by PJ Skinner
‘Did you find a huge deposit of gold?’
‘Um, not exactly, but it has great potential.’
‘Let’s talk about it when we get back to Calderon. Wilson should be there too, don’t you think?’
She didn’t agree, and she would have liked to tell him about Wilson’s behaviour, but it was pointless to argue with a man who had the attention span of a goldfish, who had found a new rock in his bowl.
‘You are right. It can wait.’
While the men talked about the treasure, Sam slipped off for a siesta in the hammock outside her cabin and was woken in the early evening by mosquitoes dining on her hands. Swearing, she hopped out of the hammock into the cabin and shut the door. She had a shower with water that was warmed by the sun in the pipes that lay across the sand. When this warm water ran out, she was forced from the shower by a considerably colder supply of water from the well at the beach. She sprayed herself from head to foot in repellent and then dressed in a baggy t-shirt and a pair of linen trousers that were almost clean. She slipped on a pair of flip flops and walked to the restaurant. Mike and Alfredo were back at, or had never left, the table, which had been cleared, except for a couple of fresh drinks, and were involved in an intense debate.
Sam slipped onto the bench on Mike’s side of the table, but the two men did not acknowledge her, being so intent on their conversation. Socrates came over to the table.
‘So, linda, what can I get you?’
‘I’d like a gin and tonic and a shrimp ceviche please.’
‘A double?’
‘Yes please. Of both.’
She sat watching the bats, staring at the stars and trying to spot the planets. Her input was definitely not necessary in the conversation the men were having, and she was too tired to talk anyway. Her drink arrived, and she moved to a quiet corner table where she ate her food and sipped her drink in peace. She reviewed the events of the past few weeks in her head, avoiding the horror of the near-rape as something she couldn’t process without help from Gloria. She definitely couldn’t tell Mike while he was in this state. It would have to wait.
She raised a glass to herself and drank deep, the alcohol keeping thoughts of Wilson at bay in the inner recesses of her mind. A warm thrill ran through her as she considered the luck that had brought her to Sierramar. She could see her future now, finally tangible. Life with Mike was obviously going to be rather unprofitable but she was learning to be a real geologist now and she would soon be unstoppable. Now that she had experience of alluvial geology she didn’t need Wilson to show her. Soon they would find a project to run and then she would be in charge. All the doom and gloom she had felt about her career, after being rejected for her gender, had floated away and been replaced by a certainty that gave her strength. It rippled through her body making her hairs stand on end. She was on her way now and no one would stop her. When she got up to leave, Mike and Alfredo were still talking but it looked as if they wouldn’t last much longer, either. She waved her thanks to Socrates and went back to her cabin.
***
She looked out of her cabin the next day to see the sun shining on the sand. She was so excited that she ran down to the sea in her t-shirt and knickers, and jumped in. The water was cold, and she squeaked when it hit her thighs. She pushed into deeper water feeling the sand cautiously with her toes. She was covered in goose pimples as her body fought the cold. There was a strong current, so she only made a couple of feeble attempts at swimming parallel to shore in shallow water. The waves broke over her head, making her cough and snort. The salt water ran down her throat burning it. I hate the sea, why do I always jump in? Sounds a bit like my life, she thought. Judging that she had done enough to justify being wet, Sam came out of the water and marched up the beach to her cabin. Alfredo lay in his hammock, watching her from under the brim of his hat, all of his hairy limbs dangling over the edges. He resembled road kill. She waved, and he raised a limp hand to acknowledge that he had seen her. Sam felt great, and she was hungry, the sea air having done wonders for her appetite. She got dressed and wandered up to the restaurant to see if someone could muster up some breakfast. A big, fat, jolly woman in the kitchen understood Sam’s famished look without any need for conversation.
‘¿Buenos días, mi señorita, quieres desayunar?’
‘Breakfast? Yes, please,’ answered Sam. ‘Two fried eggs, fried ripe plantains, toast, juice and tea.’
