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“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”
Strangers crowded around the bar television.
“Six! Five!”
A woman locked eyes with Pauling and raised an eyebrow.
“Four! Three!”
Pauling nodded excitedly.
“Two!”
The woman grinned.
“One! Happy new year!”
As the bar cheered loudly, the stranger kissed Pauling, tasting of sweet liquor. They both pulled away, grinning.
“Hi… I’m Lauren.”
“Flo.”
“Well, Flo, can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” Pauling responded as the short-haired woman leaned across the counter.
“A drink for the lovely lady, please!” She called to the bartender.
“Oh? Is the lovely butch getting laid tonight?” He responded.
“Alan!” Lauren hissed.
Flo laughed before ordering. Alan nodded and began making the drink.
“I haven’t seen you around,” Lauren commented. “You visiting Greenwich Village?”
“New York, actually. A friend got me tickets.”
Lauren gave an impressed whistle.
“Damn, some friend! Are they here?”
“He’s working, although it wouldn’t surprise me if he went to Boston to see his girlfriend.”
“He got you tickets for NYC on New Years Eve but didn’t come?!”
Flo laughed as Alan finished her drink.
“You want the full story?”
Pauling’s jaw dropped as she stared in disbelief at the assistant.
“What do you mean I have to take a break?!”
The assistant winced.
“W-Well, you know how the New Mexican government forced you to take that vacation?”
“Yeah? Don’t tell me they’re back! They said they were happy with how much time I took-”
“It’s not them,” The assistant interjected. “It’s… well, the US government found out that you were still delivering contracts during your vacation and are… strictly enforcing your time off.”
“How?”
The assistant didn’t respond.
“How are they enforcing it?”
The assistant opened his mouth when the office door slammed open to reveal Soldier holding a rocket launcher.
“Hello, Miss Pauling!” He greeted. “I have been subcontracted to make sure you have a relaxing vacation!”
Pauling sighed.
“Of course…” she muttered. “What’s the Administrator going to think?!”
“S-She was the one who signed off on your holiday.”
“What?!”
The assistant jumped.
“I-It was either this or investigation! Her hands were tied!”
Pauling stopped, took a breath to calm herself down. It wasn’t working.
“Okay, I’ll go on vacation. If anything happens, call me immediately, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Come on, Miss Pauling! It’s time for your vacation!” Soldier shouted.
Pauling could only sigh as she walked out.
“There I was, forced on a paid six-month vacation.”
“I’m so jealous,” Lauren groaned.
Pauling laughed, sipping her cocktail.
“The problem was, I had never been on a proper vacation before. I didn’t know what to do except clean my apartment. The next morning, I found this on my doorstep.” She reached into her purse and dropped a thick booklet onto the bar, torn and stained from use.
“One continent per month?” Lauren read.
“Except for Antarctica,” Alan continued. “I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Mm-hm! It was from Spy, my coworker. My first flight was the next morning, so…”
Pauling had only been in Rio de Janeiro for a few minutes before getting into trouble.
As she rifled through Spy’s itinerary for the name of the hotel, a kid swiped her wallet and ran away.
“Hey! Give that back!”
She gave chase, honing in on the small thief. The kid was fast, but Pauling could keep up with Scout.
She was far from the airport when someone shouted, the kid froze and Pauling slipped into a puddle.
“Muleque!” The woman yelled. “O que eu já te disse de roubar?!”
“Mas mãe!” The kid complained.
Pauling spat out mud and removed her glasses, wiping the grime away. She glanced up to see a middle-aged woman offering her a handkerchief.
“Obrigada…” Pauling muttered.
“American?”
“That obvious?”
“Sim,” she responded with a laugh. “Locals watch for pickpockets. Davi?”
The woman looked towards her house to see the young thief poking his head out from behind a balcony. Davi sighed and walked towards Pauling, wallet in hand.
“What do you say?” The woman prompted.
“Sorry…” Davi responded, not sounding very sorry.
“Good enough. My name is Camila. Are you hungry? I’m making some feijoada right now. It’s the least I can do.”
