After he left, my head dizzy and full of his presence, I reminded myself this wasn’t a vacation. I had to impress Dr. Pashtar. I had packed a slim black dress, casual enough but still elegant. We would be having dinner in the hotel dining room, where the whole team could gather and try to one-up one another while downing copious amounts of alcohol. I’d already had some wine with Jack, so maybe I was a bit loosened up. Social situations were the absolute worst for me. I tended to speak very quietly and cast my eyes downward, and I never knew how to place my limbs or stand with assurance. But I felt more confident after talking with Jack, who could make anyone feel better about themselves with his easy grace. My hair had dried, so I coiled up part of it into a braid on top of my head, carefully applied some makeup, and realized that this was our one night to look civilized. Over the next week we’d all look pretty rough and ragged. Tonight was an effort to forget what we’d be encountering soon.
I left my room and walked down the dim hallway toward the elevators. I was on the tenth floor and wondered what floor Jack was on. I hadn’t asked because I hadn’t wanted to appear overly eager. I got in the elevator and pressed for the lobby, but it stopped on the eighth floor, and, to my pleasant surprise, Jack got on. His smile for me was just as big as when he had first seen me earlier that afternoon, and his appraising glance at my dress was admiring.
“Lookin’ good, kid. Trying to make an impression on the Doc, eh?”
I blushed, and nodded. I wanted to tell him that I had spent extra attention on my appearance to catch his eye, but that would mean flirting with him. And that wasn’t something I was very adept at. Instead I turned the conversation to food. I had heard Nigerian cuisine was to die for, and so I showed off my knowledge of the region by mentioning my craving for Suya and Gbegiri, a meat dish and a bean-based stew. He was smiling at me crookedly, and I wondered what he could be thinking. We reached the lobby and the door dinged open. He leaned in to whisper, “You look good enough to eat,” and his hand rested warmly on the small of my back.
He was flirting with me openly now, that much was clear. I had to stay focused, though, and not get too caught up in his charm. I was glad not to be wearing high heels, because I was pretty sure I’d be unsteady in them at this point. We walked through the stately lobby toward the dining room, and I could hear the lively discussions and raised voices even before entering. I knew the team was in full swing, as was usual on these trips, and I lifted my head in a show of confidence and walked in. Jack was already grasping hands with Dr. Matthew Ingari, a biologist like me, and launching into a tirade about some South American football team that had been performing poorly. I looked around the room and saw all five familiar faces that I had shared so much turmoil and triumph with over the short span of time I’d been working with them. Dr. Pashtar was intently conversing with a young scientist named Cora Wentworth, and I immediately felt sorry for her, although we had built quite a rivalry over the years, probably because we had the same level of education and were the same age. He was obviously in a mood to make as many of us feel as insecure as possible. He had yet to spot Jack and me, so I took the time to insinuate myself into a conversation with Dr. Pierre Berard and Dr. Young Su Kim, an anthropologist and an engineer/physicist.
“Hello—nice to see you both again,” I said cordially. I had never gotten beyond a formal relationship with either of them, and we’d always just remained colleagues, never advancing to friendship. But I was pleased when they greeted me with warm handshakes and smiles, and we began asking each other what we had been doing lately. It seemed we all were a bit nervous about this particular mission, and I immediately felt better knowing my self-doubt was shared.
“Mina,” a stern and lightly accented voice said behind me, and I turned around to meet the direct gaze of the small Hindi man.
“Hello Dr. Pashtar,” I managed.
“I take it you’ve settled in? We’ve got to get an early start in the morning. You can’t be late or take your time doing any of that running nonsense you always insist on.”
He wasn’t going to let me get a word in edgewise, so I quickly replied, “No sir. I know we need to get to the Oban Hills as soon as possible tomorrow and….”
He interrupted me brusquely. “Do you know what to expect once we get there? I hope you’re sufficiently prepared. This area is one of the worst we’ve seen in a while.”
“Yes, I think I’ve prepared myself well….” I trailed off, as he had already lost interest in my reply and was quickly making his way toward Jack.
“Well, that went well,” I muttered under my breath.
