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Authors: Eric Walters
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something wrong,” Olivia replied with a cute grin.
Nebala chuckled at that, which was all the encouragement Olivia needed.
“Seriously, though,” she said, “are you sure this guy isn’t from Malibu instead of Kenya?”
“No surf where he comes from,” I replied.
I shifted the car into drive and we started off.
“Are you really okay to come with us today?” I asked Olivia quietly.
“Yeah, it’s a good time to get out of the house,” she replied.
“How bad?”
“No worse than usual. I just wish they’d stop pretending and get it over with,” she said.
“It could work out.”
She laughed. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”
“Some marriages do work.”
“Really? How many friends do we have whose parents are married?” she asked.
“Lots.”
“I mean married to each other, first-time marriage, husband and wife who are the mother and father of the children who live with them.”
“Well … there’s your parents.”
She laughed even louder, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. “On the bright side, I see a lot of guilt presents in my future.”
I glanced at her. She was shaking a little and I could see that tears were starting to form in her eyes. I also noticed that she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt.
“Belt up,” I said. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
She reached over and snapped on her belt. “It’s nice to know that somebody cares about me.”
“Your parents care about you.”
“It certainly doesn’t show.”
“They still care. Just … hang in there,” I offered.
“Maybe you should also be talking to somebody else about his seatbelt,” she said, motioning to the back seat.
I looked in my rear-view mirror. Once again Samuel was standing up, his arms outstretched like wings.
“Make him sit down!” I yelled.
Nebala reached out and pulled him down.
“And he should put his seatbelt on … All of you should be belted in so you don’t get hurt or killed!”
“We are not afraid of being killed,” Nebala said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. You’re Maasai and you’re not afraid of anything. Put on your seatbelts anyway.”
There was grumbling in Swahili, words I couldn’t understand, but I understood the attitude. I suddenly felt like the mother of three badly behaved children. If they were going to act that role then I’d act mine.
I slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the sideof the road. The three of them tumbled forward, smashing into the back of the seats and practically tumbling over into the front.
Slowly I turned around. “I am not going anywhere until you put on your seatbelts.”
Nebala glared at me—a glare to match Koyati’s. Samuel rubbed his head where it had struck the back of the seat, but he was still smiling.
“I’m not playing. Put on your seatbelts …
now.”
Nebala’s stare and glare intensified, and I suddenly realized that telling a Maasai warrior
—three
Maasai warriors—what to do was probably not my brightest move. They didn’t really take orders very well from anybody, and especially not from a woman … well, a girl. Maybe I should just let them not wear them. What harm was it going to do?
Suddenly Nebala reached over. I jumped, and a little shriek escaped my lips. He looked confused, then amused. He took the end of one of the seatbelts and pulled it over Samuel, clicking it, locking him in place.
“He will stay in his seat.”
“Thanks.”
“Now you can drive,” he said. “Make it so, Number One.”
Oh, very funny. I’d almost forgotten about his thing for
Star Trek.
“Yes, Captain Picard. Now I’ll drive.”
I started to pull away from the curb and a car blared its horn. I slammed on the brakes as it swerved past me. I hadn’t seen it at all. The driver of the convertiblelifted his hand high into the air as he drove off, one finger raised even higher.
“What a jerk!” Olivia exclaimed.
“I should have looked,” I said. “I was distracted.”
I adjusted my rear-view mirror
Nebala chuckled at that, which was all the encouragement Olivia needed.
“Seriously, though,” she said, “are you sure this guy isn’t from Malibu instead of Kenya?”
“No surf where he comes from,” I replied.
I shifted the car into drive and we started off.
“Are you really okay to come with us today?” I asked Olivia quietly.
“Yeah, it’s a good time to get out of the house,” she replied.
“How bad?”
“No worse than usual. I just wish they’d stop pretending and get it over with,” she said.
“It could work out.”
She laughed. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”
“Some marriages do work.”
“Really? How many friends do we have whose parents are married?” she asked.
“Lots.”
“I mean married to each other, first-time marriage, husband and wife who are the mother and father of the children who live with them.”
“Well … there’s your parents.”
She laughed even louder, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. “On the bright side, I see a lot of guilt presents in my future.”
I glanced at her. She was shaking a little and I could see that tears were starting to form in her eyes. I also noticed that she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt.
“Belt up,” I said. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
She reached over and snapped on her belt. “It’s nice to know that somebody cares about me.”
“Your parents care about you.”
“It certainly doesn’t show.”
“They still care. Just … hang in there,” I offered.
“Maybe you should also be talking to somebody else about his seatbelt,” she said, motioning to the back seat.
I looked in my rear-view mirror. Once again Samuel was standing up, his arms outstretched like wings.
“Make him sit down!” I yelled.
Nebala reached out and pulled him down.
“And he should put his seatbelt on … All of you should be belted in so you don’t get hurt or killed!”
“We are not afraid of being killed,” Nebala said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. You’re Maasai and you’re not afraid of anything. Put on your seatbelts anyway.”
There was grumbling in Swahili, words I couldn’t understand, but I understood the attitude. I suddenly felt like the mother of three badly behaved children. If they were going to act that role then I’d act mine.
I slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the sideof the road. The three of them tumbled forward, smashing into the back of the seats and practically tumbling over into the front.
Slowly I turned around. “I am not going anywhere until you put on your seatbelts.”
Nebala glared at me—a glare to match Koyati’s. Samuel rubbed his head where it had struck the back of the seat, but he was still smiling.
“I’m not playing. Put on your seatbelts …
now.”
Nebala’s stare and glare intensified, and I suddenly realized that telling a Maasai warrior
—three
Maasai warriors—what to do was probably not my brightest move. They didn’t really take orders very well from anybody, and especially not from a woman … well, a girl. Maybe I should just let them not wear them. What harm was it going to do?
Suddenly Nebala reached over. I jumped, and a little shriek escaped my lips. He looked confused, then amused. He took the end of one of the seatbelts and pulled it over Samuel, clicking it, locking him in place.
“He will stay in his seat.”
“Thanks.”
“Now you can drive,” he said. “Make it so, Number One.”
Oh, very funny. I’d almost forgotten about his thing for
Star Trek.
“Yes, Captain Picard. Now I’ll drive.”
I started to pull away from the curb and a car blared its horn. I slammed on the brakes as it swerved past me. I hadn’t seen it at all. The driver of the convertiblelifted his hand high into the air as he drove off, one finger raised even higher.
“What a jerk!” Olivia exclaimed.
“I should have looked,” I said. “I was distracted.”
I adjusted my rear-view mirror
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