Oh no. I braced myself. “Is he okay?”
“My father has summoned me to theboma. 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 thebomanow. 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 thetingfromthe 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 theJ, the curve that tapered off on thel.
“Go ahead, open it,” said Goma.
It was a room reservation for The Grand Tulip—all paid for and confirmed.
“I thought the two of you should stay in Amosha tonight.” Goma got up and started washing her plate. “Your flight leaves tomorrow morning, Rodel. The airport is right there so you won’t have to get up so early.”
It was the last night Jack and I would have together. Goma was giving us the time and space to say goodbye.
“Thank you,” I said, but she was watching Jack with the whole world in her eyes, like her heart was breaking for him to have to say another goodbye.
She shifted her gaze and smiled at me. “Thankyoufor ridding this place of the grouch that lived here. Remember when you first got here? Oh, Lord. I thought I’d have to live out the rest of my days with Mr. Sourpuss.”
“I’m right here, you know.” Jack shot her an amused look. “And if you want me to pick up your fiber pills from town, you’d better play nice.”
“Senior abuse,” muttered Goma.
“What did you say?”
“I said I could do with some cranberry juice.”
Jack grinned and got up. “I love you, Goma.” He kissed her on the top of her head and gave her a hug. “And thank you for your gift. That was very thoughtful.”
A lump formed in my throat as they stood by the sink, Goma’s frail form completely engulfed by Jack.
“Pfft!” Bahati spewed a spray of water all over the table.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Jack.
“The water.” He coughed, pushing his glass away. “It’s so cold!”
We stared at him for a moment and then started laughing. Bleaching his teeth had made them more sensitive to heat and cold. Scholastica laughed the loudest as Bahati gasped and sputtered until tears started streaming down her face.
“You think it’s funny?” Bahati lunged after her. She squealed and ran out the door. Goma went after them. I followed.
“Let her go,” I said, wrangling Scholastica away from Bahati as he caught up to her.
We weaved in and out of the wet clothes hanging on the laundry line. I followed flashes of bare feet between the bed sheets and towels—Scholastica’s milky-white toes, Bahati’s lean ankles—hopping, darting, finding, escaping. Scholastica was small and nimble. Bahati and I kept getting tangled up in the laundry. The wind carried our ripples of laughter.
“I give up,” said Bahati, wearing a pair of Goma’s knickers on his face. “But only because my knee hurts.” He sat down, his chest heaving, fanning himself with them.
