“Yes.”
I chose his face.
“Keeping that object within sight, bring the circle toward your face. The circle should naturally gravitate to one eye.”
“My left,” I told him and he looked up.
“Mine too,” he whispered. I dropped my hands to my side. “That’s your dominant eye. You’ll use that one to align your sights.” He handed me the gun and stood behind me closely, gripping the gun with me. “This is very loaded.”
You can say that again, I thought.
“Acknowledge me.”
“It’s loaded,” I repeated.
Dingane fixed himself hard against my back and my eyes slid closed at his warmth and the feel of his solid muscles. He fixed my stance once more with his feet and I could feel the blood rush to my belly. His mouth rested against my ear and I could hear every breath he took, slow and steady.
“Align your sights,” he spoke against my ear.
I nodded, my target within sight.
“Don’t press yet,” he teased.
“Why?” I barely rushed out.
“Don’t pull. Never pull. Whenever you’re ready, squeeze the trigger until you feel resistance, but let it surprise you. Don’t prepare yourself for the bullet, concentrate on applying pressure directly and let it show you exactly what it feels like the second it releases from the gun.”
I nodded and took several steadying breaths, keeping my target within sight. Time seemed to slow to a turtle’s pace. The world swirled quietly around me; the only significant sound was the deep rise and fall of Dingane’s chest.
My finger left its reclined position and rested on top of the trigger. My body tensed and I could feel his body cull itself tightly around mine in preparation. Two deep breaths and my lungs held still as my finger squeezed the trigger.
The world held still as the bullet rushed from the barrel toward the awaiting stump. The seconds to follow will forever brand themselves in my mind. The bullet struck home, shredding small parts of the stump outward in a halo of splinters, falling and settling onto the bed of dead undergrowth below. The bullet leaving the gun thrust my body against Dingane’s, but he seemed prepared for it, holding me still against him.
When it was all done, the world rushed back to reality around me, the sights and sounds loud against my eyes and ears. I began to breathe deeply and Dingane slowly turned me toward him. I pointed the gun at the earth and faced him, staring directly in his eyes.
“You did well, Soph,” he began softly. He’d never called me Soph before. “Feel all right?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
He kept eye contact but removed the gun from my hand, holstering it and returning that hand to my shoulder. He watched me intently and a deluge of emotions washed over his face. His eyebrows pinched together as if he was trying to fight something. Finally, his face relaxed then both his palms rounded my back and up my shoulders, fisting both my braids.
“They’re falling out,” I finally spoke.
“They always do at the end of the day,” he added, never breaking his stare, inches from my face.
My eyes closed when he pulled the bands holding both braids and they slipped off into his hands. His fingers deftly freed both plaits painfully slowly all the way to the top of my head. Finally, I felt his fingers sift through the length to the ends.
“It’s the favorite part of my day.”
My eyes opened lazily. “What do you mean?” I whispered.
“When you undo them and run your hands throughout the waves. That’s my favorite part of the day.”
I inhaled slowly through my nose to keep from falling over at that revelation.
“I thought you hated me,” I confessed.
He opened his mouth to answer, but we were startled from our proximity when the hand radio in the truck starting blaring incessantly.
“Dingane! Dingane!” we heard over and over.
“Shit,” he said, squeezing his eyes closed. “I forgot to tell them we’d be shooting off the gun.”
He ran toward the truck, leaving me there astounded by what just transpired between us.
The ride back to Masego was unbearably quiet, both content, it seemed, to revel in our own thoughts. My own were inundated with sifting through what had just happened. My eyes kept flitting between us and I found myself wishing we could finish what had barely gotten started.
“Karina’s pissed,” he said, startling me.
“Why?” I asked.
“I should have told her we’d be shooting off the gun. We scared her half to death.”
Guilt overwhelmed me. “I’ll have to apologize to her.”
“Why should you apologize?”
“Because I shot off the gun.”
“No, I’ll do all the apologizing. It was my fault.”
“I don’t think...” I began but was cut short by the sight of Karina standing just outside the fence, two fists settled stiffly against her hips. “Uh-oh.”
Dingane sighed loudly.
“I know, I know,” he said, exiting the truck and slamming the door. I followed suit.
“You two!” she said, storming over. I almost laughed out loud but stopped myself when I saw the expression on her face. Fear and sadness bathed it completely, sobering me. She grasped at her chest before reaching him and embraced Dingane with the fiercest hug imaginable. She waved me over and wrapped her arm around my neck. Both Dingane and I laid our hands on her back and stared at one another. We both felt so guilty.
“I’m sorry,” we said in unison then broke into laughter.
