Mists of The Serengeti

by Leylah Attar

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Rodel said to my duck, turning it away from the window.

  My shoulders started shaking. I couldn’t contain the great booming laughter that rolled from my mouth. I had been holding it back for too long. Rodel’s face split into a grin. And then we were hunched over the table, laughing until our ribs hurt. Around us, polite patrons held their sandwiches mid-air, watching us like we’d lost our minds.

  “No.” I shook my head when the waitress finally got the nerve to come up to our table with a teapot. “Coffee for me.”

  I could finally drink the stuff. Nothing else was going to cut it for me now.

  Rodel ordered for us and sat back in her chair. “I love when you laugh.” Her voice was soft as she gazed at me. “You know what’s amazing?”

  “What?”

  “That we’re both sitting here laughing, a year to the day that we lost Mo and Lily.”

  Our hands met silently across the table and held, taking comfort in each other.

  “I called Sarah today,” I said. We hadn’t talked since Lily’s funeral, but I knew she missed her just as much as I did, and today of all days, I felt the need to reach out to my ex.

  “And?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think she’s ever going to forgive me for what happened to Lily.”

  Rodel squeezed my hand softly. “People will love you. People will hate you. And it always has more to do with them, than it does with you.”

  We sat in comfortable silence, lost in our thoughts, until our food arrived.

  On the way home, Rodel nudged me into a newspaper shop. “Let’s go in here.”

  Metal signs and fridge magnets hung on the walls. Porcelain dolls were lined up in a glass display case by the cash register.

  “I’ll be right back. You look around,” said Rodel, making her way to the back of the store.

  I tinkered with the wind chimes while I waited for her.

  “Ready!” she announced.

  I turned around and froze. Her face was almost lost behind a bouquet of six yellow balloons.

  “Do you still keep them in your study?” she asked.

  “Some people like to keep flowers in their room. I like yellow balloons.”

  “Well, come on then.” She dragged me out by my hand.

  “Where are we going?” The sight of her walking down the street like that, reminded me of Lily running ahead of me in the mall, holding her balloons. It did something to my heart.

  The banners from the ill-fated duck race hung over us as she led me back to one of the arched stone bridges that spanned the river. The crowds had dispersed, and the river stretched out before us. A few tourists sat on the grassy banks. Beech, willow, and chestnut trees swayed in the summer breeze.

  “Here.” Rodel handed me the balloons as we stood on the bridge. “For Lily.”

  My throat clogged up as I took them from her. I picked three of the strings out and gave them to her. “For Mo.”

  Her eyes turned bright with unshed tears, but she gave me a smile. “Together?”

  “Together.”

  We let the balloons go and watched them drift away into the sky. It was paradise-blue, infinite and endless.

  Something floated up inside me, light as a feather, as the balloons soared higher and higher. Lily’s last words: See you on the other side.

  “See you on the other side, baby girl,” I repeated mine to her.

  Rodel looped an arm around my waist as the balloons disappeared from our view. I kissed the top of her head and we started walking away from the bridge.

  “Excuse me, sir.” A heavy hand fell on my shoulder.

  I turned around to face the same policeman from earlier.

  Fuck this shit.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “There is an ancient by-law which says no balloons on Sundays?”

  He held his hand out expectantly.

  “Ah.” I held out the rubber ducky that was tucked under my arm. “We weren’t going to put it in the water.”

  If anything, he looked even sterner.

  “Really? Not even in my bath?”

  He cleared his throat and gave us a curt nod. “Very well, then. Carry on.”

  I waited until he was off the bridge before giving my duck a squeeze and honking after him.

  “Jack!” Rodel slapped my arm.

  “We saved one.” I held the chubby little bird before her. “We need to return it to its natural habitat.”

  A BUBBLE BATH.

  But just for the duck and Rodel. I couldn’t get in without all the water overflowing.

  “Small fucking tub,” I said, as I dipped the sponge into the water and rubbed her back.

  “No one said love is easy.” She leaned her head over the edge and looked at me, upside down.