She wanted to ask for yoghurt as well but couldn’t remember the word in Spanish. When her breakfast arrived, it had yoghurt anyway with a big spoonful of granola. Perfect. Sam ate everything except the plates. The eggs were particularly delicious. They didn’t have that supermarket fishmeal taste that the ones in London had. She had been desperate for something tasty after all those boring meals of tinned tuna and rice. She forced any thoughts of Wilson back down her throat with an ocean of food. She drank two cups of tea and a glass of passion fruit juice, and then, feeling bloated, staggered back to her cabin and fell asleep in her hammock. The sound of the sea sent her into a deep slumber.
She was still asleep when Mike tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Sam, wake up. We’re going to the airport now.’ She didn’t remember Mike telling her they would be leaving for Calderon so soon. Surprised and saddened by this news and groggy with sleep, she got to her feet and went inside to pack her bag. She hadn’t told him about Wilson yet but the opportunity had not arisen with all the talk of treasure. It would have to wait until she got Mike on his own.
It didn’t take her long to get packed, but by the time she walked to the restaurant, Mike and Alfredo were already sitting in a taxi with the engine running.
‘Hurry up, the flight leaves in an hour.’
‘Sorry, you didn’t tell me that. I packed as quickly as I could.’
‘Well, you obviously weren’t deciding what to wear.’
Wow, that was nasty. Where did that come from? she thought. It’s not like he hired me for my looks. Despite the urge to say something clever or funny, she didn’t defend herself and swallowed the insult to avoid conflict like she always did.
‘I think the gringa looks cute,’ said Alfredo, who had noticed Sam’s hurt at this remark.
Sam smiled gratefully and her opinion of him was raised a notch. Mike did not notice the effect that his remark had on her and hummed tunelessly, drumming his fingers on the window frame. Sam got into the front seat of the taxi and pretended to go to sleep.
The ancient taxi did not look as if it had the legs to make it to the airport in time, but they got there with half an hour to spare. They were not the last passengers on the plane. A big fat man in a dress uniform stomped up the stairs and evicted someone from the front row about five minutes after take-off time. Mike and Alfredo sat together talking treasure in hushed tones, and Sam sat beside a pretty woman, who spent the whole flight doing and redoing her makeup in a quiet panic. We are never pretty enough, or thin enough, she thought. There is always someone criticising us.
Gloria was there to collect them, waiting in the no-parking area at the arrivals door. She looked her best, having been to lunch with her friends from school.
‘Gloria, this is Alfredo,’ Mike introduced. ‘He’s a treasure hunter.’
‘A pleasure,’ said Alfredo, kissing her hand in his most gallant manner. Gloria blushed, and in her confusion, almost drove off without Sam, who was trying to put her bag into the boot of the car. Sam raised an eyebrow at her when she slammed on the brakes and leaned out of the window with an apologetic shrug. Gloria dropped Mike and Sam off at the flat in Avenida Miranda and drove off chatting to Alfredo, who had a big smile on his face. Sam crossed her fingers and hoped that maybe Gloria could be distracted from her hopeless quest of the successful Diego by a successful quest for the hopeless Alfredo.
‘Home, sweet, home,’ she remarked to Mike, who grunted. ‘I wonder what’s in the fridge.’
She lugged her bag into the utility room at the back of the kitchen. Tati was not there, so she left
her dirty clothes in a pile by the large sink.
‘How come we don’t have a washing machine? Are they very expensive?’
‘No, Gloria told me that they put maids out of work. The maids resent washing machines as usurpers and are liable to sabotage them.’
‘Would Tati mind if you bought one?’
‘Tati has almost no cleaning to do, and she’s had to hand wash clothes since she was a small girl.’
The tone didn’t invite discussion. Sam went into her room and shut the door. Soon, she luxuriated in a hot shower and thought about supper.
Chapter XI
The day after getting back from the beach, Sam went with Gloria to the one-hour photo shop to drop off Sam’s photographs of the trip to Riccuarte for developing. There was a long queue and Sam got impatient at the glacial pace of the shop assistants.
