‘Ring Around the Dolphins’

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The scents of clove, cinnamon, and cardamom wafted through Zanzibar’s docks. I tread carefully along the cart-rutted dirt path in my cute but impractical heeled sandals.

“Try to look a little happier, Trish,” Steve whispered.

Sulky and sunburned, I hissed, “I wish I could.” I sighed. “Sorry. The heat is getting to me.”

He put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

“Hey, let’s go over here,” Steve gestured to a narrower path between some tin-sided buildings that had seen better days.

Shrugging, I followed.

The trail opened to a beautiful square replete with the island’s famous carved and copper-studded wooden doors. A small cafe with burnt red mosaic tables and electric fans beckoned. My stomach rumbled in the affirmative.

“Hey, babe. Want to stop here? It’s lovely.”

Steve paused and shook his head. “Maybe later. I want to show you something first.”

“But I’m starving.”

“I promise this will be worth it.”

Wrinkling my nose, I nodded in assent.

We rounded another corner. A small, blue shed stood with a canopied boat out front. There was nothing else of note, and yet he stopped.

“I don’t get it.”

“You will. Trust me.”

I squeezed his hand.

“Mustafa,” he shouted.

A portly man in a blue button-down shirt came out of the building.

I cocked a curious eyebrow but said nothing.

As we set out across the water, Mustafa gestured to the cooler in the back. “Lunch.”

Inside was a whole steamed fish and vegetables. A bowl of fresh fruit accompanied it.

The fish was seasoned with salt and fresh pepper and incredibly tender. As I bit into a ripe mango and juice dribbled down my chin, I peered out at the azure waters. A breeze ruffled my hair. I felt calm. Happy.

I looked over at Steve. “I love you. This is pretty special.”

“We’ll stop here,” Mustafa said, handing us some snorkeling gear. Luckily, I had my swimsuit on under my dress.

The warm, clear water caressed my skin. Kaleidoscopic fish ringed us. “This is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“I’m glad you like it, Trish. I’d hoped you would.”

Mustafa tossed cut-up fish over the side. A pair of dolphins swam up and nudged my leg. “Oh my god, dolphins! Can this day get any better?”

“I hope so.” Steve had a faraway smile.

We got back into the boat and dried off.

The sun began to crest below the horizon casting a cotton candy glow. The dolphins continued to frolic around the craft.

Steve went down on one knee, velvet ring box in hand with a large purple-blue tanzanite. The full moon shone down over the water behind him. I mentally photographed the moment. I wanted to remember it forever.

As we turned back toward the docks, Mustafa handed us a bottle of champagne and two flutes. We toasted. It really was the perfect day.

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WC: 481

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