time.
William gently puts his foot on the gas pedal. The truck lurches forward. “I just peeked again,” Max whispers. “I can’t help it. When I close my eyes I can’t see William, which is a problem, at least for me personally.”
William slams on the brakes. I open my eyes just in time to get lots of dust in them. My eyeballs are burning. I glance at Libby—her head is all the way back and her mouth is wide open. Is she asleep?
I squeeze my eyes shut and advise Max to do the same. He reluctantly cooperates. William again puts his foot on the gas pedal. I feel the car moving. Not five seconds later Libby screams that she thinks she just swallowed a bug. “Oh shoot!” she howls in disgust.
“Just swal-low,” Max sings.
I hear Libby spit. “I don’t swallow,” she coolly corrects him.
“Guys like it when ya do,” Max sings. “It turns ’em on. Get with the prooo-graaam.” If only Manuel were here.
Max leans over and whispers in my ear: “I hope he’s pulling down his shorts. Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise?” he says. “And I hope he slaps his dick against my cheek.” I start laughing as the truck inches along the path.
Moments later William stops the truck and tells us to open our eyes. I open my eyes and nudge Libby, whose head is now against her chin. When she doesn’t move, I nudge her again, harder this time. She jerks away, then lifts her head. “I think I have jet lag,” she says with a yawn.
“You were born with jet lag,” Max points out.
William puts his finger to his lips to signal that we should be quiet. Good idea. “What are we looking at?” Max says in a loud stage whisper. “I knew there was dirt here before I closed my eyes.” William points to a cluster of trees to the left of the truck. “There,” he whispers and shines a long beam of light. I look over. In the center of the light is an elephant, its ivory tusks much bigger than my cranium. “How’d you know it was there?” Libby asks. “Wow!”
William shrugs: It’s his job to know. Max leans into William. “Can we ride it or teach it to paint for money?” he asks. William turns around. His mouth is open. “I’m just goofing around,” Max explains. “What I meant to ask is if we can poach it.” William is bewildered. “I’m just teasing,” Max assures him. “I just wanted to know if we could murder it and boil the bones—”
I hit him so he’ll shut up.
None of us has ever seen an elephant around which there weren’t at least ten barbed-wire fences. It’s thrilling and very intimidating. This thing could charge. It’s right in front of us. William looks at me. Oh, beautiful blue eyes. Oceans, two of them. Skinny-dipping, anyone? “What do you think?” he eagerly asks. I nod. About what? “This time of year the elephants eat fruit from the marula tree,” he begins, his voice set on autopilot. “The fruit has a soft, yellow skin that . . .”
“Absolutely wonderful,” I whisper, forgetting about the elephant and his fruit.
Only when William resumes the drive do I return to consciousness. As we travel along yet another dirt road William periodically looks left and right in an effort to spot more game. But after another half an hour it is evident that there is nothing more to be found. Four out of five ain’t so bad. The elephant was cool. William again checks his watch and tells us he has to be up early tomorrow. His day starts when the sun comes up.
We agree that it was fun while it lasted. William puts pedal to metal. The lodge’s ornate arch is visible in the distance when I feel the truck slow down. I look at William, thinking he’s probably spotted an animal. Shall I close my eyes? “Oh no,” William groans as the truck’s engine sputters and we come to a standstill. William shifts gears. He examines the gadgets on the dashboard. He tries starting the truck. “Oh no,” he repeats.
“What’s going on?” Max asks, jumping up in his seat.
William orders him to sit
William gently puts his foot on the gas pedal. The truck lurches forward. “I just peeked again,” Max whispers. “I can’t help it. When I close my eyes I can’t see William, which is a problem, at least for me personally.”
William slams on the brakes. I open my eyes just in time to get lots of dust in them. My eyeballs are burning. I glance at Libby—her head is all the way back and her mouth is wide open. Is she asleep?
I squeeze my eyes shut and advise Max to do the same. He reluctantly cooperates. William again puts his foot on the gas pedal. I feel the car moving. Not five seconds later Libby screams that she thinks she just swallowed a bug. “Oh shoot!” she howls in disgust.
“Just swal-low,” Max sings.
I hear Libby spit. “I don’t swallow,” she coolly corrects him.
“Guys like it when ya do,” Max sings. “It turns ’em on. Get with the prooo-graaam.” If only Manuel were here.
Max leans over and whispers in my ear: “I hope he’s pulling down his shorts. Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise?” he says. “And I hope he slaps his dick against my cheek.” I start laughing as the truck inches along the path.
Moments later William stops the truck and tells us to open our eyes. I open my eyes and nudge Libby, whose head is now against her chin. When she doesn’t move, I nudge her again, harder this time. She jerks away, then lifts her head. “I think I have jet lag,” she says with a yawn.
“You were born with jet lag,” Max points out.
William puts his finger to his lips to signal that we should be quiet. Good idea. “What are we looking at?” Max says in a loud stage whisper. “I knew there was dirt here before I closed my eyes.” William points to a cluster of trees to the left of the truck. “There,” he whispers and shines a long beam of light. I look over. In the center of the light is an elephant, its ivory tusks much bigger than my cranium. “How’d you know it was there?” Libby asks. “Wow!”
William shrugs: It’s his job to know. Max leans into William. “Can we ride it or teach it to paint for money?” he asks. William turns around. His mouth is open. “I’m just goofing around,” Max explains. “What I meant to ask is if we can poach it.” William is bewildered. “I’m just teasing,” Max assures him. “I just wanted to know if we could murder it and boil the bones—”
I hit him so he’ll shut up.
None of us has ever seen an elephant around which there weren’t at least ten barbed-wire fences. It’s thrilling and very intimidating. This thing could charge. It’s right in front of us. William looks at me. Oh, beautiful blue eyes. Oceans, two of them. Skinny-dipping, anyone? “What do you think?” he eagerly asks. I nod. About what? “This time of year the elephants eat fruit from the marula tree,” he begins, his voice set on autopilot. “The fruit has a soft, yellow skin that . . .”
“Absolutely wonderful,” I whisper, forgetting about the elephant and his fruit.
Only when William resumes the drive do I return to consciousness. As we travel along yet another dirt road William periodically looks left and right in an effort to spot more game. But after another half an hour it is evident that there is nothing more to be found. Four out of five ain’t so bad. The elephant was cool. William again checks his watch and tells us he has to be up early tomorrow. His day starts when the sun comes up.
We agree that it was fun while it lasted. William puts pedal to metal. The lodge’s ornate arch is visible in the distance when I feel the truck slow down. I look at William, thinking he’s probably spotted an animal. Shall I close my eyes? “Oh no,” William groans as the truck’s engine sputters and we come to a standstill. William shifts gears. He examines the gadgets on the dashboard. He tries starting the truck. “Oh no,” he repeats.
“What’s going on?” Max asks, jumping up in his seat.
William orders him to sit
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