‘I can’t see why they are taking so long,’ she said, standing on tip-toe and straining to see what was happening at the counter.
‘What’s wrong with you, gringa?’ said Gloria. ‘It’s called one-hour-photo because you have to queue for an hour to hand in your film.’
Sam laughed in delight. Despite the difference in their cultures, they had a sense of the absurd in common, and were becoming firm friends.
The next stop on their list was the geography institute where they had to buy some more maps. There were no jolly teenage soldiers guarding the entrance this time. The jaundiced men at the gate were immune to Gloria’s charm and made them park outside on the street and walk up the steep hill to the entrance. The purchase of the maps took forever, and the Colonel kept them waiting even longer than usual for his signature. This did nothing for Sam’s mood, and even Gloria seemed irritated that he had not responded to her best smile.
They returned to collect the photographs but the shop was closed for lunch. Worse still, they got back to the flat to find that they had been given the wrong maps. A final trip to collect the photographs confirmed Gloria’s fears.
‘The photographs are not ready yet, madam,’ said the assistant.
‘Can you tell me when I can come and collect them?’ said Gloria.
‘You could try tomorrow after eleven.’
‘Thank you, we’ll do that.’
Sam’s face darkened and she looked accusingly at the girl behind the counter, who tossed her head and went into a back room to gossip.
‘Sam, you gotta stay calm. If they notice that you’re impatient they’ll get nervous because you’re a gringa. They think you’ll shout things they don’t understand.’
‘But they’re going slowly on purpose.’
‘It’s not that. They’re not used to someone being in a hurry.’
Sam was frustrated. The pace of life in Calderon was such a contrast to London. The inefficiency was getting to her. Gloria, on the other hand, took it on the chest and accepted the ‘mañana’ culture with good humour and a cigarette. Sam’s frustrations were made worse by her inability to tell Mike about what had happened in the jungle. She couldn’t find the right time to broach the subject and the longer it took the harder it became. Meanwhile, she had taken such an intense dislike to Wilson that she could hardly bear to be in the same room as him. He also kept his distance.
Finally, even Mike noticed the frost between them.
‘So, what’s up with you and Wilson?’ he said.
She snapped at him unable to control her stifled emotions.
‘Nothing’s up, Mike. Unless you count the fact that he tried to sexually assault me during the trip.’
Mike looked bewildered by her accusing tone.
‘What? When did this happen?’
‘Um, in the jungle, in a house at night.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about this before? Do you think I’m psychic?’
‘I’m sorry. I was embarrassed. I couldn’t find the right time. I’ve told you now.’
‘It can’t have been that bad if you haven’t told me yet. He didn’t do anything to you, did he? He only tried?’
‘No, he didn’t manage do anything in the end, but only because I punched him in the solar plexus,’ she said. ‘But he attacked me in the night for no reason. I don’t trust him. I don’t want to work with him anymore. Can’t we use someone else?’
Mike looked annoyed.
‘Seriously, someone else? This is Sierramar, you know. He’s the best geologist we’ve got. I can’t magic up another one. You have to realize that the differences in our cultures can result in strange interpretations. Maybe he misunderstood something you did.’
‘But I didn’t do anything. I worked and minded my own business. Can’t you at least talk to him?’
‘No, I can’t. You must have done something. Figure it out and be more careful next time.’
Next time? Sam was not sure how it got to be her problem. Somehow it had become her fault instead of Wilson’s. She was upset that Mike dismissed her so abruptly, but she did not want to make an enemy of him. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told him at the beach. Perhaps she was ashamed. After all, she had told him that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself and now she was suggesting that she wasn’t. The truth was that she had a job, and that was a lot more than most recently graduated geologists. She was getting paid, and although it was a minuscule amount, Mike was paying off her university debts bit by bit.
