she could hear the sound of motors, and a thumping sound, as if a huge jackhammer was attempting to beat something into the bedrock.
The woman grimaced, turned, and disappeared. The door shut.
Justine carefully got up. She felt dizzy. She went into the shower room. Her head felt like exploding. A piece of paper was on the floor and while she was sitting on the toilet, she saw a gecko creep in underneath it and hide itself. Something was written on the paper. She read while she was still sitting:
She didn’t dare touch the paper. She took off her panties and laid them on the bed, afraid that the geckos would creep into them and make themselves at home. There was only one towel. Nathan had used it; it was hanging on the chair. Between the walls and the ceiling, there was a gap. She heard shrieking female voices speaking a foreign language.
She washed herself carefully in the lukewarm shower water. She felt tender and aching all over. The trip had taken over thirty hours. In London, they had to wait in a crowded, smoke-filled lounge, whiny children, not enough seats. She had to go to the bathroom, but was afraid to leave the lounge, fearing that their flight would be called while she was gone. When she said this to Nathan, she noticed that he was irritable.
Then they had to run across the entire large terminal to find the right gate. Nathan did not like losing control of the situation. He didn’t like asking directions.
Once in the airplane, their seats were far apart. Nathan ended up among the smokers. She ended up next to an elegant Belgian couple wearing fine clothes. She felt big and bloated. She turned and looked for Nathan, but couldn’t see him. She stopped one of the young flight attendants, all of whom were gliding around in beautiful dresses. In halting English, she requested to change places. The flight attendant was named Hana; her name was on a small brass nameplate over her breast. Hana moved her lips; they had been carefully painted. Hana’s lips told her that if she wanted to change places, sorry, she had to work that out for herself.
The Belgian man was listening in.
“Next to husband?” he asked, deciding to take part in the conversation.
“Yes,” she said in English.
The man shook his head.
“Very long journey,” he muttered.
She decided that she did not have the energy to confront all these foreigners, speak English, fall asleep next to them, long for Nathan. She stood in the aisle, and it was extremely narrow. She worked her way toward the back, looking for Nathan. Nathan was wedged into a middle seat. He gave her a pained smile.
“Damned airline,” he said.
“I asked them to help us, and they said we had to work it out ourselves.”
“I’ve asked these people sitting next to me, but they won’t move. They’re smokers.”
An attendant pushed past her, carrying some pillows.
“It’s best you go sit down again,” he said. “You’re in the way.”
They took a taxi to the hotel. The heat was oppressive and surprising. On the wall of a house, she saw an enormous thermometer; it showed 34 degrees Celsius in the shade. She looked in her backpack for her sunglasses but didn’t find them. As they drove through the suburbs, she tried to think that the city was beautiful. She looked at the palms and the bushes with large red blossoms, which were growing along the median strips. She was so tired that she felt ill.
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.”
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.
