Birth and Rebirth

Outside an Ethiopian Restaurant on the Upper West Side of Manhattan – Just before midnight . . .

Winston sat in Ecto-1 with the engine idling. He had the radio tuned to a late night oldies station. He hummed along to a song by Smokey Robinson. Just then, the front door of the restaurant opened, and she walked out.

Kelechi Zewditu Bryant was his girlfriend of nearly three months. She was a beautiful woman of mixed heritage, having a half-Nigerian, half-Ethiopian mother and a British father who had been an ambassador to northern Africa. Raised in the upper echelon of English aristocracy, she had trained from early adolescence to become a chef. She’d used her late father’s fortune and connections to open her own restaurant, Abyssinia, which featured cuisine inspired by her late mother’s heritage. Her mother had also been quite the gastronomist.

Abyssinia used to be a rival of Winston’s mother’s restaurant Comfort Food, and Kel nearly had to close her establishment due to lack of business, but Ellen Zeddemore retired soon after her son started dating Kelechi, and she and Winston's dad moved to Hawaii with the money they received from Big Ed’s late sister’s will. Now, Kel’s was a thriving restaurant that she co-owned with Winston.

Being the hard working, very independent person that she was, Kel usually departed the restaurant alone after closing. She and Winston had struggled many times over this issue, as she had almost been raped once and actually was kidnapped another time due to this dangerous habit of hers. Tonight, he would brook no argument.

Ecto-1 being what it was, Kel noticed it immediately. She wandered over to the remodeled ambulance, and slid into the passenger’s seat. Winston took her hand in his and kissed it gently. “Hey Kel.”

“What’s the spl ocl occasion, Churchill?” she asked in her proper English accent. She used her favorite nickname for him, and he smiled at her affectionately.

“Nothing. I was just in the neighborhood and I was worried about you.”

She looked at him skeptically. “You were in this neighborhood . . . in the middle of the night?”

He grinned sheepishly and averted his eyes. “Yeah.”

She studied him briefly then nodded her concession. “Alright.”

He sighed in relief. “How was your day?”

“Tiring. Yours?”

“Not so good.”

“Why, what’s happened?” She looked him over carefully. Her eyes then widened in horror. “Are the others alright?”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” he muttered miserably.

“You’re scaring me, Churchill.”

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing that you should worry about.” He met her gaze evenly. “Really.”

“You’re sure?” She stroked his cheek.

“Yes. I’m sure. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just needed to see you.”

“Do you want to stay tonight?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

She smiled warmly. “Of course. You don’t need to thank me. I’ll always be there for you.”

He returned her smile. “I know. Your car will be okay here, right?”

“Of course. Now take me home, handsome. I’ve missed you terribly.” Her smile could melt the coldest ice; it was so full of warmth.

He put Ecto-1 into gear and pulled away from the curb. They rode in silence for a few blocks. Winston anxiously mulled over how to tell her something that he desperately needed to say, and then decided to just go ahead and say it.

“Kel?”

“Yes, Churchill?”

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Her eyes widened, then softened, glistening with tears. “No. No, you haven’t.”

“Oh.” He glanced at her briefly before signaling a turn. “I love you, Kel.”