19 comments

Feb 01, 2021

Fiction

She is enthroned on my desk in a photograph where she stands, enthusiastically pointing at a large baobab tree. The center of the tree is hollow, the size of a small bedroom, and the branches spread, short and thin, above the swollen base. If I look closely, I can see the shadow I cast on the ground while I took the picture with a pink disposable camera.


***


Neither of us were from Ethiopia, but that is where we met. Our fathers were childhood friends who had not seen one another in longer than either of us had been alive. I remember being unsure about what to expect, thinking naively that it would be hot and dusty, like the Sahara looks in movies.


In reality, Lalibela reminded me a lot of home. It was beautiful. The reddish stone and soil of the mountains was spotted with guava and olive trees. I have never been anywhere so inherently joyful and vibrant; every moment, every detail felt consequential and imbued with life.


Beth and her father had lived in Ethiopia for several years when we came to visit. They picked us up from the airport; her father greeted me warmly and introduced us.


Our parents caught up on nearly fourteen years of history while we sat, silent strangers, in the backseat of the truck. She was thirteen then and I was only eleven. She wore her reddish-brown hair in a loose braid. Her sky-blue skirt brushed her ankles, embroidered at the hem with little pink flowers. A set of bracelets with rainbow-colored plastic beads adorned her wrist and clicked lightly every time she moved her arm.


“Look at this,” she said, breaking the silence. She dug something round and reflective from her purse. I thought it was a mirror at first, but she opened it up to reveal a magnetic compass with a bright red needle.


“That’s cool,” I said.


“Dad gave it to me for my birthday. It always points north.”


I nodded. “I have a little one at home for hiking.”


She snapped the compass shut and returned it to her bag. We settled back into the safety of silence, a bit more comfortably than before.


“This afternoon we can go see the churches,” her father said, smiling at me in the mirror. “They’re incredible, I can’t wait for you to see them.”


***


We arrived at her house, which was small and hemmed in by avocado trees and a stone wall. Beth barely gave me time to grab my duffel bag from the bed of the truck before she dragged me inside to show me around. The main room was full of books and trinkets from around the world.


“We move a lot,” Beth said. “I’ve been to tons of different countries.”


“Cool,” I replied. She was growing more mythical in my mind, this girl who had lived in more places than I’d ever dreamed of visiting.


She showed me some of her favorite artifacts: an eight-inch replica of a suit of armor that her father used as a bookend, an antique globe which she said was her grandfather’s, and a small, hand-painted jade egg from Thailand.


After the tour, she took me to the room which my father and I were going to share for the duration of our stay. There was a small window, a twin sized bed, and a cot. My father’s suitcase already lay at the foot of the bed, so I dropped my bag onto the cot.


Beth stood in the doorway, watching me. “So, Peter, what do you like to do?”


I shrugged. “Nothing much. I like video games, hanging out with friends. I like to read sometimes, too.”


“Cool,” she replied. “Wanna see my room?”


“Sure,” I said, and followed her down the hall. Her room was painted lavender, her favorite color. She had some posters on the walls and an overflowing bookshelf beside her bed. There was a trombone on the dresser beside a small bottle of Victoria’s Secret perfume, which she said her grandmother sent her as a birthday gift.


“Dad wants me to play the trombone like he did when he was my age. He’s trying to teach me, but he says my arms might not be long enough,” she explained. She stretched her arms out in front of her to demonstrate.


I stared at them silently. They looked long enough to me.


“My dad told me what happened with your parents,” Beth said.


“Oh,” I replied.


“Is it going to be weird, to have two houses and two Christmases and all that?” she asked.


“I guess.” I didn’t really want to talk about it.


As suddenly as she brought it up, she moved on to a new topic. “Do you want to see our garden?”


***


That afternoon, we all piled into the truck to go see the churches. Beth’s mother decided to join us and sat between us in the backseat, smelling of berbere spice and jasmine perfume. She talked loudly over the radio, asking me about life back in the States. I answered her questions politely, wishing that I was sitting beside Beth instead.


We arrived at the site of the churches and my father whistled appreciatively, drawing looks from the people nearby. My face flushed with embarrassment and I glanced at Beth, who luckily didn’t seem bothered by him.


