Nairobi Dreaming - Complete!

Chapter 9: The trouble with chicken

The plane on the way to Kisumu was half full and not that big to begin with. Most of the people on the plane seemed to be either part of our group or what looked like a group of American church volunteers. They were all wearing matching neon green shirts with "I'm doing what Jesus would do" emblazoned in bold block letters, neatly pressed khakis and more than once they all started singing upbeat Christian songs with the kind of enthusiasm some might find inspiring but which just annoyed me.

"We're not in a fucking musical," I grumbled to Kay.

"They're just being happy," Kay laughed. "Don't be such a hater." She elbowed me. "Oh my god, doesn't he look amazing today," She whispered, jerking her chin in James' direction.

He was sitting a few seats ahead of us, head bent slightly forward, eyes on whatever book he had been reading since he stepped on the plane, the book open in one hand. He had smiled and waved at me when he got on board and there had been nothing but warmth in that smile but since then all he had been doing was reading. He was wearing a black shirt today with the sleeves slightly rolled up and from where we were sitting his left arm was exposed enough for us to be able to make out the sharp, muscular curve of his shoulder and the tattoo on it. It was a (or a crow) in flight done only in black, the tips of its wings and tails fading to ink splatter like the bird was a drawing in the midst of breaking free and coming to life.

"Hrmph," I said.

Seated a row behind James was Abigail (this morning wearing enormous diamond studs, cargo pants and an athletic top, none of which matched, all of which looked expensive), a Kenyan woman Abigail had curtly introduced as her childhood friend Atieno, and Abigail's youngest daughter, Tovah, a matchstick thin eight year old with the pinched, angry frown of a much older woman and salon perfect blonde highlights. A row behind them was Essie, Abigail's oldest daughter, a round, apple cheeked girl who looked nothing like her sister or mother. She was about thirteen and I had already noticed that she liked to bite her nails till they bled. She had been doing it since she got into her seat - chewing at her nails and fingers like they were piecrust. Next to Essie was Arthur, another private school teacher from the States. He was tall and thin with a long, swan-like neck and a forgettable, if friendly, beige face.

"I had no idea half these people would be here," Kay had whispered after we were quickly introduced to everyone at the airport. "And I really wish she had left her kids at home. The little one, Tovah, she's a fucking brat. The older one, Esther, or Essie is what they call her, she's just so sad. I honestly think her mom beats her for eating too much." She said that last bit like it was a joke, or like it was meant to be funny but even though I had just met Abigail it didn't seem outside the realm of actual, terrible possibility.

"I can't believe he didn't have sex with you," Kay said breathlessly, her eyes still glued to James' exposed shoulder.

"Whatever," I said, trying to avoid the conversation. We'd already gone over it via text and then over breakfast. It had been fun the first two times. I wasn't in the mood to go over it again.

"Well you've got two weeks to break him," She said with a wicked smile. "I give him two days, max."

I shrugged. I hadn't yet really parsed out my feelings about James. The more I thought about his parting lines to me the night before the more my face burned. I imagined that I had come across as desperate, as someone he could play with and I didn't like that. "Maybe I'm done with him," I said.

Kay rolled her eyes. "No you're not." She took out her People magazine and I reached into my bag to pull out Sapiens. For the first page or so it was hard to concentrate. I kept looking up, at James, but then, after that the world melted away.