Mists of the Serengeti(78)
Scholastica’s new glasses arrived, but she clung to Mo’s, until Goma caved and called Dr. Nasmo for another appointment—this time to get new lenses fitted into Mo’s frames.
“I’m keeping her,” said Goma, after she got off the phone.
“Keeping who?” Jack dried his hands and sat down to eat.
It was lunchtime—too hot to be working outside. It meant a long break, and Jack knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. He gave me a devilish grin that set my pulse racing.
“Scholastica. I’m keeping her.” Goma poured herself some water and challenged Jack over the rim of the glass.
“Keeping her?” Jack put his fork down. “She’s not like Aristurtle, that you can build a box and keep her in there. She needs school, kids to play with, a stimulating environment. Rodel promised Anna she’d get Scholastica to Wanza.”
“You really want to take her to Wanza? You saw the place for yourself. Her father doesn’t want her living there, either. He’s building a house in Wanza so she can go to school there but come home at night. So until he shows up, I’m keeping her. There’s no better place for her right now. She’s learning the alphabet, she runs around with horses and calves, gets plenty of exercise, good food, and a good night’s rest. I’ve already talked to Anna. She’s still trying to find a way to support herself and her kids, so until she’s more settled she has no objections to Scholastica living with us.”
“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.