Beyond Horizon

HALLO MY LADY, NEED A RIDE?

I closed my purse twice in my head even though my purse was on the floor inside, even though I was in a towel.

I typed with hands that shook so much I had to retype three times, deleting, retyping, breathing:

"Yes. You can call me. I'm free now."

I pressed send, put the phone down on the balcony railing, and waited.

I waited under the Bulgarian sky, my whole body shaking, overjoyed, frozen. The phone screen was dark. The hills were dark. My girls inside were whispering, "Is he calling? Is he calling?"

10 minutes passed. My phone didn't ring.

15 minutes. Nothing. Just wind

Patrick: "Sorry Kelly, something came up. Can't call tonight, duty. But I thought about it. I don't want our first real talk to be on phone while you are in Bulgaria. It's better we meet in Berlin in person when you are back from your girl trip. Face to face. If you still want to. I want to see you properly, not just hear you. Safe flight back. - Patrick"

I read it.

I read it again.

He did not call.

Apparently after a long wait he did not call. Instead he texted and said it is better we meet in Berlin in person.

My knees gave up again, but different this time. Not overjoyed shaking. This was heavy shaking. Like disappointment and relief and fear all at once.

I opened the balcony door. Diana and Maya were staring at me.

"What? He called? What did he say?" Diana said.

I held out phone. "He didn't call."

They read it. Silence. Then Maya said, "Okay but this is better. This is actually better, Kelly. He doesn't want phone. He wants in person. In Berlin. Face to face. That is serious.That is respect."

Diana nodded slowly, reading it again. "Berlin is cold and grey without you... and now he wants to meet in Berlin in person. Girl, he likes you."

I sat back on the bed, towel still on, phone in lap. The text glowed.

Is better we meet in Berlin in person.

I had waited three days.

And instead, he gave me something bigger. A date. Not a call. A meeting. In person. In Berlin, when we are back from our girl trip, before winter kicks in and before work starts again.

I closed my purse twice, smiled for the first time since the buzz, and typed with steady hands this time:

"I would like that. See you in Berlin. In person. - Kelly"

I pressed send. As if he did not know my name already.

And then I put my phone down and decided to actually enjoy Bulgaria.

Because I had a whole week of girl trip left before we go back to work, and I was not going to spend it staring at a phone on a balcony in a towel.

The next morning I woke up different. Lighter. He didn't call, but he wanted to see me in person. In Berlin. Face to face. That thought made me smile into my pillow.

For the next five days, I enjoyed Bulgaria with so much joy I forgot to count anything. No 47 times. No checking every hour. I was just Kelly.

We woke up late every day. We ate banitsa every morning with yogurt that was sour and good. We walked to the little market and bought peaches that dripped down our chins and laughed because juice was on our chins and we didn't care. We went to a small waterfall that the old woman at reception told us about, and the water was freezing and we screamed and Maya slipped and we all fell in and our clothes were wet and we walked back laughing, soaked, holding our shoes.

We danced one night at a small bar where a Bulgarian man played guitar and sang songs we didn't understand but we clapped anyway. Diana tried to teach the man how to say "Beyond Horizon" in Bulgarian and he couldn't and we laughed until tears.

We took a hundred pictures. Me in big sunglasses, Maya with peach on her nose, Diana with arms open on the balcony like she owned Bulgaria. We drank cheap wine every night on that balcony and talked about work we will go back to in a week, about boys, about Kenya, about how Berlin will be cold and grey again but right now Bulgaria was warm and golden and ours.

For five days I didn't flip my phone upside down once. I kept it face up. If he texted, fine. If not, also fine. He said see you in Berlin in person. So I would see him in Berlin in person. That was enough to make my heart calm.

On the last day, we packed slowly, sad. The old woman gave us each a small jar of honey. "For Berlin winter," she said. Our lodging room 12 was empty again, bed made. We left the peach peels in the bin.

The flight back was one hour and fifty minutes again, but it felt shorter because we were giggling the whole time, tired and sun-brown, hair messy.

BER airport. Berlin. Cold hit us the second we landed. Grey. Just like he said. Berlin is cold and grey without you. He was right.

We were at baggage claim, all three of us, rolling our big suitcases, giggling, arguing about who will take taxi. Diana's suitcase had broken wheel from day one and was making loud noise, eee-eee-eee, and we were laughing at it.

"My suitcase has seen Bulgaria and it wants to stay," Diana said, dragging it.

Maya was carrying honey jars like baby. "Don't break, don't break, please don't break in Berlin."

I was busy with my own suitcase. My black suitcase, big, heavy with dirty clothes and honey and that black top I never wore but packed just in case. I was bent over, trying to zip it closed because it had opened a little and my things were spilling, my peaches from market, my sunglasses. I was so busy I didn't see anything around me. I was just a girl fighting with a suitcase at BER airport after a week of joy.

