I wave my hand. “It’s a fully-equipped station. I’m sure they’re prepared for everything.”
“You’re not afraid? Not even a little bit?”
I pull my head back and look at her. She’s biting her lip and watching me curiously. For a second, I wonder how much life experience she’s had outside of her studies.
“The only thing I’m worried about is being stuck inside for six months.” Stuck with Leo for six months. Did he have to ruin everything? “Even prisoners can go on walks outside.”
She nods, her eyes narrowing in seriousness. “You’re right. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She looks away and out of the window. I’m acutely aware of the absence of angry music, and for a second I wonder if Leo has decided to eavesdrop yet again.
“I hear there are a lot of movie nights,” I add, trying to bring up some positive aspects of what now seems like a prison sentence.
“Yes. True. However, the person who thought of showing The Thing from Another World and The Thing is a fool,” she huffs, grimacing. “Both the old and new versions,” she clarifies.
I wince. She has a point. Somehow, watching movies about a bloodthirsty alien terrorizing an arctic outpost does not sound like a fun recreational activity to me. But hey, at least they have a sense of humor.
“It won’t be so bad. To be honest, I’m eager to get so much research done. Just think of it this way—we will have an endless night sky for stargazing. We’ll be at the southernmost tip of the world. We’ll have access to the South Pole Telescope, which can view distant galaxies we’ve only ever read about in textbooks. We might even make astronomical history here, Gretchen.”
Gretchen lets out a relieved chuckle. “Well, when you put it that way…”
I feel the engines start to fire up. We’ll be taking off at any moment. I hadn’t even realized we’d left the gate. I grip the edge of my seat—now is my only opportunity to back out. I could walk off of this plane right now, say hasta la vista to Gretchen and Leo and what is bound to be the most difficult and tense six months of my life.
But I know myself, and I know I won’t. My life is predictable… and that predictability includes this plane ride. Plus, what I said to Gretchen is true. I won’t ever get an opportunity like this again. And if I’m being honest, Leo is a huge factor in my trepidation, and I’m not about to let a man sink fear claws into me. My mother would be so disappointed that I let a man get the best of me. Had she taught me nothing?
“Tell us honestly: what is it like during the winter?” At first I think Gretchen is asking me a question, but when I turn to face her, she’s craning her neck to look back at Leo. I keep my head faced forward and my ears perk up.
“You want the cold, hard truth?” He leans in closer and crosses his arms. “Okay. It’s hard to take.” There’s a moment of silence as Gretchen and I digest his words. “Most of those who winter over don’t ever come back.” I can feel his breath on my neck. I ignore the delightful way it makes me shiver. “You’ve got to get used to not going outside, except on rare occasions. The Internet connectivity down there is limited and dedicated to the scientific channels so you have to rely on books, puzzles, and board games.” Gretchen glances at me with wide eyes, and Leo continues.
“Obviously you can get on and use the Internet, but because it is a U.S. government site, they lock it down. You’ll have to schedule it out—take a peek at your email once a day, check Facebook, the occasional Skype call—but you can never rely on it. The phone lines only work half the time when it’s bad outside. You’ll be working a lot. Your institution sent you here for a reason. You work for them, so there’s not a lot of time for gallivanting around and looking at penguins. In fact, since it’s the winter, we won’t actually be able to see penguins.”
“Wow,” she says, her voice glum. “Sounds like paradise.”
I snort.
“It’s not paradise—not even close.” Leo’s voice is so foreboding. I give in and turn to face him. I can see him from the crack between the seats. His green eyes burn into mine. “But,” he adds, “the people you surround yourself with can make or break your experience.” He reluctantly slides his eyes from me to Gretchen. I watch the way his mouth and jaw move when he speaks. It’s infuriatingly mesmerizing. “The people are great. I know most of them, and truly, they are wonderful. The food isn’t too bad. There are fresh vegetables the first few weeks until we eat them all, but we have tons of food. Literally—tons. If you take your multivitamins, you’ll survive on frozen green beans. You’ll make friends. People drink on the weekends. It can get a little rowdy. The dorms are nice and clean. They have a gym on base, and you’ll get used to all of the weather warnings over time.”
