herself, and she became painfully aware that her schizophrenic existence was tearing her apart. As though a light had been turned on in her head she became conscious of a unifying, integrating force that was pulling her toward honesty and oneness; one family, one God, one man, and there was no doubt in her mind who that one man was. She was deep into her own thoughts striding toward the wild end of the beach when she was startled by a voice from behind her. It was Pete Stuart.

"Where are you rushing to, Maggie?" he called out to her.

She stopped and turned to face him. "Hey, Pete, hi," she said. "I was just getting the cobwebs out of my head. I find that if I really stride along I get the blood flowing. How are you?"

"I'm okay, Maggie. How about you?" he asked and fell in step beside her.

"I'm fine," she replied, and then realized that she was lying, and she had an overpowering desire to bare her soul, spill it all out. Because she had known Pete Stuart for so many years he suddenly felt like a brother to her. "That's not true, Pete. I'm not fine. I'm miserable."

"What's the matter, Maggie? Is it that Italian banana grower?"

"Oh, Pete how did you know? Is it that obvious?"

"I don't know if it's that obvious to everyone. I don't see you that often, and I don't know how many people know about the beach hut that I just saw you come out of, but it was obvious to me. I just put two and two together."

"Oh, God, Pete it's tearing me apart. I was just walking and thinking about how much it was hurting me and everyone else."

"I know the feeling, Maggie."

"You're talking about that love affair that you had in Madrid with Thais, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"What happened?" Maggie asked.

"She was married, I was married and we just couldn't get it together, but there was more than that. It was me, Maggie."

They were at the far end of the beach where she had met Antonio that day and they sat down on a drift wood log.

"I was frightened, Maggie. I was frightened by real love from a woman who was capable of truly giving and receiving love. One who was truly capable of loving."

Pete's words hit home with her and she knew that she was frightened. She put her hands over her face and began to cry. "Oh God, Pete, life is so fucking complicated. Why does it have to be this way?"

He turned to look at her and rubbed his hand over her back. "It doesn't have to be complicated, Maggie. If you love this man go with him. I can say that now after ten years of thinking about my mistakes."

"It is complicated, Pete. It has to do with Greg's drinking, the kids, the situation here in Somalia and me." She turned to look at Pete and laughed. "God I'm a mess aren't I."

"Not really, Maggie. You're just human."

"Maggie, after that affair with Thais I thought I was going to die. My wife divorced me; Thais went back to her husband and I got transferred to Ecuador. I was lonely, confused and hurt, and I started drinking way too much. By the Grace of God the department sent me to an alcohol treatment center then I started in Alcoholics Anonymous, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I began to get my life together, and I could see that all of my life I had been motivated by fear and doubt. Slowly, very slowly, I began to develop a trust in a Higher Power, if you will, God, and I got better. One day at a time I quit drinking, and I went to AA meetings and started learning something about how to live a decent life. How to live life on life's terms."

"I didn't know you were in AA, Pete. I guess I knew you didn't drink anymore, but I never thought you were an alcoholic," Maggie said.

"Neither did I," he said, "but I do now, and I never want to forget it."

"Maybe you could talk to Greg," she said. "I think Greg may be an alcoholic."

"Maggie, Greg knows I'm in AA, and I have talked to him. Greg is not ready to hear the message. You could go to Al-anon though, if you ever get out of this place."

"Al-anon?" she asked.

"Yes, it's an organization for the families of alcoholics. It would help you see things more clearly, and to develop a trust in God, or a Higher Power if that feels more comfortable."

They got up and started walking back down the beach toward the Anglo-American Beach club. "I believe in God, Pete, but I'm not sure he believes in me." "He does, Maggie. "Just give him a chance, and let go and let God do for you what you can't do for yourself."

When they neared the Lido Club Maggie said she would have to leave Pete there. "My car's parked up on Lido Road not far from here," she said and felt sheepish. "Part of my being secretive, and trying to live a double life."

"I understand, Maggie. Don't worry I won't say anything to anyone. Your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks, Pete. It felt so good to talk to someone about the mess I'm in, and I'm glad that I met you. Nothing has changed, but I feel better. So long."

"So long, Maggie," he said and took her in his arms to hug her. "Remember, Kiddo, let go and let God."

"I will remember," she said and kissed him on the cheek then turned to run up the path that led to the top of the cliff beside the Lido Club to her car.

Once Maggie had admitted to herself and another human being the exact nature of her painful dilemma there was no stopping the process by which the problem repeatedly forced its way into her consciousness to demand a resolution of the conflict which was tearing at her insides. At a cocktail party that night she was moving through the people, smiling, greeting and making small talk when her attention focused on a man whom, she knew, was the CIA Station Chief in Mogadishu although he operated under a diplomatic cover and represented himself as a political officer in the embassy. She wondered if he ever became weary of presenting himself as something other than what his own inner truth knew he was, a spy. She wondered if he ever had nightmares, as she did, of falling, being exposed, or finding himself standing naked with excruciating embarrassment and shame in a room full of people who accusingly pointed their fingers at her. Did he ever get confused, as she did, in his day to day conscious reality as to which role he playing when he spoke to and interacted with people who knew nothing of his secret life? And did he ever feel a compulsive urge, as she did, to blurt out the truth that would integrate her into one whole person? She reflected on the irony of the Biblical quote which was carved in the wall of the entrance to the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, "Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make ye free."

