Page 52

fifty-one f

Charity

N one of us spoke on the ride home. Edie and Carl snuggled close. I sat in front next to the driver and never once looked behind me.

Peter, Mary, and Fatima greeted us with forced smiles when we arrived at the house. They turned away from us so we wouldn’t see their pained expressions.

“We prepare special dinner tonight,” Mary said after a moment. “Shower, relax, and tell us how we can help.”

We nodded and headed for our bedrooms.

My bedroom was exactly as I left it, minus any trace of Mike. I shed my clothing, stuffed it in the waste basket, and went into my spotless, tiled bathroom. While the water heated for my shower, I stepped on the scale.

Eighty-five pounds! I’ve lost twenty-five pounds!

The shock of the weight loss sent me over the edge. I stood in the shower and sobbed silent tears. How could I put the events of the last month into perspective and then behind me?

Could I trust Rajiv, the judge, the Kenyan government? What if Ben refused to send money to pay Rajiv and whomever else? What if he abandoned us? How would we get home?

I stayed in the shower for an hour before I felt the filth of prison leave my body. I dried off with a thick, white towel and dressed in a thin, silk robe. My emaciated body was still covered with bites and sores, but I was beginning to feel human again.

Despite my fatigue, confusion, and nausea, I knew my next priority was to contact Ben. The clock read 2:00 p.m.—6:00 a.m. in Florida. I’d wait three hours before calling.

As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. I thought about a glass of wine, then realized I hadn’t eaten anything since the day before. Instead, I made lists in my head of what I needed to say to Ben, what I needed to do before leaving Kenya, what I’d do when I arrived in the States.

At five o’clock, I dressed in a cotton sheath and went out by the pool. I saw only Mary, who asked if I needed anything.

“Maybe some water.”

She brought me a pitcher of water with ice and lemon, and a plate of biscuits. The simple gesture brought me to tears.

“You are safe now,” she said.

My smile was a lie. I’ll never feel safe again.

It was time to call Ben. His girlfriend, Donna, answered the phone. “Ava! Are you okay?”

I ignored her question. “Can I speak to Ben?”

“Ava, we had no idea you guys were in prison,” Ben said.

“But—didn’t Mike tell you?”

“Now isn’t the time to talk. Are you home?”

“We got home this morning,” I said. “We need you to wire money to pay our lawyer and God knows who else.”

“Not necessary. Now, how about coming home for the holidays?”

I’d completely forgotten about Christmas.

“I’ll wire you money for tickets this afternoon. Play your cards right, and you’ll be home by Christmas Eve.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s over, Ava. Lemme know your flight info, and we’ll see ya soon.”

w

Mary and Fatima prepared a seafood dinner unlike any I’d seen since arriving in Kenya. We expressed our gratitude but left most of the meal uneaten. After a month of rotting vegetables and porridge, the first bit of protein caused my stomach to cramp.

“Please share the meal with your families,” I said. “Maybe some soup would be better.”

An hour later, they presented us with pumpkin soup, which we sipped slowly. After dinner, Edie and Carl excused themselves and went upstairs to their room. Tina and I stayed by the pool.

“I’m in a weird space,” Tina said. “I feel like we should be celebrating, but all I want to do is sleep.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for Edie. Knowing the person you love most in the world might be dead has gotta be the worst.”

“What do you think happened with Mike?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to think. Ben said Mike’s in Philly with his parents. I’m gonna call him once we get our flight info and ask him to meet me at the airport.”

“Seriously? I thought you’d be flying to Florida.”

“It’s Christmas,” I said. “I can’t impose on Ben. Tom and my kids don’t want me. I’ve got no money for a hotel. What else can I do?”

“I’ve decided to go back to California. All my stuff is there.”

“So this is it.” I stared at Tina in the fading light.

“For now, yeah.”

“I need to lie down. See you in the morning.” I hugged Tina, knowing on some level our friendship would be forever altered.

Ben’s money arrived the following afternoon. The four of us booked a flight from Mombasa to Nairobi, which would leave the next morning. From Nairobi, we’d catch a flight to London. Edie and Carl decided to spend a night in London before flying home to their family in Detroit. Tina would fly to Chicago, then California. I was the only one flying to Philly.

My fingers trembled as I dialed Mike’s parents, who lived in a suburb outside Philadelphia. His mother answered.

“Hello, Ava. Mike told me you decided to stay on in Africa. He’s still asleep. Can I give him a message?”

I gave Mrs. Ambrose my flight information and asked if Mike could meet me at the airport.

“You’re welcome to join us for Christmas,” she said. “You may not recognize my son at first, but I’m sure he’ll recognize you.”

“Um—okay.” What the hell did she mean?

It took all my strength to pack my belongings. Much of what I’d bought in Kenya, I gave to Mary and Fatima. They thanked us and prepared vibibi— a rice and coconut pancake—soup, chapati, and sweet bananas. They offered to make us uji , or porridge, but we’d seen enough porridge to last a lifetime.

In prison, we had talked about the grand celebration we’d have once we were free, but all we wanted to do was sleep or sit in silence by the pool. Would our friendship continue once we flew back to the States, or would we go our separate ways to whitewash our prison experience?

The next morning Peter, our gardener, drove us to Mombasa Airport. At any moment, I expected the Kenyan police to arrest us and send us back to prison, but we boarded the plane to Nairobi with no hassle.

The same fears haunted me while we waited for our London flight. Once again, our boarding was seamless. Bit by bit, I felt the tension leave my body.

Tina and I said tearful goodbyes to Edie and Carl at Heathrow. We vowed to stay in touch but in my heart, I doubted we’d meet again.

Before leaving for my gate, I hugged Tina and confessed, “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

“Same here.”

“I’ll write once I’m settled,” I said.

“I know you will.”

I watched her walk away. She turned, waved, and blew me a kiss. If it hadn’t been for me, Tina would never have come to Kenya, never would have gone to prison. Guilt overwhelmed me.

Had I been thinking clearly, I would have asked Ben for money for a hotel in London, but all I could think of was getting home.

Home—that was a joke. I had no home. All I had was Mike. What lies would he tell me? What lies had he told his parents? What do you say to someone who left you to rot in prison?

Despite these thoughts, I was filled with gratitude. My prayers had been answered. Even though the flight home was packed, it was the first time since April I felt comfortably alone. I slept, read my Bible, and contemplated a sober life.