Into the Wilderness Without You

The day Ferdinand Gilbert proposed, he said he'd take me to the Masai Mara before the wedding to see the migration.

But when I walked into the airport, so happy I could hardly stand it, I saw my best friend Brenda Cox standing there with her suitcase.

Ferdinand took her coat for her, easy as anything.

"Come on. More people, more fun."

I held my boarding pass and said nothing.

The day we reached the riverbank, the guide said only one person could stand in the best viewing spot.

Ferdinand didn't look at me. He steered Brenda forward and up.

Brenda glanced back at me and said softly,

"Ferdinand, you've already shown me. Why don't you let Tamara Cooley have it?"

I stood frozen where I was, the diamond on my ring finger biting into me.

His hand on her arm didn't loosen. He only murmured to the guide,

"It's about to start. Don't hold us up."

When the wildebeest herd hit the water, everyone on the bank cried out.

I stood at the very back of the crowd, my shoes soaked by the mud kicked up around me, and I couldn't even see the river clearly.

And in the lens Ferdinand raised, there was nothing but Brenda.

She stood in the sunlight, her scarf lifting in the wind, laughing, beautiful and free.

I looked down, opened my phone, and accepted the three-year residency project in Botswana.

This time, the place I was going, I wouldn't need Ferdinand to take me.

...

I locked my phone and turned the screen down into my palm.

Brenda jumped off the viewing rock and pointed at the riverbank, smiling.

"Tamara, the light's great over here. Let me take one of you."

Ferdinand came over and frowned at that.

"Don't bother with her. She's not photogenic, what's there to shoot?"

Then he turned to me and pulled out the keys.

"Go grab the spare lens from the car. I want to get a couple more of Brenda."

Brenda gave his sleeve a little tug.

"Won't that be too much trouble for Tamara?"

Ferdinand smiled.

"She's not a stranger."

I turned and headed for the SUV.

I'd just pulled the door open when everything went white for a second.

The next second, a scalding drop of blood hit the back of my hand.

I have an immune clotting disorder. Once I start bleeding, it's very hard to stop.

Ferdinand used to be more nervous about it than I was. He'd made a point of keeping a first-aid kit in this glove box.

I opened the glove box, and the first-aid kit was gone.

In its place sat Brenda's makeup bag.

The blood kept dripping, and all I could do was jam a wad of tissue up my nose.

The car door was suddenly pulled open from outside.

Ferdinand stood in the sunlight, camera still in his hand.

"Where's the lens? You're taking forever."

His gaze dropped to the blood all over my hand, and his voice caught.

"Why are you bleeding again?"

I looked up at him, my voice hoarse.

"Where's the first-aid kit?"

He blinked, his eyes scanning the glove box.

"Brenda had too much stuff this morning, so I took it out."

"Took it where?"

"It should be at the hotel."

The hotel was a three-hour drive from here.

I looked at him, and all at once I didn't even have the strength to demand anything.

Ferdinand handed me a pack of tissues, his tone softening.

"Just press on it. We'll deal with it when we get back. As long as it stops, you don't have to have the first-aid kit."

Just then, Brenda called to him from a little way off.

"Ferdinand, come here, quick."

He turned and answered her, then looked back at me.

"Tamara, don't throw a fit at a time like this."

I gripped the blood-soaked tissue and said quietly,

"Got it."

Ferdinand turned and ran toward the viewing rock.

Outside the car window, the wildebeest herd finally charged into the river.

The crowd on the bank broke into a huge cheer.

Ferdinand held up his camera, the lens chasing the line of Brenda's profile.

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.

It was one in the morning by the time they came back.

Ferdinand looked at me.

"Why are you so pale? Another nosebleed?"

He reached out to touch my face.

I turned my head away.

"It's over now."

Brenda leaned out from behind him, her face full of worry.

"Tamara, you look frightening, you're so white."

"Ferdinand, let's skip the balloon at dawn tomorrow. Let's charter a car and take Tamara to a hospital in Nairobi to get her checked, all right?"

Ferdinand's brows knit together, and he shot it down without a second's hesitation.

"What's the point of Nairobi? A whole day wasted going back and forth, and tomorrow's balloon ride would be ruined."

"Her clotting problem is an old issue. She's not that delicate. A good night's sleep and she'll be fine."

The air went quiet. I stared blankly at Ferdinand's face.

The year I was first diagnosed, I sliced my index finger cutting fruit.

The cut was shallow, but the bleeding wouldn't stop.

When Ferdinand saw it, he went whiter than I am now.

He didn't even change out of his slippers. He scooped me up and rushed downstairs.

Once the wound was dressed, he pulled me tight against him, his eyes red.

He kissed my bandaged finger, his voice shaking.

"Tamara, I'll never let you get hurt again."

I let go of his hand and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat.

I met Ferdinand's impatient gaze and let the corner of my mouth curve.

"No need."

The next day, I was woken by knocking at the door.

I opened my eyes to see Brenda standing by the door, letting Ferdinand in from the hall.