What is the truth? she asked herself. I am the mother of two children whom I love dearly, and I could never separate myself from them. I am the wife of a senior diplomatic officer and somewhere I know there is still love for Greg, but the feelings I have for Antonio are so overpowering, so urgent that I can't find the love for Greg any longer. My love for Antonio has become the dominant factor of my personality and it is demanding that all other aspects of my life be integrated, reshuffled and repositioned so that Antonio is acknowledged as the center of my universe. She wondered if she had what it would take inside of her, as Antonio's mother had demonstrated she had, to teach and instruct Kathy and Steve so that they would grow up with an appreciation of their own culture and civilization; could she teach them in such a way that they could not just cope and survive, but be able to enjoy the books, art, theater and music which the culture had produced. Maybe I could send them to a boarding school, she thought. They could spend their vacations with us on the farm, then she shook her head as she realized that not only was such a fantasy economically impossible, it would be unfair to the children, and Greg, and it sent a chill through her. Regardless of what she wanted for herself she could not ignore the relationship that existed between Greg and the children. She loved them too much to banish them to a boarding school. And what would happen if Antonio should have to leave Somalia? She closed her eyes and shook her head. The problem is beyond what I can solve she admitted to herself, and remembered Pete Stuart's advice to let go and let God, but in another corner of her mind she asked how can God have mercy on an adulteress?

Two days later, as she lay beside Antonio in the darkened bedroom of his house, she was still possessed by these anguished thoughts. They had just made love, and she lay quietly beside him, her head on his shoulder and her body pressed close to his. She rubbed her hands over his chest then touched his lips and his eyes. His body was as familiar to her now by touch as it was to her sight.

"Tonio, what are we going to do?" she asked, and feared that this demand for him to share her misery exceeded what she had a right to ask. But to whom else could she go? It was their love, their secret.

"In a way that is up to you, Mahgee," he said. Then, as if he had read all of her thoughts, said "All of the complicating factors are on your side. You're the one who has a husband and children."

A chill went through her and she hated him for having put the burden back on her. "You mean I'm an adulteress," she cried, "no different than a whore or any of the other women who sleep around town with anyone who will make them selves available." Tears welled up in her eyes and she sobbed with the loneliness of her burden.

"Don't say that," he said. "You know that's not what I mean. What we have is very beautiful and it shouldn't be tarnished by words like those. I love you, Mahgee, and it would make me very happy to have you come and live here as my wife. But there are decisions that have to be made, and only you can make them. I can comfort you, but I can't make decisions for you." He drew her close to him and stroked her back, then brushed his lips over her ears.

"Mahgee, I must go away for a week. It's a trip to the north that I promised Mario long ago that I would make with him. He wants to do some shooting, and after the many things he has done for me I can't refuse."

"You don't need to explain, Tonio. I know that we each have our separate lives and other friends; that's the problem. I want to be in your life - make your friends my friends, and let you be my life."

"Please think about what you want to do while I am gone, and when I return we'll discuss the matters that trouble you together. No matter what your decision, Mahgee, know always that I love you very much, and I want only what is best for you. You have made my life complete. With you I have learned what love is."

"What is love, Antonio?" she asked.

"Oh, Mahgee, I can't put it into words. In the first place I don't speak English well enough to tell you what I know is my love for you. Love is a caring that is so profound that I know it is the same caring that my, our, Creator has for us, but I can't talk about love in the abstract, as theory. I can only relate what I know about it to you, and that includes things like the way you care for your children, your courage to come out here by yourself, your intelligence, your sense of humor, your passion. It is a million tiny details, Mahgee, that make up the woman that you are, the woman that I love. Then of course when we make physical love, I know that we are connected to some cosmic force that binds our souls together. I know that we belong together. I know that you are my woman."

She closed her eyes and pressed against him. "Yes, Antonio, I am your woman, and you are my man."

The days passed like years. They were in the time between the winds. A two month period, known in Swahili as the tangambili, when the monsoon trade winds which had been blowing out the northeast stop before starting to blow again from the southwest. Temperatures soared, and the humidity of the still, damp air sapped Maggie's energy and left her languid, short-tempered and unable to focus her thoughts. She roamed the beach along the Lido, picking up shells, or lay for hours in the sun on the deck of the Anglo-American Beach Club unable to reach any conclusion that left her with a feeling of comfort. By mid-week the pain of Antonio's absence was so acute that she simply shut down, and decided to defer any decision by saying to herself that she could not reach a decision without him. She soothed her anguish with the thought that it would be a year before Greg was transferred and during that time she would find her solution. Seeming to have forgotten that just one week ago she was torn with guilt when the present arrangements were no longer satisfactory, she rationalized that they would still have their few hours together every week, and comforted herself with the knowledge that Antonio would always be close enough so that she could go to him when ever she needed him.

By the next day, Thursday, as she walked at the far end of the beach, Maggie knew that she could not live for another year with the divisions that were pulling at her and she resolved to tell Greg that she was going back to the States. She would get a divorce and return with the children to Somalia when the divorce was final, and once again she remembered the words she had written in her journal: "to think that I have a choice is an illusion."

Leaving the beach club she drove home to shower and await Greg's arrival, resolved to tell him that night that she was going home; she would wait until she was back in the States to tell him of the divorce.

This would be a day that Maggie Chandler would never forget, but before we continue with Maggie's story we must first examine the lives of the American Ambassador and Liliana Brancusi.

END OF BOOK ONE

Gene McCoy © July 1998

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© 1997 ginofso@gte.net