“Weather warnings?” she asks.
“You know, Condition One’s, Two’s and Three’s. Hopefully, you’ll never have to experience a Condition One. There will be blizzards and storms. At times it will be the coldest place on Earth.”
“I’ve heard of a Condition One,” Gretchen says eagerly. “Is it as scary as it sounds?”
He seems to ponder this question for a second before answering. I stare at his stubble a few seconds too long—seems someone was too busy to shave this morning. He catches me looking, and his eyes seem to gleam with self-satisfaction. He returns his gaze to Gretchen. “Yes and no. Think of the worst blizzard you’ve ever experienced,” he says.
“Oh. That’s not too bad,” she replies.
“Now times that by one hundred.”
Gretchen and I look at each other. Her eyes are blue saucers.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, assuring her. I reach down for my water, eagerly awaiting what he’s going to say next.
Gretchen seems satisfied with his answer. “So, tell us. Do you have a wife back home, Leo?”
“Ex-wife,” he says slowly, clearing his throat. I almost choke on the water I’m sipping. The tension escalates, and Gretchen looks at me with wide eyes just as Leo rudely places his headphones back on. Well, that’s one way to completely shut down an opportunity for us to ask questions.
Not that I would have asked questions—but in all the conversations I had with my mother, a wife was never mentioned. I don’t recall ever hearing about a wedding, or even a divorce, which definitely would’ve been hot gossip in our household. How long ago did they get divorced, or are they even divorced? Maybe they’re consciously uncoupling. Maybe they’re separated. Did one of them cheat, or did they simply fall out of love? Does my mom know about this marriage? I make a mental note to ask her when we talk later. I want to know so much, and yet I don’t, because the version of Leonardo Kennedy that I grew up envisioning is not the man behind me. And for some disturbing reason—maybe it’s the scientist in me—I want to find the disconnect. Though, I certainly don’t need another thing to spark my intrigue.
Leonardo Kennedy. Barbara Kennedy’s son, the boy who’d been my pen pal and science buddy for many years. The teenager I secretly competed against. The man who’d captivated me from the back of a holiday card when I was in elementary school. He was four years older than me, and I knew for a fact that he gave his mother hell when he was a teenager. I was drawn to him back then. Still am, I guess. He had dark hair and green eyes, both of which he must’ve gotten from his father as Barbara was blonde and brown-eyed. All through high school, I’d hung a poster of constellations on my wall. He’d sent it to me when I’d won an eighth-grade science award. I still use the flask he mailed me when I turned twenty-one, citing that “I’d need it in grad school.” He always signed his cards and letters with an ‘xx’. It felt intimate at the time, although that was normal because our mothers were friends.
Though we’d gone years without communicating, I often thought of him and his mom. I’d definitely used him as a sounding board for my own career growth. He was what I aspired to be. He’d always been inspirational to me, albeit his ambition sometimes irritated me to no end. Growing up, listening to my mom wax poetic about his accomplishments had driven me insane
. It had also driven me. I would not be where I am today without him. That’s a fact.
I look at Leo through the crack in the seat. He seems to sense my presence because he looks back at me. His grassy eyes move slowly from my eyes to my lips, and then they dart back up and we stare at each other for a second too long. His scruff is somehow more pronounced in the dim cabin. He has a freckle under his left eye. I can feel myself being sucked into something I shouldn’t be sucked into—awareness washes over my body, and my skin prickles. I look away.
The plane takes off, and we begin to ascend. I reach into my backpack to retrieve my Kindle and protein bar. I look around quickly. There are no flight attendants. This is very much a military plane, and we are truly on our own.
An hour later, just as I settle into my book, I hear Leo unbuckle his seatbelt, presumably to go to the bathroom. Is there even a bathroom on this plane? I should’ve thought of that before wasting the airport bathroom, trying to quell the nerves that Leo had aroused instead of actually using the toilet.
