Nairobi Dreaming - Complete!

Chapter 8: Nothing's ever that simple

"Kay, hey," I said softly, "I actually just want to spend time with James. Alone."

For a second she looked sad, like she could see through to the truth of it. That it wasn't just that I wanted to spend time alone with James; I wanted to spend time away from her. But then she plowed onward, her tone giddy and conspiratorial.

"Okaaayy. Okay. I get that. I get that. He is super hot. Oh and FYI, Arthur has condoms. Like a whole roll. If you need any tonight just text me."

I laughed, relieved and amused and Kay left, blowing me a kiss.

"You actually said no," James observed as I returned to his side and Arthur shuffled off after Kay. His expression was little zombie-like, a little transfixed. I wondered if he had ever been with a woman as good-looking as Kay before and decided, uncharitably, despite knowing nothing about him other than how spellbound he was, that he probably hadn't.

"Yeah," I said as I returned my attention to James, "You seem awfully surprised."

"I am, actually, but I'm not in any real place to judge. I just met you both last night. I don't know your history," He shrugged. "But, on to fun things. I've got a jeep here. I need a minute to change and pack a bag. Let's meet back here in...fifteen?"

I changed into loose linen cargos, a sporty shirt, packed a bag with sunscreen and some water, threw on a baseball cap with "Oakland" written on it in fancy type face and bounded back downstairs. I was genuinely totally excited for the first time since I had arrived. I had the whole day ahead of me, a hike on the horizon and a dangerously hot guy to spend it with.

James was leaning against the wall when I got down, reading something on his phone. He was wearing canvas joggers instead of jeans and had a black knapsack flung over one shoulder. He also had a pair of gold-rimmed aviators stuck in his still damp hair and the same fancy watch he had been wearing earlier. All in he looked like an ad for something which made me both giddy and anxious. Here was a man who clearly cared about how he looked down to the details since nothing he was wearing seemed accidental.  I had never been the kind of woman who spent a lot of time on my appearance, did not care to be that kind of a woman and had to assume that didn't matter to him.

"Mind if we stop off for a quick bite?" He asked as he tucked his phone away in the front pocket of his joggers. He zipped the pocket up and I noticed the pockets had aggressive, thick brass zippers. Another tiny, stylish detail. "I'm actually famished and there's an Art Caffe close by."

"Do they have smoothies?"

"Only the best smoothies," He replied. "You'll like it."

James walked me over to his a black Jeep Wrangler. On the drive over his phone rang before we could start any kind of real conversation and he put it on speaker.

"Kwameeee," James said. "I'm driving, you're on speaker and I'm in the car with Luisa..."

"Luisa? From last night?" He paused. "And her friend?"

"Back at the hotel."

Kwame laughed. "I see. Listen, I'm on my way to Kibera and I need a commitment from you. Remember that girl, Malika?"

"Yeah, yeah, the coding prodigy. Sure whatever you need. Honestly. Can't be more than a few thousand quid, can it?"

"Less."

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I got you."

James hung up.

"I thought Kwame didn't do charity?" I said.

"Yeah, that's rubbish," James said. "He just defines it differently. He has a tech start up. He needs talent and believe me there's already plenty, but he also has this long-term bet he's making at this girls school in Kibera, the big slum out here in Nairobi. Biggest in all of Africa. He gives them computers, pays for teachers and the internet and security for the computers. Recruits the best and the brightest. But every now and again it's not just a question of just giving these girls access, right? This one girl, Malika, her dad wants to marry her off, she's been trading sex for sanitary pads or else she's missing school because of her periods. And so he's starting this fund for her and a few others to give them a bit more help. I say it's charity, he says it's an investment."

I starred out the window. There wasn't much to see, just a busy road without a good sidewalk and urban sprawl at its finest.

"I work, well used to work in Oakland as a teacher," I said. "And one of my students told me that it doesn't matter if it's charity when you're the one getting it and you need it." I paused. "That's always stuck with me. Her parents couldn't afford to feed her all the time. So I did. I thought it might embarrass her but that was her response. That it didn't matter to her because she was hungry."

"That right there, that kind of thing breaks my heart," James said. "Maybe even more because it's happening in America, this supposed land of opportunity. Land of the bloody American dream." He glared at the road. "I know Oakland," He said. "I've been there. When I was a kid. Went with my mom on a tour of Silicon Valley, LA and Oakland. She wanted to do some charitable work out there but never got around to it." He snorted. "I think a few too many Americans asked her what a Brit knew about helping Americans. So she lost interest." He glanced at me, thoughtfully. "Can I ask you a question that might offend you?"

"Sure."

"Last night, before you got there, Kay told us you were super rich. Actually she said you were 'richer than Midas'. But you just said you're... or were a teacher in Oakland."

"And you want to know if I actually am rich?" I asked, my tone a bit jagged.

"Right, like I said, not trying to offend you. You don't have to answer. It doesn't matter. I'm just interested."

"But why?"

"Because, it's interesting. Don't you think? Rich girl goes to work in Oakland to teach then leaves for some reason and now she's here, in Kenya. That's an interesting story and I think I'd like to hear it." He pointed out the window, "But it's okay, you don't have to tell it. We're here."

We pulled off the main road into a parking lot for a mall. The Art Caffe was part of it and had some outdoor seating. It looked like so many other malls I had seen around the world and I wondered at how similar they all managed to be. It probably wasn't accidental. They were probably all trying to look American.

"Maybe later," I said. "It's just... it's just not that simple."

James parked then opened the driver's side door. Before he stepped out he said, "Nothing ever is, though, is it?"