Maurice & Friends

Shane was going to the Turkana Lake district in upper Kenya. He was making pretty with his tie in the bathroom mirror, when Betty came in.

“You didn’t mention this trip, Shane. I would have gone with you.”

Her arms were folded across her chest and her stance was anxious.

“This is one that doesn’t require your presence, Betty. I am going to check on the status of a dispute and see if the cattlemen and ranchers have resolved their issues.”

“I went the last time, remember?”

“I believe we were campaigning or something. You stay home and coddle Solly. Don’t worry about this particular junket. It’s not high profile and only requires my participation.”

He gave a last satisfying jerk to his tie and left the bathroom, taking his briefcase. He was about to brush past her when she stopped him.

“Don’t I get a kiss?”

He placed a perfunctory peck on the top of her head and was gone. Betty fell against the door in a fit of sobs.

The small aircraft required for the trip was waiting on the tarmac in the early morning, predawn darkness. Shane boarded with his guards, greeting the pilots. In a few minutes another boarded.

“Are you sure you want me to come with you on this trip? It just seems to be a dispute of sorts,” said Jane, about to take the seat across the aisle from him. He pulled her arm and beckoned for her to take the seat next to his.

Betty sat in her sister, Gloria’s living room. She was nursing a drink as was her sibling.

“Gloria, Shane is acting weird again. I think he has someone else.”

Gloria lit a cigarette and flicked the lighter so hard she broke a nail and swore.

“Betty, how long has it been since you had a reality check? You married a guy that screwed you when you were pregnant with his brother’s cub. Did you expect everlasting roses and valentines when you finally landed him?”

“We’ve had marvelous and ecstatic times together,” protested Betty, putting up an immediate defense of her adored mate.

“Mixed with liberal amounts of merde I feel sure. I don’t think you’ve had ten happy days in a row since you first laid eyes on Shane Simba.”

“I love him so, Gloria. I can’t stand not knowing I don’t have every microscopic bit of his heart and mind.”

“Betty, no one is ever going to have that guy’s heart and mind in totality. You are his wife; you have his son now and the rest of his children as well as yours. That’s probably as good as it’s going to get. He will go nowhere because he can’t afford nor does he want scandal as the president. Make a life of your own. You are a talented animal. Your writing skills are famed.”

“That lioness that heads Bob Bushbuck’s Daily news department is writing Shane’s authorized autobiography. I can’t even do that.”

“You can’t do that for obvious reasons, Betts. He’s your husband and you’re totally devoid of any objectivity on the subject of him. I can give you a subject to write and it will focus on the need for stronger anti-poaching armies. I have grown close to Rhonda Rhino recently. She was over here the other night and told me a sad tale. Her last mate and the father of her youngest son, was found dead near our border with Ethiopia. His horn had been removed. I spoke with Rhonda at length. She is an interesting female. She likes you a great deal. Why don’t you write her story? She tells me that so many of her loved ones have been killed by poachers over the years.”

“Glo, what would I do without you? That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll call Rhonda tonight.”

“You are such a good writer and you could dedicate the proceeds to arming additional anti-poaching troops. The way you write, I’m sure it will be a best seller.”

Shane worked with cattlemen and farmers all day. Jane sat near with a camera and laptop, typing away. In her bag was a small recorder. She put it on the table where she worked and turned it on. At midday, the ladies brought in steaming platters of the local food which is very tasty. Shane was impressed that they had held to many of the stipulations worked out his last trip. The ongoing problems between cattlemen, who were often nomadic and the farmers who weren’t, had caused much tension in the area. The nomads tended to graze their cattle on the farmers’ lands, damaging crops. Despite the lake, there was the ever present water problem in East Africa. The rains had been good this year, but many times they failed to provide the necessary rain to enhance the water levels. The Sturm und Drang of African life is, for the most part, hand to mouth and often dramatic. Later Shane and several of those involved took trucks to the sites that seemed to present the most crises. Shane walked the areas with his constituents. Jane followed with her camera and small recorder.

As the sun began its sinking path beyond the lake, the villagers led the couple to a lodge which held several rather primitive cabins. Shane booked in one, Jane and the two pilots took the others. The Masai guards took a cabin immediately next to their charge.

Jane was taking a bottle of Scotch from her knapsack when a soft knock sounded. She opened the door and found Shane standing there.

