by K A Moll
“Let me get your daddy,” Marigold said excitedly.
“Go ahead,” Coy responded, “I’ll just lay right here and wait for ya.” She considered closing her eyes for a second, but instead watched as her virtual self was carted through the house. Judging from her mama’s route, her daddy was upstairs in their bedroom. It was weird; her mid-afternoon was their bedtime on the previous night. Thank God for FaceTime. She considered the best time of day to call them and decided to do it during her lunch hours. At that moment, two faces squeezed onto the screen of her iPhone.
“Well, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes,” Cyrus said as he looked to his wife. “She is, ain’t she honey?”
“Yes, she is,” Marigold responded. “Did you have good flights?”
“I did,” Coy said with a nod, “but I’m dog tired.” She considered telling them that she’d met a couple of new friends but opted not to. “I just got checked into my room,” she continued. It was in the main dorm, the one that housed the galley and laundry. It was where those in charge liked the new ice people to start out. “We’re set-up for everyone to have a roommate, especially during the summer when we’ve got around twelve-hundred here, but so far I don’t have one.” It was weird; thinking of December as summer; and even weirder, thinking of degrees above zero as being summer highs. “After February, when all but about three hundred of us are gone, I can count on having a room of my own.”
“You still feel good about your decision to go down there?” Marigold asked. Her expression was more concerned than hopeful.
“Because if you changed your mind and came on back home,” Cyrus chimed in, “nobody would think a thing about it.”
“I feel great about it,” Coy responded. “I think it’ll be the experience of a lifetime. It’s not what you think,” she went on, “and certainly nothing you need to be worrying about. The people are wonderful, and I’ve got a nice room. It’s not as large as my room at your place, but it’s fine. The only drawback that I can see is that I’ll have to share a bathroom with the people next door, and even that’ll probably end up working out just fine once I get used to it. Here, take a look for yourselves.” She panned with the camera on her iPhone.
“Oh that is nice,” Cyrus agreed. “Look, Marigold, she has a big picture window.”
“I sure do,” Coy said. “Unfortunately, covering it with a dark cloth will be one of my first jobs.”
“Oh that’s right,” Marigold responded. “Your sun there never goes down.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Coy chuckled, “until it does.”
“How about work?” Cyrus asked. “How’s that gonna go?”
“It should be fine,” Coy answered. “I mean I haven’t actually been there yet, but they tell me that I can walk to my office door in five minutes or so. I met a nurse who’ll be working with me on the flight.”
“That’s good then,” Marigold declared.
Coy’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you find out at your appointment, Daddy?” she asked.
“He didn’t go,” Marigold piped up.
Coy pursed her lips and frowned.
“We had deliveries arrivin,’” Cyrus countered. “What was I supposed to do, let you unload ‘em?” He met his daughter’s gaze. “Don’t worry, Coy Annabelle,” he added, “I’m gonna go.”
“I hope so,” Coy muttered, “because your health is every bit as important as whatever you thought you needed to be there to unload.”
“Can you hear her squawking?” Cyrus asked. “She must know we’ve got her mama on the phone.”
“We’re not done with this conversation, Daddy,” Coy responded as her virtual self moved down the hall.
“I know…I know,” Cyrus answered, “but your bird wants to say hello.”
Coy smiled as he brought her around the corner. “Hi Bird,” she called out.
“My name is Kathy Bird,” the African Gray squawked. “One no trump.”
“Two hearts,” Coy responded with a chuckle. She wondered what made the parrot start the dialogue. It’d been a regular on bridge nights, but she hadn’t played for years. Toward the end, playing bridge was one of the few things that she and her wife still enjoyed as a couple. She wondered if they would’ve ended up in divorce had she still been alive.
“Mama loves her Kathy Bird,” the parrot hollered as she scooted across her perch to beak her bell.
“Yes, your mama does,” Coy responded with another smile. “Okay, Daddy,” she said, “I’ll let you off the hook tonight, but I’m calling tomorrow to confirm that you rescheduled your appointment.”
