Page 51 of Duty Preserved

He leaned back on his stool and told me about them. Frank, the eldest, a PhD in history and worked at a museum and never let anyone forget he went to graduate school. Ty, third in line, on the Citadel team. Leonard, a high school teacher. Annabel, a midwife who made everyone look at photos of the babies she delivered. Bridget, the youngest, fresh out of law school.

“That’s a lot of overachievers,” I said.

“Says the woman who started college at sixteen.” He picked up his Coke and took a drink, watching me over the bottle.

I stared at him. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“Alyson told Andrew. Andrew told me.” He set the bottle down. “I know you graduated top of your class. And I know you got the fellowship on your first application.”

“Alyson has a big mouth.”

“Alyson’s proud of you.”

I pushed a piece of chicken across my plate and didn’t say anything for a second.

“I loaded up on extra courses,” I said. “Every semester, as many as they’d let me take. I told myself it was because I wanted to get through faster.” I shrugged. “The truth was, if I was studying, I didn’t have to figure out how to talk to people.”

He seemed to be pondering that intently.

“And you ended up in the military?” I asked.

“Army at eighteen. Twelve years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“It was.”

There was a closed door hidden behind those two words. Whatever lived on the other side of twelve years in the Army, he wasn’t opening it over chicken and ugali at a counter in Nanyuki. Before I could decide whether to reach for the handle, my phone buzzed in my bag at my feet. I bent down and pulled it out, angling the screen away from Donovan.

Has anything happened yet? Don’t you dare tell me you’re eating FOOD when you could be eating that man alive.

I unlocked the screen. Typed back I will block your number one-handed under the counter and shoved the phone back into my bag.

“Everything okay?” Donovan asked.

“Fine. Aly being Aly.”

He looked amused but didn’t inquire.

We finished eating and walked for a while. Nanyuki at dusk was quieter, the vendors packing up, the light shifting amber and then blue. He told me he’d joined Citadel about five years ago, after the Army. I told him about the fellowship, how competitive it had been, how I’d opened the acceptance email in my apartment in Iowa and sat on the floor and cried.

“Kenya was my first passport stamp,” I said. “Paris was my second.”

“And now you don’t want to leave.”

“No. I don’t.”

His arm brushed mine as we walked. Neither of us moved away. I felt it for a long time after.

A shop owner pulled a metal gate across his storefront, the clatter loud in the settling quiet. The street was getting dark.

“Street’s emptying out. We should head back,” he said.

We turned and headed back toward the hotel. It was one of the few places that still showed a little activity this late.

The lobby was small and bright after the dark street. Donovan stood off to the side while I went to the front desk.

“Calloway,” I said. “I booked two rooms this afternoon.”