"Shh, Tamara's still sleeping."

Ferdinand wore a khaki field outfit, and Brenda had on the women's version in the same style and color.

Even the dust scarves around their necks were the exact same deep blue.

Standing there side by side, they looked as matched as a pair of newlyweds on their honeymoon.

"I'm going to touch up my sunscreen in the bathroom. Wait for me a second."

Brenda tiptoed into the bathroom and shut the door.

Ferdinand turned and found me awake.

He came over to the bed, bent down, and reached out to touch my cheek.

"Still feeling rough?"

"You got sick this time, so rest up like a good girl. I'll bring you back again someday and make up for everything you missed."

I tilted my head slightly, away from him.

"Someday?"

"Next time, are you still going to bring Brenda?"

Ferdinand's hand froze midair, his brows drawing tight.

"What are you throwing a fit about now?"

"Tamara Cooley, you wanted to see the migration, so the two of us flew all the way out here with you!"

"Now your body can't hold up and you can't see it, and you're taking it out on me instead?"

"I kept you at the hotel for the sake of your life, and you still have to be snide about it?"

I clutched the edge of the blanket and stared him in the eyes.

"I'm only asking you one thing."

"When you say you'll bring me back someday, does that mean she'll come too?"

"Yes!"

Ferdinand lost his patience completely and roared, low.

"If you insist on putting it that way, then I'll tell you: yes!"

"Wherever I go from now on, I'll bring her along. Happy? Satisfied now?"

The bathroom door clicked open.

Brenda came out holding a lipstick, looked at the two of us at each other's throats, and her eyes reddened in an instant.

"Tamara, why are you two fighting? Is it because of me..."

"It has nothing to do with you. She's just being impossible."

Ferdinand's face went cold. He strode over and grabbed Brenda by the wrist.

"Let's go. We'll be late for the balloon. Leave her here alone to cool her head."

Brenda let him pull her toward the door, glancing back at me with a face full of apology.

Then came a dull, heavy bang.

The door slammed shut, locking me completely inside a room of dead silence.

I took out my phone, meaning to wipe every post about Ferdinand from the last three years.

But as my fingertip slid down the screen, I froze.

Every couple's trip we'd taken these past two years had Brenda in it.

I tapped open a few of the group photos.

In every one, Ferdinand's eyes were never on the camera, and never on me.

They always went past my shoulder, fixed steadily on Brenda beside him.

The hand holding the phone began to shake, and I couldn't stop it.

When had I turned my own love story into a three-person movie?

At the start, it was Brenda who'd had her heart broken, and I felt for her, so I was the one who invited her along to take her mind off it.

But somewhere along the way, everything changed.

It changed into this: every time the flights were booked, Ferdinand would say, easy as anything,

"Let's bring Brenda. More people, more fun."

The screen went dark completely.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes on the diamond ring on my left ring finger.

When Ferdinand proposed, he said this ring bound the rest of our lives together, and I was never to take it off, not even in death.

I curled my finger and slid the ring off, little by little.

I set it gently on the sticky note on the nightstand.

"Knock, knock."

Someone was at the door.

I picked up the suitcase I'd already packed and pulled the door open.

A tall foreign man stood outside.

A staff badge from the Botswana residency hung on his chest.

"Ms. Cooley, I'm Percival Gomez. The car for you is downstairs. Are we leaving now?"

"Yes."

I'd just reached the elevator when it chimed.

The doors slid open.

Ferdinand and Brenda were standing inside.

Brenda saw me with the suitcase and froze.

"Tamara? Where are you going?"

Ferdinand's eyes swept over the suitcase and settled, finally, on Percival.

"Tamara, so now you've stooped to staging a scene like this?"

"No wonder you wouldn't answer a single message. You were down here waiting to ambush me."

Percival frowned and spoke up in stiff Chinese.

"Sir, you've got it wrong. I'm here to take Ms. Cooley to the residency"

"Shut up."

Ferdinand cut him off without the slightest courtesy.

"How much did you pay him to act this out with you? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is here?"

He grabbed my wrist, gripping hard.

"Are you done making a scene? Get back to the room!"

The grip on my wrist hurt.

I looked at his furious face, and inside me there wasn't a single ripple.

When I said nothing, Ferdinand took it for guilt.

He let go, and his tone softened.

"All right. You've made your point. Come back in."

I took one last step.

"I'm not going back."

Ferdinand heard it and stared at me, hard.

"Tamara, if you dare walk off with him today, we're finished."

I met his eyes and gave a calm nod.

"Fine."

"We're breaking up."

Ferdinand went rigid all at once.

His pupils shrank, as if he'd heard something impossible.

I didn't look at his stunned face again. I turned to Percival.

"Let's go."

Percival took my suitcase.

I stepped past Ferdinand, who was frozen where he stood, and walked straight into the elevator.

The doors slid slowly shut.

Ferdinand seemed to finally come to. He lurched a step forward.

"Tamara"