feel suffocated.” He starts bouncing in his chair. “No offense, William, but we go on walks, take the same safari rides. I want to see what else this place has to offer. I want to go off the beaten path—or at least see you in a pool.”
William nods to himself. “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “After dinner I will take you on a private ride in the truck. It will be an adventure, I promise.” Just then Manuel walks past the dinner table with this mother, who is holding him by the arm. She will not let him stop. He waves to Libby anyway and blows her a kiss, which causes his mother to pull with more force. William looks over at Manuel. Max pats William on the knee to get his attention. “What were you saying?” Max asks. “Like, can we go do peyote with some natives somewhere?”
“Some what?” William asks. Max waves his hand dismissively: Nothing. “I was thinking,” William continues, “that so far you have only seen three of the Big Five.” Libby asks what the Big Five is. “The Big Five game!” he tells her excitedly. “You’ve seen the lion, leopard, and rhino, but you have yet to see an elephant or buffalo, or at least a live buffalo. You saw a dead one being eaten by lions.” We nod, we vaguely remember that, yes. “It is said that a successful safari entails seeing all five. Tonight we’ll go on a nocturnal hunt, and if we’re lucky you’ll see the remaining animals. But we have to keep this just between us. Supervisor Helga would not be happy.”
“Cool,” Max says, patting William’s shoulder. “I’m in. If that’s the best you got, good enough.” Anything that involves making an authority figure unhappy is sanctioned by Max.
That night, as promised, William whisks us away from the lodge, and he takes the truck off road. We drive in the dark over tall grasses, under glimmering stars. Gentle breezes blow through the trees. For a time there is silence, there is magic. He drives us to an open field, to the edge of a lake, and stops the truck. The moonlight reflects off the gentle ripples. I stare at the back of his neck until he again drives off. As we approach an area of low, bare trees, thick branches, really, poking out of the ground, he spots a pack of scrappy, white-and-brown-spotted wild dogs fleeing from the headlights. He excitedly tells us that wild dogs are his favorite among the animals on the reserve. They are, he adds, some of the more elusive. “Give them a chase!” Max urges. “Let’s see how fast this baby can move!” For a time, William tries following the pack so as to give us a closer look. In this South African middle of nowhere we hoot and holler as he plows through the bush, defiantly mowing down branches in the process. “Faster!” we scream in encouragement. “Faster!” Only when the dogs disperse among taller trees do our heart rates return to normal. William checks his watch. It’s something I notice him doing often.
We get back on one of the main dirt roads, still giddy from the wild-dog adventure, when William stops the truck and tells us to close our eyes. Of course we don’t close our eyes. We are babies. We want to see right now whatever it is we are supposed to close our eyes for. I look down the dirt road but don’t see anything other than a dirt road illuminated by headlights. William urges us again to close our eyes. He tells us he has a surprise. We reluctantly agree to obey our master. “Fine,” I say, closing my eyes. “I’ve closed my eyes.” Libby giggles. “This feels so good,” she says, “it’s been a long day.” Maybe William is kissing her. I open one eye to check. Nope, that’s not it. She’s just happy to have her eyes closed. I put my hand over my eyes—it’s the only thing I can think to do to stop from peeking.
“I’m peeking,” Max announces. William tells him not to peek. Max assures him that he’s no longer peeking. We are again asked if our eyes are closed. They are. We mean it this
William nods to himself. “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “After dinner I will take you on a private ride in the truck. It will be an adventure, I promise.” Just then Manuel walks past the dinner table with this mother, who is holding him by the arm. She will not let him stop. He waves to Libby anyway and blows her a kiss, which causes his mother to pull with more force. William looks over at Manuel. Max pats William on the knee to get his attention. “What were you saying?” Max asks. “Like, can we go do peyote with some natives somewhere?”
“Some what?” William asks. Max waves his hand dismissively: Nothing. “I was thinking,” William continues, “that so far you have only seen three of the Big Five.” Libby asks what the Big Five is. “The Big Five game!” he tells her excitedly. “You’ve seen the lion, leopard, and rhino, but you have yet to see an elephant or buffalo, or at least a live buffalo. You saw a dead one being eaten by lions.” We nod, we vaguely remember that, yes. “It is said that a successful safari entails seeing all five. Tonight we’ll go on a nocturnal hunt, and if we’re lucky you’ll see the remaining animals. But we have to keep this just between us. Supervisor Helga would not be happy.”
“Cool,” Max says, patting William’s shoulder. “I’m in. If that’s the best you got, good enough.” Anything that involves making an authority figure unhappy is sanctioned by Max.
That night, as promised, William whisks us away from the lodge, and he takes the truck off road. We drive in the dark over tall grasses, under glimmering stars. Gentle breezes blow through the trees. For a time there is silence, there is magic. He drives us to an open field, to the edge of a lake, and stops the truck. The moonlight reflects off the gentle ripples. I stare at the back of his neck until he again drives off. As we approach an area of low, bare trees, thick branches, really, poking out of the ground, he spots a pack of scrappy, white-and-brown-spotted wild dogs fleeing from the headlights. He excitedly tells us that wild dogs are his favorite among the animals on the reserve. They are, he adds, some of the more elusive. “Give them a chase!” Max urges. “Let’s see how fast this baby can move!” For a time, William tries following the pack so as to give us a closer look. In this South African middle of nowhere we hoot and holler as he plows through the bush, defiantly mowing down branches in the process. “Faster!” we scream in encouragement. “Faster!” Only when the dogs disperse among taller trees do our heart rates return to normal. William checks his watch. It’s something I notice him doing often.
We get back on one of the main dirt roads, still giddy from the wild-dog adventure, when William stops the truck and tells us to close our eyes. Of course we don’t close our eyes. We are babies. We want to see right now whatever it is we are supposed to close our eyes for. I look down the dirt road but don’t see anything other than a dirt road illuminated by headlights. William urges us again to close our eyes. He tells us he has a surprise. We reluctantly agree to obey our master. “Fine,” I say, closing my eyes. “I’ve closed my eyes.” Libby giggles. “This feels so good,” she says, “it’s been a long day.” Maybe William is kissing her. I open one eye to check. Nope, that’s not it. She’s just happy to have her eyes closed. I put my hand over my eyes—it’s the only thing I can think to do to stop from peeking.
“I’m peeking,” Max announces. William tells him not to peek. Max assures him that he’s no longer peeking. We are again asked if our eyes are closed. They are. We mean it this
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