“Oh, Jesus.” April rolled her eyes skyward. “Did he lecture you about hummusagain?”
“Yes. Even though I don’t eat much hummus, or give half a shit about chickpeas. I guess he just assumes I do, because...” Bashir waved a hand at himself. “You know.”
Together, they began carrying the paperwork to the company truck.
“I know.” She sighed. “Please tell me he wasn’t telling you to try—”
“The chocolate hummus,” Bashir confirmed. “Again. If you’d like to hear about its fiber and protein content, or perhaps how it’s a vast improvement over more traditional versions of hummus—the hummus of your people, as he put it—I’ve been wellinformed and would be delighted to share my newfound knowledge with you.”
He opened the passenger door for her, and she tucked the paperwork inside the latching case of her clipboard.
“Ugh. I’m so sorry.” She grimaced. “If it’s any consolation, he also has very definite opinions about how his few female colleagues should dress to score more jobs.”
In a small private firm, consultants like her had to hustle for clients, woo them over lunches and at professional meetings, draw them aside at conventions and conferences about remedial technologies. Convince them she should be taken seriously and they wanted to pay her company for her geological expertise.
To remain optimally billable, she had to look a certain way. Sound a certain way. Present herself in the most professional light possible at all times.
Billablehad become an epithet to her in recent years.
Reputation in her industry could be a fragile thing. Could be damaged. By, say, the revelation that a seemingly serious and practical colleague liked to play dress-up as her favorite pretend TV character and spent most of her free time discussing fictional half gods.
Bashir rolled his eyes. “Of course he has opinions about women’s clothing. You told management, right?”
“Literally five minutes later.”
“Good.” Bashir walked by her side back toward the sampling table. “Hopefully they’ll fire his ass before much longer.”
“He knows nothing. Less than nothing, if that’s possible.” A pluck of her fingers at her shirt demonstrated how it clung damply to her. “I mean, look at how much we sweated today.”
“Copiously.” He glanced down at his own sweat-soaked orange shirt. “Disgustingly.”
Stoppingby the table, she shook her head. “Exactly. Someone needs to set that new kid straight. Unless she wants to end up in the hospital for dehydration, she needs to bring water.”
Bashir inclined his head. “You would know.”
“I would know.”
And she did. Up until now, almost a third of her work hours as a geologist had been spent staying upwind of drill rigs like the one on this site, poring over soil samples to be logged and shoved into jars and sent off for lab testing. For a long time, she’d loved the processes and the challenges and even the physicality of doing fieldwork. Some part of her still did love it.
Not all of her, though. Not enough of her.
As they flipped the table on its side and folded its legs, Bashir paused. “You’re really leaving, huh?”
“Yup.” This was her last day visiting a contaminated site in her current role, her last week as a consultant at a private firm, and her last time washing dirt from her jeans. “I’ll miss you, but it’s time. Past time.”
In less than a week, she was moving from Sacramento to Berkeley. And in less than two weeks, Future April would begin her new job at a state regulatory agency in Oakland, overseeing the work of consultants like Current April, which would mean more meetings and document analysis, and less time in the field.
She was ready. For so many reasons, personal and professional both.
Once she and Bashir had all their supplies back in the truck, she changed into her regular glasses and removed her other personal protective equipment. With a sigh of relief, she untied her dusty boots and deposited them in a plastic bag, then put on her battered but clean sneakers. Beside her, he did the same.
Then she was done. Finally, blessedly done, and desperate fora shower, a cheeseburger, and approximately a gallon of ice water. Not to mention some more Lavineas fanfiction, group chats on the server, and DMs with Book!AeneasWouldNever. Hopefully BAWN had written while she was working.
First, though, she and Bashir needed to say their goodbyes.
“I don’t know if you already have plans for the weekend, but Mimi and I would love to treat you to dinner. To celebrate your new job and say farewell.” Even after several years of working together, he was still shy enough to fidget while issuing the invitation. “She knows you’re my favorite colleague.”
As he was one of hers, and she considered his wife Mimi a genuine friend too.
