ANA Reborn by Carl Facciponte - HTML preview
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Chapter 27
he lighting inside Mensky's Ethiopian T Restaurant was warm and subdued. Most of the light was coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows stretching from wall to wall across the front of the narrow building. Plain white tiles covered the floor. Thick wooden pedestal tables were sturdy but tired-looking from years of use.
Four heavy wooden slat-back chairs sat around each table. A white paper napkin fanned elegantly out of each water glass. The noise of children playing filtered gently into the restaurant from the park across the street.
Paul and Martha sat at a small table next to the window.
"This is a nice place, Martha. How did you find it? The neighborhood looks a little rough."
"It's funny you should say that, Paul," Martha replied. "Ralph said almost the same thing when I first brought him here. I guess that's why we're 211
here. I'm missing him terribly and wanted to relive some of our experiences for comfort."
"Pretty hard on you, isn't it?"
"It sure is. Worst of all, I'm having dreams about him."
Paul raised one eyebrow, and with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, said, "Dreams should be a pleasant thing, shouldn't they?"
Martha shook her head. "No. Not in this case. I keep dreaming about him getting hurt in Afghanistan. Isn't that ridiculous? As the department Psychologist, I know dreams are simply manifestations of normal stress. There's nothing to them in the real world, right?"
At that moment, Liya walked to their table, order pad in hand. She was tall and trim, with light milk-chocolate skin. She wore her hair pulled back into a tight bun, emphasizing her large green eyes. Her graceful gait could comfortably fit into Addis-Ababa society circles.
"Good afternoon. Can I start you with something to drink?" she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled at her guests.
"I'll have a black coffee," Martha said.
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Paul looked up from the menu. "I'll have a dark Ethiopian coffee, please." Then added, "And a double espresso, too. Can you add a tarragon needle to the espresso if you have any?"
Liya's smile flashed brilliantly. "You know the coffee drinks of our country," she said, excitement and expectation in her voice. "Have you been there?"
"Many years ago," Paul said. "It's one of the places I would certainly love to go back to, though."
"Please come and visit us. You will love it.
Now, let me go and get your drinks," she said, turning towards the kitchen.
"She was certainly pleasant," Martha said.
"She's the one who waited on Ralph and me."
"So tell me more about your dreams, Martha,"
Paul said. "They must be intense if you're being troubled by them."
"It's not that they're violent or anything. There is just a feeling of foreboding within them. Unlike most of my dreams, the details are blurry instead of in focus. I wake up to a feeling of extreme 213
sadness but don't have a clue as to why. Your thoughts?"
"You want the layman to give advice and interpretation to the professional?" Paul smirked good-naturedly. "Sure. I'll give it a shot."
"Thanks."
"Well, for one thing, Ralph being in a war zone is enough to give anyone a ton of stress. You know your brain doesn't shut off at night. Ana and Rhett could probably do that, but women generally can't just turn their head off like guys seem to be able to."
"Yeah, it seems like guys can turn their heads off even when they're awake. But Paul, I know that. This is something much more."
"Okay then, it could be your imagination adding to the story."
Liya came to the table and set the drinks down. "Enjoy your coffee. May I take your orders?"
Martha reached over the table and touched Paul's hand. "Do you trust me to order for you?"
she asked. "I know exactly what you would like.
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Something pleasantly spicy, but not burning, and different. Am I right?"
"Nailed it," Paul said. "I put my taste buds in your hands. You've picked up more in our sessions together than I realized."
"Yuck," said Martha as she wrinkled her nose in jest. "Taste buds in your hand is gross!"
Their server looked at Martha quizzically.
When no explanation came, she asked for their order.
Clearing her throat for effect, Martha said,
"We will both have the ingira with tibs, please."
"A good lunch choice," Liya said. "I will put in your order."
"What did you order for me?" Paul asked.
"You'll love it. Ingera is a big crepe you tear into pieces and scoop up the beef stew. It's a fun way of eating with your hands."
"Sounds good. Now back to the topic. So you don't think it's just nerves?"
Martha squirmed in her chair. "No, I don't.
There is another element in there someplace.
That's what has me worried."
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Paul sat quietly for several seconds, staring at his coffee. Finally, he lifted his head and looked into Martha's eyes. "I think this is a good question for a pastor. Let me change hats for a moment,"
he said as he made the motions of taking one hat off and putting another on.
He continued, "If it's not just your mind playing with you, there is most likely a spiritual component involved. The tough part is telling if it's from God or the enemy. Hearing from God almost always brings a sense of peace and calm."
Paul gave a closed-lip smile, his eyes betraying the concern he felt. "Look, I have to say everything on my mind. The Bible has tons of examples where people are given a Word to help them understand what was coming up in the future."
Martha's face dropped. "You mean my dreams could be preparing me for disaster, or worse?"
"No, I didn't say that because I don't know.
I'm only saying there may be hardships ahead, and God is tipping you off. But, of course, it's just speculation on my part. Please don't take it seriously. Sometimes I can be such a downer. It'll all turn out okay in the end, okay?"
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They saw Liya approaching with their order.
Martha sighed." I appreciate that you didn't just try to come up with some fluff that just sounds good. You're a good friend."
"Enough for now," Paul said, reaching across the table and squeezing Martha's hand. "Let's just have a nice lunch together, okay?"
Martha nodded in agreement. "And let's get some Ethiopian drinks to go with our meal." In sudden recognition that she was having lunch with a pastor, she said, "I'm sorry. I never thought to ask you if you drank."
Paul laughed. "I've been known to have one drink every once in a while."
She turned to Liya and asked for two medium-dry Tej in a berele. Their server nodded with a knowing smile.
Paul shook his head and asked in mock sarcasm, "Martha, what did you just do? Why did our server smile like that? Are you trying to get me drunk?"
Martha laughed out loud. "Tej is fermented wine with honey and something like hops. A 217
berele is a glass shaped like a tall, thin vase. It's kinda' cool. Ralph and I used to have them here."
"So you're Not trying to get me drunk?" Paul laughed.
"Truth is, right now, I'm trying to get me drunk. I'm scared."
Paul reached across the table again and held her hands in his.
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