Page 17 of Troy Story
By dinnertime, everyone seemed to have recovered from the day’s outing except Stuart, who was oddly subdued. Dusty suspected the site tour had ramped up his anxiety. He’d started out with such confidence, only to be put in his place by Dr. Hughes. While the others might regard the professor as little more than a blustering egomaniac, Stuart had to follow his orders without question. And once the dig ended, he’d be teaching with him at the University of Boston.
Rather than retreat to their rooms after dinner, the crew gathered in the common room to play cards. But Stuart’s absence was notable. Hoping that he’d gone outside, Dusty grabbed her flip-flops and went to look for him. If nothing else, she could give him a pep talk.
When she peered around the side of the field house, Stuart wasn’t alone. Seated beside him on a patio chair, with her hand resting on his arm, was Clarissa. From the way her head was bent close to his, she appeared to be consoling him.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Dusty bottled up her emotions and went back inside. Maybe this was a sign she should focus on something else. Like her dissertation. She went into her room and grabbed a handful of Jolly Ranchers from her backpack, along with a couple of pencils and a brand-new notebook.
After retreating to the research library at the back of the field house, she flicked on the lights and plunked down at one of the study tables. Setting a timer on her phone for fifteen minutes, she tried brainstorming a list of topics centered on the site of Troy, only to end up doodling in the margins of her notebook. But her doodles inspired her in a completely different way. Grabbing a few pieces of blank paper from the printer, she started sketching characters fromThe Iliad: Helen of Troy, Odysseus, Agamemnon, and Achilles.
Until now, her Etsy store had featured Egyptian-themed artwork. But what if she expanded her repertoire? She could do a series of pieces based onThe IliadandThe Odyssey.
Damn it. This wasn’t helping.
Emilia opened the door and stepped into the library. “Want to play cards with us? TJ’s been bragging about his prowess as a poker player, so we’re thinking of challenging him, tournament-style.”
Dusty laughed. “Been there, done that, last year in Cyprus. He’s not lying about his ability. He knows how to read people, like one of those savants in Vegas.”
“Maybe I should bow out. If he wins, he’s going to be insufferable.” Emilia plopped down across from Dusty. “Nice drawing. Achilles looks just like Brad Pitt.”
“Can you blame me? That movie was very formative.” Laughing, she pushed the sketches aside. “But I’m letting myself get distracted. Long story short, I promised my mom I’d get serious about my dissertation this fall. Which means I should start thinking about it now.”
“Fair enough. What’s your topic? Didn’t it have something to do with that Bronze Age shipwreck you worked on the last time you were in Turkey?”
“Nah. I ended up scrapping it. Same with my last topic—the impact of colonialism on the nineteenth-century excavations at Carthage in Tunisia. Every time I work at a new dig site, I think, ‘This is it, I’m going to be inspired,’ but I spend all my time drawing.”
Emilia reached for the sketches and leafed through them. “You’re so talented. How long did you spend on these—fifteen minutes? Twenty? You could put them on merch and sell them. Everyone’s into Greek myths these days.”
“Not helping, Em.” Though Dusty had to admit she loved the idea. Suddenly, she was itching to draw the Trojan horse.
“Okay, so why do you think you haven’t found a decent topic yet? You’ve worked at a lot of sites. Did you have a favorite? Did something ever call out to you? Like, an issue you wanted todiginto? No pun intended.”
“Maybe? Sometimes? I’m fine with doing research, but with writing, I get hopelessly stuck. I was thinking I could write about Troy. Considering all the archaeologists who’ve worked at the site, there must be loads of material.”
“Right, but you’d need to narrow it down to a specific topic.”
TJ poked his head in the open doorway. “We’re ready to start. You coming, Em, or are you afraid I’ll kick your ass?”
“Afraid? I don’t know the meaning of the word.” Emilia stood up. “Sorry, Dusty, I need to defend my honor. You sure you won’t join us?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
After TJ and Emilia left, shutting the door behind them, Dusty drew a cartoon version of the Trojan horse. She included a tiny cluster of faces peeking out from the slats in the horse’s side and, beneath it, a group of Trojan soldiers peering up in curiosity. Though she did most of her professional work using her tablet, she loved sketching freehand, using nothing but a sheet of paper, her drafting pencils, and her imagination.
When the door opened again, she didn’t look up. “I’m not playing poker, so forget it.”
“I wasn’t asking.” Stuart came into the room and sat across from her.
Pleased at the sight of him, she set down her pencil. “You doing okay? I was going to check on you earlier, but…” She let the words trail off, not wanting him to know that she’d backed down after seeing him with Clarissa.
“I was outside taking a breather. Today was a lot.”
“Sorry Em and I were naughty. She always brings out the worst in me.” Dusty offered an apologetic grin. “When we’re together, we act like hormonal teenagers.”
“What were you so hormonal about? Kerim, perhaps?”
Was it her imagination, or did he sound jealous? “We were just being immature. But I promise I’ll rein in my behavior.”
She slid a Jolly Rancher across the table. Since the watermelon ones were his favorite, she always saved them for him. When his fingers brushed against hers, she shivered. She wished he’d come in here to catch her alone for entirely nonplatonic reasons.
