The radio was on in the taxi, music with loud talk in between. It seemed like a heated discussion. She didn’t understand a word. Nathan sat in the front seat. The big backpacks were in the back seat with her. They had bought them at a supply store, Overstock, fifty crowns apiece. They had gotten most of their equipment there. That was part of Nathan’s concept. Advice on where to get equipment for the people joining his groups. These were not supposed to be journeys for rich people.
He had taught her how to put on the backpack, helped her with the buckles, showed her how to fold in the ropes so they could be pulled out in one jerk. A name was written in ballpoint pen on the inside of the backpack’s top: Bo Falk. He was the former owner, a short time in his care. She imagined him as a young man with peach fuzz, not yet had his growth spurt; wondered if he were content with his life, if he was happy.
The evening before they left, Nathan had given her a mascot. It was a shaggy, bear-like animal; she had tied it to one of the straps. The animal was supposed to be with her out in the jungle, and when they returned, she would put it on her bedpost as a constant reminder of what she had endured and successfully accomplished.
“It’s going to be tough, Justine. Are you sure that you really want to come?”
She was sure.
Her eyes were blinded by the sharp white light. Looking like shadows in the front seat, she saw Nathan and the taxi driver, waving their arms around and gesturing. Nathan turned back toward her.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine,” she whispered. “But overwhelming.”
“You know what the taxi guy’s saying? That there’s no such hotel. But I’m going to hold out until he gives in.”
“Maybe it closed.”
“The hell it did.”
Building was going on everywhere. Half-finished skyscrapers pointing straight to the skies, shining windows of glass. Rows of cars and scooters, helmets on fluttering head scarves. Finally, the taxi pulled up to a bit of road between broken sidewalks and heaps of soil. The driver pointed.
“Hotel Explorer?” he said irritably.
That was it. Nathan had a look of triumph on his face; he patted the driver on the shoulder. The driver jumped back as if he’d been hit.
A teenage boy was lying on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. At first Justine was afraid that he was dead, but then she saw his ribcage rise and fall. His feet were naked and black. Justine wanted to say something to Nathan about the boy, but he was already carrying their stuff into the hotel. They were given their keys, Room Fifteen, top floor.
She was too tired to notice what the room looked like. It was somewhat dark and that felt nice. Nathan turned on the ceiling fan. It started up with a whine. He pointed to the bed nearest the wall.
“You look like you’re about to fall to pieces. Go lie down.”
“Did you see the boy on the street? He was just lying there, what if he’s sick?”
“Uh-huh.”
“To think he’s just lying there with people all around. And no one seems to care.”
“The world is full of poor people.”
She lay on her back, wearing nothing but her underwear; the fan whirled around. Nathan kissed her on the cheek. His forehead was thick with drops of sweat.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “Take a nap. I’m thinking of going out for a minute or two.”
No, she thought. Don’t leave me. Stay next to me and be with me each and every second.
Nathan had slept for most of the trip. He never had trouble sleeping no matter where. He explained that you learned to sleep standing up if you had to during his time in the military. It was important to save your energy. A few times she had gone past him as she walked up and down the aisle, keeping her blood circulation going. She saw he had his blanket drawn up over his head. Once he moved and she thought he would wake up and look at her. But he kept sleeping.
She wondered what the time was. Maybe the middle of the day, one or two in the afternoon. At home it was early in the morning. She thought of the bird with a tug of worry, but he had his entire attic filled with food; he was going to be all right.
Her long pants were hanging on a hook, wrinkled and somewhat damp. She smelled them. She was sweating again. Her skirt was in the suitcase; it was also wrinkled and it was tight around the waist. She chose to put on a T-shirt and when she saw herself in the mirror, she began to cry.
The hotel was built like a patio, with an inner courtyard covered by a ceiling. When she came out of her room, she could see all of the floors. Down on the stone floor, she could see heaps of laundry. A woman was standing on the stairs with a mop. When Justine walked past, she looked away.
She walked down the flights of stairs carefully. On one landing, she saw a little house altar with incense and candles. She drew in the sour aroma.
This is as far away from home as a person can get, she thought. She felt wiped out from exhaustion.
A large man, wearing a patterned short-sleeve shirt, sat in the hotel foyer. The shirt clung to his back. A fleck on the counter, a fleck on his shining forehead. Justine gave him the keys to her room and asked if he would be able to exchange some money for her.
“No, no,” he answered in English. He pointed down the street.
She stepped into a burning wall of heat. She had to go through it. She had to get money and get something to eat, some water and food. The boy on the street was gone, and she felt relieved. She started to walk in the direction that the doorkeeper had indicated. The traffic was lively, the air heavy. The direct light made her eyes hurt. It was one great dizziness, a whirling, smoking inferno with pieces of street all around, like a labyrinth. She followed what she believed was the main street, thought she saw a sign with the word “bank.” She turned to the right, trying to imprint on her mind the look of the houses and the signs.
It wasn’t a bank, but some kind of office. She saw how people milled about in there behind the shiny window panes. She grasped the door handle, but the door was locked.
She stood in the way of two women with colorful dresses and head scarves.
“Excuse me… but where can I exchange my money?”
They both stuck out their chins, the same confused gesture.
She had to turn back, but then realized that she didn’t know where she was. Everything looked the same-same signs, same cars, same buildings. She felt faint; everything was going round and round, smells and sounds and thirst.
She heard someone call her name. She didn’t know where she was. She looked around, but didn’t see anything, blinded by the light and the sun. A taxi had stopped, the door opened.
“Justine, what are you up to?”
Nathan.
She grabbed the pocket of his shirt, heard a ripping sound from the seam loosening.
“Hey, relax!”
He led her to the taxi, helped her in.
Up in the room, he gave her water from a large plastic bottle.
“You better make damn sure that you don’t go out there without having a lot of water in you,” he admonished her.
“I didn’t have any local currency,” she said.
“You could have asked the guy at the desk. You could have gotten something in the room.”
“And you, you could have stayed here with me and not taken off like that.”
“I didn’t want to wake you up. You said you hadn’t slept a wink on the plane. It was out of consideration to you that I went out by myself.”
She curled up in the bed and began to wail.
“But Justine… you should know that I would have to explore the area.”
“You didn’t have to start immediately.”
“Yes, I did. I already had made some appointments. I’m here to work, you know. This is not a vacation if that’s what you thought.”
She lay there in her wrinkled dress and the elastic cut her waist. Her fingers were swollen from the heat.