  “Big love, you said.” I repeated the words she’d said to me on the swing, the night we’d returned from Wanza. “Huge, you said.” I brushed my lips across her forehead. “You left out the small spaces part.”

  Her laughter was like bright, cheery dandelions upon the field. I couldn’t get enough of it. I’d do anything to make it happen again and again.

  She slid back up and went quiet on me. “I miss Tanzania.”

  “It’s just a plane ride away. Say the word and we can visit. Any time you like.” I poured water over her soapy shoulders.

  “No.” She stilled my hand. “I don’t mean to visit. Today, when I saw you release those balloons, I realized that you were with me when you should have been with Lily. Under that tree. By her side. If Mo’s body had ever been recovered, that’s where I’d want to be. I don’t have that, but you do. And it’s not just Lily. It’s your parents, your grandfather, your whole family.”

  “Let’s not get into this again, Rodel.” I started getting up.

  “You’re not listening.” She clamped down on my wrist. “I said I miss Tanzania. I love this place,” she gestured around us, “but Tanzania . . . it changed me. It was like discovering something I didn’t know I was searching for. I haven’t been the same since. I would have stayed, Jack, but I couldn’t just jump in, not one-sided like that. I needed you to hold my hand because it was scary, because I couldn’t do it alone.” She traced the silver scar on my arm, a reminder of my confrontation with K.K. “I miss Goma and Scholastica and Bahati. I miss the earthy, musky aroma of the land. I miss the snow-capped peaks and the baobab trees. I miss the wild jasmine on the porch. I miss the potholes and Stoney Tangawizi. I miss the frustration, the anger, the wonder, the excitement, the tranquility.”

  I listened to her quietly. I knew exactly what she meant. Tanzania was in my blood, my skin, my bones. To hear her say she missed it scared the hell out of me, because it opened up possibilities I had never dared to hope for. It had always been either Rodel or the farm. And I had picked one. Home was wherever she was, and it didn’t matter if I banged my head on the ceiling each time I went down the stairs. I was that crazy for her.

  “I’m in a bit of a bind because I’ve committed to the mortgage here.” She was babbling, more to herself than to me. “I could sell it, though. And hand in my resignation at the school. But what would I do at the farm? I’d have to find a job. But we’re in the middle of nowhere. Then again, what would you do here? I know you. You won’t be able to sit on your hands for long, doing nothing.”

  “I could grow lavender,” I interrupted her stream of thought. “We could have a lavender farm. I know the earth and I know the sky. Between the two, I can grow almost anything. We can have babies with pink, round cheeks. Rubber duckies all over the place. You can continue teaching. Or not. Whatever you want.”

  “Babies.” She smiled. “With you.” Her eyes had a faraway look, as if she were imagining their little faces. “Paint me another picture, Jack.” She closed her eyes and leaned back. “But this time, in Tanzania.”

  “I could keep the farm. You could keep the cottage. It would be our little love nest. You’d pick coffee, and put up with a cranky o
ld lady. Your boss would demand all kinds of inappropriate things from you. The hours would be long. The salary would be peanuts—just enough to make payments on the cottage. We’ll visit Scholastica. Bahati can sit in the back with Goma, but to her left. She’s half deaf in that ear now, so that works out great. We can make babies with pink, round cheeks. Rubber duckies all over the place. You can home-school them, and maybe some of the other kids too. They travel a long way to get to school right now. You could teach them how to think, instead of what to think, so when they grow up, they’re better people than us. But it would be your call. Whatever you want.”

  The yellow ducky bobbed as Rodel remained silent, her eyes still closed. The top of her nipple peeked out at me through the bubbles. Wet strands of her hair disappeared under the surface. A soft curve touched her lips. Wherever she was in her head, it was a good place.

  “Yes,” she said, when she finally opened her eyes. “I want that very much.”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it. I want it all with you. Here. There. It doesn’t really matter.” She came up to the edge of the tub until I could feel her breath on my lips. “But right now, when I opened my eyes, the picture that stayed with me was a green swing on the porch of a beautiful, white house. That’s what’s tugging at my heart. So that’s what I’m going with. Let’s go to Tanzania, Jack. Let’s give it a shot.”

