Leaving Francistown
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 15
I was halfway through composing a text to Bliss when the email arrived.
The subject line read simply: Offer of Employment – Logistics and Operations Coordinator, Okavango Delta Program.
I didn’t even finish reading the message before my heart kicked into gear. I clicked the attachment, skimmed the formal language, and then, grinning like an idiot, typed a quick reply: I accept the offer and am thrilled to continue working with the Delta team.
I leaned back, running a hand through my hair. It felt right—more right than any professional decision I’d made in years. I reached for my phone to call Bliss with the news when a soft knock came at the flap of my tent.
“Ben? You in there?”
Thandiwe.
I opened the flap to find her standing just outside, arms crossed, a rare smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Got a minute?” she asked.
“Of course. Come in.”
She stepped inside and glanced around, then turned to me. “I just heard. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Feels good. Feels ... right.”
Her smile thinned, becoming a little more measured. “I’m glad to hear that. I wanted to talk before things get too formal.”
I gestured toward the chair opposite mine. She sat, folding her hands in her lap.
“You and I,” she said, “haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
“No, we haven’t,” I admitted. “But we’ve both been honest. That counts for something.”
She nodded. “With your new role, we’ll be coordinating a lot. I don’t want that to be a problem.”
“It won’t be,” I said, without hesitation. “Honestly, I’ve come around to your way of thinking on a lot of things since I got here. You’ve been doing an incredible job running this place, Thandiwe. I don’t want to step on your toes. I’ll offer input if you ask, but where our work overlaps? I’ll defer to your lead.”
Her brows lifted slightly, clearly not expecting that level of transparency.
“I mean it,” I added. “I’m not here to compete with you. I’m here to support what’s working. And it is working.”
Thandiwe’s posture relaxed. “Good. That’s ... good to hear.”
She stood, as if preparing to leave, then turned back at the flap. “Oh—almost forgot. Joseph’s been offered your old position.”
I smiled. I was happy for Joseph. “That’s fantastic. He deserves it.”
“He’s thrilled,” she said. “One more thing—Ellington already posted two new field researcher positions. The applications went live this morning.”
I blinked. Two?
Before I could stop it, the idea clicked into place. My eyes must have lit up, because Thandiwe tilted her head and gave me a knowing look.
“You’re going to ask her to apply, aren’t you?” she said.
“I am,” I replied, unable to suppress the grin. “Both of them, actually. Not just Bliss—Kele too.”
Thandiwe held my gaze for a moment, then gave a faint nod. “It would be ... interesting,” she said carefully. “Good, I think.”
True, it wasn’t her decision to make. But I took that as the closest thing to an endorsement I was going to get.
Once she left, I sank back into my chair, barely containing the excitement buzzing in my chest. Two pieces of good news. One personal. One that might change everything.
I tapped open the phone app, scrolled to Bliss’s name, and hit “Video Call.”
This was going to be one conversation I’d remember forever.
The screen filled with Bliss’s lovely face. She was sitting at her desk inside her tent, a pencil tucked behind one ear, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. I caught the faintest traces of music playing in the background—some mellow, jazzy tune.
“Hey, stranger,” she said, smiling. “Another afternoon call. This is getting to be routine.”
“It is,” I said, leaning in a little. “Got a minute?”
“For you? Always.”
Her voice alone could untie the knots in my chest, but today it made my heart beat faster.
“So,” I began, “I have news. Two pieces, actually.”
She sat up straighter. “Good news?”
“The best,” I said. “First—remember the Delta position I applied for?”
Bliss nodded eagerly.
“I got the offer this morning. Accepted it immediately.”
Her face lit up like the sun.
“Ben! That’s amazing! Oh, I’m so happy for you—wait, so you’re staying at the Delta camp?”
I laughed. “For the foreseeable future, yeah.”
She made a quiet little celebratory squeal and clapped once. “Okay, I need to update my mental map. I wasn’t sure where you’d be after your current contract.”
“I wasn’t either,” I said. “Until now. But there’s more.”
Her eyes narrowed playfully. “More?”
“Dr. Ellington’s expanding the camp staff,” I continued. “Two new field researcher positions. Applications went live this morning.”
Bliss blinked.
“You’re telling me this because...?”
“Because,” I said slowly, watching her expression, “I think you should apply. You’d be perfect. And if Kele’s interested ... well, there are two spots.”
She stared at me, stunned silent for a moment.
“You’re serious?” she asked at last, her voice a whisper.
“Dead serious,” I said. “I don’t know if either of you wants to stay in the Delta long-term, but it’s an opportunity. And we could actually work in the same place. For real.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes glistening. “Ben...”
I waited, letting her absorb it.
“Do you have any idea what this means to me?” she said finally. “I love what I’ve been doing this summer—but knowing that there’s a chance to stay, to keep working, with you—I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you’ll apply,” I said. “That’s all.”
She nodded, quickly, a tear sliding down one cheek. “I will. Kele too, I’m sure. Oh, Ben—this could change everything.”
“It already has,” I murmured.
We were quiet for a moment, just smiling at each other through the glass and static.
“I’ve got a pretty amazing life right now,” I added. “And the best part of my day, every day, is this. Talking to you.”
She reached toward the screen as if to touch my face. “Same here.”
We talked for another hour, floating somewhere between practical plans and pure hope. When the call ended, I sat staring at the darkened screen, the echo of her voice still in my ears.
That evening, our usual call took on a different flavor. Instead of catching up with Bliss under soft lamplight and easy smiles, I had both her and Kele on video, side by side at their temporary camp, each hunched over a laptop. It was equal parts chaos and laughter.