“Good,” Cyrus responded, “I’ll look forward to it. Sleep well, honey.”
Chapter Five
Coby paused inside the spacious entryway for a first look. “It’s like a high school cafeteria,” she said.
“Sí,” Diego agreed, “one that serves four meals a day to twelve-hundred hungry people—breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight rations.” “You know,” he added, “for the ones who have to work the night shift.”
“That’s cool,” Coby said as she stepped up and leaned over to see the evening’s selections. “It all looks good,” she declared. “What shift are you gonna work?”
“Early and late for a while,” he said. “The chefs...me included...well, we have our own specialties, but we need to be familiar with what everyone else is doing.”
“I can see that you would,” Coby responded. “Never worked in a restaurant. It’s a lot to see to; I’ll bet.”
“Sí,” Diego said, “but not so much when you work in a place like this.” He nodded to the staff in the back. “A crew like that,” he added, “the other chefs, the bakers, the prep cooks, and the dining assistants...well they make all the difference.”
“It looks like quite an operation,” Coby commented as she pointed to an entree behind the glass. “I’ll have the brisket, mashed potatoes, and lots of gravy,” she said.
“You want freshies?” the guy asked. She recognized the pair of praying hands tattooed on his forearm. It was a Mexican gang symbol that meant praying for forgiveness.
Coby’s brow crinkled as she looked to Diego.
“He’s asking if you want fresh fruits or vegetables,” he clarified. “They’re big treats down here because we don’t get ‘em on every flight.” She’d landed on an alien world—no grocery stores, convenience marts, or fast food joints. “When you see freshies,” he added, “you want to pile your plate high.”
Coby made a face. “Don’t think I’ll be doing any piling,” she said. “Fruit’s okay sometimes, but I don’t go for any green stuff on the side.”
“You’re missing out, amiga,” Diego said. “The South Pole should suit you just fine.”
“Because they get fewer deliveries of freshies?” Coby responded.
“Sí,” Diego answered, “fewer is right. You’ll have six months without the sun down there, and snow storms and wind like you never seen in your life. After February, you won’t see any flights.” His eyes widened. “That is unless they think one of you is dying and then they’ll usually try.”
“I can’t say I’m looking forward to going down there,” Coby admitted, “but at least it’s a job.”
“In some ways, it’ll be like this place,” Diego went on, “not so bad, just a lot smaller with fewer people and choices.”
“That’s what I hear,” Coby responded. “You ever worked the South Pole?”
“Nunca,” Diego said. “I always refuse that assignment. It’s too cold and dark for my liking.” He carried his tray to the far side of the room, setting it on an empty table, the one in front of the largest of several windows. “But you don’t need to worry,” he added, “you’ll probably end up liking it just fine.”
***
As Coby shoveled a fork-load of potatoes into her mouth, her cell phone sounded in her pocket. “It’s probably a wrong number,” she commented as she retrieved the device and flipped it open. �
�Hello,” she answered. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said. “What can I do for you?” She took a breath and held it. “What do you mean there was an error in the hiring process?”
Diego stopped chewing and looked up.
“So, that’s it?” Coby asked with a quickening pulse. She was developing a headache as her body temperature rose. “You’re telling me that I have to take a lower paying job at McMurdo or fly home on my own dime?” Her chest tightened. The pay differential wouldn’t be enough to cover the cost of her flight home. And worse, when she got back, she’d be unemployed. Her gaze drifted to the snow, now pummeling down. “Doesn’t look like I have much choice,” she muttered. “I guess I’ll take whatever you’ve got to offer.” Her gaze became unfocused as she listened to the woman tell her where to go and when to report. Then she snapped her phone shut and looked up. “So what do I wear to work, boss?”
Diego’s brow furrowed. “What happened?” he asked.
“A royal screw-up,” Coby responded, “that’s what.” She went on to explain that in the haste to fill the position, two had been offered the job; that her predicament was simply a case of the other guy getting to the South Pole first.