“Let me tell you, it was one of the best dishes I’ve ever had,” Pauling added, taking a sip of her drink.
“Mmm… You’re making me hungry,” Lauren sighed dreamily.
“Camila was lovely. She used to be a chef before having kids. I told her about my vacation and after we ate, she organised a food tour of South America!”
“Holy shit!” Alan shrieked.
“I barely wanted to leave, but I had tickets for my next stop.”
Pauling frowned at the menu in front of her.
“Excuse me?” She called.
The waiter locked eyes with her, and held up a finger before disappearing behind a door. Moments later, Pauling heard bickering in an unfamilar language, before the man reappeared with a woman close to her age. The woman muttered an insult to the waiter before walking over to Pauling.
“American?”
“Yeah, how did you…?”
“It’s obvious,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Tourists speak English.”
Pauling assessed the woman.
“How many languages do you know?”
The woman counted on her fingers.
“Seven? Maybe eight?”
“Woah. A-Anyway, I was wondering about the kefta tagine…”
Naturally, her next step after she ate was to stakeout the restaurant until the woman reappeared, lugging trash behind her.
“Hey!”
The woman flinched before settling her eyes on Pauling.
“American,” she greeted.
“Call me Flo.”
“Zahra. What are you doing here? There are a lot of sights in Morocco but my alleyway isn’t one.”
“Um… I’m only fluent in English. I was… wondering if you could be my guide across Africa? I just need to get to South Africa before the 31st.”
Zahra blinked.
“You want me to drop everything, abandon my family’s restaurant, and travel around the continent acting as some personal guide?”
“Well, when you put it like that—”
“When do we leave?”
“Merci beaucoup!” Zahra thanked the street vendor, stepping up to Pauling with a greasy paper bag.
“Mikate,” Zahra explained to Pauling. “They’re like donuts. He let us have the last batch before he closed.”
Pauling smiled.
“Wanna sit by the river and eat before heading to the hotel?”
“Perfect!”
They walked in a comfortable silence through Kinshasa and to the Congo River.
As they quietly ate the mikates, Zahra looked around. Pauling stopped to stare at her.
“You alright? What’s wrong?”
“I just… wanted to make sure no one could see this.”
And then Zahra kissed her. Pauling’s fingers flexed for a moment, before she threw away her anxieties, and returned the kiss. She could taste the sugar on Zahra’s lips.
“How romantic…” Alan sighed.
“I was sad to see her go, but she had to go home. We spent as much time as we could together, then we said goodbye at the airport. We exchanged addresses, and I flew to my next stop.”
Pauling glanced down at the itinerary as she walked over to the airport’s car rental stand.
Written in Sniper’s handwriting was a simple note.
The best thing to do in Australia? Leave.
Spy had compensated for his coworkers surliness, giving Pauling a slew of things to do while in Australia, but she couldn’t help but fixate on the note.
“Come on!” A young man in front of her complained to the worker. “I have the money, why can’t you give me a car?”
The employee frowned.
“Sir—”
“Johnno.”
“Sir, we need confirmation you can return our car. You told me you’re driving off into the outback without a destination. Try elsewhere. Next!”
The man trudged away, stepping outside to sit on a bench as Pauling glanced at him. He was still there by the time she had her keys.
“Johnno?”
He raised his head.
“Yes, Miss…?”
“Call me Flo. Why'd you need the car?”
Johnno sighed and looked away.
“I don’t think you’d understand as an American.”
“Again?! How do— you know what? Unimportant. Why?”
Johnno smiled at Pauling’s outburst before frowning again.
“I want to find my family.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t know where they are. I was only five when I was taken and they won’t give me my file. All I know is that they’re outside Perth.”
Pauling pursed her lips.
“I need a guide,” she eventually spoke. “I need to be in Sydney by the end of the month, and I’m going through the outback. Can you help?”
Johnno whistled in amazement.
“Shit. Perth to Sydney in one month? Fuck, let’s go.”
“Good news,” Johnno greeted as he sat down at the table opposite Pauling, balancing food and drinks. “I’ve got us some food, a room, and a lead.”
