Nairobi Dreaming - Complete!

Chapter 22: London

At about six in the morning I woke up to the first muddy gray rays of dawn and an empty bed. I reached over onto the nightstand and grabbed my phone. Nothing from James. But at least twenty messages from Kay. They were all relatively benign (it was a lot of "how are you?" "what are you up to?") but the timestamps and the frequency made me feel a little queasy. She had been up all night.

I tried not to dwell on it. She would be fine. She always was.

I double checked the time of the flight James and I had booked for London. We had about four hours before it was due to depart but we'd been advised by the front desk staff to leave 3 hours ahead of the departure just in case the traffic was heavy. At the time James had agreed enthusiastically with this statement and then shared plenty of anecdotes about getting stuck in Nairobi traffic.

But now he was nowhere to be found.

I got up, full of anxious energy, paced around the room then flung the bathroom door into something. It was James, lying on the floor, curled up around the base of the toilet in a fetal position. There was dried vomit on the side of his face visible to me. His button down was undone and he had one arm out of it but the rest of it was still on. His pants were undone. There was a heavy sour tang in the air.

He opened his eyes slightly, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings and tried to sit up. It was a bit like watching a crab, stuck on its back, try to right itself. All his usual athleticism, his easy command of his limbs seemed to have vanished. He was profoundly clumsy. He didn't seem to quite know where he was but once his eyes focused on me they filled with misty affection. It was the kind of look that would have melted my heart in most circumstances but which just annoyed me.

He reached out, like he could touch my face from his place on the floor, then let his hand flop into his lap. "I can't believe I am still so attracted to you," He slurred. "Normally, with girls, it wears off by now." His neck bent. His gaze refocused on the toilet. "Maybe it's just 'cause you're really, really hot," He went on. "Maybe I just needed to find a girl who was really, really hot."

I stared at him, not impressed. "Seriously?"

His shoulders rippled and then he was up on his knees vomiting into the toilet.

Between heaves he waved at me. "Get out, get out I don't want you to see me like this."

I took a few steps back, shut the door behind me and sat on the edge of the bed.

My thoughts chased themselves in a circle in my mind. I'd been a drunken mess plenty of times myself but I didn't tend to get that wasted before a flight. I probably wouldn't have chosen to go out with a friend if I sensed that there was tension between him and I.

Downstairs, over a breakfast that consisted of slightly too many mandazis, far too much Kenyan tea and an over sized omelet I sent a quick note to Caterina, a close friend of mine who lived in London.

Hey gonna be in London tonight, mind if I crash with you for a few days?

****

Back upstairs I found James  freshly showered and topless, a white towel tied around his waist. It was the kind of vision of James, surrounded by a puff of steam from the shower, his muscles on display, his wavy hair messy and wet, that would normally have made me want to undo the lazy knot hanging at his hips. Twenty four hours ago I would have. As it was I just stood by the doorway and tried to figure out if he was still drunk. I could see it a bit in the gray cast to his eyes but otherwise he looked surprisingly sober.

"I got absolutely battered last night," James said, his voice rough. "Sorry you had to see that."

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall. "How do you feel now?"