Page 52 of The Angel and the Agent

“Because night is the safest time for us to get away from people, but the most dangerous time to avoid animals.”

“I didn’t even think about that. It’s like Africa is actively trying to kill us in every possible way,” she said.

“There’s a lot of good here, a lot of beauty and nice people. We’re just not on the sort of journey that sees any of that right now. And my mind is always geared toward spotting the threat.” He shifted his weight, flexing his shoulders.

“I can carry your pack for a while, if you want,” she said.

“It’s heavy,” he said.

“I’m strong. I do Pilates,” she informed him. “And sometimes hot yoga.”

“If I let you carry it, will you show me what hot yoga is sometime?” he asked.

She nodded. They stopped and he placed the pack on her back. “You good?” he asked.

“Gup,” she said, stumbling a little. When he said heavy, she had no idea he meantheavy.The thing was probably sixty pounds, and he had been carrying it for days.

“Amelia.”

“Bimp.”

“Why don’t I take the pack back and you can regain the ability to form actual words again?” he said. She stood still while he lifted the pack off her back and put it back on his.

Flexing her shoulders, she resumed walking. “Now when people ask me how I got injured in Cameroon, I’m going to have to tell them it was from walking three steps with a heavy backpack. What a wimp I am.”

“I spent years training to be able to do the things I do, to condition my body and mind to respond the way I need it to, when I need it to. It’s not like I could walk into your salon and give someone a perm on the first try,” he said.

“How do you know about perms?” she asked.

“My granny used to get them,” he said.

“She might be the only one who still does,” she said.

“How did your parents take the idea of their math genius daughter becoming a beautician?” he asked.

“First of all I’m not a beautician, I’m a stylist. Second, they eventually came around. It helped that I had Maggie on my side. My brother, Darren, still thinks I’ve wasted my life.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s getting his doctorate.”

“In what?”

“How to try to run other people’s lives and give unsolicited advice. He’s really good at it. It’s nice he’s found his passion,” she said, and he laughed.

“I take it you guys don’t get along,” he said.

“Do you remember those oldTom and Jerrycartoons where they fought incessantly the entire episode? I wish we got along that well. Do you have siblings?”

“I have a half sister, five years younger, your age. We get along okay; we talk a couple of times a year. She’d like to be closer, but you can imagine how that goes.”

“You said she’s a half. How does that work?”

“My parents got divorced, my dad got remarried and had her. For a while I shunted between the two houses, but then he left that family, too. Thankfully he stopped reproducing, hopefully because he realized parenting wasn’t his thing. Not that he was abusive or anything. He was just not father material.”

“Are you close to your mom?”

“I talk to her less than I talk to my sister, and she seems perfectly fine with that arrangement. My parents weren’t horrible to me. They were just cold, withdrawn, indifferent, into their own lives.”

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