Chapter 26
Cactus Thiemann – Jack
I t was Kayla’s idea for us to blow off some steam and “test drive” what it would be like for us to be together.
But we agreed that anonymity would be best, especially as we’re still figuring things out. And as the simple idea of drinking still made my stomach turn, we decided to check out an innocent botanical garden.
When she found out about it after a quick search on her phone, she laughed before saying, “No alcohol? No coworkers?”
That made me chuckle as well. “Yeah, they’re all a bunch of lushes, huh?”
“Mhm.”
Before we head out, I want to shower and make myself presentable as this is our first date. Well, besides the accidental one back in Fort Lauderdale. But I don’t think that counts.
I finish cleaning myself before towel-drying my body and hair and picking out an outfit.
Since we’re in Morocco and going to be spending the entire day outside, I go for a light, olive green, linen polo and black shorts.
Good enough, I think as I examine myself in the mirror and put product in my hair and on my facial hair.
After finishing to get ready, I wait in the living room before hearing light raps at the front door.
Opening it, I see her in a strapless yellow sundress that’s hugging her shoulders. Her hair is down, and she’s topped her head with a big straw hat.
She kicks her foot out. “Like it?”
I scan up and down her body again. “You look very pretty.”
Smiling, she says, “Thank you. And you’re as dashing as ever.”
“Thanks. Shall we?”
She nods. “We shall.”
I think to grab her hand as we walk outside of the hotel, but I think better of it when I remember that the place is literally crawling with my employees.
Then, when we get outside, I’m grateful for yet another one of her father’s concoctions because without it, I’d be experiencing a horrific hangover in sweltering heat.
But feeling perfectly fine, I hail a cab.
“Cactus Thiemann,” I ask after shimmying inside.
“Great choice. It’s very beautiful,” the driver says.
“Awesome.” Although I doubt anything would pale in comparison to the woman I’m lucky enough to be walking around it with. Now that we aren’t in the direct sun, she took her hat off, and I watch as she flicks light hairs out of her face.
Then, I notice the necklace she’s wearing for the first time. It’s gold and dainty.
“That’s very pretty,” I comment, gesturing to it.
She glances down and grabs the charm. “Thank you. It’s actually the Virgin Mary.” When she holds it out, I lean closer.
“Oh, yeah.” although, she never struck me much as a religious person. Not that I could say for sure, of course. We barely know each other.
As if reading my mind, she clarifies. “My mega Irish and Catholic grandparents gave it to me when I was a baby after I was baptized. I just like it for sentimental reasons—I’m not particularly religious or anything.”
“I see. Are they still around or?”
She delicately places the necklace against her chest. “No. They passed years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” When she turns to look at me, the sun beaming in from the window lights her from behind, and she looks like an angel. “But it was good that they died when they did. That way, they didn’t need to see their only child, my dad, die slowly.”
That’s right. I forgot that he was gone too. I then suck air through my teeth and lean against the head rest before saying, “You know, it obviously sucks that we both know what it’s like to lose a parent. But it’s also kind of cool that we can relate to each other in that way.”
“True.” She turns away from me and raises her hand up to her face. Then, she sniffles before glancing at me again. I swear, those deep green eyes of her could kill a man. In fact, they even seem to make my heart skip a beat. I pause and feel to make sure that it goes back to normal.
“Everything okay?” She’s leaning forward, and her eyebrows are wrinkled down.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I have a murmur every once in a while.”
“Really?” Her body relaxes again. “You know, my father had that. But it only seemed to happen when he was sick. Huh.” Her lips purse, and she raises her fingers to frame them.
“What?”
“I just wonder if being hungover could trigger it.”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I never thought about that. I can’t recall a time that’s ever happened.”
“Hmm.”
“We’re here!” the driver announces after we pull up to multiple orange, square buildings.
I tip him, and then I get out first.
“Thank you,” Kayla says after I walk over to her side, open the door, and help her out.
“You’re very welcome.”
Next, we head toward the door marked with what I guess is entrance.
“As-salaam ’alykum,” a woman standing behind a desk says. Her name tag reads “Dalia.”
Then, Kayla impresses me when she responds, “Wa ‘alykumu s-salam.”
“How’d you know that?”
In a smug yet adorable way, she answers, “What can I say? I’m very worldly.” But after giggling, she actually admits, “I read it before we came here.”
