Page 47 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
“I bet he does CrossFit,” I add, annoyed by someone who has their life together.
“Absolutely,” Ben agrees. “Probably at four thirty in the morning before he goes into the office to get an early start on the day.”
“I almost feel sorry for him. What an empty personal life he must have.”
Despite the humor in my voice, Ben’s almost-smile fades. “Yeah, poor guy.”
I don’t know what nerve my words struck, but I’m not willing to fumble this opportunity now that I have him talking again. “Look,” I timidly start, “I need to apologize for the way I acted last night.”
“No, you never need to apologize.” He wipes the rain from his brow. “I’m the one who fucked things up between us. Not you.”
A clap of thunder shakes the ground beneath us.
“Maybe so,” I shout to be heard over the elements. “But I shouldn’t be letting our old history affect me now. I know this is an odd situation we’re in, but it’s no excuse for how unprofessional I’ve been.”
“If you’ve been unprofessional, so have I,” he retorts. “Like I told you before, I don’t know if we have the ability to be purely professional, Ems. There’s too much between us.”
I think of Calvin’s one-sentence email, and my cowardly response:Recruitment’s going great! No worries here, sir!
“I think we have to find a way to be,” I tell him. “Trying to do my jobandsort out our past, it’s too much.”
Ben watches me through the heavy downpour. “So, we’re what? Colleagues?”
In the question, I hear all the unspoken contradictions.
But we held each other in the dark…
But we kissed in the ravine…
But I know you better than anyone else ever has…
“Friendly colleagues,” I amend with a head nod for extra assurance.
I’m just not sure whose doubts I’m trying to assuage, his or mine.
* * *
By the time we drive another hour to make it to our last stop of the day, Glacier Lagoon, the weather has done an abrupt one-eighty. For the first time since we arrived, the sun makes a full appearance overhead, and the calm, icy blue water softly lapping at the black sand shore reflects the pillowy white clouds above. Icebergs ranging in an assortment of sizes jut from the surface of the water and glitter in the unexpected sunshine, the mountainous rise of a glacier looming in the background. Ben and I walk the water’s edge, stepping around washed-up chunks of ice that decorate the shoreline like sparkling jewels.
An inner peace finds a way to settle my worn-out soul as the sun heats my face, fresh air filling my lungs. I shift my gaze just in time to spot three seals surface in the lagoon not far from where we stand, the water swishing over their slick, leathery bodies.
“Ben, look!” I grab his arm and point to the cute sea creatures with their scrunched-up faces and whiskers, but then I realize these three fellas aren’t alone. There are dozens of them: some gliding through the water effortlessly, some disappearing belowthe surface as soon as I spot them, some lying out on the icebergs, soaking up the rare sunbeams.
“Guess I better get some sea-life photography to complement all my sheep photos,” Ben says. And it’s true. He’s taken approximately five thousand photos of sheep so far because they areeverywhere.
Ben kneels to the ground, dropping his camera low to get an angle of the lagoon with a jagged piece of washed-up ice on the black sand in the forefront, a seal napping on a chunky iceberg in the distance. I cannot wait to see how these photos turn out.
“Hey, can you hold this?” Ben twists a lens off his camera and holds it up to me.
“Oh my god, are you finally trusting me with your camera?”
Outwardly, I take the lens from his hand like it’s no big deal. Inwardly, I turn into one big bundle of nerves because a fancy lens like this can cost thousands upon thousands of dollars, and I don’t have that kind of money just hanging out in my bank account for funsies. Before he unzips his backpack to retrieve another (also expensive) lens, he tilts his head back, squinting against the sunlight.
“What are you talking about?”
“I offered to help before and you turned me down.” I shrug a shoulder, keeping the hand that’s holding the lens perfectly still. “I figured you didn’t trust me with your expensive equipment.”
He scrunches his forehead like I’m ridiculous. “I’m just used to working alone, I guess. But of course I trust you. Especially withmy equipment.” A smile breaks wide across his face as my knee swiftly connects with his ribs, throwing him off-balance so he has to palm the sand to stay on his feet.