“We’re so sorry,” I told Karina.
She distanced herself a little and wiped at her eyes.
“I was preparing myself for the worst.” She audibly sighed. “I think Charles lost five years off his life. The whole family’s in an uproar.”
Guilt washed over us again. There was nothing to say.
“Come on,” she said, wrapping an arm around each of us. “Let’s go reassure everyone.”
When we opened the gate we were engulfed by children, all worried.
“How do you say ‘I’m sorry’ in Bantu?” I screamed over their chatter.
“Most understand English, Soph.” Dingane laughed and started touching their heads. After a few minutes of reassuring them, tiny heads bounced off to play before the sun set all except for one. Mandisa. I picked her up and rested her bony little behind on my hip. I didn’t say anything, just hugged her and walked with Dingane toward the baobab tree. We three stood there watching the boys play soccer and the girls congregating or singing or jumping rope.
When the sun disappeared over the horizon, leaving the sky pink and orange, Kate, Ruth and Karina called them in for baths and to brush their teeth. It all felt so normal, so gloriously wonderful. It was too bad their lives were tainted with bouts of inexplicable violence. It made me that much more aware of why I was grateful Dingane taught me how to shoot.
I set Mandisa down to join the other children. She kissed my cheek and I almost cried.
I stood. “Thank you,” I told Dingane, staring at the colorful sky.
“For what?” he whispered toward the same sky.
“For teaching me. Seeing them reminded me why I wanted to be able to defend them. They’re defenseless. If it’s ever up to me to guard their lives, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I couldn’t possibly hesitate.”
Dingane turned toward me and I faced him almost afraid of what he’d say, or more truthfully, what he wouldn’t.
“You’re welcome,” he stated simply, disappointing me.
But then his gaze raked my face with such powerful intensity, I could feel it melt into my throat and shoulders, sending chills through me.
He closed the distance between us. “Will you be showering tonight?” he asked, surprising me.
“What? Why do you keep asking when I’m about to shower? Do you watch me or something?” I teased.
His face turned bright red. “Of course not!” he exclaimed loudly, which made me laugh.
“Then why?” I asked again.
“Goodnight, Soph,” he said grinning, using that nickname again and heading toward his hut, which just so happened to be happily situated right next to mine.
“Goodnight, Ian,” I told him.
He turned around and fought a smile, biting it away with his teeth.
I wasn’t tired so I thought I’d help the women bathe all the girls. The chattering females made me smile as I approached the communal bathrooms. Seven stalls lined the walls as well as seven showerheads with poor plastic coverage. They always bathed the babies first and any girl who could properly wash herself was told to do so. The women just supervised. I joined Karina’s and Kate’s side. They were laughing about something when I approached them.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Karina explained. “So you learned how to shoot a gun, did you?” she asked wryly.
I bent my face toward the tile floor. “Yes.”
“I’m glad.”
My head whipped up. “Yes, I am glad. Every adult here should be able to. Though I wished I’d been informed,” she chastised.
“I’m so sorry, Karina,” I began, but she cut me off, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“Stop. I know you’re sorry. That’s the last you’ll hear of it from me.” She kissed my temple and I felt so incredibly loved.
“Karina?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Hmm? Just a moment. Christine! No, dear,” she said, stopping Christine from splashing Kate, whose back was to her. Christine frowned. “I’m sorry. What, my love?”
“Oh, I was just curious about something.”
“What about?” she asked, distracted by Christine again.
“Why is Dingane so interested when I shower? I thought maybe you might know.”
Her answer shocked me speechless. “He sweeps all the bugs out for you. He heard you say how you hated them,” she absently remarked. “Excuse me, dear,” she continued, heading for Christine.
I walked away in a daze, not believing it. But he hates me. He may be attracted to me, that’s obvious, but he doesn’t care for me.
I hit the dirt outside and made a beeline for the showers, the small outside light illuminating it in the middle of our makeshift village. When I rounded the corner, I shone the flashlight I carried with me into one of the rudimentary stalls. Insects. Everywhere. The wood walls were covered with them. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. Every inch seemed infested. I accidentally dropped my light and bent to pick it up. That means he’s been waking up extra early every morning and sweeping them out. Why would he do this?
“He likes you, dumbass,” I said out loud.
My lips twitched at the corners and I stood. I practically sprinted to our huts but just stopped myself from banging my fist on Ian’s barely-there door. My hand fell to my side. I couldn’t bring myself to confront him with the evidence. If he’d wanted me to know he was doing it, he’d have let me know. My teeth couldn’t fight the smile plastered on my face. It was time for bed.