Leo crouches down next to me. Since I’m on the aisle and Gretchen is fast asleep, I don’t make to move.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Emilia,” he says under his breath, winking. “Quite frankly, I think it’s unprofessional and it needs to stop.”
Oh no, he didn’t.
I narrow my eyes at him. I can’t believe he went there. “You’re deluded.”
“Am I?” he asks, his voice low and smoky. His eyes rake over my face and his breathing becomes heavy.
“Of course you are,” I say. His eyes watch me with darkened pupils, like an animal ready to pounce. The electric jolt shoots through me so quickly, I have to cross my legs. I turn the page on my Kindle and take a steadying breath. I’m still looking at the small screen when his hand touches my knee. I nearly jump out of my seat.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he says, his voice low. He slides his hand ever so gently up my thigh. It’s only an inch, but it feels like a foot. I inhale a sharp breath of air as he does it again. I want to close my eyes, yet I want to keep watching him watch me. It’s exquisitely torturous. A deep chuckle rises from the back of his throat. “I know I gave you shit earlier, but I’m glad you had a good time with Jake last night,” he murmurs. “Really, I am. He’s my best friend so, naturally, I want him to be happy.”
I wish it were you. The instant I think it, I shove the thought away. I don’t know where he’s going with this. I feel my stomach bottom out. My traitorous body wants him to continue.
“But, please don’t make it a habit. Remember, your evaluation from me is your ticket to your doctoral degree, or any other endeavor you wish to pursue after this winter.” His words hit me hard, first with surprise, and then with voracious fury.
I want to scream.
I sit up straighter, brush his hand away with a flick of my own hand, and narrow my eyes. When it comes down to it, he’s not worth losing my job over—and he never will be. No man is worth losing my job or reputation. So this back and forth? It needs to stop. I probably should not have slept with his friend—that was pretty stupid—but from here on out, I will not let him intimidate me.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to be the best assistant,” I say, my voice breathy. I narrow my eyes.
I seem to have tripped him up, because his eyes land on my lips momentarily before finding my eyes again. He clears his throat.
“Good. That’s—good.” He nods, spellbound. I give myself a mental high-five for gaining the upper hand. He stands. When I look up at him and give him a terse smile, his mouth is a thin line. “Wouldn’t want anything to come between you and your bright future.”
And with that, he’s gone.
His words—his intentions—hit me hard. Wouldn’t want anything to come between me and my bright future. Like, say, himself?
Everything about him is laced with warm familiarity, and yet his words are so cold, so icy. I shiver and close my eyes, the phantom burning feel of his hands still on my leg.
Neither of us says anything the rest of the flight.
S I X
Leo
DESPITE THE TUMULTUOUS turbulence and the freezing cold air of the military plane, I somehow manage to doze off for most of the five-hour flight. By the time we get to McMurdo, the ‘capital’ base of Antarctica, I should feel revitalized; however, the wooziness kicks in. I check my watch—I’ll need to take care of business as soon as we get inside.
We have to catch our final flight to Amundsen-Scott in a couple of hours, but our layover gives us enough time to grab lunch at the McMurdo cafeteria. I gather my things as one of the pilots opens the passenger door. A few men on the ground push a wheeled staircase for us to climb down. And then it hits me—the blast of cold. I suck in a breath and it feels like a mallet to the lungs.
Emilia is off the plane first, followed by Gretchen. Both women seem undeterred by the cold. It takes me a minute to adjust to the amber sky. It’s a little after one in the afternoon, but the sky is teetering on sunset, with pinkish-orange hues saturating the whiteness all around us. I know in a month that we won’t even have dusk at Amundsen-Scott. It’ll be dark all day long.
We’re in the middle of the frozen tundra, and a small, fully functioning city sits before us. McMurdo. Beyond the city, there’s nothing. The white goes on forever; the flat, silver expanse is endless. I’ve missed this—the quiet, the unrelenting nothingness. You can’t find quiet and solitude like this anywhere else. The vastness of the endless snow… it’s sheer tranquility.