  There was genuineness and excitement in her voice—a spark of something that left me with no doubt that it was what she wanted, not for me, but for herself. Turns out she was an adventurer, after all—an explorer, just like the rest of her family. She was ready to take a leap with me, and it made my heart grow impossibly larger.

  I captured her wet lips and was overwhelmed with the need to absorb her, to soak her in through every pore of me. I shrugged out of my clothes and got into the tub, first one leg, and then the other. Rodel squealed. The rubber duck honked as I squished it. Water spilled all over the floor.

  It was slippery and uncomfortable and completely crazy, but we laughed because we were high on love and the fumes of endless possibilities.

  “Hell, yes,” I growled, my teeth grazing the soft, creamy expanse of her neck. “Let’s go to Tanzania. But I hope you remember what I said. If you ever set foot there again, I’m going to claim you. You’re mine, Rodel Harris Emerson. All mine.”

  ON THE DAY of our wedding, Aristurtle ran away from home. Scholastica had taken him out of his box so she could clean it. She turned around, and he had busted loose.

  “Good for him.” Goma adjusted her fedora. No feathery, flowery hat for her. “If you lived up to 150 years, you wouldn’t want to spend it in that shit box either.” She lifted the half-curtain in the kitchen and clucked at the search party that was supposed to be looking for him:

  Bahati, the best man and honorary maid of honor, taking selfies in his sponsored suit.

  Scholastica, our flower girl, twirling through the coffee plants in her new dress, while her Aunty Anna chased after her with a hat.

  Anna’s kids, playing hopscotch in the dirt, white socks rolled up in their shoes.

  Rodel’s parents, trying to talk Olonana into selling them his earrings.

  “Aristurtle could crawl up their leg and bite them in the ass, and they wouldn’t notice,” said Goma. “And you.” She turned to me and tried to adjust my tie, but she couldn’t quite reach the knot. “No peeking in the living room.”

  Hair, Makeup, and Wardrobe were holed up in there with Rodel—the same girls who’d come to the hotel. I couldn’t wait to see Rodel in her wedding dress, but holy crap, how long was this taking?

  Goma chuckled as I paced the floor. “Jack . . .” She trailed off and patted the chair beside her.

  “I wish your grandfather were here,” she said, when I sat down. “He’d have been so proud. Your father and mother, too.” She stared at the table and nodded absently. “And Lily . . .” Her voice cracked as she said it. A lump formed in my throat. I put my arm around her and pulled her in. She laid her head against my shoulder, and we shared a sweet, silent moment.

  “I’m tired, Jack,” said Goma. “But seeing you and Rodel together gives me new breath. You better make some babies soon. Not for me, of course. I hate babies. Screaming, pooping, useless little things. But just so you can go fuss over someone else and leave me the hell alone.”

  “I don’t fuss over you.”

  “Oh yeah? I sleep in a couple of hours and you’re tiptoeing outside my door. I’m not going to croak in my sleep, Jack. That’s not my style.”

  I chucked. “Well, you might be putting up with one of those screaming, pooping, useless little things soon.”

  “No!” Goma slapped my arm. “Yes? Tell me!”

  “Careful. I might start thinking you actually care.”

  “I just want to know so I can plan my cruise around it. I’ll be back when it’s out of diapers and sleeping through the night.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Goma. You’re going to need someone to change your own diapers soon.”

  “Shut your filthy mouth.” But she grinned and looked at me like she always did—like I meant the world to her.

  “We’re ready!” One of the girls popped her head out of the living room. Josie. Or Melody. Or Valerie. I could never get it right.

  I tried to say something but ended up grinning like an idiot. Rodel was on the other side of the wall. Ready to walk down the aisle.

  “Thank you,” said Goma, piping in for me. “We’ll start getting everyone to the barn.”