Dr. Berard and Dr. Kim smiled at me sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he’s been like that with all of us,” Dr. Berard said.
I was grateful that I wasn’t the only one to be dismissed so quickly by Dr. Pashtar. I supposed that not having a father figure growing up always made me overly eager to impress men in authority. It was so textbook. I looked over at Jack, who was talking animatedly with Dr. Pashtar now. He caught my eye and winked. That flutter in my stomach surfaced again, and I had to suppress a smile. I’d gotten myself a martini and hoped the alcohol would calm my nerves a little. Everyone else seemed to be drinking too, and eventually we made our way to the long table set up in the middle of the room. I looked forward to eating a big meal; who knew when and where we’d be getting our food over the next week. I chose to sit next to Cora, instead of Jack, because I needed to give the impression that I was serious about discussing my partnership with her. And I was. She was brilliant and intense, and her work with indigenous peoples and animals was not to be disparaged, despite our ongoing rivalry. I quickly became engrossed in my conversation with her about ASL and other hand signals I was using to communicate with primates, a method I’d developed on my own over the past three years. We’d be working together to track any chimps that remained in the Hills region. She had told me about a sanctuary in Tanzania where they’d be safe if we were successful. My hope was that we weren’t too late. I could tell from the weariness around her eyes that she was also worried about that.
I enjoyed the food immensely, brought to us by friendly staff. Our guide, Abayomi, arrived during our dinner. He declined to join us, but spoke briefly to Dr. Pashtar about what I assumed was our schedule tomorrow.
“Listen up, people,” Dr. Pashtar said above the low din of our conversation. “We’d better get to bed; we’re leaving at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. I know some of you get airsick, and this won’t be an easy flight. Our pilot had to be bribed to take us into the Oban Hills, so I have no idea how reliable he will be. Be sure to have extra cash with you at all times for bribing any local law enforcement we may encounter on our stops to fuel up. Remember, malaria is a potential threat for any one of us out in the field, so make sure you’re constantly in touch with Dr. MacConnell and myself for anti-malarials. Dr. Wentworth and Dr. Brice, be aware of the poachers in the area at all times. This one is going to bad, people. Be prepared.”
With that ominous statement, he got up and left the dining room. I had known it was going to be bad here, but hearing it from Pashtar drove the reality home, straight into my gut. The remaining group looked around at each other and didn’t speak, until Jack raised his glass and, ever the optimist, said, “A toast! To our continued success! May the roads rise to meet us!” All of us, thankful for the ice breaker, cried “Hear! Hear!” and clinked glasses.
After a few minutes of continued conversation and the downing of our drinks, it had come time to turn in. Dr. Pashtar was abrasive, but he was always right, and we knew we’d be facing a difficult flight in the morning. I didn’t want to leave the warm glow and camaraderie of the dining room and spend the night alone, probably tossing and turning. Jack pulled my chair out for me, and I rose to my feet unsteadily, though I hadn’t had much to drink—but it looked like Dr. Ingari did. We all made our way to the elevator banks and wished each other a good night. I saw Cora looking queasy and knew she wasn’t a good flier; maybe she was dreading the plane ride already. I walked over to ask if she was OK, and she craned her neck to look up at me.
“Fine, Dr. Brice. But I don’t have a good feeling about this mission.” She got on an elevator, but I hung back, waiting for Jack. I was quiet as I rode up with him; he seemed to sense my unease but didn’t push me to talk about it. Instead he reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Hey, listen. When we’re done in the Hills next week, a bunch of us thought about staying here in Lagos and spending a couple of days hanging around on Victoria Island. It’s really beautiful this time of year. I think you should stay and decompress. We’ll probably all need it….”
Jack was inviting me to spend time with him? I felt hope swell in my chest, then reminded myself it would be a group, nothing intimate with just Jack.
But I smiled and breezily replied, “Yes, that sounds lovely. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”
He smiled back, squeezed my hand again, and got off on his floor. He turned quickly, stopped the door from closing behind him and leaned into the elevator.
And then he was gone. I felt like he had meant something more…. But I was alone now and it was time for bed. Enough over-analyzing everything for today.