I woke at three in the morning shaking. Dr. Ford had told my father about Spencer’s sleepover and that had been the last night Spencer was able to stay much to my dismay. If ever I needed a warm body by my side, it was through the long nights before my departure. Nights of quiet. Nights of speeding thoughts and concocted scenarios of danger and disease.
I stood in the shower for close to half an hour, attempting to let the steam soothe my fears, but it did no good, no good at all. I stepped from the water and wrapped a towel around myself. I stood in front of the mirror and took a good hard look. I was as bare as I could make myself, no makeup with wet, stringy hair. I hated to look at myself in this state. I didn’t feel real. I felt too exposed and that made me exceedingly nervous, but I made myself look that morning. I memorized that girl. That girl was the real me. Frightened. Worthless. A terrible friend. Terrible daughter. Well educated but so limited in ideas worth having. Beautiful yet repulsive...
And finally honest.
Spencer picked me up that morning for my flight at seven in the morning. He rang me from inside the house and I met him in the foyer standing next to Pembrook, no sign of my mother or father.
“Sophie,” Pembrook smiled, “here are all your necessary papers. An emergency card, as well as cash. Keep these close to your body. You’re flying to Germany first, then Dubai, staying the night. The hotel arrangements are in your travel documents. A car has been arranged to pick you up there. From Dubai you will fly to Nairobi, Kenya, where a small plane has been chartered to take you to Kampala, Uganda. Look for a boy named Dingane to pick you up. I’ve taken the liberty of outfitting your case with a satellite phone for...”
“Emergencies?” I asked, smiling back.
Pembrook’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he wrapped his long, lanky arms around my shoulders.
“Do be careful, my dear,” he whispered against my hair before speeding off down the hall.
I sighed as I watched him make way for the kitchens. I turned to Spencer and smiled again.
He held his hand out to me and I took it. He squeezed it softly. “It’ll be okay,” he reassured, but I didn’t believe him.
I looked around me, at how empty the foyer was and felt a little disappointed that Sav and the rest of my friends hadn’t shown up. I’d texted them the night before, but I suppose there was no reason to say goodbye to someone they cared very little for.
I met Spencer’s eyes once more. “They didn’t come,” I told him matter-of-factly.
“No, they didn’t,” he stated.
“No need to dwell. I’ll just be a moment,” I told him and headed toward my father’s office.
I knocked on his door and heard a faint “enter.” I obeyed and turned the handle. Billowing cigar smoke enveloped me before dissipating behind me. The cleared smoke revealed my father, busy as usual, and on his phone.
“No! No! I never agreed to that!” My father turned my direction. “Just a minute, will you?” he asked the receiver. “What is it?” he asked me.
“I’m-I’m off.”
“Good luck.”
And just like that he was immersed in his phone conversation and I closed the heavy wooden door behind me. On the way back to the foyer, I passed one of our maidservants Margarite carrying folded towels to one of the guest suites.
“Have you seen Mrs. Price this morning, Margarite?”
“Yes, she has gone to town for a morning of shopping.”
“Ah, I see. Tell her that you saw me?”
“Of course, miss.” Margarite’s eyes softened. “Is there anything else you’d like me to convey, miss?”
“No.”
“As you wish, miss,” Margarite said before going about her business again.
I followed suit but could feel her eyes look back at me as if she pitied me. I cringed at the thought that my maid felt sorry for me.
“I’m ready,” I told Spencer.
“I’ve loaded your bags already.”
“Thank you, Spence.”
The ride to the airport was eerily quiet. I contemplated the almost twenty hours of flying I had in my future, not including my overnight stay in Dubai. My hands began to visibly shake and Spencer stilled them with his own. Regina Spektor’s All the Rowboats began to play and I couldn’t help but let the haunting melody seep into my skin. The words felt prophetic, although the subjects of her song were entirely objects, but when I really defined myself, that’s what I was, a mere object and it was all by my own doing. I was those breathing objects, desperately aching to escape, to live, and suddenly a calm washed over me.