“I have Scotch,” she said, holding the bottle of Chivas aloft and shaking it.

“I could use one but first things first,” he said.

They kissed in the middle of the one room cabin, holding each other closely for what seemed a long time. He tipped her face to his.

“I think I am doing a good job of imposing myself in your orderly life, Janie, but I can’t seem to help myself.”

“It’s still orderly and loves having you in it,” she smiled.

He turned away and made them drinks. The evening was cool as is usual in the arrid areas of East Africa. There was a fire laid in the drab hearth. Jane struck a match and lit it. The flames glowed, taking the chill from the room. She turned on a lamp and further brightened the formerly gloomy atmosphere. They sat in two wooden chairs that were of dubious comfort and the only ones with some cushioning. They spoke of the day’s sojourn.

“I like your personal approach to these matters. It’s hands on and works. I have always admired the hell out of Ralph Lyon but I think he lacked the intense education to deal with these things in reality. He was all charisma and made wonderful changes, but you, Shane, are going to be the icing on the cake. I think you will be as legendary as he has become before you’re through.”

“You’re wonderful to say that. I have always respected your written word and now I have the pleasure of having you speaking here with me.”

She gave a short giggle but caught herself.

“What?”

“I just had this silly, frivolous thought apropos of nothing. I want to hear you roar,” she laughed.

“Roar?” Amusement held his voice.

“Yes, here we are two lions. Of course I’ve heard roars all my life but I want you to do it – because yours will be so special to me.”

“Odd, but I hope I remember how to give a good one. When you deal with females not of your kind, they tend to get freaked by a male lion’s roar.”

“I won’t get freaked, please try.”

He threw back his head and roared as if he was calling to other prides in their territories that this place was his and this lioness, the same. When he finished, he had a chagrined look on his face. Jane kneeled next to him and placed her head on his knee. He stroked it.

“That was so wonderful. I knew you’d sound that way. It’s like no other male roar I ever heard. It has true power.”

There was a knock on the door and a very nice lady brought in bowls of food for them, placed them on the small table that rested on one side of the room, and was about to leave. Shane and Jane thanked her, he putting a sizeable amount of money in her hand. They sat to eat but not before Jane found a candle in the drawer and lit it.

“One must bow to ambience,” she laughed.

“This food is very good,” he said.

“Shane, I’m going next week to Jordan and then into Iraq. I copped an interview with the Iraqi generals, their American counterparts and some of the high ranking allies that are still left. It is a quite a plum to get this thing. I’ll be gone for a while.”

He tensed visibly, his green eyes filled with an emotion she found unreadable.

“Jane, you almost lost your life the last time you went there. I remember reading about it. The bombings have gotten worse than ever. It’s not our war. Why do you have to risk your life for it?”

All wars involve everyone, Shane. These are the same extremist who are also populating Somalia. I am a reporter and I have to take risks to be a good one. You are the President of a country you know these things.”

He stood up and faced the fireplace. She stood and put her arms around his waist. She pressed her face into his broad and muscular back.

“I think, Jane, if I lost you, I would be devastated. I won’t even try to fool you because my reputation has been well documented. I’ve had two wives and many lovers and mistresses but I have never felt anything even in the ballpark of the way I feel about you. It’s just all so different with you. I feel such peace and unity when you’re around. That sense of intense sadness and loneliness doesn’t exist in your presence.”

She turned him to face her. He buried his head in her shoulder.

“Maybe our elders are right in saying that one does better with one’s own kind,” she murmured.

“I’ve never put much veracity in what they said, but I now wonder.”

“I do also. I didn’t like male lions because of the one’s I had been around all my life. I dated other species but never really felt anything akin to what I feel for you.”

“Don’t go to Iraq, Janie….please.”

“I have to, Shane, and you truly understand why. However, I will be fine and I will be with you again and again. I promise.”

They undressed and got in the rather unsubstantial bed. They made love repeatedly, Shane murmuring his intensity and emotion.

The next day, after a tour of more farms, one’s acreage shared a border with the lake. The farmer had a fine boat and took Shane and Jane for a long ride. He was trolling and caught several very large fish. That evening he invited the president and reporter to a fish grill at his comfortable farm house.

