Page 44 of Royal Pain
Cue the music. I nod to the guide, and he places the needle on the record. “Out of Africa” rises in the night and lands in our hearts. Belinda closes her eyes and takes in the music, the moment.
I take her hand in mine and she wraps an arm over my shoulder. I feel delicate fingers rest on my neck. We dance slowly, quietly moving around the fire. Words would only interrupt what’s passing between us.
At the end of the song, she looks up into my eyes.
“You’ve ruined it, you know,” I say, quoting Robert Redford.
“Ruined what?” She smiles, not skipping a beat.
“Being alone.”
Our steps come to a stop, and she locks eyes with me.
“If you say anything right now, I’ll believe it.”
“Then I love you,” I say, going off script.
Her beautiful eyes soften. “And I you, Zan. I love you.”
I pull her close, closer than ever before. “Don’t know how I’ve lived till now,” I whisper in her ear.
* * *
She loves me. Unbelievable. Sleeping in my arms, her soft breath the only sound inside the tent. But outside, Africa speaks, and I want Belinda to learn the language. I’ll be the teacher. It’s plain, she connects with this place and senses the magic all around. It’s obvious to those who feel deeply.
Tonight I’m doing what I’ve done almost nightly since I was a child. For a time it was my only link to the past and to my parents. My father taught me to listen to the night. He said nothing is heard in isolation. All the sounds mix together, and it’s fun to untangle them as we fall asleep. Nature’s lullaby. What exactly makes each evening’s song? What about tonight’s? I want to remember this special night’s soundtrack forever.
The incessant song of the cicada beetle mixes with the frogs’ conversations. That’s the background music. Off in the distance a trumpeting elephant brings a smile to my face. At some distant riverbank hippos fight, their voices unmistakable.
And then the eerie sound of the Nightjar, smooth and rhythmic, is accompanied by creepy hyena calls. Those used to freak me out when I was a young boy. Now I appreciate every sound, sight, and smell of the land. Right before my eyes shut the night out, I hear a final voice. A leopard’s throaty, powerful warning to a foe.
I’m deep inside a dream when the unexpected rain wakes us both. Tap, tap, tapping lightly at first, then stronger and stronger.
“That’s a lovely sound,” she says, lifting on an elbow.
I move the strands of silky hair from her face.
“I’m glad we have transportation. Walking out of this would have been a bitch. Did you have a good time on your first safari?”
“Oh yes. But my favorite part had nothing to do with majestic animals or photography.”
“Really,” I tease, “and what would that be?”
The poke in my chest precedes her explanation.
“You said you loved me.” She smiles.
“Did I? You sure?”
I’m suddenly under her body and the long white nightgown that’s twisted in the sheets.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t. Otherwise I might have to punish the bad boy. I have my ways, you know.”
“Sounds promising.”
She playfully pins my wrists down. The fact she’s not strong at all means nothing. I’m her captive.
“You’re such a girl,” I say, chuckling.
