Chapter 2

“Knock, knock.”

Someone rapped on the car window from outside.

I turned my head. It was the guide.

He got a fright when he saw my hands covered in blood, and quickly dug some gauze out of his pack and handed it to me.

I took it and thanked him quietly.

He stayed by the car door, looking toward the viewing rock in the distance.

Ferdinand was half-kneeling behind Brenda, shielding her, telephoto lens raised.

The guide said admiringly,

“Every migration season our camps are nearly impossible to book, but Mr. Gilbert always contacts me more than half a year ahead.”

“The past two years the weather was bad, so that pretty lady never got to see the most spectacular crossing. Today she finally got her wish.”

“A man this good is truly rare.”

A gust of wind blew into the car. It was equatorial heat, and yet I felt cold all over.

I looked at my own wretched face in the rearview mirror and let out a laugh.

“Yes.”

“He really is a very good boyfriend.”

The guide nodded and handed me another roll of gauze.

“Press on it first, and don't tip your head back.”

I thanked him quietly and pressed the gauze under my nose the way he said.

A little way off, Ferdinand had finally finished shooting.

Brenda came down from the viewing rock, her foot slipped, and Ferdinand caught her against him at once.

I sat in the car, watching them through the window.

And it struck me that some kinds of care hadn't disappeared.

They'd just been moved to someone else.

On the way back to camp, I sat in the very last row.

The nosebleed had stopped, but my head still swam in waves.

The car was quiet, nothing but the sound of camera images being flipped through.

Brenda looked over at Ferdinand and asked softly,

“Ferdinand, can we still shoot the stars tonight?”

Ferdinand didn't hesitate.

“Yes.”

Brenda glanced back at me.

“But Tamara doesn't look well. Maybe we should just forget it.”

Ferdinand's eyes lingered on my face for two seconds, then quickly pulled away.

“She can just rest at the camp.”

He paused, and softened his tone, as if coaxing Brenda.

“Haven't you always wanted to shoot the stars here? The weather's great tonight. Don't waste it.”

The hand clutching the gauze slowly tightened.

Three years ago, the one who wanted to photograph the Masai Mara was me.

Back then Ferdinand would sit with his laptop, reading up on the trip, looking at photos of the Masai Mara, and he'd laugh and say,

“I'm definitely going to take you there.”

I waited three years, and he did bring me here.

But I felt like a spectator who'd been crammed in where she didn't belong.

By the time the car stopped at the hotel, the sky was fully dark.

Ferdinand pulled the door open and motioned for me to get out first.

I was just getting up when he suddenly reached over and took that heavy cashmere wrap off my lap.

It was the one he'd bought specially for me before this trip, saying the wind on the plains got strong at night and he didn't want me catching a chill.

Brenda hunched her shoulders and murmured, deflecting,

“Ferdinand, isn't that Tamara's wrap?”

“If I use it she'll be cold. Better not.”

“It's fine, she's going into the hotel in a second. She won't freeze.”

Ferdinand's tone was casual as he draped the wrap around Brenda.

“You've got a weak constitution and can't take the wind. Just borrow it for now.”

“We'll probably be shooting until late tonight, and Brenda doesn't have her room key, so don't go to bed too early, or you won't hear her knocking when she gets back.”

Back in the hotel alone, my nose started bleeding again.

I jammed a tissue hard against it, and while I was digging one-handed for the spare cotton to stop the bleeding, my phone buzzed.

It was a photo from Ferdinand.

The first was the Masai Mara sky full of stars.

The second was the two of them under the Milky Way, his arm around Brenda.

Right after came a voice message.

“The stars here are beautiful. Such a shame you didn't get to see them. I took the pictures for you.”

The recording didn't cut off, and in the background Brenda's worried voice came through:

“Ferdinand, you didn't even ask if Tamara's feeling better? Honestly.”

Then came Ferdinand's voice.

“Tamara, Brenda's asking if you're feeling better?”

A small pool of blood had already collected on the sink counter.

I looked at my wretched self in the mirror and smiled.

Then I picked up my phone and typed a reply:

【It's fine, you two go ahead and shoot.】