Mists of The Serengeti

by Leylah Attar

  “Look.” Jack leaned across the table and took Goma’s hands in his. “I get it. You’ve grown attached to her. God knows, I have too. Every time I see her, I’m reminded what this place felt like when Lily was around. I don’t see why she can’t stay here until we hear from her father, but we don’t know when that will be. What if he never shows? What if something’s happened to him? K.K. wasn’t the only guy trading albino kids. What if Gabriel became a problem and someone decided to eliminate him? He could be buried in the middle of nowhere. What happens to Scholastica then? This isn’t just a short-term commitment. We’ve got to cover all the bases and do what’s best for her. Even if that means putting our own feelings aside.”

  The door opened, and Scholastica walked in with Bahati. They were laughing, trying to keep things from rolling out of their hands: potatoes, carrots, and bright red tomatoes, freshly picked from the veggie patch.

  “Let’s discuss this later,” Jack said to Goma, as Scholastica washed her hands and plopped down next to Jack. She unwrapped a paper towel and handed him the biggest, ripest tomato.

  “You saved that one for me?” asked Jack. It was plain to see how much they adored each other.

  “What’s this?” asked Bahati, picking up an envelope from the table. It had his name on it.

  “It came for you this morning,” replied Goma. “A very pretty Maasai girl delivered it.”

  “A love letter, Bahati? You’ve been holding out on us.” Jack slapped him on the back.

  Bahati didn’t take any notice. He sat down, his eyes scanning the paper. When he was done, he looked up with a blank expression.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  “My father . . .” He looked from me to Jack to Goma, still clutching the letter.

  Oh no. I braced myself. “Is he okay?”

  “My father has summoned me to the boma. He wants me to go to the village.”

  “That’s fantastic, Bahati!” Jack let out a big whoop. “The old man wants to make amends. He’s inviting you back home.”

  Bahati folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. He was wearing a new shirt that showed off his build, but there was something different about him, something more—a new confidence, a new sense of pride. “I’ve waited so many years for this, for his approval. All I’ve ever wanted was to feel like I matter to him. And now that it’s here, I don’t know how I feel. A part of me wants to go to him, but I have a life outside the boma now. I don’t want to go back and spend the rest of my life living by my father’s standards, trying to please him. I’m back at The Grand Tulip next week, and after that newspaper article, I’ve even had a few job offers. One is for a toothpaste ad. I have to audition first, but I’ve been practicing.” He flashed us a piano-key white smile. It was so dazzling, I could almost hear the ting from the glint of sparkle, reflecting off his teeth.

  “Oh Jesus.” Goma dropped her sandwich to shield herself from the glare. “What the hell did you do?”

  “I bleached my teeth. There’s no way they can turn me away now. I mean, who can resist this smile?” He subjected us to another round of his diamond grin.

  Ting, ting, ting.

  “Do me a favor, Sparkles,” said Goma. “Pass me that other envelope.” She motioned to the one sitting by his elbow. “This is for you two,” she said, taking it from him and sliding it across the table.

  Jack and Rodel. It was printed in her bold, shaky handwriting.

  Seeing our names entwined on paper, like they belonged next to each other, caught me unawares. I stared at the letters—the thick, horizontal stroke on top of the J, the curve that tapered off on the l.

  “Go ahead, open it,” said Goma.

  It was a room reservation for The Grand Tulip—all paid for and confirmed.

  “I thought the two of you should stay in Amosha tonight.” Goma got up and started washing her plate. “Your flight leaves tomorrow morning, Rodel. The airport is right there so you won’t have to get up so early.”

  It was the last night Jack and I would have together. Goma was giving us the time and space to say goodbye.

  “Thank you,” I said, but she was watching Jack with the whole world in her eyes, like her heart was breaking for him to have to say another goodbye.

  She shifted her gaze and smiled at me. “Thank you for ridding this place of the grouch that lived here. Remember when you first got here? Oh, Lord. I thought I’d have to live out the rest of my days with Mr. Sourpuss.”

