“Wow, this looks like my place.” Jessica shut the door behind her, then put her arms around Christine. Christine lay her head on her shoulder and began to cry, softly at first then growing into a sob.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Jessica said, rubbing her back. “It’s not right.”
When Christine’s crying slowed, Jessica stepped back slightly, and they stood forehead-to-forehead. “It’s going to be okay, honey. It’s all going to work out for the best.” She parted the hair from Christine’s face. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, baby,” she sighed. “You go shower. We’re going out for lunch.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” Christine said.
“I know. That’s why we are. There’s a half-price sale at Lord and Taylor. You know how shopping brings you out of a funk.” She smiled, “And I have a big surprise for you.”
“I don’t want any more surprises.”
“Of course you don’t. But you’ll like this one. It’s a good surprise. Trust me.”
Chapter
Five
A patient once told me that a trip to the mall was twice as effective as Prozac.
PAUL COOK’S DIARY
When Christine emerged from her bedroom, the kitchen blinds and windows were open, filling the room with light and cold, fresh air. Jessica walked over to the counter and poured a cup of coffee and carried it to her. “Drink this. It’s a little strong.”
“You’re acting like I have a hangover.”
“I know.”
Christine took a sip from the cup and almost gagged. “That’s awful.”
“At the office they call it jet fuel.”
“They’re being kind.”
Jessica smiled. “So what have you been doing the last three days—besides not answering your phone?”
“TV,” she said. She looked around. “Why did you open the windows?”
“It smells like three-day-old ramen.”
“It’s cold in here.”
Jessica shut the window. “You look nice in that blouse. Is that new?”
“No. I just haven’t worn it in a while. Martin didn’t like it.”
“Again, Martin proves he’s an idiot.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s go, honey. Bargains wait for no woman.”
It was after three when the women sat down at the crowded mall café, surrounded by shopping bags. Light Christmas music played in the background. As soon as the waitress left with their orders, Christine said, “I think it’s wrong playing Christmas music in October.”
“That one store had a Frankenstein cutout with a Santa cap,” Jessica said.
“It’s just wrong.” Christine sipped her water. After a moment she said, “Thanks for getting me out of the apartment.”
“You’re welcome. You okay?”
“No. Not really.” She looked into Jessica’s eyes. “It’s just so humiliating. I feel like I should be on one of those talk shows, Women Who Got Dumped at the Altar…”
Just then the waitress returned. As she set Christine’s salad down, Christine said, “I’m sorry, I wanted the dressing on the side.”
The waitress frowned. “My fault. I’ll get you another salad.”
“Is this the raspberry vinaigrette?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I think I’ll just have vinegar and oil.”
“Okay.” She turned to Jessica. “Is everything all right with your order?”
“It’s great.”
“Oh,” Christine added, “and could I have a lime wedge instead of a lemon?”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
She took Christine’s salad and left.
Jessica shook her head in wonder. “Girl, you are so high-maintenance.”
“I just like things the way I like them.” She took a bottle of antibacterial lotion from her purse, squirted into her palm and rubbed her hands together. “Mall hands,” she said. “Want some?”
“No. I’ll take my chances.”
She put the bottle back in her purse, then lifted her Coke.
Jessica started, “You were saying?”
Christine shook her head. “You spend your life building these romantic fantasies. You don’t expect your knight to dump you off the horse a block from the castle. I just don’t know what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. This is about Martin, not you. He’ll come to his senses eventually.” She lifted her drink. “The only question is whether you’ll be dumb enough to take him when he comes crawling back.”
“You really think he’ll come back?” she asked hopefully.
Jessica instantly regretted her comment. “Really, Christine, Martin was marrying above himself.” She took a drink. “It’s like I always said, his parents left the second ‘A’ out of Martin.”
“You make him sound awful.”
“He is.”
Christine’s eyes moistened. “No, he’s not. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. If he called right now and said he’d made a mistake, I’d meet him at the nearest justice of the peace.”
Jessica frowned but said nothing. After a moment Christine asked, “Do you think it will ever stop hurting?”
“Someday. Not soon, but someday. But hiding in your apartment isn’t going to help. The sooner you get on with your life, the sooner you’ll feel better.” Jessica’s expression changed abruptly. “That reminds me.” She reached below the table and pulled a folded brochure from her purse. She laid it flat on the table, smoothing it down with the side of her hand. “There you go. My surprise.”
Christine looked at it without comprehension. It was a glossy travel brochure, creased where it had been folded. The main picture was of lush rounded hills with stone ruins of some kind. There was an inset photograph of several chocolate-haired llamas being herded by a small boy.
“What’s this?”
“It’s Machu Picchu,” Jessica said.
“And why are you showing me this?”
Jessica leaned back for emphasis. “Because that’s where we’re going.”
“We?”