Diego patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it won’t be so bad,” he said. “We’re a good group to work with.”
“You don’t have a clue how little I know,” Coby admitted. “I mean, I can operate a front end loader with the best of ‘em, but that’s pretty much all I know how to do.”
“You’ll be fine,” Diego reassured. “We’ll start you out washing dishes and go from there.” Dear God, this was going to be hell.
Coby knew she should’ve held her sigh in check, but it slipped out.
“It’ll be okay, amiga,” Diego said. “You master dishwashing, and then we’ll see what else you can do.” He smiled and met her gaze. “You have to look at this as a chance to learn something new.” He was the kind of guy who always saw the glass as half full.
Coby clenched her jaw, trying desperately to maintain composure. “So,” she asked, “do I just show up in the morning or what?”
“Nunca,” Diego said with a shake of his head, “you can’t start until you do your health assessment.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his reminder card. “I’ve got mine first thing tomorrow afternoon. Call soon because it takes a couple of days to get in.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Coby asked. Her stomach quivered, and she swallowed hard. “You’re telling me that after I just had one on the day I got hired, I have to have another?”
“Sí,” Diego responded. “After February,” he continued, “you’ll be pretty much stuck down here until October. They want to make sure that you won’t have to be medevac’d out.”
“That’s crazy,” Coby said, shaking her head, “but I’ll make the damn appointment.”
“Good,” Diego said with a smile. “Come on now, let’s eat our dinner before it gets cold.”
Coby’s head was still shaking when she forked her next mouthful. As she chewed, her gaze settled on the front end of the serving line.
Diego’s gaze followed. “She’s a pretty one,” he commented. “Isn’t she, amiga?”
Coby met his eye. “How come you keep talking about her? You interested in her or something?”
“No,” he responded, “but I think maybe you are.”
“What makes you think that?” Coby asked with a long swig of Coke.
“The way you look at her,” Diego responded, “and the way you look away when she sees that you are.” His head tilted slightly and he furrowed his brow. “What I can’t figure out is why you keep shying away from her like she’s a patch of poison ivy or something.”
“I don’t,” Coby responded with direct eye contact.
“Oh, I think you do amiga,” Diego countered as he chomped into a leg of crispy fried chicken, golden brown.
“You got it all wrong,” Coby insisted. “She’s not my type.”
Diego’s eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, amiga.”
Coby swigged again, repeating, “Really, she’s not.”
***
As Coy surveyed the room for an empty seat, she made a mental note to avoid the most common dinner hour. Her internal clock was already a jumble, so she probably wouldn’t even notice a minor adjustment to the time she ate supper. When she lifted onto her tiptoes to see what was available near the windows, she inadvertently met Coby’s gaze. Look away, she told herself. Look away, now! For three years, she hadn’t noticed anyone. Where in the world was this coming from? She licked her lips as she paid particular attention to the sculpting of Coby’s arms and shoulders. It has to be due to a surge in your hormone levels, she told herself. It had been more difficult to adjust to the time change than she had anticipated. Her body was electric. Look away! Look away, now! Her nerve endings, tiny high voltage circuits, fired. She nodded and smiled.
Coby smiled back and then dropped her eyes. Dear God, what if she wasn’t headed to the South Pole. What if her job was right here at McMurdo? What if every single day for the next ten months, she’d be right here under Coy’s nose?
Once again, Coby stole a glance, meeting Coy’s eye.
And once again, Coy nodded and smiled. Look away! Look away, now!
“Hellooo,” the dining assistant said. “Hellooo,” he repeated with a tap on the silver. “Are you ready to order?”
“Oh…uh…yes, sorry,” Coy answered as she tried to focus. She dropped her gaze to study the selections before her. “I don’t see anything that’s not fried or floating in gravy,” she commented. “Is there a broiled entree that I’m missing?” she asked.
“No, not tonight,” the dining assistant responded, “but we have broiled fish on Friday.”