  “I’m right here, you know.” Jack shot her an amused look. “And if you want me to pick up your fiber pills from town, you’d better play nice.”

  “Senior abuse,” muttered Goma.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I could do with some cranberry juice.”

  Jack grinned and got up. “I love you, Goma.” He kissed her on the top of her head and gave her a hug. “And thank you for your gift. That was very thoughtful.”

  A lump formed in my throat as they stood by the sink, Goma’s frail form completely engulfed by Jack.

  “Pfft!” Bahati spewed a spray of water all over the table.

  “What the hell?” exclaimed Jack.

  “The water.” He coughed, pushing his glass away. “It’s so cold!”

  We stared at him for a moment and then started laughing. Bleaching his teeth had made them more sensitive to heat and cold. Scholastica laughed the loudest as Bahati gasped and sputtered until tears started streaming down her face.

  “You think it’s funny?” Bahati lunged after her. She squealed and ran out the door. Goma went after them. I followed.

  “Let her go,” I said, wrangling Scholastica away from Bahati as he caught up to her.

  We weaved in and out of the wet clothes hanging on the laundry line. I followed flashes of bare feet between the bed sheets and towels—Scholastica’s milky-white toes, Bahati’s lean ankles—hopping, darting, finding, escaping. Scholastica was small and nimble. Bahati and I kept getting tangled up in the laundry. The wind carried our ripples of laughter.

  “I give up,” said Bahati, wearing a pair of Goma’s knickers on his face. “But only because my knee hurts.” He sat down, his chest heaving, fanning himself with them.

  “Gimme those!” Goma snatched her underwear from him and gave him a death glare.

  “Good job!” I said, high-fiving Scholastica. I knelt before her and poked her nose. Her arms went around my shoulders and she gave me the tightest hug.

  “Kesho.” She pointed to the sky.

  “Yes,” I replied, the words wedged in my throat. “Tomorrow, I fly. Far away.” I held her hand as I straightened. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Goma and Bahati came around. The four of us hugged in the shadow of the mountain as berry-laden coffee plants swayed around us. Then Goma broke loose.

  “Okay. I’m done. My bones can’t take any more hugging today. Go.” She shooed me away. “Go get packed. I’ve left a little something in your room. Don’t open it until you’re on the plane.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.” My heart felt like it was going to snap, so I turned around and headed toward the house. Through the fluttering clothes on the line, I saw Jack watching us. He was standing by the four tombstones, under the acacia tree. Everything stilled as our eyes met. In that one instant, we relived it all—that first meeting on the porch, the way he’d cheated at book charades, the way I’d run from my own shadow in the mist, next time grab the oh-shit handle, his teeth grazing my neck, give me your tongue, him holding my hand on the train tracks, I turn around for two seconds and you’re at another tea party, me combing his hair, holding hands under the blanket on our swing. Our swing. Ours.

  But our time was done. Except for one more night.

  He watched as I walked over to him. I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to soak up the feel of him, wanting it to seep deep into my bones so I could store it in my marrow. We rocked gently, side to side.

  As the afternoon sun warmed our back
s, I sought out the little tombstone under the tree.

  Goodbye, Lily. Every time the sun shines through the rain, I will look for you. I will look for you in rainbows, and I will remember a man who holds the whole sky in his eyes.

  I STOPPED AT the entrance of The Grand Tulip and scanned the white expanse of the outside wall.

  “The first time I saw Bahati, he was standing right here. I thought he was a statue,” I said to Jack. He was wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his strong, tanned forearms. I wasn’t used to women staring at him. I’d pretty much had him all to myself. Until now.

  As we entered the lobby, heads turned, hair was fluffed, legs tilted, postures corrected. It was as if a hot wind had blown in, bringing with it a heady, intoxicating fragrance.

  Down, girls. I lay my hand possessively on Jack’s as we checked in. For the first time in years, I had the urge to paint my nails, so they gleamed like sharp little talons. Keep off.

