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"Bambi? Like the deer from the movie?" I ask skeptically as I pop one of the grapes from the bowl of fruit on our table into my mouth.
"Not like a deer.” She kisses her teeth in disgust and brushes one of her long braids off her shoulder indignantly. “Like a sexy woman. It's a sexy name.”
I almost choke on the grape that’s halfway down my throat as I throw my head back and laugh.
“Laugh, but tomorrow you'll be jealous when all of the men are falling at my feet sighing my name because it sounds so good on their lips." She picks up her phone and smiles brightly at it.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, amused and happy that some of my anger from earlier is easing.
“I’m taking a selfie, the lighting in here is great,” she says, barely moving her lips and without her smile faltering. She’s got incredible teeth, and her bow shaped lips are painted a dark plum that makes them look startlingly white and perfectly straight. She’s a stunning woman. Her skin flawless and smooth. Her dark eyes are large, with enough lashes for two people. Besides her lipstick, she doesn’t have another drop of make up on, and she doesn’t need it.
I smile fondly as she puts her phone away and focuses on her menu again. "Oh, Porsha. I completely believe that all the men will fall at your feet, even before they hear your sexy name. We’re going to have so much fun.” I pick up my own menu and scan the room, looking for our waiter, eager to get some food in my stomach.
"Pick a name and stop looking around. You're in Ghana. Your waiter will take his time, and if you're lucky, he'll place your order correctly."
And I laugh again for the second time that night, and some of the throb of anger eases a little. And the name I’ll use pops into my head.
"Okay, Bambi. Nice to meet you. I'm Emma."
"Eiii, Emma. Sexy, sexy!” She snaps her fingers and smiles broadly at me. “Nice to meet you, too." We clink our empty water glasses together and laugh.
3
Harry
This is my favorite part of every morning — my first sip of coffee. My eyes close, and I let the caffeine breathe new life into me. I relish the warming kiss of the morning sun’s rays, the brisk ocean breeze that carries with it the notes of gull calls and crashing waves.
Ghana is so different from what I expected. It’s a bona fide slice of paradise. I let the feeling of contentment settle. Just as I raise my cup to take another sip, there's a disruption in the air and my sense of tranquility disappears. I look around the room, see the source of the disturbance and groan.
It's her. The beautiful shrew who has been plaguing my sleep. She's standing in the wide doorway that leads to the outdoor restaurant. The morning sun is bright, and with darkness of the hallway behind her, she's cast into shadows that make her look like some sort of goddess as she walks into the restaurant.
The impossibly thick mass of dark hair had been pinned straight and shimmering the night I’d first seen her. This morning, it spills into the same spiraling curls that nestle onto her shoulder blades. Her gait is relaxed and unhurried. Her light blue caftan, the color of a spring sky, surrenders to the breeze. It hugs her small, high breasts, wraps her slim torso in a loose embrace, and clings to her long, shapely thighs. The sun creates streaks of gold and copper in her hair that I hadn’t noticed in the artificial light of the restaurant where we’d bumped into each other. She has a small beauty mark under her left eye, a dot the size of a pinhead that stands out because the face it sits on is completely unblemished. She’s a vision.
She glides in the direction of the huge buffet, the sway of her hips the only indication that her feet are touching the ground. The buffet’s location gives me an unfettered view of her profile, and I watch as she starts piling the plate she picked up.
Her nose crinkles with distaste when she opens one of the huge silver service dishes and closes it without taking anything in it. Her lips quirk with pleasure as she grabs the serving spoon and dishes a generous scoop of whatever it is that’s tempted her.
She’s smiling when she turns around — not a big smile - but it's the first time I’ve seen one on her, and her face is transformed by it. I would have called her beautiful before, but there’s an allure that’s more than skin deep. It’s captivating.
When I’d seen her at the bar last night, I’d been shocked. What were the odds that we’d end up at the same hotel a week later? My first impulse had been to avoid her. What happened on the plane was embarrassing. I’d been so turned on and hard up that I’d almost let a drunk woman jerk me off.
She acted like it was no big deal, and I’d believed her. But watching her last night, I hadn’t been so sure. She’d been staring in the mirror and her eyes looked unbearably sad.
I'm not particularly fond of sadness or fear, but I'm hugely attracted to the truth. Last night, there had been an honesty in her expression that was like a siren’s song. It propelled me out of my seat and had me walking toward her in single-minded determination.
Whatever I'd seen was gone by the timeI tripped and fell into her away from her. When I left her at the bar, I was sure that it had been a figment of my beer-soaked, fatigued imagination.
Until now. That pull, the one that had me throwing caution into the wind last night, is revived. I swear under my breath and look away. But only for a second because, as much as I want to, I can't seem to keep my eyes off her.
She's walking back to her table, and that look is back. Wide open, unfettered expression, honest. I want to know what put that sadness there. I want to tell her the source of my own pain.
As if she can hear my thoughts and sense my eyes on her she stops walking and her head swings in my direction. Her eyes widen with surprise when they land on me, but the surprise isn't because she didn’t know I’d be here. She must know I’m staying here.
She looks at me, and our eyes lock. A current pass between us. It’s loud, hot and takes me completely by surprise.
I start to stand, and her eyes widen almost imperceptibly before she shutters her expression. The current is severed, abruptly and painfully.
Her disdain manifests in the curl of her lip and the roll of her eyes. She turns her head and continues walking to her table.