  We’d cleaned out the barn and moved the animals to the sheds. String lights and chandeliers hung across the wooden beams. Most of the guests were already seated when we entered. Bahati stood by my side as we waited for Rodel. Jodie, Valerie, and Melody walked in first. Bahati’s phone pinged. He glanced at it quickly and typed a reply. Across the room, another phone went off. One of the girls that had just entered jumped in her seat to silence it.

  “Which one is it?” I asked Bahati.

  “No idea what you’re talking about.” He turned his phone off and gave me a cheeky smile.

  Scholastica was up next. Her smile was as big as the moon as she headed toward me, forgetting to scatter the flowers as she came up. I chuckled as she presented me with a basket full of petals. She’d saved them all for me.

  And then Rodel walked in, and the whole world stilled. It had been a year since we’d returned from England, and she still managed to steal my breath away. Her shoulders gleamed as she stood in soft silhouette against the entrance. She wore her hair down and held a single lily. She was a vision in the dress that Goma had sewn for her. It was knee-length, with a fitted bodice and a tulle skirt that flared out from the waist. The hemline wasn’t completely even, but no one wanted to challenge Goma’s eyesight.

  Rodel’s father probably escorted her down the aisle, but everything else faded. I had eyes only for her. It seemed to take forever for her to reach me.

  Come on. Come on.

  When she finally got to my side, I wanted to skip ahead to the part where I got to kiss her. Delicate blooms of jasmine were tucked in her hair. I wanted to pick one and run it up and down the graceful curve of her neck.

  “I turn around for two seconds and you’re in the middle of a tea party,” she said.

  “You like?” I smiled.

  Around us, guests were gathered on small, round tables. Teapots and tiered trays sat on burlap table runners.

  “A tea party on a coffee farm.” She smiled back. “I like.”

  The next few hours passed by in a blur. Renegade hens crashed the wedding party. Rodel discovered that a lot of the tea was actually booze. Olonana got tipsy and hit on Goma. Josephine Montati gave us a wedding card signed by the children from the orphanage. I danced with Rodel’s mother. Bahati danced with Hair. Then Makeup. Then Wardrobe. There was no telling which one he’d been texting. Inspector Hamisi wanted to know if the circuits were set up to handle all the extra lights. The Maasai morans
that had come with Olonana had a dance-off with the farm hands. Scholastica and Anna’s kids stole sips of adult tea when no one was watching. Olonana’s mother spit on us.

  As the sun began to set, I pulled Rodel into the stall where she had first kissed me. There, as the golden light fell on her, I aimed my Polaroid camera at us.

  “Wait!” She fished for something inside her bodice. “I’ve been waiting to use this all day.” She pulled out a Post-it note, on which she’d written our wedding details:

  August 11th—Jack & Rodel (Kaburi Estate)

  She held it between us as we smiled into the camera.

  We watched the picture develop, our faces appearing on the milky film like a painting coming alive through the mist. Two bright, overexposed faces—black suit, white dress, a yellow note between us.

  This is what it looks like when you wander somewhere between the sand and stardust, and meet a piece of yourself in someone else.

  My lips found their way instinctively to hers and I kissed her. My wife. My rainbow-haloed girl.

  “It’s good, Mrs. Warden.” I lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

  “The photo?” She giggled, flushed and a little dizzy.

  “The photo. Your smile. Life. You. Me.”

  “And baby makes three,” she said softly, as I set her down.

  My heart lurched like it always did when she mentioned the baby. I placed my hand over her tummy in a silent vow to the little life growing inside and felt a circle close around us. My greatest loss had led to my greatest love. Hearts were broken, and hearts were healed. Lives were lost, and lives were saved.

  As I tucked our photo into my wallet, next to the one I kept of Lily, I noticed the triangular flags that had been captured in the frame. They were part of the jute banner behind us, hanging from the beams. Together, they spelled out the words on Rodel’s bracelet, the one that Olonana’s mother had given her:

  Taleenoi olngisoilechashur.

  We are all connected.

  “What is it?” asked Rodel as I looked around the barn.