  They were envious of me. I could see it in their eyes. And yet, jealousy was stabbing at my own heart, because I was leaving and I couldn’t stand the thought of him with anyone else.

  “Are you okay?” asked Jack, scanning my face.

  “Yes.” I shook off the blue thoughts that were starting to rain down on me. I had seen the end coming before we began. I had pushed for it anyway. And it was worth every aching, twinging emotion because standing before him right then, I knew down to the depths of my soul: Jack had eyes for no one else but me. And there was nothing more exhilarating than being hit with the full force of that.

  “Come on.” I dragged him toward the lifts. I didn’t want to waste any of our precious time together on empty, useless thoughts.

  Our room was on the top level—the third floor, with a balcony that overlooked mounds of bright, pink bougainvillea spilling around a tranquil blue swimming pool.

  “Goma must have asked for their nicest suite,” I said, taking in the silky bed linens, the bay window with crimson tieback curtains, the lush sitting area, the dressing table, the gilded mirror on the wall. There was a soaking tub in the bathroom, a giant shower cubicle, and gleaming, white marble floors. “Are you noticing any of this?” I grinned, pushing Jack away. He was following me around, taking his own tour. Untucking my top, nibbling my neck, measuring the curve of my waist.

  “I notice everything. Like these two vertical ridges that run between your upper lip and nose . . . what’s this space called? It must have a name. It fits the tip of my little finger perfectly.” He proceeded to demonstrate, and then trailed his tongue over the dip of my cupid’s bow. I was getting lost in the magic of his kiss when there was a knock on the door.

  “You mind getting that?” he asked, pulling away.

  I wasn’t sure about the glint in his eyes. “What’s going on? You look like you’re up to something.” Jack was a take-charge kind of guy. If there was someone at the door, he’d want to get it himself.

  “Just. Go. Get. It.” He spun me around.

  I opened the door and saw a porter standing there with our luggage. Behind him was a trio of beautiful ladies carrying bags that were definitely not ours.

  “Please come in.” Jack swung the door wider and let them in. He tipped the porter while the ladies settled their totes around the dressing area. One of them started hanging garment bags in the closet.

  “Jack?” I turned from them to him.

  “Rodel, meet Hair, Makeup, and Wardrobe,” he said. “I asked them to come in and spoil you. I want you to have a magical afternoon.”

  “But I . . . I thought we’d be spending our last day together.”

  “We are, sweetness.” His eyes softened as he smiled. “We’re going on a date. Just you and me. A proper date. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby when you’re done. Don’t take too long.” His mouth burned a silent promise on mine. “Take good care of my girl, ladies,” he said to our audience of three.

  “We will, Mr. Warden,” they replied.

  “I’ll miss you.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and clasped me in a tight embrace, sweeping me off my feet. I liked being his girl. I didn’t want to think of anything beyond that moment.

  When he was gone, I turned around and found Hair, Makeup, and Wardrobe gawking after the door.

  “Men who pick you up when they hug you,” said one of the girls. I didn’t know which of them it was, but they all sighed in unison.

  I stared at their spellbound faces. They caught me looking at them and cinched up their expressions. There was a moment of awkward silence.

  “Well, hopefully it’s a man you like,” I said. “Otherwise it could be a pepper spray moment.”

  It took a second before their faces cracked. We all started laughing. It was the perfect icebreaker to the fanciest, most stupendous makeover I’d ever had. Josie, Melody, and Valerie were my fairy godmothers for the afternoon. My hair was washed, snipped, and put in rollers. I was fussed over, colors held against me, palettes chosen, nails buffed, eyebrows tweezed, lips outlined.

  “No, thanks,” I said to the tray of false eyelashes that Josie held before me. I had images of them fluttering into my drink, or worse, watching Jack through a wonky set as he sat across from me.

  “You need to pick a dress,” said Valerie, holding up a sleek gown.

  “Shoes first. Then dress. Always,” said Melody, opening a row of neatly lined boxes.

  “This must have cost Jack an arm and a leg.” I glanced at the label on the dress. “Are these like a rental?”