The scene was breathtaking. Before us, the earth fell away into a large pit. In the center of the hole, which was several stories deep, stood a cross-shaped piece of stone. As we got closer, I could make out windows and doors carved into the reddish monolith, which I realized was the church.


I was so engrossed at the sight I didn’t notice Beth come up behind me.


“They used hammers and chisels to carve down into the mountain,” she murmured. “And there are tunnels and trenches that connect the some of the churches.”


I was shocked. “It must have taken like, a hundred years.”


She giggled. “Yeah, something like that.”


We traveled down into the trenches and tunnels, led by a guide. Beth and her mother covered their heads with scarves out of respect. The tunnels were short, and my father had to crouch down to fit. As we descended, the air grew cold and I found myself thinking about the weight of the rock that surrounded us. My heart began to pound and my breath came fast, but I did not want to seem afraid.


Beth slowed to walk right in front of me. She whispered over her shoulder. “Do you wanna hear a joke?”


“Sure,” I replied.


“What does a nosy pepper do?”


“I dunno, what?”


“Gets jalapeño business.”


I snorted. “That’s stupid.”


“Yeah, but it’s funny,” Beth smirked.


We got to the bottom of the tunnel and exited into the sunlight. The stone walls of the church rose up before us, towering towards the sunlight. Everything about the place felt weighted with a sanctity that I couldn’t fully understand.


The guide led us inside, through the cold rooms of the church itself. The walls were painted with elaborate designs which were hard to make out in the light coming from the small keyhole-shaped windows. I was overwhelmed by the ancient beauty of it all. Beth walked beside me, pointing out little details in hushed tones.


“The first time we came here, I was afraid that there was a trap door under the rugs on the floor. I thought I was going to fall through,” Beth whispered.


I smiled at her strange imagination.


We exited the church, squinting in the sunlight, and the spell of the building seemed to fade. Beth and I fell into step with one another as we finished the tour.


“Have you ever tried injera?” she asked.


***


 The rest of the trip passed in a blur, and Beth and I quickly became inseparable. She showed me the marketplace and took me to see the baobab trees. She and her mother taught me how to make beef tibs and fatira and homemade croissants, a favorite from their time in France.


When it was time for me to leave, Beth made me promise to talk to her every day.


I sometimes like to read through our old emails. We talked about everything: politics, movies, school, music. She sent me pictures of her sons when they were born and helped me decide which dog to adopt. I told her about my fiancé and suggested that she paint her home office lavender.


We don’t talk every day anymore, but we still try to check in at least once a month. She lives in Spain now, by the beach. In her last email, she made me promise to visit so her sons can meet their Uncle Peter, and to bring my fiancé along so she can approve of him. I bought our tickets yesterday.


Beth and I haven’t seen each other in nearly thirty years, but I am confident I’ll recognize the girl under the baobab tree anywhere.

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19 comments

Claire Lewis
03:58 Feb 01, 2021

Based *very* loosely on my own journey to Ethiopia when I was 11. I fell in love with everything except the injera. Shoutout to A.g and Neha for the inspirational lists of random objects! I think I snuck them all in here...

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Thom Brodkin
15:32 Mar 12, 2021

I say this in the most complimentary way, you have an old soul. I don’t know exactly how old you are but your writing is that of a seasoned traveler. You have a gift for scenery description that transports me into the world you create. Your stories also mean something. They are more than just tales they are glimpses of life. I’ve said it before but I am so grateful to be able to read you. Another great story so well written. If you’re looking for a suggestion give “Hope” a try. It meant a lot when I wrote it and even more so now.

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Claire Lewis
15:49 Mar 12, 2021

It probably won’t surprise you, I get the ‘old soul’ comment a lot haha. I’m 23 and fortunate enough to have traveled a bit growing up. Heading over now :)

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Thom Brodkin
16:14 Mar 12, 2021

It is a compliment. You think and write deeply. It’s a gift.

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William Flautt
18:55 Feb 07, 2021

I enjoyed searching up all those interesting places and dishes. Ethiopia sounds like an enchanting place! I always find it difficult to write flashbacks/memories well... I'm so impressed with this story. I think you pulled it off beautifully.

