The Correspondence Artist by Barbara Browning
Author:Barbara Browning
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Two Dollar Radio
Published: 2011-02-15T05:00:00+00:00
We were planning a visit. It had been a while. It was a relatively relaxed period in Djeli’s schedule, for once, and he wanted to spend a little time in Bamako hanging out with me and visiting with the kids. Mariam had been surprisingly mellow recently. We were hoping we could have an uneventful week at this nice hotel called Le Djenné. Djeli had booked us adjoining rooms. We thought he could spend the afternoons with Issa and Farka at Mariam’s house while I got some writing done, and then we’d have the evenings to spend together.
When I booked my flight, I decided that instead of hanging out at CDG for a long layover, I’d spend one night at a hotel in Paris. It would break up the trip and I’d arrive in Bamako less fried. On the RER into the city, I checked my BlackBerry. You already know what was on it. Nothing from Djeli. I dropped my stuff off at the hotel, met my old friend Susannah for dinner, texted Sandro before I went to sleep, and woke up feeling relatively refreshed for my flight to Bamako.
When I checked in at Le Djenné, the receptionist told me that M. Kouyaté hadn’t yet checked into his room but that it was the one next door to mine. That was okay – I wanted to freshen up anyway. I didn’t text him right away. I figured he was with the kids and I wanted to respect his time with them. I took a long lukewarm shower and rubbed some lotion into my skin. I was hungry but I figured I’d wait for Djeli so we could get some dinner together. I got dressed.
By 8:30 I was getting really famished. I’d been distractedly reading Petals of Blood but I kept stopping to check the BlackBerry. I was starting to get a little pissed off. I told the receptionist to tell Djeli when he got in that I’d gone out to get something to eat. Things were just starting to warm up in the neighborhood. Nightlife in Bamako gets going on the late side. I wandered over to the Bar Bla Bla, which looked like one of the livelier spots in the quartier. There was a motley assortment of Rastas and Peace Corps types. I figured I wouldn’t stand out, particularly. I took a table in the corner and ordered the capitaine brochettes with a Coke.
There was a couple making out near the bathroom. He had her pressed up against the wall and their kisses looked very sweet. She was fat and pretty, and he was very skinny. She smiled a lot between their kisses. Djeli and I never kiss in public.
My fish was very good.
When I got back to the hotel, Djeli still hadn’t appeared. I tried to read some more, and when that didn’t work, I tried pretending to be trying to sleep. Then I got up, stripped down to my black lace panties, and posed in several provocative positions for myself in the full-length mirror.
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