Then, Dalia smiles at us warmly. “English?”
“Yes, please.”
“No problem. Do you plan on shooting anything?”
At that, Kayla and I glance at each other. “Uh…” I’m not sure if there’s a range on the grounds or something. Surely, there’s nothing, like animals, to shoot at?
Dalia smiles graciously when she catches onto our confusion. Then, she mimes taking pictures.”
“Oh! No.”
“Oh, okay. You were just dressed so nicely, I thought you might be a model.”
Kayla beams.
“That’ll just be one hundred and sixty dirhams, then.” I get the money, roughly the equivalence of $45, out of my wallet and hand it to her. She then hands us a map of the grounds. “Have fun.”
“Thank you.” I pause to see if Kayla has more Arabic up her sleeve.
“What?” Her hands raise to her face as if there’s something on it.
“No, no. I was just seeing if you were going to translate for me.”
“Shukran,” Dalia adds.
Nodding, I repeat her. “Shukran.”
We then head outside, and the vast field seems to catch us both off guard.
“Oh, my gosh!” she exclaims after gasping. “It’s beautiful.”
I nod in agreement. “That it is.” And instead of just being all green, there are all types of colors around—purple, yellow, red, orange, you name it.
Not only does she have large sunglasses on, but she’s also put the big floppy hat back one, which she has to hold onto when a large gust of wind comes out of nowhere.
“Where do we start?”
I consult the brochure. “Well, over here,” we walk over by the flat and circular prickly cactuses, “Barbary or Indian figs.”
Her mouth turns downward, and she bounces her head up and down. “Interesting. Oh, my gosh!” She rushes to another one. “Look at that!” She’s pointing at what look like little pineapples.
When I look at the brochure, I have to chuckle. “If you had to guess, what do you think that one is called?”
“Um.” She scrunches her nose as she thinks. “I mean, is it obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Pineapple cactus.”
I turn the page around to show her. “Yep.”
She gasps. “That’s so cool.”
I then continue reading. “I guess they bloom into really pretty yellow flowers.” As I keep reading, I see that the species of cactuses around these gardens are from all over the world—not only Africa. “This one is from America. Arizona, to be exact.” Obviously, that makes sense. It’s hard to imagine that state and not think of cactus, albeit the more traditional type that is mostly all green, stands up straight, and has “arms” sticking out of it. “Oh, and Mexico.”
“Huh.” She crouches down to get a better look.
I take out my phone and show her what the expanded flowers look like.
“That’s so pretty. Their petals almost look like glass, don’t they?”
She’s right.
As we continue walking, she gasps about a dozen more times when we come upon unique-looking plants. Some have names next to them, and others require for me to consult the paper Dalia gave me when we first walked in.
I honestly love Kayla’s child-like wonderment. Many women I’ve taken on dates in the past, including Harper, probably would’ve yawned if I suggested something so simple for us to do together. But Kayla’s obviously different. It was even her idea to come in the first place, after all.
But eventually, her extended arm stops me from walking.
“What—” I start to ask before I see the camels.
“Oh, my gosh. They’re so cute.” She gets in front of me, but I hold her back by the shoulders.
“You don’t want to get too close. Trust me.” I’ve heard their spit or vomit or whatever projects out of their mouths smells horrific.
She then surprises me by reaching up and entwining her fingers with mine.
“I wonder what they’re names are.”
“I—I don’t know.” I slide my free hand into my pocket before a take a few steps closer, the smell of her lavender hair, which is blowing in the breeze, wafting up to my nose. “What would you name them?”
She looks back at me and over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve always loved the name Murphy for a dog.”
I grin. “I think the one with the white snout would make a good Murphy.”
“I agree!” Her gaze returns to them.
“What about the others?” Again, not many other women I’ve gone out with would care to entertain such a juvenile and silly game. But she seems to be enjoying it.
“Hm. Maybe that one,” Kayla points at one that’s all brown, “can be Moe.”
I chuckle. “Murphy and Moe. I like it.”
She turns to face me with the biggest smile on her face and wraps her arms around my neck. “I like you.”
My hands then find their way to her waist. “I like you, too.”
Then, just before I think we’re about to kiss, a huge camel loogie lands right next to our feet.