Page 58 of Crocodile Tears
“I’m preparing for opportunistic data collection during the remainder of our travel experience.”I adjust the lens settings with satisfaction.“Scientific research doesn’t pause for tactical complications.”
“Scientific research is apparently one of your tactical complications.”
We find our hotel that caters to ecotourists and business travelers who value privacy over luxury amenities.The room includes two beds, which seems optimistically practical until Cal sets his tactical bag on the floor, and I realize we haven’t actually discussed sleeping arrangements since our night in Javier’s village.
“Two beds,” I say while examining the room’s layout with scientific precision.
“Two beds,” he agrees while conducting his own security assessment of windows, exits, and sight lines.
“We could use them separately for optimal rest efficiency.”
“We could.”
“Or we could use one for sleeping and one for equipment storage.”
“That’s also an option.”
The conversation falters for a second with everything we haven’t said about what happened between us and what continues happening between us.The attraction that started with our disastrous first date has evolved through kidnapping, escape, and shared danger into something I can’t easily categorize or control.“Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“I vote for equipment storage.”
He grins with relief that suggests he was hoping I’d reach that conclusion.“Equipment storage it is.”
We settle into the room with the kind of easy coordination that’s become natural over the past few days.He organizes his gear with military precision while I set up my new specimen collection kit on the room’s small table.The domesticity of it feels surreal after recent events.
“Are you hungry?”he asks while checking the time and comparing it to our flight schedule.“There’s supposed to be good seafood restaurants within walking distance.”
My stomach chooses that moment to remind me that jungle survival rations and boat snacks don’t constitute adequate nutrition for someone with my metabolism.“Starving.Also, I’d like to try local cuisine that doesn’t involve emergency preparedness.”
The restaurant Cal chooses occupies a converted colonial building with outdoor seating that overlooks the Caribbean.String lights create warm illumination while ceiling fans move air that carries the scents of grilled fish, tropical fruit, and ocean salt.The setting would be perfect for a romantic dinner if we weren’t here under assumed identities while avoiding international pursuit teams.
I order grilled Mahi-Mahi with plantains and rice, while Cal selects something calledcasadothat appears to include every possible food group represented in Costa Rican cuisine.The portions are generous, the flavors are extraordinary, and for the first time in days, I feel like I can actually relax and enjoy the experience.
“This is significantly better than military rations,” he says while sampling his dinner with obvious appreciation.
“This is significantly better than laboratory vending machine cuisine—especially half-smashed cheese crackers.”I taste the Mahi-Mahi and discover it’s perfectly prepared with spices I can’t identify but definitely want to research.“The chemical compounds responsible for these flavor profiles must involve interesting interactions between local spice varieties and preparation techniques.”
He arches a brow but is smiling.“You’re analyzing dinner like a research project?”
“I analyze everything like a research project.It’s one of my more charming personality traits.”I flash him a grin.
Cal laughs while working through hiscasadowith systematic thoroughness.“It’s one of your most attractive personality traits.”
The easy conversation continues as we eat and watch the street life of Puerto Limón unfold around us.Vendors sell roasted corn and tropical fruit from wheeled carts.Children play soccer in the plaza while their parents conduct business or socialize with neighbors.Musicians set up near the fountain and fill the evening air with guitar music that transforms the ordinary scene into something magical.
“It’s beautiful here,” I say while watching a group of teenagers dance to the street music with unselfconscious joy.
“It is.”He follows my gaze toward the plaza before returning his attention to me.“Different from what you’re used to.”
“Different from anything I’m used to anywhere.”I gesture toward the scene around us.“Academic life doesn’t involve much cultural immersion outside conference hotels and university cafeterias.”
“Do you think you’d want more of this?Travel, new experiences, and cultural diversity?”
The question is as much aboutourfuture as my future.“Are you asking if I’d be interested in a lifestyle that involves more international adventure?”
“I’m asking if you’d be interested in a lifestyle that doesn’t confine your research to university laboratories and peer review committees?”
