I wasn’t finished.
Chris, the love of my life merely three minutes ago, continued to stomp off like a child throwing a fit into thehonest-to-Godjungle. All I’d done was catch the silly bouquet and do what any other thirty-year-old woman would do.
I didn’t make a fuss about it.
It wasn’t like Chris, myon-and-off-againboyfriend of the last ten years had everasked me. Yes, ten years. Two fucking hands worth of ringless fingers. What was I supposed to do? Throw out another desperate hint? Act giddy because I caught some goddamn flowers? Have another conversation about how he thought marriage was overrated?
How did we get here?
Months Ago
“Margo’s my best friend from childhood. Of course we’re going,” I’d told Chris the morning the invitation to her wedding in Africa arrived.
“Seems an awful long way to go. Didn’t she just meet the guy? Bit overweight, isn’t he? Won’t this be her third husband?”
“She’s in love.” My voice went high.
“We’ve been together longer than two of her marriages combined,” Chris grumbled as he tied his tie. A financial advisor, he tied the best double Windsor around. “Haven’t we?”
“Sort of,” I said under my breath, putting my hair up in a tight bun. An art teacher at a private school, I had a job to go to, too.
Chris and I took some breaks in college and some after. Our most recent one was last year. Easy to do since we’d never moved in together. By breaks, I meant he’d get cold feet and say we should see other people. But we always ended up back in the same place, together for now.
You couldn’t do that in a marriage. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t be my ideal marriage. As it was, when we were “on” again, we only slept over at each other’s apartments on the weekends, rarely on a Sunday. Therefore, that Monday morning, Chris was out of place, busy gathering his laptop and briefcase to head out my door.
As he went on, he hadn’t heard my lament, as he grumbled, “Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce, Jayne.”
I shook my head when he vanished without so much as a kiss goodbye.
In my mind, I planned to fly from Maryland to one of the largest destination wedding venues in South Africa, with or without him. Dreaming, I read the invite again.
“Mountains, bush plains, and tropical forests are all part of the landscape. Designed with lovers in mind.”
Margo’s wedding sounded like the vacation I’d been longing for.
“Two to three nights in a romantic safari lodge.”
My oldest friend sure knew how to get people to her wedding.
Not another word passed between Chris and I about the trip. Therefore, when the first of July arrived, I couldn’t believe he agreed to come.
After a grueling eighteen-hour flight with one layover in Germany and a few bumpy rides, we relaxed in a lavish suite somehow topped like a straw hut.
The next day was to be the wedding. Then we’d spend the rest of our time in the magical countryside having the whole African safari experience, Margo informed me when she dropped off my red heels and a pamphlet.
With the panoramic river views from the brochure, our quarters had a handcrafted marble bath, indoor and outdoor showers, air-conditioning, and a minibar. The bed chamber opened onto a private deck leading to the river. We ended our first night sipping tiny bottles of rum under an African sunset, beautiful enough to rival any in my lifetime.
Why hadn’t I ever come to Africa before?
“One of Africa’s largest game reserves with a high density of wild animals including the Big 5: lions, leopards, rhinos, elephants and buffalos, and hundreds of other mammals and diverse bird species.Morning and evening game drives are offered in open4x4s, which are ideal for spotting a variety of general game,”our pamphlet read.
Oh.
“I don’t mind viewing game,” I told Chris. “If anyone starts shooting the animals, I will lose my shit.”
As we laid in bed, both too tired for romance, I heard a gunshot in the distance.
My fantasy vacation plans vanished.
