The silence that followed was thick and heavy, like the knot that clogged my throat. I knew I should excuse myself, but I couldn’t move. Bahati was staring at his hands, no doubt feeling the same way. Even Scholastica, who had not understood the words, sat stiffly in her chair.
Jack looked at Goma and started to say something, but turned to me instead.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” He tossed his napkin onto his plate. “I can’t help you. I couldn’t even help my own kid. I wish everyone would just leave me the hell alone!” His chair scraped against the floor as he got up and stalked out of the room.
Goma remained seated and finished her breakfast. When she was done, she wiped the breadcrumbs off the table, her skin stretched tight over translucent knuckles. “Growing old isn’t for sissies,” she said softly. “You lose the people you love. Over and over again. Some get taken away from you. Some walk away. And some you learn to let go.”
Bahati, Scholastica, and I cleaned up in silence as she sat there, staring out of the window. The previous night’s storm had cleared to reveal glorious blue skies.
“Where to now?” Bahati asked, when we were done.
“Back to Amosha,” I said. “Someone at Nima House must have an idea of what I can do.”
“I’ll get my keys,” said Goma. “My Jeep is still blocking Bahati’s car. I’ll meet you out front.”
I tidied my room and left Goma’s muumuu folded at the foot of the bed. When I stepped outside, Bahati was already waiting by his car.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and gave him a small smile, but I had no idea what I was going to do.
“Sorry it didn’t work out,” he said.
“I’m sure we’ll find another way.” I wasn’t sure at all, but with Scholastica in tow, there was no turning back. I slid into the car and shut the door.
Goma was putting a hat on Scholastica’s head. “She has no pigment,” she said. “That makes her sensitive to the sun. Pick up some sunscreen when you get to Amosha.”
“I will,” I promised. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“You’re most welcome. Kwaheri, Rodel. Kwaheri, Scholastica. Goodbye.”
She opened the car door for Scholastica to hop in, but Scholastica went running to the porch instead. Jack was standing there, holding out her forgotten balloon. She gave him a wide smile as she took it, but he didn’t notice. His eyes were focused on the hat she was wearing.
“Where did she get this?” he asked.
“Not again, Jack.” Goma walked up to the porch. “I found it in your car.”
“Lily was wearing it. She left it in the car when we went into the mall.”
“It’s just a hat, Jack. There’s no part of Lily in it. She’s here—” Goma touched his heart “—where she’ll always be.”
“It’s the last thing I have of hers. Her sunflower hat. You have no right to give it away.”
“I made her that hat. I can give it to whoever I choose.”
“It’s not just a hat. Not to me!”
They went back and forth, hurling sentences at each other.
Scholastica’s eyes darted from Jack to Goma. It didn’t take much to figure out what they were arguing about. She took off the hat, sliding it slowly from her head. For a moment, she admired the big, floppy flower in the center that looked like a little burst of sunshine. Then she folded it in half and held it out to Jack, squinting up at him with her bizarre, milky blue eyes. He stopped mid-sentence, staring at her. She nudged the hat closer and when he continued standing there, stiff and frozen, she placed it in his palm and curled his fingers around it.
My throat clogged as the sun beat down on her exposed head. Somewhere down the line, she had become my ward, my responsibility. I had moved beyond her startling appearance and saw her for the little girl she was.
Jack saw something too, something that made him grab her hand as she turned to go. He held his daughter’s hat tight in his other hand and knelt before Scholastica.
“Her name was Lily. Jina yake ilikuwa Lily,” he said.
“Lily?” asked Scholastica.
Jack nodded. “Mtoto yangu, my daughter. She liked rainbows and chocolate. Melted chocolate. See?” He pointed to the stains and slid the hat onto Scholastica’s head. “She liked dancing. And singing. And taking photos.” He adjusted the hat so that the sunflower was centered in the front. “She died,” he said. “Alikufa.”
“Pole,” replied Scholastica. Sorry.
Then she put her arms around him and gave him a hug. They embraced under the gable of the house, Scholastica’s balloon bobbing over them, and Kilimanjaro watching silently from the clouds.
It was a moment of big and small—the man, the girl, the mountain, the manor. I couldn’t see Jack’s face, but I knew something was happening—something powerful, yet tender. When it was done, they spoke to each other without any words. Jack straightened and led Scholastica to the car, where Bahati and I were waiting.
“You said you’ll come back tomorrow,” he said to me.
“Pardon me?”
“Yesterday. You said, ‘Maybe this isn’t the best time. I’ll come back tomorrow.’”
I stared at him blankly.
“It’s tomorrow, Rodel Emerson. Come back inside. I’ll take you and Scholastica to Wanza.”
“You will?” A small thrill shot down my spine. “What about the other kids?” I had other names to cross off. I needed a commitment.