Page 49 of My Favorite Bad Decision
I shampoo once, and then a second time. I shave every last millimeter of hair off my body, aside from the mess atop my head. I soap everything thoroughly and repeat that as well.
When I look at the mirror again as I step out, I’m slightly more myself. I don a plush hotel robe, dry my hair, then go to the bed with the phone I’d left charging, where a mountain of texts await— my friends Mallory and Lo sending memes; Blake sending me a couple of incredibly dumb videos of toddlers falling in the snow; Maren giving me the blow-by-blow of potty training her new puppy and sending designs for my condo, which she’s dying to decorate; my mother demanding I tell a contractor she wants her deposit back, and asking if I want her to make a hair appointment for me because I’ll “probably need one” before her birthday party, scheduled a few days after I return.
None of it makes me miss home. It just leaves me overwhelmed and empty at the same time. I set the phone on the nightstand, and then turn face down on the pillow and cry myself to sleep.
* * *
When I wake,I open the suitcase that they kept here for me and go through my things.
I pull on jeans and a nice tank and have just added some mascara when there’s a knock on the pillar supporting my tent.
“Come in,” I call, emerging from the bathroom just as Miller ducks through the tent flaps.
“You’ve shaved,” I say at the same time he says, “Your hair.”
We both laugh. I cross the room and let my palm slide over his jaw. My skin tingles everywhere we connect. “You look so much younger without it.”
He holds still, watching me do it, not stopping me. The tension between us is so thick I can barely breathe.
“It felt so good to get rid of it.” His voice is a low rumble in his chest.
I pull my hand back, though I don’t want to.
“I was just going to put on some gloss,” I say, walking to the bathroom.
“You don’t need it,” he replies, but he watches me smooth it over my mouth with my index finger as if I’m the pivotal scene of his favorite movie.
We shared a tent for a week, but right now there’s a big, soft bed separating us, and he’s watching me that way, and…
There’s only one thing I want right now, and it isn’t dinner in town.
“I’m ready,” I tell him. I sound like I’m once again in need of oxygen.
We meet the Arnaults at the gate, and a car takes us into Arusha. We all agree that we probably should try the local cuisine, but when we spy a Chinese restaurant, we groaningly agree we can try the local cuisine later.
It’s not the best Chinese food I’ve ever had, but I eat with relish as more and more platters are brought to the table while Maddie demands everyone name the most awkward moment of the trip.
“I learned some things about you around the campfire that I’d rather not know,” Alex offers. “That’s mine.”
Maddie raises a brow. “You made some startling revelations of your own, but my vote for the most awkward moment was when you learned that Kit had a boyfriend.”
Alex laughs. “Thanks, Maddie. I suppose this is now the second most awkward moment.” He raises a beer in my direction. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” grumbles Miller.
When the meal concludes, we crack open our fortune cookies.
“Your high-minded principles spell success,” reads Alex, “in bed.”
“A dream you have will come true,” reads Adam, “in bed. Uh-oh.” He grins at his wife.
“Gross, Dad,” says Maddie. “Please stop.”
“From small beginnings come great things…in bed,” I say aloud. I hand it to Miller. “Here you go, buddy. Give yourself a little pep talk with that when you’re home.”
Everyone laughs, but his eyes catch mine, and there’s a smirk on his face confirming something I was already pretty sure of: there’d be nothing small about it.
After dinner, Maddie and Alex convince us to walk to a bar across the street, where we all clink our bottles together and toast the end of the trip. The Arnaults still have another day in Tanzania. Miller leaves for his safari tomorrow, and I leave for New York at the crack of dawn. I’m suddenly wishing I’d planned it differently.