I pull my hood over my head as we walk to the truck waiting for us. Throwing my backpack on the floor of the truck and tucking my hands in my cushioned pockets, I step inside the heated cabin. Smiling, I nudge the familiar driver playfully.
“George fucking Bellingham,” I yell, extending my hand out. “How the hell are you?”
“Well, well, well… Leo fucking Kennedy. I’m surprised you came back.” His smile pushes his round cheeks up. “Only a deranged person would willingly come back to this hell hole.”
I shrug. “What can I say?” Emilia and Gretchen pile in next to me. Emilia watches me with flushed cheeks. God help me. “This is Emilia Harper and Gretchen Thompson. They’re going to be helping me out this winter. Gretchen is from University of Colorado in Boulder, and Emilia is from UC Berkeley.”
Gretchen shuts the door and Emilia sidles up next to me. I quench the desire to put an arm around her shoulder. Must keep up the act of despising her.
George starts the short drive to the station. “Welcome Ms. Thomson, Ms. Harper. I’m George Bellingham, head of the Astronomy Department here at McMurdo.”
They both make their introductions. My vision gets a bit blurry. Warm air blasts through the vents, and I feel drowsy almost instantly. Yeah, I’m going to need that bathroom break as soon as possible.
“I’ll take you to the cafeteria for a quick lunch, and then we’ll come right back here to get you on the plane to South Pole,” George explains to the girls. He shifts and pulls onto the main road.
“I’m starving,” Gretchen says, rubbing the puffy mid-section of her jacket. I guess the hangover wore off sometime in the last six hours, because she looks much better than she did this morning.
Emilia smiles at Gretchen but doesn’t say anything as her eyes find mine. Concern lines her face. If I weren’t sitting, I’d have been knocked off of my feet. Rosy cheeks, bright eyes, white teeth, her long hair loose around her shoulders… She’s like some kind of warrior ice princess. And I spent way too much time as a teenager fantasizing about the warrior women in my nerdy video games to think of anything else right now.
George speaks, directing his question at me and looking in the rearview mirror. “What are you working on this winter, Leo?”
I close my eyes before answering. I’m not feeling great, and the jerky movements of the truck aren’t helping. “Ideally, I’d like to finish my research from last winter,” I start. “It’ll be more field surveill
ance this time around. Data analysis, etcetera.” I open my eyes. “As you know, we surveyed and captured data from a one-hundred square degree survey field. This year I hope to expand that survey field.”
“You’re so modest,” Gretchen chimes in, laughing and swatting me on the arm across Emilia. “Is that all? You’re practically a celebrity in the astronomy world. You’re doing a hell of a lot more than that.” She rolls her eyes and begins to pick at one of her nails. ”You’re an established scientist. You’ve successfully detected the tiny B-mode signal in Antarctica, which, as you know, represents a major milestone in learning about the earliest moments of the universe. You’re a genius, basically,”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I thank her and close my eyes again, leaning my head back against the seat. George and the girls continue their small talk. The truck comes to a stop a couple of minutes later, and I quickly jump out before the girls. Emilia grabs my arm just as I’m about to head inside.
“Hey, you okay?” she asks, putting her gloved hand on my arm. Her face is pinched with worry. I hate that she’s worried.
“Fine.” I pull my arm away and quickly walk to the men’s restroom without looking back at her. I should win an Oscar. It guts me that she cares—especially after the way I treated her last night and today.
Once I’m done, I feel a thousand times better. I see Gretchen and Emilia at the pizza bar, ogling the fine selections they have here at McMurdo. Pizza, sushi, smoothies, salad, pasta, fresh vegetables, and pretty much any kind of fruit you could ever want. I walk up behind Emilia.
“Amundsen-Scott is nothing like this,” I whisper, making her jump and spin around with wide eyes.
“That’s a shame. Here I was expecting fresh sushi and kiwi for every single meal,” she answers, rolling her eyes and walking away.
I keep my mouth neutral, though I want to laugh. I fill my plate with vegetables and roasted chicken, and a small helping of wild rice. As I go to sit next to George and Emilia, Gretchen bumps into me and stares at my plate.
Tracing the Stars Page 4