  Valerie laughed so hard she nearly dropped the gown. “No, honey. No rentals. You get to keep whatever you choose. Our company is very selective about who we work with. We do celebrity weddings, A-list events, charity balls. Top of the class only.”

  “So how did Jack manage to pull this off?”

  Josie stopped in the middle of applying my makeup and held her brush at a slant. “Girl, that man you walked in here with is top of the class. Don’t tell me you don’t know how much he’s worth.”

  “I’ve never . . . I didn’t . . . I thought . . .”

  “The question isn’t how he managed to pull it off. The question is how he managed to pull it off so fast. We’re booked months in advance. When our boss called to get the team in here today, let me tell you, we hustled. So, yeah. Whatever Mr. Warden said to our boss lady, it sure lit a fire.”

  “I had no idea.”

  I thought of Jack’s muddy boots by the back door, the way he took a damp cloth and wiped the dust off his face and the back of his neck before he sat down to eat. I thought of him cleaning the stalls, talking to the horses, starting his day before anyone else arrived on the farm. That was the Jack I knew. That was the solid, unassuming man I’d fallen in love with. And knowing he wasn’t doing it to just make ends meet, that he was doing it because it’s what drove him, what inspired him, what defined him, made me love him even more.

  “What do you think?” asked Josie, handing me the mirror to check my makeup.

  “I think I want to completely blow Jack Warden’s mind tonight.” I dismissed the mirror and sat up straighter. “Let’s kick this up a notch, girls.”

  “Yasss!” they chorused around me. “Now we’re talking!”

  I TOOK A deep breath and checked my reflection. Josie, Melody, and Valerie were gone, but there I stood, afraid to blink, in case the dazzling woman staring back at me disappeared. My hair was parted to the side, chestnut locks falling in lustrous waves around my shoulders. I’d gone for a floor-length black dress with a sexy side slit. It looked demure when I stood still, but every time I moved, it exposed a thigh-high flash of my skin. The cut was iconic, with a deep V in the back and a narrow waist. It fit me like a dream, draping over my curves in all the right places. I took a step forward and stopped. I wasn’t used to wearing heels, but I liked the way they made me walk—thrusting my hips and breasts forward, accentuating the roundness of my buttocks.

  My eyes appeared bigger and wider—soft gold shadow blend
ed with smudged chocolate brown eyeliner. There was a tingling in the pit of my stomach every time I thought of Jack. It made my cheeks flush and my pupils dilate. My skin glowed with anticipation as I smoothed my dress and turned off the lights.

  A date.

  A real date.

  A real date with Jack.

  I waited for the lift, holding my breath. I couldn’t wait for Jack to see me all dressed up. And yet, I was wracked with nerves. There was something else too—a sense of urgency to be with him. Our time together was ticking away too fast. I pressed the button again and waited. And waited.

  Screw it.

  I slipped my heels off and took the stairs. Each step was inlaid with beautiful coconut wood. I could see the lobby as I spiraled down the staircase, holding my shoes in one hand, and lifting the hem of my dress with the other. As I rounded the final flight, the main floor opened up to me. I slowed down, my eyes searching for Jack.

  A few guests were seated in plush chairs around intricately carved wooden coffee tables. One of them saw me, bent his head, and whispered something to his companion. Both heads turned my way. Great. I was obviously overdressed. I cringed as I made my way down. More heads turned.

  Damn it. Couldn’t they have put this staircase somewhere else? Anywhere but smack dab in the middle of the lobby? I stood barefoot on the bottom step, wanting to run back upstairs, when the elevator dinged. As the door opened, I caught my breath. It was Jack, but in a dazzling white shirt and a tailored charcoal jacket that accentuated the frame of his shoulders. His pants were molded to the cut of his thighs and he wore . . . the same pair of worn, dusty work boots.

  I smiled and met his eyes, but he stood there, dumbstruck. The lift door shut, swallowing him up again. A second later, it opened, and he stepped out.