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She flares her nostrils a bit, then closes her eyes for a second, which I take to be what she does when she’s about to lose it. The clerk and Thiago go back and forth for a minute, then Thiago says, “They can give you a toothbrush and toothpaste here. The only store that is open at this hour is a quick walk. You just cross the river, then turn right. It’s a tourist trap but they have clothes.”
“It’ll have to do,” she says.
The clerk hands her a room key (not a key card, an actual room key), along with a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. She pops everything in her hand bag, then walks out, while I impatiently wait my turn. When I get up to the front, I ask Thiago about internet access.
“I’m afraid there is no internet here. No cell reception either.”
Of course, there isn’t. “Is there a phone in the room I can use? I have an important business call that can’t wait.”
Thiago shakes his head. “No. No phones.”
The clerk, who clearly understands more English than he’s letting on, points outside and says something to Thiago, who turns to me. “That store across the river has a phone. You can use theirs.”
Well, that’s just perfect. I take my key, thank the clerk, and hurry out the door.
Once I’m outside, I can see Ms. Fox’s outline as she crosses the bridge. It’s already getting dark out, and I don’t love the idea of her walking alone into town, so I jog to catch up with her, telling myself I would do the same for any of the women on the trip. And I would too, just maybe not as fast.
She must hear me coming because she turns quickly, looking slightly startled.
I wave to her. “It’s just me.”
Without breaking her stride, she says, “You really don’t have to come with me. I know we’re supposed to be buddies and all, but I can handle a quick walk to the store.”
“I need to use their phone,” I tell her as we fall into step with each other. “I have an urgent business matter to attend to.”
“I bet you do,” she says under her breath.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did and you clearly meant something by it.”
“It’s none of my business,” she says.
“Agreed,” I say, still feeling irked.
We walk for another minute, the only sound is our feet crunching on the gravel, then she says, “Maybe you shouldn’t be in a relationship with someone you can’t trust.”
“What?” I ask, stopping in my tracks.
She stops and turns to me. “Your girlfriend. Clearly you don’t trust her if you’re having her followed, which honestly gives me the creeps just thinking about. You should probably consider going for therapy based on that alone, but while you’re there, maybe do some digging into why you’d even want to stay with someone you can’t trust.”
“Girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say before remembering that I indeed told everyone I was in a committed relationship.
“Really? Because you made a big thing about it back in Lima, remember? And I couldn’t help but overhear you ordering someone to be watched. I put two and two together.”
“Wait—couldn’t help but overhear or were purposely eavesdropping?” I ask, feeling slightly pissed.
“I can’t help it. I’ve spent years training my ears to listen for the slightest noise for my work. Now it just … sort of happens, even when I don’t mean for it to.”
I stare down at her, trying to decide if she’s telling the truth. It sounds plausible enough for someone who’s spent the last decade listening for chit-chat from outer space. Although it’s more likely complete bullshit. She has every reason to listen in on my conversations, and even more reasons to lie about it now.
Shrugging, she says, “I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t mean to hear you when you were on the phone.”
She starts walking again and I do the same.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I say, “That wasn’t what it sounded like.”
