Snapshots.

I feel important.

I always have to be careful about feeling important because it seems that during these times I am at my most fragile, and the slightest thing can tip me off.

Yesterday I woke up at seven, like I usually do, and looked at my clock. I haven't been feeling well in the morning for about a week (no I'm not pregnant), so I decided to roll over and go back to sleep. I reawoke at nine, got up, and was in the bathroom inspecting my face for blemishes when the chime on my mobile phone sounded, informing me that I had a new text message. I thought it might be from my friend here, telling me to get online so we could chat, but it was from Dorothy, my boss. It said, "Pls see me when u r free".

I hate messages like that. They make me nervous. I always feel like I'm in trouble. The last time I got a message like that I was on my way home from a week-long trip out of town. We were stuck in traffic when the message arrived and I spent the next two hours before we got home wracking my brain trying to figure out what it was I'd done that would warrant having to go see Dorothy. Consequentially, I dreaded actually arriving home. But it ended up being nothing.

Well, not nothing. She asked my roommate and me to move. I wasn't in trouble. I just had to change apartments.

Nevertheless, yesterday morning when that message came, I began playing the game in my head again. What could I have done? What was she going to reprimand me for?

Again, it was nothing. Well, not nothing. She gave me a stack of things to do and showed me that she was making a box for me in her file area so that I could check for things there. It was actually quite exciting and that's when I started to feel important.

I have a box!

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Yesterday evening a group of us went out for Indian food that ended up not being really Indian. Some of it was, I suppose. I got chicken kebabs that tasted like beef and looked not at all kebabish. I ate them, but my friend Melissa, who was strangely grossed out, didn't. So I ate hers too. We had bhajia (Indian chips, sort of) which was amazing. We had fresh fruit juice and Caleb and I shared two cups- one passion and one mango.

Sarah gave me nasty looks when I ate a piece of bread that was near her but which I didn't know what hers. And when Dwight offered the last french fry, I grabbed for it, saw the look on her face, and tore the fry in half (it was a big one). But she glared at me and said, "I don't WANT it," shoving the plate back at me. I cowered visibly, Dwight said, "Do I sense a conflict?" and Sarah shook her head at me, "Wewe (swahili for you), I'm not that mean!" but it sure felt like she was.

After supper, some of the girls went over to the ice cream place and a few of us stayed put. Caleb finally nudged me. "You want to go check out that place?"

Sure.

So we went to where the girls were hanging out and I looked in the display. They had French vanilla. My eyes must have lit up considerably because Caleb said, "So I guess that's what you're getting." I shook my head and explained that I only had five hundred shillings on me which would pay just for my meal. I didn't have enough for ice cream.

"I have money," he said.
"I'm not going to spend your money," I replied, remembering that just Monday we went out for Ethiopian and he bought my dinner and my roommate's.
"It has to be spent," he said in his low voice. "Besides, you're not spending it. I am." And without looking at me again he ordered my ice cream on a cone.

"Thanks for the ice cream," I said later.
"Sure."