“I signed us up. There’s this foundation that takes Americans to Peru on humanitarian missions. You work in villages or set up clinics in the jungle for the natives. And, in our downtime, we’ll tour the country. We’ll see the Incan ruins, climb the Andes, camp at a jungle lodge in the Amazon.”
Christine just stared at her. “A jungle lodge?”
“It’s unforgettable.”
“So is a root canal. I don’t want to go to a jungle.”
“Why not?”
“Jess, you know…my idea of roughing it is a three-star hotel. If we’re going to vacation, let’s go to Palm Beach.”
“This isn’t a vacation. They say you’ll never work so hard in all your life.”
“What part of this am I supposed to get excited about?”
“They say the best cure for a broken heart is to give of yourself.”
“I already gave of myself.”
“I know, honey, I know.” She leaned forward. “But we’re going to help street children,” Jessica said, her voice softening, “work with babies.” She smiled, leaning closer. “You love babies.”
Christine crossed her arms at her chest. “Why do you always try to make me do things I don’t want to do?”
“Because you never want to do anything. You’re too afraid of life. I swear, if it weren’t for me you’d never experience anything at all.”
“That’s not true.”
“Name just one spontaneous thing you’ve done this year that I didn’t make you do.”
“I got engaged.”
“You call that spontaneous? You dated for six years.”
“Five.” Christine glanced back down at the brochure. “I can’t afford this anyway.”
“It’s been taken care of.”
Christine didn’t like the finality of her tone. “What do you mean, ‘taken care of’?”
/>
“Your mother already paid for it.”
“My mother agreed to this?”
“She sent me the check.”
“My mother can’t afford this.”
“She wanted to do it for you. Besides, it’s a lot cheaper than the wedding.”
“It would have been nice if someone had asked my opinion.”
“If you’d answer your phone, we might have,” Jessica said tartly.
“What about your parents?” Christine asked, “Do they want you to go?”
“Are you kidding? The congressman practically started packing my bags. Think of all the political mileage he’ll get telling his constituents about his wonderful daughter’s humanitarian work.”
The waitress returned with Christine’s salad. “Does that look all right?”
Christine inspected the salad. The waitress glanced at Jessica, who smiled sympathetically.
“It’s fine,” Christine said.
“And here’s a bowl of limes. Enjoy your meals.”
Christine wiped the lime’s peel with a napkin, then slid it over the side of her cup.
Jessica started again. “You have no idea what I had to go through to get this set up, not to mention getting the time off work. And I’m not going alone.”
“Then take someone else.”
“I’m not taking someone else. I did this for you.”
“I don’t want to go to Peru.”
“How do you know? You’ve never been there.”
“I’ve never been to hell either and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go there.”
“This isn’t hell.”
“It is to me.”
“Give me one good reason not to go.”
“I’ll give you a million reasons. Spiders.”
“Spiders,” Jessica repeated.
“Millions of them. Big ones. Spiders big enough to catch birds and eat them.”
Jessica looked at her blankly. “Where did you hear this?”
“The Discovery Channel. And there are snakes.”
Jessica shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m impossible? I didn’t ask you to do this.”
“You shouldn’t have to. Friends look out for each other. You just don’t know what’s good for you.”
She raised her hands. “There you go again. How is languishing in a third-world country good for me?”
“It’s better than languishing in Dayton thinking about being dumped.”
Christine just stared at her. Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
Christine couldn’t speak and a tear rolled down her cheek. Jessica put her hand on top of Christine’s. “I’m really sorry.”
Christine dabbed her eyes with her napkin.
“Look, there’s an orientation meeting Sunday night. We can go and learn all about it. Just please don’t make your mind up until then.”
Christine just looked down for a moment, then took a deep breath. “No promises.”
“Okay,” Jessica said, “No promises.”
Chapter
Six
The surest way to minimize your own burdens is to carry someone else’s.
PAUL COOK’S DIARY
Jessica was careful not to broach the subject of the expedition until the night of the orientation. After fifteen years of friendship she knew that convincing Christine to do something against her will was a lot like fishing—you gave her enough line so that she thought she was in control, then slowly reeled her in.
Christine had thought about the trip just enough to be sure that she didn’t want to go.
The orientation meeting was held at the Dayton City Library. As the two women entered the building, Christine was stopped by a woman on her way out. She was tall and elegant, wearing a pink leather jacket and a ring on every finger.
“Oh, Christine, you’re already back from your honeymoon. I’m so sorry we couldn’t make it to the wedding. Chuck got called out of town at the last minute. I’m sure it was just beautiful.”
Christine answered stoically. “The wedding was called off.”
The woman’s expression went from shock to pity. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
The woman hugged her. “You hang in there, sweetie. And tell your mom I’ll be calling her.” She walked away.
When she was gone, Christine frowned. “I’m sure you will,” she said.
“Who was that?” Jessica asked.