Coy pursed her lips and released a quiet sigh.
The guy nodded toward a nearby cart. “We have a salad bar right over there,” he pointed out with a pause, “but there’s no meat on it.”
“If it has hard-boiled eggs or cheese,” Coy said, “I’ll be fine.”
“It does,” the dining assistant responded.
Coy slid her tray down the bar to collect her salad—a wedge of iceberg lettuce—diced tomatoes—shredded carrots—minced red onion—a hard-boiled egg—a chunk of cheddar—skip the croutons—a small ladle of low-fat buttermilk salad dressing. She checked above and on the sides. No crackers? Oh well, she had some in her room. She lifted her tray, checking for empty seats as she made her way to the far side.
***
Diego stretched up and leaned over as he worked to catch Coy’s eye.
“No, man,” Coby said, “don’t you dare!”
Coy side-stepped between a couple of occupied chairs, two tables over.
Diego kept her in his sights.
“Don’t you dare, Diego Martinez,” Coby said firmly. “I mean it!”
Diego stood, smiling his most friendly smile, as Coy stepped by. “Here, amiga,” he offered. “Take my seat. I’m done. I need to go say hello to someone.”
Coy paused, bit her lower lip, and smiled. “Why thank you,” she said as her gaze darted to catch Coby’s eye. “You’re too kind.”
“No problem,” Diego responded. He glanced at one and then the other plate with a chuckle. “Together, you two could have a balanced diet,” he commented. With that, he gave Coby a wink, picked up his tray, and disappeared into the room full of diners.
***
Coby’s stomach rolled. She took a breath, leaning forward. “Oh no,” she moaned playfully. “I think a Packer-backer is about to sit next to me.”
“She sure is,” Coy responded with the sweetest smile.
“Are you a vegetarian?” Coby asked awkwardly. It was a stupid way to start a conversation, but she had to say something. She vowed to let Diego have it the next time she saw him.
“No, not usually,” Coy responded, “just tonight. I couldn’t find a single entree that had the appearance of being t
he slightest bit healthy.” She squinted irritation but shook it off. “How about you?” she asked. Her eyes took on a twinkle and she smiled a slow smile.
Coby’s gaze fell to her plate but crept back up. “Just tonight,” she responded with an equally slow smile. “I’m not gonna eat the hunk of beef. It’s just there to prop up the mound of potatoes.” She held Coy’s gaze for a long second. Run, she told herself. You’re on a slippery slope. Run, fast and hard.
“Uh-huh,” Coy responded with an easy nod. She gave a gentle nip to her lower lip and touched her throat. “So, what brings you to Antarctica?” she asked. Sooner or later, the question was bound to come up.
Coby took a long drink, glancing around as she swallowed. She felt an all too familiar heaviness in the pit of her stomach. The clock was ticking. What was she going to say? ‘Oh, I’m here as a dishwasher?’ Yeah, that should finish it up nicely, especially when Coy responded with ‘Oh, that’s nice, I’m a famous scientist.’ On impulse, she reached into her pocket to pull out her phone. “I need to take this call,” she announced. As an afterthought, she added, “It was on vibrate. I felt it buzz in my pocket.” Oh yeah, that sounded really dumb, she thought. You’re so ignorant sometimes. She flipped the phone open and placed it against her ear. “Just a minute,” she said into the mouthpiece.
Coy’s eyes sparkled as if she wanted to smile.
Coby held the device open against her chest and met her eye. “Well, it was nice seeing you again,” she stuttered, “but um...I need to…um…go ahead and take this call...so um...I think I’d better go.”
“You go on,” Coy responded, her gaze dropping and then moving back up. “I’ll catch you later,” she added.
For the umpteenth time since she’d met her, Coby wondered if Coy was a lesbian. She probably was. At least Diego thought so. As she stepped away from the table, she closed her phone and stuck it back into her pocket. Smooth move, Sherlock, she thought. She’s super smart and you know she’s not gonna think for one minute that you just hung up on someone.