When she realised that Mike was not going to do anything about Wilson, Sam decided to deal with it her way. She never spoke to Wilson unless she had to and then only in words of one syllable. He, on the other hand, was on a mission, sending her cards with pink teddy bears on them, apologising for his behaviour. There was nothing Sam hated more in the world than disgusting fuchsia monstrosities on cards or cuddly toys. She was positively allergic to them, and with Sam, there were no half measures. She was not a nuanced thinker at this stage of her life. There were only two colours: black or white. She considered women who collected cuddly toys to be mentally defective in some way. She thought that men who gave them were paedophiles or morons. Wilson could not have picked a better way to make her feel nauseous and alienate her further. It felt like he was trying to make her feel worse by grouping her with that sort of woman.
***
Desperately needing advice about Wilson, Sam rang Gloria and asked to be picked up so they could pick up the photographs.
‘Oh no, chica. I can’t pick you up this morning. There is a strike.’
‘A strike? Who’s on strike? I don’t understand.’
‘It’s a protest about the economy. Everyone stays indoors on strike days. The strikers throw stones at private cars that dare to go outside. You can only go downtown by taxi but, even then, the streets are often blocked with barricades and burning tires. If the strike is bad, the shops can get looted.’
‘It’s more like a riot, then? What’s it about?’
‘It is due to a large devaluation of the national currency. The students throw Molotov cocktails at the police, who respond with tear gas and baton charges. The students don’t care about the currency, they love to riot and stone the police so they don’t have to go to classes.’
The strike was over by lunchtime, so Sam and Gloria ventured out to the Banana Verde for lunch. There were some burning tires in the centre of town, but the streets were deserted. They had tried to collect the photographs, but the shop was closed because of the strike and the day was wasted. Sam had managed to get Gloria to stay and have a coffee with her in the restaurant before going back to the office. Gloria was not hard to persuade and appeared glad that her gringa friend was adapting better to ‘Calderon time’ if not to its glamour. Sam wore an old, blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of ancient denim jeans. Her face was free of makeup and her fingernails free of polish.
‘So, chica, what’s up?’ Gloria asked.
Sam hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to approach this subject, but she wanted to know the truth. Had she done something wrong or not?
‘It’s Wilson,’ she sa
id finally. ‘He tried to rape me.’ At the alarm on Gloria’s face, she added, ‘Well, not rape me, exactly, assault me, I think. I don’t know...’ She trailed off, ashamed, and stared hard at the salt cellar in the shape of a chef with a big white hat. Her face blazed with shame.
Gloria looked shocked but only for a moment. She started to nod sagely.
‘When was this?’
‘In the jungle. He jumped on top of me without warning during the night.’
‘I can’t believe it. How did you stop him?’
‘I punched him in the solar plexus.’
‘Good for you. That son of a bitch thinks he can have any woman.’
‘But, Gloria, we’re equals. We’re both geologists. I don’t understand what I did to encourage him.’
‘Sam, are you so innocent? Do you believe that Wilson thinks of you as an equal?’
It had never occurred to Sam that she was less than human to some men because she wasn’t a man, too. She shook her head.
‘Has he left you alone since?’
‘He has sent me a horrible pink cuddly toy and a card with hearts and flowers on it, begging me for forgiveness. I hate cuddly toys.’
‘I guess he thinks all women like them.’
‘I’m pretty sure he knows I hate him and his cuddly toys. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I’m so ignorant of the culture here. I don’t want it to happen again. I’m so worried that I’m responsible for it happening in some way,’ said Sam, in tears now. ‘Please, tell me the truth.’
Quite distressed now, Gloria’s eyes filled with tears, too. She stood up and moved next to Sam on the banquette and gave her a tender hug.
‘You poor girl. That Wilson is a monster. He’s afraid that Mike will hear about this and fire him. Have you told Mike yet?’
‘Yes, but he thinks I did something to provoke Wilson and he won’t do anything about it. I couldn’t persuade him.’
‘Typical man. I’m sure he’s wrong. I’ve heard things about Wilson you wouldn’t believe. I’m sure you didn’t provoke him, not on purpose anyway. That man would jump a giraffe.’