Then I heard a voice. Right behind me. Close. Low. That same disciplined voice from the club.

"Hallo my lady. Need a ride?"

I froze. That voice. I know that voice.

My hands stopped on my suitcase. My heart stopped too. Then it started again too fast, too loud.

I turned slowly.

He was standing there.

Patrick.

Not in civilian clothes like at the club. In army uniform. US Army uniform. OCP, I later learned it is called, green and brown and real. Boots polished, name tape on chest, PATRICK, US ARMY on other side. Hair cut fresh, very short, clean. Standing straight, shoulders back, that same walk now standing still, that same discipline. And in his hands, a bouquet of roses. Red roses. Not one rose. Many. Wrapped in paper.

Behind him, outside the glass doors, a car. Military? No, black car, normal, but him in uniform with roses at an airport baggage claim in Berlin.

The shock. The confusion.

Diana dropped her broken suitcase. It fell with loud bang. Maya said "Oh my God" so loud two people turned.

"Patrick?" I whispered. My voice small. Same as airport when I thought other soldier was him at Gate B. But this time it was really him.

He smiled. That same small, deliberate smile from the club, like everything he does is deliberate.

"You said you would like to meet in Berlin in person. So I came in person. In uniform, because I came straight from base. I hope roses are okay. I didn't know what Kenyan girls like, so I asked flower lady and she said red."

He was holding roses out to me. His hands steady, not shaking like mine. Soldier hands.

I stood there in my travel clothes, hair messy from flight, no makeup, suitcase half-open, mouth open, closing my purse twice in my head even though my purse was on balcony? No, my purse was on floor again, somewhere. I was in shock.

Diana whispered behind me, "It's him. It's really him. In uniform. Kelly. It's your US soldier."

Maya whispered, "Take the roses, Kelly. Take the roses before I take them."

I took them. My hands shaking so much roses shook too. Red roses, fresh, cold from outside.

He laughed, soft. "Hi."

Then he looked at my suitcase, at my girls, at me. "Need a ride, my lady? My car is outside. I can take you and your friends. Or just you. I know you have a lot of honey."

He knew about honey? I texted about Bulgaria but not honey. He remembered old woman? No.

I was so confused I just nodded. "Yes. Ride. Please."

He took my heavy black suitcase like it weighed nothing. One hand. Roses still in other hand that he gave me. He started walking, that same walking style, long strides, disciplined, and I followed, Diana and Maya behind giggling and whispering, "Oh my God, Oh my God, he is in uniform with roses, Kelly."

Outside, Berlin cold hit again. Grey sky. His black car was parked right in front, hazard lights on. He opened trunk, put my suitcase in, then Diana's broken one, then Maya's. He opened back door for us like gentleman.

We all got in, two girls in back giggling, roses in middle, me front seat with him. The car smelled like him. Clean, strong, aftershave I remembered from club.

He started driving, away from BER, toward Berlin.

Silence for a minute. Then he said, looking straight at road, hands on wheel, disciplined even driving.

"I'm sorry I was unable to reach you in text properly. I want to explain why."

I held roses tighter. "Okay."

"I am EOD," he said. "Explosive Ordnance Disposal. US Army. We clear bombs. Old bombs from war still in Germany, and new training. When we go to field, we go to field for days. No phones. No signal. It's rule. And sometimes we go with no warning. That week you called, we were in Grafenwöhr, forest, no signal for four days. I came back, saw missed call from Berlin number, I knew it was you because I saved your voice from that night? No, I saved number because only you called me from Berlin that week. I wanted to call you that night from Bulgaria but then base alarm, we had to go check old bomb found near Spandau, World War II bomb, 250kg, real. Couldn't call. Duty."

He said it calm, like reporting, but I could hear sorry in it.

"I felt bad. That's why I said better we meet in Berlin in person. Because text and calls are not my job. In person is better. Face to face is how I do things."

I looked at him. In uniform, driving, explaining why he was unable to reach me in text, why field training, why bomb, why no signal, why he couldn't call that night on balcony.

Now I know what he does. He clears bombs. He is US Army EOD. He walks like a soldier because he is a soldier.

Diana in back seat kicked my seat lightly and whispered, "Marry him."

Maya whispered, "Ask him if he has friends."

I smiled, closed my purse twice in my head even though my purse was in trunk inside suitcase, even though I was holding roses in an army car with a US soldier who came straight from base to airport with roses.

"Thank you for coming," I said. "In person."

He glanced at me, that deliberate smile again.

"Anytime, my lady. Welcome back to cold and grey Berlin. I will make it less grey."

And he drove,my girls giggling behind,Berlin grey outside but warm inside his car, finally meeting in Berlin in person, after a week of joy in Bulgaria.