From the moment this afternoon when Rasheed and his miasma of relief fell into the other chair at my table in the café where I finally found WiFi to call him and make up our missed connection, I could feel how he doesn’t need me in the way I’ve been thinking he did. He’s back with Caleb, writing lots, looking fabulous. Now I’m not his symbiotic rescue friend, merely a White woman who disembarks from the ferry from Spain and wanders the wrong way and needs his help getting acclimated to Africa.