“Someone in my mother’s book club. I can guess what next month’s topic of conversation will be: poor jilted Christine.”
“A good reason to get out of Dayton,” Jessica said, stopping near a woman shelving books. “Excuse me, could you tell me where the Peru group is meeting?”
The woman looked up over her glasses, then pointed toward a set of doors across the room. “The conference room’s over there.”
“Thanks.”
Across the library, taped to a set of double doors, was a piece of paper inscribed with a marker: PUMA-CONDOR EXPEDITIONS. Inside the room a couple dozen people were already seated. It was an eclectic group evenly divided between men and women, most in their twenties, though some looked young enough to be high school students.
A tall, fresh-faced young man with an athletic build stood at the front of the room rooting through an open briefcase. He wore a felt fedora, which made him look a little like Indiana Jones. He glanced up as the women entered, then walked back to greet them, carrying with him a handful of manila envelopes.
“Good evening, ladies, I’m Jim.” He looked them both over, his eyes settling on Jessica.
Jessica smiled coquettishly. “Hi. I’m Jessica and this is Christine.”
“Right, Jessica. We talked on the phone. Glad to finally meet you both.” He turned to Christine. “Glad you decided to join us.”
“I haven’t decided,” she said.
Jim nodded. “Well, maybe the presentation tonight will help you make up your mind. In the meantime…” He shuffled through the envelopes. “Here’s your packet, Jessica. And here’s yours, Christine. We’ll be going through everything in just a minute.” He glanced up at the wall clock. “In fact, I better get started. Glad you’re here. We’re going to have an incredible time.” He smiled confidently at Jessica, then walked back to the front of the room.
As they sat down, Jessica said, “He is gorgeous. Can you believe it? We’re gonna hike through a hot, sweaty jungle with him.”
Christine shook her head. “Good. You won’t need me then.”
“We’ll talk after the meeting.” Jessica said.
Jim closed his briefcase, then leaned against the edge of the table facing the group.
“We’re still missing a few people but we’ll go ahead and hope they turn up. Bienvenidos. My name is Jim Hammer. I’m the Ohio representative of Puma-Condor Expeditions, and I’ve been to Peru more than twenty times.
“To begin, I want to make something clear. This is not a vacation. I repeat, this is not a vacation. If this were a television show, it would be Survivor, not The Love Boat. If you’re expecting a leisure cruise with chocolates on your pillow at night, you’re in the wrong place.”
There were a few laughs from the group and Jim looked around and smiled.
“In fact, based on my experience, most of you will lose a few pounds.”
“Sign me up!” a woman behind Christine shouted. The group again laughed.
“You are signed up, Joan,” he said. “However, if you’re looking for an adventure that you’ll be telling your grandchildren about someday, then you’ve come to the right place. Is everyone clear on that?”
The group nodded or mumbled their consensus.
“I like chocolates on my pillow,” Christine whispered.
“Great, then let’s start.” Jim held an envelope above his head. “You should all have one of these packets. If you look inside, you’ll
find a yellow sheet like this.” He held up a paper in his other hand. “This is a list of things that you must do before December second. I suggest that you do not put them off. Especially anything concerning your passport.”
“Look, Chris,” Jessica said, “lists. You love lists.”
“Shut up,” she said.
He held up a sheet of paper. “The light blue sheet in your packet is a vaccination form. This is for your own benefit. For a two-week stay the Peruvian government will not require a vaccination form, but we require that you have a current tetanus shot and hepatitis A and B.”
A pock-faced student near the front of the room raised his hand. “What about malaria or yellow fever?”
“There are inoculations for both, it’s up to you. Actually both of those diseases are quite rare. They won’t be a problem in Cuzco or the Andes, where we’ll be too high for mosquitoes, but down in Puerto Maldonado and the jungle it’s possible. In my twenty-plus trips we’ve never had a problem, but there’s always that chance. I suggest you consult your doctor. I need to warn you though, the medicine for malaria tends to cause symptoms that mimic the disease. Not to mention the lucid dreaming.”
“Great. Spiders and malaria,” Christine said.
He lifted another paper off the table. “This pink sheet is your packing list. We’ll be packing light. Very light. You can only bring one carry-on bag because we have to use your luggage allowance to bring in supplies for the humanitarian work.”
“One carry-on for ten days?” a woman asked indignantly. “Can’t we just ship the supplies?”
“Not really. It’s difficult getting things into Peru. Officials might confiscate the supplies at customs or try to charge a tariff. Besides, you don’t need six pairs of shoes in the jungle. Trust me on this.”
“Okay, now take out the three white pages that have been stapled together. This is your itinerary. There have been a few changes from the earlier schedule so be sure to reference only this one. This is your rock-solid itinerary.” A small smile crossed his lips. “Unless it changes again. Planning a trip through Peru is like planning an outdoor wedding. You can plan until the cows come home and still have the weather ruin it.”