Page 52 of My Favorite Bad Decision
Or better, I want to say, “You know what? Why don’t I stay? What if we all go on a safari together? Miller and I can share a room.”
Miller and I would go get some coffee. We’d wander through Arusha and try a local breakfast that didn’t involve any foods we ate during the climb. We could even go to that clinic with the line that went down the street, just to understand if the issue is staffing or infrastructure. Between Miller’s family and mine, we’d have the money to solve it. And then we’d go back to his room and watch30 Rockand?—
“Miss?” asks the bellman.
I blink, turning away from the tents and facing the car door held open for me.
“Sorry,” I whisper, climbing in. “Thanks.”
All I wanted when I arrived was to get the hell out, and now I don’t ever want to leave.
The driver begins to move down the road. I don’t look backward. It hurts enough as it is.
At the airport, I begin to see that Miller was right when he said I’d be different after the trip. I no longer feel the punch of anxiety as I go through security or when people start lining up to get on the plane. When I’m jostled from behind, my first thought isn’t that someone’s trying to steal my bag; I’m not in a manic rush to disembark when we land in Doha; I don’t panic that someone’s not going to let me out into the aisle, that my next gate might be seventeen miles away.
I doubt it will last long, but just being able to see the world through new eyes for a few hours is enough. Even if it stops working, I’ll always be aware that there’s another way to perceive these things. That they don’thaveto stress me out the way they do.
I watch three movies in a row and only get out of my seat twice over the final fourteen-hour flight to New York. The lie-flat seats on the plane are the most comfortable thing I’ve experienced in ten days. The steak and potato are bliss.
What’s Miller doing right now? The thought creeps up unbidden.
Regardless of what it is, regardless of how nice this plane is, I’d still rather be with him.
14
KIT
MANHATTAN
Iland at midnight—seven AM back in Tanzania—wide awake. New York is freezing, the cab line is twenty people deep, and my apartment feels very empty when I arrive.
I video-call Blake because I said I would. He’s in Vegas until Monday, and though I was worried about having to pretend things were fine until then, it doesn’t appear to be an issue.
He asks about Kilimanjaro but is only half-listening to the answer as he walks down a neon-lit street. I mention Miller and his brow furrows, as if he has no idea what I’m talking about. When I remind him, he says, “Oh, right,” and for a half second, he’s focused, trying to make up for the fact that he wasn’t before. All too soon, though, he is only half-listening. He tells me the London marathon is full and suggests we just run New York again. Just like I knew he would.
How insane this entire relationship was.
I was fine with calls where he didn’t listen because I didn’t especially want to listen to him either. His lack of attention was a fair exchange for the corresponding lack of care and affection on my part. I was fine with all the ways he kept me stuck in a Tuesday because I sort of suspected I wasn’t going to get to Thursday anyhow.
“I love you,” he says, preparing to hang up as he enters a restaurant. “I’ll see you Monday?”
I don’t want to sayI love youback, but he ends the call before I get the chance. I’m not sure he’d have listened if I said it anyway.
Thank God I’m getting out.
* * *
I wakethe next morning to a ringing cell phone on my nightstand.
“I’m coming over,” Maren announces. “Mom’s upset that you haven’t replied to her texts.”
I groan. “For God’s sake. I just landed at midnight. I’ve been up for twenty seconds.”
“She pulled strings to get you in with Geoffrey for highlights and a cut, and now she’s panicked you’re going to blow it off and put her on his bad side.”
“I won’t,” I promise. “You don’t need to come up.”
“I’m nearly there,” she says. “I’m bringing you coffee if that helps.”
