“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 saidImiss 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 old 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.”
