20
EVAN
“What should we do first?” Kassidy asked the next morning, looking around the private island with awe, and I was glad I’d forced the issue of her enjoying the day.
“There’s supposed to be a hike to the summit that I’d like to do,” Ally said, and we agreed to start with that, so that afterwards, we could spend the rest of the day cooling off in the water.
Kassidy quickly passed the rest of us on the trail, and ended up in the lead. I had to jog for a moment to catch up to her, leaving Ally and Knox behind. I knew my teammates and I were fit and could keep up with her easily, but I’d expected a more leisurely speed than the one Kassidy was going. There were plenty of sights along the trail, including tropical plants and animals, and ocean views. Not to mention that my ribs were bruised, and a slower hike would’ve been preferable. However, Kassidy seemed to be focused on the exercise with a single-minded intensity.
“Is something chasing us that I’m not aware of, Sunshine?” I joked with her once I’d caught up.
“What?” Kassidy said as she looked at me, more in confusion than because she didn’t hear me.
“You’re just walking really fast for a vacation on a beautiful, tropical island.”
“Oh, am I?” Kassidy said, and I watched as she glanced behind her to look for Knox and Ally, then consciously slowed her steps once she realized how far behind they were. “Sorry. I just love hiking, and I haven’t gotten to do much of it lately.”
“Why not?” I asked her.
“Well, now that I’m living in DC, I’m able to go hiking again, which has been amazing. But before that, I was stationed in Moscow for two years. Finland and Russia don’t have the greatest relationship, and I always felt on edge there, like I was constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting something bad to happen. I pretty much spent all my time at work, at the supermarket, or at home, so I definitely didn’t feel comfortable enough to take off into the woods, even with other people. And before that, I was in Afghanistan for two years, and I definitely wasn’t going hiking in a war zone.
“You should’ve told me back then that you wanted to go for a hike. My team and I could’ve taken you,” I laughed.
“I think you had better things to do,” Kassidy replied with a smile, and even in the sweltering heat, with sweat covering both of us, she looked absolutely breathtaking, and for once, she wasn’t arguing with me. Needing a connection with her, I couldn’t help but reach out and take her hand, interlacing her fingers with mine. I was slightly worried that she would pull away, or think that I was a weirdo, but all she did was tighten her fingers around mine as she continued talking. “But hiking is really popular in Finland. Just being outside, spending time in nature is our way of life in my country. Having to stay indoors so much has taken a toll on me, even though I enjoy my job.”
“Well, when we get back to DC, I’d be happy to go hiking with you anytime,” I admitted.
“Thank you. I’ll probably take you up on that,” she responded, and I could tell from the warmth in her voice that she meant it.
“I grew up in Texas, and we appreciate nature there, too.”
“What was it like, growing up there?” she asked me.
I sighed, reminiscing about the good parts of my childhood. “We lived right outside of Austin, in the suburbs, when it was still mostly farmland. Our neighbors had a ranch that they gave us free reign of, and they’d let us help out and feed the cows and chickens. They also had a huge mutt named Scout, who was pretty much my best friend as a kid. And there were lots of creeks to play in, and we had an old, rusty trampoline in our backyard that we loved.
“Plus, football is an obsession there, and I started playing pretty much as soon as I could walk. And Ava was always dragging me to dance halls and to the sock hops at the skating rink.”
“Sock hops?”
“Yeah. Taking your shoes or roller skates off and just dancing in your socks,” I explained.
“That sounds like my childhood, at least the Finnish parts. We played outside and went dancing a lot, too. We kept our socks on, though.”
I smiled, but mentioning Finland brought me back to reality, and a question I’d been meaning to ask her.
“So how much longer will you be in DC before you get sent to another country?” I asked her, dreading her answer, and knowing that our time together had a deadline.
“I have another 18 months left,” Kassidy said. “And after the privilege of two years in America, they’ll probably send me to some third-world country next.” It seemed like she meant it as a joke, but her voice betrayed her true feelings, telling me that she wasn’t thrilled by the idea.
I didn’t say anything for a few moments as I imagined her leaving in less than two years. Now that we’d found each other again, and were getting to know each other, the thought of her moving to another country was eating at me, the idea almost painful.
“I haven’t told anyone this, but I’ve been thinking about quitting and finding a new career path,” Kassidy confessed after a few minutes of silence.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, trying not to betray the hope she sparked in me. “What would you do instead?”
“I might want to do something in marketing. That’s a big part of what I do now as a diplomat, and I’d like it to be what I do full time. The funny thing is that my dad wanted me to join his advertising firm, and I refused. But now here I am, marketing Finnish companies to Americans, and I love it. I hate that my father was right,” Kassidy said.
“Why did you refuse?” I asked.
“Because I hate my dad,” Kassidy replied.
“I get that,” I said. I certainly knew all about hating dads, since I hated mine as well. And I wasn’t ready to push for it today, but someday, I wanted to know more about her dad, and why she hated him. I asked a different question instead. “So how did you end up becoming a diplomat?”
“Well, I first got the idea because I was good with languages. Plus, I’d spent most of my childhood bouncing between two countries, and having to switch between two different cultures. I felt like I’d adjusted well to that, so I assumed living in other countries and dealing with other cultures would be easy. It’s been much harder than I expected.”
I could commiserate. “When I was a Green Beret, I had to deal with the same kinds of cultural adjustments, although for much shorter periods of time,” I told her. “Every time I started training a new militia, whether it was in Afghanistan, Asia, or South America, I had to learn, and live, their culture. It’s a big adjustment, and a lot of work. It’s impressive that you’ve lived that way for most of your life.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that, but you’re right. I’ve been a nomad all my life, and I don’t want that anymore. I’m 28 years old. I want to pick a city and put down roots. I want to have friendships that last longer than a couple of years. I want a family.”
“Have you decided where you want to put down those roots?” I asked. “Would you consider staying in DC?” I felt like she could see straight through me with that question, but I couldn’t help myself. Besides, I’d already told her how I’d felt, and she hadn’t felt the same. How much more could I possibly embarrass myself?