Page 4 of The Rival in South Africa
The breakup didn’t bother me. I was flooded with new excitement, real passion. I pushed myself further, taking courses and experimenting with different styles, and discovering new ways to record the world.
And now I was packing for my first FAM—Familiarisation—trip, where I was photographing a new South African safari lodge for their promotional materials. I’d get a complimentary stay at the resort in exchange for the use of my images.
I was just about done packing all my photography gear in the backpack—spare batteries, a wide-angle lens, filters, et cetera—when Tchaikovsky’s “Sleeping Beauty Waltz” filled my room.
That was my mother’s ringtone. No one else called anymore, anyway. Texts only, please. And she had been calling more and more lately as we got closer to my trip. She was nervous, and I understood. As far as she knew, I was traipsing off on vacation alone, not taking a work trip.
“Hello, Mum,” I answered the phone.
“Nikki, darling, how is packing going?” My mother had a heavy Russian accent, one that she had coached out of my mouth early on. It was especially strong now, as it often was when she was emotional, and I knew this call would be tough.
“It’s good. I’m just about done packing my camera gear, and I had to make some tough choices, but I think I’m ready.”
She hummed on the line, and there was a small silence that had my heart rate picking up.What now, Mum?
“I think it’s just awful you couldn’t find anyone to take Ion’s spot.”
It wasn’t that I couldn’t find anyone to go with me on a most-expenses paid trip to South Africa. Sure, after Ion and I broke up, I did ask my best friend Harper if she wanted to come, but she already had a commitment. I could have asked around more—I was sure my cousin would have loved to join me, or, if I offered to pay for flights, some of my friends from uni would have jumped at the chance.
But I kind of wanted to go by myself.
This wasn’t a usual trip. Rather, this was the start of something big for me, something I hoped to focus on and nurture for a week in the wilds of Kruger Park. I hadn’t really shared how big this was with my mother. I loved her, but she took little interest in my activities beyond their social status. And if I wasn’t exhibiting in galleries, my work probably wasn’t of much interest.
And I didn’t want her to tell Alex’s mum.
“I’ll be fine, Mum.”
“But it’sAfrica.” She said it like I was putting myself in grave danger, a military mission or a stroll through the streets of Birmingham at night. Never mind that she has just lumped an entire continent of diversity and beauty into something negative. Add in that my mates and their parents had been going to South Africa for ages on holiday, and she was really just panicking over me being alone.
Mothers aren’t always rational, especially mine.
“I’m going on a safari. I’ll be in the airports until the accommodations pick me up, and then I’ll be on their campsite the entire time. There will be expert guides, and this place is really, really posh.”
And it would be. I was stunned that I could convince the marketing team of one of the most luxurious, newest safari setups in southern Africa to give me a comped trip. It could be huge for me and, I hoped, for them.
“Well, there is good news. I have a solution.”
My hand froze over my rolled-up hiking pants. This was not good.
“You’ll never guess who’s in dire need of vacation time.”
I closed my eyes.Oh no. Mum, just...no.
“Alex!”
My mother said it with such excitement. Despite everything she’s seen, the way Alex and I fight and argue, my mumstillhas it in her head that Alex and I would make a perfect couple.
Part of it, I know, is that my mum felt isolated when we moved to London. She didn’t speak much English, and my six-year-old brain caught on faster than hers did. Aside from the church, Mum hadn’t had many friends.
Until I met Alex. Mum and Alex’s mother, Natasha, attended a parents’ night at our secondary school and had clicked right away, despite being complete opposites. Natasha was a tech mogul, my mother a socialite.
They were both thrilled when Alex and I spent time together as teens. But after hormones kicked in, Alex and I fell out, and our mums were genuinely baffled by the idea that Alex and I didn’t like each other anymore.
“Mum…” I tried to sound patient and not so entirely put out. I didn’t want to offend her, and I definitely didn’t want her to get any ideas in her head. Sometimes, I swear, the harder I rebelled against my mother’s idea that we would make a great couple, the harder she dug her heels in. “Alex does not want to spend a week on safari with me. Besides, he’ll probably be bored or thinking about work the entire time.”
I hadn’t seen Alex since Malta, but I’d heard through my mum that he’d been promoted again, having moved up to management at Natasha’s company. If I really wanted to push Alex’s buttons, I could just throw around the word “nepotism.” It drove him mad, which I had to admit was a little mean. But also, fun.
Alex wasverygood at his job. And he obviously loved it. He had a special bond with his mum, and it made my heart ache that my mum and I weren’t as close.
