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“Here,” I say and offer her the lantern. “Hold this.”
She takes it from my hand and gives me a small smile, and it may be the first sweet look I’ve seen her give. I kneel to fix the twisted tent pole, and she says, “I guess I can see why you find this so amusing.” Her voice is a bit at ease, perhaps because the others can’t see her or us inside the tent. But they can see shadows, so I stick to the work at hand.
Jack lets out a puff of air, and in my periphery, I see her hair fluff out with her breath.
I snap the last pole into place and remind myself of the tactics people are supposed to use in Corporate America. Unfortunately, I remember those days all too well. But . . . maybe a few encouraging words will soothe her a bit.
“You almost had it. There.” I give the structure a small tug to show that it’s sound and sit down with my legs crossed in front of her. Then, I can’t say why, but I get a little truthful. “I find your stubbornness amusing, Jack. On most corporate busy bodies, I find it entirely annoying, but with you, ”I pick a burr off my pants leg and shrug, “it’s kinda cute.”
Her face immediately turns red. Splotches appear on her neck.
So, I backtrack. “Why do you refuse help?” I ask.
“I hate failure,” she offers, and there is something serious in her face as she looks at me.
We stare at each other for what feels like forever. Or maybe it feels like just a flash.
Then, suddenly, she glances away. “Look out there.” She points to the tent’s opening. “Every guy I work with was able to get their tent up. I work on a team with all men, and I have to work twice as hard to prove my worth. In the boardroom, I can keep up with them, no problem, and they still treat me like a second-class citizen.”
She screws up her face and mimics someone or maybe more than one person.“Jack, plan a retreat for the team.”Then, she raises her brows and puts on this ultra-placid mask.“Jack, why don’t you order the food for the team meeting?”She seems to be speaking from experience, and that explains a lot.“Jack, our coffee is low. Could you make a fresh pot?”
“It’s just so much work.” Jack plops her elbows on her knees and rests her face in her hands. “But out here, I feel like they’re all laughing at me, and the whole situation is all my fault. I wanted to get back at them by scheduling this—this . . . outing. But it’s totally backfired, and I’m the one out of sorts. Now, everyone is reveling in my failure. I hate that this stuff doesn’t come naturally to me.”
I study Jack’s face and find myself questioning the picture I had painted of her in my mind. A prissy girl, who spends her Saturday mornings drinking expensive coffee, eating scones, and then going to her overly priced Pilates class. I hadn’t considered how hard it must be to prove herself repeatedly with all the male energy from her colleagues.
“A word of advice,” I offer.
Jack’s eyes dart up to meet mine and her posture stiffens.
For a split second, I wonder if she lumps me into the same boat as her peers and boss. Probably. Feeling chagrin over judging her so coldly, I hold up my hands—a tiny apology. “That is, if I may?”
She nods.
“You’re just as talented as everyone out there. Probably more than most. You don’t have to be good at everything in the world. And you’re sitting in a tent with someone who has both lived their game and knows his way around camping. Asking for and accepting help doesn’t show weakness.”
“Well, maybe to you,” Jack responds, but then she sighs and backpedals. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
I’m not ready to spill my story to a total stranger. And one who will be gone in a week, to boot. “Did you really watch them, Jack?”
“Watch who?” she asks.
When she looks at me, her eyebrows pull together.
“Your colleagues. Not one of them put their tents up alone. They helped each other. Trusted one another. And that’s why they got it done quickly. You’re trying to do it on your own, but that rarely works out the best.”
She furrows her brows. What I said seems to make her think for a moment, and she gives me a tiny half-smile.
“Sometimes you’re going to have to allow yourself to trust others if you want to get things done, Jack.” I move into a crouch and offer her a hand. “C’mon. Let’s get going. We all have a dinner to cook.”
She doesn’t take my hand, so I let her be alone for a minute. When she joins us all around the fire, she’s quiet. I think about what might be bothering her but try to shake the thought away. My mind has already been clouded with Jack too much for today.
Jack
We had dinner about anhour ago and the last rays of the sun are gone. I’m sitting here, watching the fire dance on orange coals with my insulated bottle of water in one hand. Of all times, why couldn’t it simply turn into a glass of Chardonnay? Luca sits across the fire, holding his own in conversation with Derrick and Anthony. He’s easy-going and a great fit in the boy’s club, and that just chaps me in all the wrong places. Then again, there were the comments he made earlier about my talent and his advice about teamwork. Guess I’m learning a little about it myself out here.
Luca sips from his canteen. I grab mine too, wishing for a cup ofHand of the Kingtea from Dartealing Lounge.
The fire we sit around is small, but it’s warm enough to keep the night chill away. The smell makes me feel more homesick than I would like to admit. It’s a reminder of the wood-burning fireplace in my family’s den on cool evenings. I grimace as I wonder what Mama would say about the mess I’ve created. I can almost hear her voice now.
