I snort and make to wipe my nose as if it were from the dust. Brad jogs up, pecs flexing mightily, and my lusty animal brain forces my eyes down to his package. He’s the missionary girl’s dream, all muscle, all for the Lord, and his libido held in check only by faith. I kind of fear for Melissa when she finally hooks up with him. She’s not going to be ready for that thing.
Kinda wasted on her, really.
I wouldn’t be thinking about this if it weren’t for my own dry spell. It’s been two years, and I can’t exactly take care of business with Melissa in my tent. You know how, in romance novels, there’s always this shy virgin who’s never even had an orgasm despite being twenty-six years old or whatever? That’s Melissa. I think she’s tried to masturbate a few times, but the first time it feels good, she gets too embarrassed and quits.
If I’ve ever met a guy who’s never jerked off, it’s Brad. It’s going to be interesting when they finally hook up.
God, I’m creepy. I need to get laid.
“Evening, ladies. Mind if I walk you back to camp?”
“Yes, please do,” Melissa chirps up.
Guys probably find her refreshing in her directness. I know she dated a local teacher here for a few months before he got tired of dealing with her, since she won’t go past an openmouthed kiss without a ring on her finger.
Brad eyes me up and down as we walk and I know I’m testing his vows. I don’t know why. I’m not much to look at beside Melissa.
“How were the students today?”
“Great,” Melissa pipes up. “They’re taking to the material so well. Every day working with them gives me so much hope. How is the construction going?”
“The first families should be moving into their houses next month. These people work so hard, it’s incredible. I feel shamed how I lag behind. They never stop to rest and we have to convince them to take lunch breaks.”
Melissa continues to moon at him.
“You’re always so quiet, Penny. Is something troubling you?”
“No, everything has been great. I’m scheduled to make my phone call this afternoon.”
I make my excuses as we walk down the path of planks into the volunteer camp. It’s fenced off, and something about that has always struck me as especially ominous. The gate is usually open, but at eight o’clock it’s closed and locked with a heavy chain and padlock. A guard sits by the gate all night, too.
The phone is in a small tent off to the side, with its own dish and generator. They make sat phones now that look like cell phones and fold up to fit in your pocket, but that’s like CIA stuff. Ours looks like it came out of a Russian submarine from 1976. It’s a big gray box with a control panel and a hardwired handset that weights two pounds, or at least feels like it does.
I sit down and push the buttons in the right order to connect to the satellite. There’s no dial tone when I first pick it up, just a hiss that turns into a computery squeal and then finally a dull drone. I tap out my parents’ phone number and wait. I’m allowed three tries if they don’t answer, and then I lose my turn for the week.
On the sixth ring there’s a harsh click and a voice. My mom sounds like she’s talking through a diving helmet.
“Penny?”
“Hi, Mom. It’s me. We’ve got ten minutes.”
“Oh, honey, we miss you so much. When are you coming home?”
“I’m signed up for nine months. I think I’m going to re-up when I’m done. We’re doing a lot of good here.”
She sighs and coughs. “That’s good, Penny. You can at least take like a month off, though, right? Come home for a while?”
“Yeah, I should be able to. It’s not like they’re swimming in volunteers out here.”
There’s an urgent edge to her voice I don’t like, but the thought of returning home sickens me. I drum my fingernails on the folding metal table that holds the phone, and listen.
Mom keeps me updated on the goings-on at home. My sister will graduate from high school this year, and she’s crestfallen that I’m going to miss the ceremony. My cousin is getting married, my other cousin is pregnant.
After five minutes of news from the home front, Dad gets on. I listen to him talk about work. The company he works for is in trouble, and he sounds beaten down and broken.
“When are you coming home?”
“Not sure. I can do a visit when my contract is up, but I’m planning to stay out here. I might move to the city for the next go around, though. They need teachers there, too.”
“They need teachers here. I talked to Frank Filichikia. He says there will be an opening for an English teacher at George Washington next year.”
Ah yes, George Washington High School. No, not that George Washington High School, the other one. The one where I went to school, where my sister Demeter goes to school (it’s my mother. My mother is insane for Greek mythology), and the one where my parents met, and their parents met. (Well, mostly. My mom’s father was from Indiana.)
I glance back through the flaps. The sun is beginning its slow descent and painting the world out there red and gold. When I’m not thinking about what could have been and how far I want to get from my life, I could see myself here. At least for a while.
Mom took the phone back while I wasn’t paying attention.