Intentions

I understood why Malcolm changed even if he chose not to acknowledge it. Like me, he had lost the most significant love in his life and there was no hope for time or prolonged youth to give him a second opportunity at anything similar. The unspoken offer was always present between us, but it was never a consideration. He would be even more eager to meet his wife in the after-life were it not for daughters.

As he aged, it became more difficult for Malcolm to spend time with his ageless friend. For him I was an ever present, sometimes painful, reminder of mortality and immortality, of love and loss.

At twenty-six Ngozi returned to take care of her father and put her medical degree to practical use in the care of her own people. Her sister returned for a short time but eventually returned to England to take up an accounting position with a prominent firm. Malcolm and I were proud of the women they had become and their sense of independence and I was grateful that Louis and Elizabeth had not only looked after them but had also made a place for themselves. Louis and Elizabeth had found an easy companionship with each other and in time this affection deepened beyond friendship. They had played the part of surrogate parents to the girls and, with my consent, told the girls our secret when they were old enough to understand…they would decide if they wanted to maintain any relationship with us.

For her part Ngozi seemed pleased to play messenger between her father and me. In his final months Malcolm and I saw less of each other but stayed in constant communication through daily letters that he dictated to Ngozi and my letters which she read to him. From his words and her emotion I could tell that he would not be with us much longer, but remarkably it seemed that they both made peace with his condition and what lay ahead.

On the evening that would be his last, Ngozi knocked the door to my study firmly. I had been alerted by her scent for some time before.

“Come in.” I said evenly. She entered with a ready, natural smile which always put me at ease. She wore a simple black skirt that ended mid-calf and a white cotton blouse. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, giving her high cheek bones and light brown eyes prominence in her smooth, honey complexioned face.

“Hello Nicholas.” She said, taking the seat before me.

“How are you Ngozi, how is your father?” Invariably I asked it all as a single question because her well being was linked to his.

“I am better than he is.” Came her familiar refrain, followed by another disarming smile. “He wants to see you.”

“Really?” I said, successfully hiding my surprise.

“He wants to see his friend, while he still can.” She continued her eyes, moist and shinny with tears.

“I’m sorry.” I said rising slowly.

“I know.” She said, brushing some tears away. “It is sad, but he is ready. As ready as anyone can be I suppose and you have helped. My mother always said intentions don’t store well, good or bad, they can weigh on you…change into something else.”

“I understand.” I said, walking to her and holding her as she stood up. Feeling her warmth and listening to her heartbeat. I felt her hot tears soak through my shirt, against my cold skin. “We should go.” I said.

“Yes, we must.” She said raising her head to look into my eyes with a look of determination. “But you must also know. I do not blame you for anything Nicholas. In fact I have never loved or respected any man as much.”

I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out and she covered my mouth with hers kissing me with passion and purpose, before turning and leading me out the door.

We didn’t speak on our way to their home and when we got there we held hands with Malcolm as he did his best to reassure us that he was going to a better place and that it was time. Moments later, with a smile on his face he passed from this world to the next and I was left to consider my responsibilities and my intentions.