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Claire Lewis
19:07 Feb 07, 2021

Thank you, it was fun to write! And Ethiopia is lovely- I hope to go back someday. I just saw on your bio that you’re a teacher! I’m student teaching at the moment, middle school choir. Nice to meet a fellow educator here :)

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Neha N.
13:12 Feb 03, 2021

I see you managed to incorporate all of the objects; that's quite impressive! Anyways, loved Beth and her cheery, rattly nature, Peter and his silent musings, and the whole story in general. It's very well executed.

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Claire Lewis
13:38 Feb 03, 2021

Thanks Neha! It was super fun to write :)

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Heather Mc Quaid
15:34 Feb 02, 2021

Hi Claire, What a lovely story. Like Christina, I felt I could picture the images your words were painting. I don't know why, but this line, about Beth's arms and the trombone, tickled me: I stared at them silently. They looked long enough to me. I struggled to point out any questionable grammar/typos/style. Only one thing I wondered about, was whether you need to say "quite" in this sentence: I have never been anywhere quite so inherently joyful The only other point is the ending. Perhaps you could echo back to the Baobob tree...saying ...

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Claire Lewis
16:53 Feb 02, 2021

I love the idea of bringing back the baobab tree at the end... I'll have to think on how best to do that since I don't think they're native to Spain. I like the other edit, too, thanks for pointing that out! I commented on my last story asking for people to give me some random objects so I could challenge myself to use as many as possible in my story for this week! It turned out to be a great characterization exercise, since I decided to find a way to make each object relate to Beth's character! I'll probably do it again sometime just for f...

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Heather Mc Quaid
17:46 Feb 02, 2021

Oh, that's a great idea. I've been using story cubes for inspiration. They are purposefully more general than most of the random objects you were playing with, but maybe I could try something more concrete. As for the Baobob tree, that was just an idea. It was such a powerful image at the start, that it might be nice to recall it, but obvs. not if it doesn't make sense with the story. I do think a more powerful ending would be good though, as the image of plane tickets isn't as evocative as the magical tree. :)

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Claire Lewis
19:20 Feb 02, 2021

I'm not sure I've ever used a story cube before. How does it work? Yeah I'm not a fan of the ending... still contemplating how exactly I want to tackle fixing it lol

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Heather Mc Quaid
19:27 Feb 02, 2021

I've been using this for a few weeks (https://davebirss.com/storydice-creative-story-ideas/) and just ordered his book. For my job, I study and teach creative problem-solving, so am seeing whether I can apply lessons from the book to that. But it might also help with creative writing.

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Claire Lewis
22:02 Feb 02, 2021

Oooh how interesting! I’ll have to try using it sometime, and check out his book :)

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Christina Marie
16:35 Feb 01, 2021

Loved this! You painted a really wonderful picture of a place I have never been and know nothing about - makes me want to travel again (hopefully soon!). The description of the church was especially fantastic, and I loved how Beth's personality shone through minimal dialogue. That jalapeno joke is the cutest :)

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Claire Lewis
00:33 Feb 02, 2021

Aww thanks Christina, you made me smile! I miss traveling too!

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A.G. Scott
04:21 Feb 01, 2021

Very good. Full of interesting little details (for some reason I am especially drawn to the suit of armor, the antique globe, and the trap door...) and great character work, especially with Beth. Reminds one of the power of fate and friendship.

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Claire Lewis
04:31 Feb 01, 2021

Curious that those objects would draw your attention... Glad you enjoyed it! I struggle sometimes with creating realistic characters but I feel like the list of objects helped me piece Beth together really easily... might have to try that again sometime!

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Janey Finch
13:52 Feb 09, 2021

Awww, this is so sweet! I really love how you used the baobab tree in the beginning and the end, kind of using it as a symbol that the story is in the present now. It really gives a sense of finality! And you use great description throughout. I really liked this part specifically, "Her sky-blue skirt brushed her ankles, embroidered at the hem with little pink flowers. A set of bracelets with rainbow-colored plastic beads adorned her wrist and clicked lightly every time she moved her arm." I could just imagine it so vividly! Also, you didn't ...

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