“Okay,” I said, stifling a grin as Kele leaned in, squinting at her screen. “Scroll down to the second section—prior research experience. You want to be detailed, but keep it relevant.”
“Ben,” Bliss said, tilting her head at me through the camera, “have you ever tried filling out a serious application with Kele singing in your ear?”
“I am not singing,” Kele shot back, mock-offended. “I am brainstorming aloud.”
Joseph, off-camera on my end, muttered, “Poor Ben.”
“I heard that,” Kele said, pointing toward her screen.
“You were supposed to,” Joseph called from my tent doorway.
It took two hours, a few technical glitches, and a brief debate over whether or not “extremely resourceful in snake encounters” belonged in the additional comments section (it didn’t), but they submitted their applications. By the time we signed off for the night, Bliss looked tired—but proud.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as the screen dimmed. “For walking us through it.”
“Anytime,” I said. “Seriously.”
A few days later, Bliss called with a gleam in her eyes before I even said hello.
“Interviews,” she blurted. “Next week. Both of us.”
“That’s great!”
“They’re doing them over video,” she added, “so we don’t have to leave early. One more week of the current gig, then—who knows?”
I wanted to say, Then home, but I kept it tucked behind my teeth.
About a week after the interviews, I was finishing up notes from the field when my phone lit up with Bliss’s name. I picked up and barely had time to say “Hey” before she let out a shriek of joy.
“We got them!”
I blinked. “Both of you?”
“Yes! Kele too! We’re in!”
Her voice was effervescent, laughter bubbling through it like champagne. In the background, I heard another scream of delight—Kele’s—and then Joseph’s laughter blending in.
“She just told him,” Bliss said, breathless with happiness. “He’s as excited as I am.”
I leaned back in my chair, smiling so wide it hurt. “That’s amazing, Bliss. I’m so proud of you both.”
“We’ll be at the staff meeting next Friday,” she said, still catching her breath. “Tiro—he’s the new manager, Tiro Senai—sent us the invite this morning. We’ve already asked for the day off, and it’s fine.”
“Then Joseph and I are coming to get you,” I said. “We’ll drive down Thursday afternoon, pick you up, and bring you back after the meeting on Friday, or even Saturday morning.”
“Seriously? You’d do all that driving?”
“For you?” I said. “Every kilometer.”
I could hear the soft sigh she gave, and in the background, Joseph shouting something to Kele that made them both dissolve into laughter.
“Ben,” Bliss said, her voice lower now, more grounded, “I can’t believe this is real. I get to come back. To the Delta. To you.”
I swallowed the emotion gathering in my throat. “It’s real.”
That night, the air in my tent was thick with the scent of cooling earth and distant woodsmoke. A cricket chirped somewhere near the canvas flap, but otherwise the world was still. I shifted in my chair and propped the phone up on my little desk. It rang once, twice, and then Bliss’s face filled the screen—framed by the dim lamplight of her own tent and that ever-present calm behind her eyes.
“Hey, stranger,” I said.
“Hi, you,” she replied, her voice soft and a little tired, but happy. “Long day?”
“Not too bad,” I said. “Yours?”
She smiled faintly. “Busy. The good kind. I think I was smiling to myself all day like an idiot.”
“Me too,” I said, and we both laughed quietly.
There was a pause—comfortable, grounding.
“Have you had a chance to really think about everything?” I asked. “I mean ... the job, working here, us actually being in the same place?”
She nodded. “Bits and pieces. I think I’m still afraid to believe it’s real. Like I’ll wake up and find out I imagined it all.”
“I know the feeling,” I said. “But it’s real. You earned it. You and Kele both.”
Bliss tilted her head. “You helped. You believed in me before I believed in myself.”
I looked at her through the screen for a long moment. “You always had it in you. I just had the front row seat.”
That got me one of her quiet little laughs, the ones I’d started to live for. She leaned in a bit, closer to the camera.
“It’s not just the job, Ben,” she said. “It’s everything. The thought of waking up and knowing you’re a short walk away ... having real, actual days together, not just these lovely little windows...”
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” I said. “How surreal it’ll be, passing you in the hallway or seeing you by the firepit after work. No more counting the hours between calls.”
“No more hiding how happy I am to see you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smiled. “And yet, I’m going to miss this. These quiet little calls where the rest of the world disappears.”
Bliss reached for something offscreen—a blanket, it turned out—and pulled it around her shoulders. “We’ll still have our nights,” she said. “Just ... maybe sitting next to each other instead of through a screen.”
“That’s the dream,” I said. “And it’s close now. Just a few more days.”
We sat like that for a while, each floating in a hush that felt deeper than silence. Then she looked right at me, and her smile softened again.
“Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“When we’re finally in the same place ... I hope you’ll still look at me the way you do now.”
I swallowed gently. “I don’t think I’m capable of looking at you any other way.”
She bit her bottom lip—just for a second—and I knew I’d said exactly what she needed to hear.
“I should let you sleep,” she said, reluctant.
“One more minute,” I replied.
She nodded. We stayed like that—watching each other across the distance, saying nothing. Just breathing in the same night, waiting for all the tomorrows that were finally about to arrive.
By the time Joseph and I crested the last ridge overlooking the temporary research camp, it was late afternoon. The trail dust was caked on the windshield, and the engine ticked softly as Joseph eased the vehicle to a stop. We’d arrived to pick up our ladies.
“There they are,” Joseph said, pointing ahead.
Bliss and Kele were waiting at the edge of the clearing, their duffel bags at their feet, silhouettes backlit by sunlight and standing close, heads tipped toward each other in conversation. As we climbed out, they turned in unison—two matching grins.
“You made good time,” Bliss said, walking up and giving me a quick hug that still managed to feel like the best part of my week.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.