Home > Mists of the Serengeti(93)

Mists of the Serengeti(93)
Author: Leylah Attar

“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.”

   
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