I don't know how long we stay out at that balcony just staring out into Lake Naivasha. Every now and then, Jen turns around and smiles at me as I lean against the glass door separating the balcony from our hotel room. We don't say a word to one another for a long time.
Back in the room, my phone rings. The evening breeze makes its perpetual "voosh" around my ears and the nearby tree leaves compliment that with their rustling. The setting sun's orange rays seep through the leaves and onto the balcony with obvious shyness.
"Won't you answer that?" Jen asks
"I'm on honeymoon with my wife. I am sure whoever it is, they can hold on for a week."
Apparently, they can't. It rings again and on the third time, she threatens to hurl it out into the lake if I don't answer it.
It is the office calling. Of course.
"Who is it?" Jen asks from the balcony.
"Perfection." The taxi company I work for is called "Perfection Taxis Limited" because the owner, Martin, likes to think he's a perfectionist.
"Everything has to be perfect." He says. "That must be my biggest flaw. I like everything perfect."
He does not. But I suppose he likes the taste of the word "perfect" on his tongue.
"Hello?"
"Hello. Where are you?"
Little fact. I didn't tell the office that I was getting married yesterday. And I certainly didn't tell them that I was going on my honeymoon. I just drove the car to the office, went to the AG's office, got hitched and got my best friend to drive us to Naivasha in his borrowed car. That's me. I make plans as I go.
"Who is this?" I ask just to mess with the lady receptionist calling me now. Her name is Peris. I keep thinking that if I were a magician who created people and gave them careers, I would create a receptionist and call her Peris. It is such a 'receiptionist-ish' name.
The sounds of birds filter from the lake and nearby trees and into the room. So does the sound of the breeze and rustling leaves. They all seem to come together in an enigmatic rhythm.
Jen steps into the room and slides the large glass door shut, shutting out the music. Including that from her laptop which she has left outside.
"Really dude?" Peris belongs in the "It's never that serious" school of thought. "Martin is so pissed at you; if he were white, he'd be red in the face!"
"Hello Peris. Tell Martin I'm on my honeymoon."
"Honeymoon? I didn't know you had a girlfriend."
"Well, I didn't have a girlfriend." Jen frowns so I elaborate. "When you are in a relationship with them, they are called girlfriends. But when you propose to them, they are called fiancés."
"Well I didn't know you had a fiancé."
"You never asked."
"What do I tell Martin now?" There is the sound of nails being clipped. Sounds like something Peris would be doing as she speaks over the phone.
I'm pacing the room and Jen is seated at the foot of the bed watching me with absolutely zero expression on her face.
"Tell him the truth."
"Which is?"
"I told you. I got married. I'm on my honeymoon Peris."
"Martin is going to be so pissed at you."
I turn to Jen with a smile and she frowns even more. She calls this smile, "Your bad ideas smile."
"Tell Martin that I want a raise and fewer working hours." Jen rolls her eyes and sighs as she throws her hands up with despair. "Or I'll quit."
"I knew it!" Peris exclaims and chuckles like a schoolgirl. "I knew you were not married!"
"Peris. What does that have to do with anything?"
"It means you are not on honeymoon. You are simply on strike. Martin will fire you."
"No, he won't. Because I'm the best driver he has. That is why when clients call, they ask for me." I have my half full glass of whiskey in hand as I pace the room. I take a sip and wonder if I am being brave, stupid or drunk. Or all of them.
Peris stays silent for a while.
"Are you there?"
"Yes, I am here. I'll pass your message to Martin." She sighs. "He won't be happy."
She hangs up and Jen says she hopes I know what I'm doing.
"Me too." I say and finish up my drink. "Me too."