True Places(28)
When your childhood is taken from you, what takes its place? Suzanne had thought nothing would. Now she saw she could begin again. She could stand on the equator, where the days were equal to the nights, and find her own balance.
And as if that were not enough, she was doing the work she had always dreamed of, surrounded by intelligent, dedicated people with similar passion, seeking to unlock the impossibly complex design of nature, all her secrets, triumphs, and mistakes recorded in the life spread around them—animals, plants, fungi, microbes—flourishing and embattled. Biology was everywhere, of course, not just in Africa, but somehow it was more present here. Perhaps it was because humans had originated here, and her ancestral consciousness was being pinged by the sights, sounds, and smells. Suzanne didn’t lean toward the metaphysical, but on the edge of the crater, a vast tureen frothing with life, or in the middle of the savanna, rolling to the horizon, stippled by wildebeests, her sense of wonder seemed too large for her. She was a child in this world, and its student. She was its caretaker and its disciple.
She was growing here in Tanzania, where the light was strong and pure.
She was not a weed.
As her departure for the States neared, Suzanne spent long hours driving to likely spots in search of Hydnora. Dmitri was occupied with an intense collection protocol for the grazing research and apologized for not being able to accompany her more often. He planned to stay in Tanzania two weeks longer than Suzanne, returning in time for the fall semester. As she scoured riverbeds and acacia stands for Hydnora, Suzanne imagined their reunion in the States and considered what shape their relationship might take back home. She didn’t allow her thoughts to go too far; it was enough simply to relish the idea of doing ordinary things together—and not having to sneak off to have sex.
Five days before she was due to leave for home, Tennyson, one of the drivers, suggested to Suzanne they head south along the Kakesio, a seasonal river, toward Ololgumi, where a cluster of umbrella-shaped Acacia gerrardii grew. They bounced along a rutted track for forty minutes before crossing a dry riverbed. Tennyson pointed out the trees and circled them, scanning the branches. “You plant people forget to look up sometimes. See every blade of grass and miss a leopard.”
The smell of decaying flesh wafted in. Tennyson frowned and leaned out the window. “Might be a kill.”
Suzanne smiled. “Or something blooming.”
She got out of the truck and searched the ground, marveling at how the small trees had escaped being hacked down for cattle feed. After a few minutes, she found the scaly tubes of Hydnora sticking out of the ground, a dozen or more. Some of the flowers had opened, the four petals hanging back from the center like thick, fetid tongues. She rushed back to the vehicle for her collection kit and a shovel. Tennyson helped her take root and flower samples from two specimens, noting the location, time, and position. Suzanne took photographs at each stage, shaking with excitement.
During the drive back to the research center, Suzanne formulated a plan for using Professor Reiner’s industry contacts to obtain an analysis of the anti-inflammatory and antidiarrheal properties of the plant. Tennyson and Suzanne arrived as afternoon shadows were lengthening into dusk. Suzanne thanked Tennyson, dropped the collection kit at the botany lab, and headed for the dining hall. Distracted by her triumph, she barely noticed the couple leaving by the side door of the supply room adjacent to the lab. The center held forty people, not counting staff, and people came and went constantly. Many were strangers to her. But something in this couple’s movement as they disappeared between the buildings snagged her attention. Suzanne veered off the dirt path and followed them.
She emerged from the alley and stopped. Dmitri was walking away from her, a few yards ahead, his hand on the lower back of the woman beside him. The tip of her blonde ponytail nearly touched his hand. The woman laughed, a tinkling sound, and she tilted her head to peer at Dmitri from beneath her bangs. It was Anneka, a research fellow from Austria who had arrived two weeks ago. Suzanne held her breath as Dmitri touched Anneka’s neck just below her ear, and Suzanne knew he would now kiss her. Suzanne’s stomach dropped. Dmitri bent his head, moving as if directed by Suzanne’s thoughts, his lips an inch away from Anneka’s. Suzanne turned away, horrified, and fled the way she had come.
She ran past the lab and into the parking area, darting between the vehicles. Someone called out to her but she paid no heed. She could not feel her legs, only the thudding in her temples. Bushes, trees rushed by in a blur. Her lungs ached but she kept running, the image of Dmitri’s face as he bent to kiss Anneka hovering before her no matter how fast she ran. She stumbled on a branch, falling to her hands and knees, palms stinging. She clambered to her feet and took off again, the tall grasses whipping her legs. The brush thinned and she emerged onto the plain, panting, her mouth dry, her lungs in a vise grip.
A herd of gazelle scattered before her, quick shadows in the failing light. Suzanne slowed to a walk, gasping for air, coughing. Her nose was clogged with tears and her throat was raw. She wandered over a low rise, the vista bare except for a large, rocky outcropping—a kopje—to the west. Strips of magenta cloud paralleled the horizon; the sun had disappeared.
Suzanne stopped and stared at the outline of the kopje. Blocks of stone on the left and a large tree, perhaps a strange fig, on the right. It seemed distinctive, but she had no recollection of it. She turned around, expecting to see the lights of the research center, but there was only the vague outline of a distant slope. Her mouth felt filled with cotton. How far had she come? She hugged herself against the evening chill and spun in a slow circle, studying each feature she could discern, certain that she would recognize a landmark, shake her head at her own foolishness, and head back while there was still light.