Betty asked Rhonda Rhino to dine with her in the mansion while Shane was gone. The industrious rhinoceros gladly assented to the first lady writing her biography. The two old friends spent a pleasant evening together, sharing a meal with Shane’s children and Betty’s sons from Sam Simba. Solly was brought out to be seen and admired before being taken to bed by his nanny. As Betty was seeing Rhondo to the elevator, Rhonda turned to her.

“Betty, you have everything now. A husband you love and these wonderful children. I am so happy for you,” she said.

As the elevator doors closed, Betty stood for a few moments.

“I have everything but the heart of my husband,” she told herself. This was spoken aloud for the hall was empty. Betty went to her bedroom and drank the cognac placed there for her by the servants. She turned on the late night news, to get the tail end of a sound bite her husband had made earlier that day regarding the farmers and cattlemen of the Turkana region.

Jane left two days later, flown by Luke Leoparde to Nairobi where she would take a Kenya Airways flight to Jordan and go from there into Iraq. She had gone to see her parents before leaving. She had found them, as usual, sleeping under a spread of trees on their small pride territory. Her mother got up and came to greet her.

“Jane, I’ve been thinking about you lately. Someone said you won some sort of prize.”

“Yes, Mom, I won a Pulitzer, the highest prize in journalism. I’ve been thinking about you a great deal, too.”

“We’re fine, Janie. Old lazy hock over there has been his usual helpful self.” she said, pointing to Jane’s father who snored loudly in the heat of the midday sun. “We went to the supermarket yesterday and got what we could with the food stamps and that old doozy ate most of it.”

Jane gazed toward her father’s sleeping form and smiled almost fondly.

“Mom, I’ve thought of you both so much because I am in love with a lion male at last.”

“Well, when’s the wedding, girl? We need some more grandkids. I’m so glad you done got over them leopards and cheetahs you were bringing around. When can we meet him?”

“Mom, you can’t meet him. We can’t marry ever but I just wanted you to know this because now I understand what you’ve always told me about being with my own kind.”

“Why can’t you marry him, Jane?”

“It’s along story, Mom. Any way I brought you and the pride some things from the supermarket.”

When Jane had gone, having left the pride with a month’s supply of meats, Jane’s mother turned to her father.

“Jane is in love with a male lion at last but she can’t marry him. I wonder why not.”

“He’s probably one of them newfangled males who don’t have a pride. He’s probably already got a wife,” said her dad, in one of his few clairvoyant moments. Having said that, he immediately rolled over and in a matter of minutes, was snoring again.

Shane Simba landed in the official helicopter and went to the State House to tend some business before the weekend. Betty came out and greeted him.

“Let’s take the kids and go on the yacht this weekend, Betty,” he suggested.

“That would be wonderful, darling,” she said, brightening perceptibly at the thought of a romantic weekend cruise with her husband.

“I want to invite Sloane and Georgy and his date if he has one.”

“Of course, darling.”

Simba One, the state of the art yacht enjoyed by the presidential family, left her moorings and headed for the greater depths of the Indian Ocean off Mombasa. On board were Shane, Betty, Staci, Sean, Sloane Simba, his daughter Georgy and Cate Ocelot. Jason and Joshua Simba were spending the weekend with their father, Sam. The first day out, Shane and Staci windsurfed while Betty, Sloane and Cate chatted over Bloody Marys. Over dinner that evening, Betty told of her latest project in writing Rhonda Rhino’s biography focusing on the losses due to rhino poaching.

“The proceeds will go to add more soldiers to our anti-poaching army, darling,” added Betty.

“That’s a good thing, Betty. I hope you have another best seller,” said Shane.

“That’s a great idea, Betty, knowing what a great writer you are. This is your strong forte and it can help Kenya,” said Sloane.

“Can we have more wine, please?” Shane asked the steward.

More wine was brought to the table and opened. Shane seemed intent on getting drunk. After dinner they repaired to the upper deck and after dinner cognac. There were several yawns on Sloane’s part. Betty figured he was anxious to take Cate to the luxurious state room they were sharing. Georgy was bunking with Staci in hers. Taking a hint, Betty rose from her deck chair.

“Shall we all turn in?” she asked, blithely. “I am sure Shane and Staci have another strenuous day of sea sports ahead of them tomorrow.”

Shane got up and went to the railing, looking out to the blackened sea.

“Ready to turn in, darling?” asked Betty.

“I’ll be down in a little while, Betty. I want some more fresh air.”

He stood at the rail, staring at the cloud streaked waters and willing Jane to stay safe.