LIZZIE’S WORLD: A difficult conversation

“Hi,” Brian says when I pick up.

I have been sitting at the counter of the place I sometimes visit post-work for a few relaxing drinks and I am feeling mildly irritated not just with the barman who has just implied that I can’t afford a drink, but also with the fact that Brian is now intruding on my personal time. But when I hear the sad, low note in his voice, I put my irritation aside and replace it with worry.

“Is everything alright?” I ask him.

He sighs dramatically. “Not really…” he says.

“What’s wrong?” I prod.

“I’m just… out here in Mombasa, sitting by the beach, having a cocktail and thinking.”

I can’t for the life of me figure out what any of this information has to do with me, with my mentoring him or with the business I run, but let me stay on this course and see what pops up.

“Ehe?” I reply. “Sounds lovely. Why do you sound so sad?”

Another dramatic sigh. “I’m just remembering the last time I was here. It’s been many years…”

I drum my fingers on the counter irritably. The barman glances my way with a raised eyebrow. I note his concern. I am unmoved. I keep tapping my fingers.

“Is there a point to all of this?” I ask Brian. He keeps quite for a few seconds and then I hear something that sounds like a sniff coming from his end; oh dear, have I reduced the poor boy to tears with my rough tone?!

“It’s just… you know… I was born here. My dad, mum, sister, cousins, aunts, uncles… My parents and my sister died in a road accident when I was away in a boarding school. I don’t really have anyone I can talk to. I have avoided coming to Mombasa since then but then we have a client for whom we are shooting a commercial here so I had to come.”

My heart softens immediately, especially upon hearing that he is an orphan. “Oh, I am so sorry,” I say softly. I have stopped drumming my fingers. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not really,” he sniffs again. “I mean, I don’t even know why I chose to call you. It’s like I felt you would… I don’t know… understand.”

“Oh…” I say. I have no clue what to say to that.

“You take care of so many people…”

“Oh?” I am genuinely confused. I don’t really have many family members to support and all of them are gainfully employed so I am not sure what he is referring to.

“You know, with your business and your company and everything. All the employees whose salaries you have to make sure are paid.”

“So I feel like you must be a very caring person.”

“Oh…” I reply. I don’t know when would be a good time to point out to him that one in five CEOs are classified as sociopaths but I feel that that might derail this conversation somewhat.

“Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt you too much while you are busy. I was just trying to reach out to someone. I don’t know. I just felt like you might be the right person.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” I say. I don’t know whether to further the conversation by prodding a little more, or whether to let him be so he can figure it out on his own – I mean, in my defence, I am not a counsellor or a psychologist so I don’t know how to proceed. In any case, I am interrupted by a man entering my line of sight. I look up, only to realise it is the gentleman who earlier bought me a drink. He perches himself on the bar stool next to mine and gives me a warm smile. I frown back; I don’t know who told him he was welcome to my space.

“Ok, look, I have to go now,” I tell Brian. “I’ll call you later and see how you’re doing, alright?”

“Yea, ok, I know you’re busy. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“No, no, not at all,” I tell him. I wouldn’t want to be the one who turned away someone clearly suffering from depression if I am in a position to help. “It’s fine. I’ll call you later.” Then I hang up and turn to the man looking back at me.

“Hi!” he smiles widely. I keep frowning.

“Who are you and what do you want from me?” And then I wait for his reply.

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