“Haven’t you been busy?” Pauling joked, taking a plate from him.
“I was chatting with old mate at the bar. One of the elders comes by every night for a feed. He’s happy to introduce me. Maybe he’s family.”
Johnno looked down at his chicken parmigiana with a frown. Silently, Pauling bumped his knee.
“It’ll be fine,” Pauling whispered. “You’re scared, but you’ll find them. We’ve gotten this far.”
A faint smile crossed Johnno’s face as he returned the bump.
“Right.”
Pauling smiled back and took a sip of her drink before pulling a face.
“Y-You alright?”
“I don’t like beer.”
Johnno laughed as Pauling swapped their glasses around.
“That night we talked to the elder and… he wasn’t it but he was happy to help. Johnno stayed behind, and I continued onto my next continent.”
Pauling scowled down at the map in her hands, the paper turning to a soggy mush as the rain pounded around her.
She looked around, trying to find the bus station and saw nothing.
She heard a sliding door rattle behind her.
“Nüshi!” An old man yelled, beckoning her inside. Pauling didn’t think twice.
“Ugh, xièxiè,” she muttered, soaked through.
The man smiled at her.
“You’re welcome,” he responded in English. “American?”
“Is my accent that bad?”
“No, don’t worry. My wife is American; she pronounces xièxiè similarly.”
“Oh… Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Stay right there.”
The man disappeared into the house and immediately returned with the towel.
“Xièxiè,” Pauling muttered, grabbing the towel.
“Bù kèqì,” he responded. “My name’s Hao.”
“Flo.”
“Qīn’ài de?” A woman called out. “Who are you talking to?”
“A tourist stuck in the rain!” Hao answered.
The woman laughed, appearing in the doorway with a plate of bao in her hands.
“Lucky I made extra,” she joked, putting down the plate. “Dig in.”
“Oh, um, thank you, Mrs…?”
“Call me Minnie. And you are…?”
“Flo. Sorry for intruding. I couldn’t find the station for my tour and my map was ruined.”
“Where were you going?” Hao asked.
“Oh, the Great Wall. My friend suggested it and… M-Minnie, why are you smiling?”
Minnie chuckled.
“I used to be an archeologist. Want a short lecture on Great Wall of China?”
“I know so much about Chinese history. Next time we’re climbing the wall together.”
Lauren giggled.
“Aww… What’s next?”
Honestly, with how Spy talked about Paris, Pauling expected more. The architecture and art were amazing, but everything was so crowded, Pauling could barely see. She wasn’t impressed — Paris was just another city.
Regardless, the cafe she found herself in was nice, and the galette she had been eating was amazing.
Pauling looked up from her plate and flinched. Her waitress had appeared in the chair opposite her.
“Uh… bonjour?”
“American,” The woman stated in an accent. “Do you like my pastry?”
“Y-Yeah?”
“Do you want more?”
“What?”
The woman sighed.
“I am applying for École Grégoire-Ferrandi. I need a taste tester. Do you want pastries?”
Pauling gaped at the stranger.
“F-For free?”
“Yes, for free, you insolent American!” She spat. “I need someone who doesn’t know about pastry to tell me their thoughts so I can succeed! And then they will remember the name Désirée Angélique Benoît!”
“Well, uh… my name’s Flo-”
“I did not ask. Are you going to help me?”
Pauling blinked, glanced down at her empty plate and made up her mind.
“Fuck it, why not?”
Désirée grabbed Pauling’s hand and pulled it into a fierce handshake.
“Come. By the end of the night you will be a connoisseur.”
“Those pastries…” Pauling sighed. “I’ve never had a marjolaine before, and I’m afraid if I have another one, it won’t live up to the experience of eating it on a stranger’s shitty couch while she rants about meringues.”
Alan and Lauren laughed as Pauling finished her drink.
“After Europe, I had tickets for New York and here I am.”
Lauren smiled. “Maybe you can tell me more about your trip back at my apartment?”
Pauling smirked.
“I’m assuming we won’t be talking the entire time?”
“Ah, clever girl,” Lauren said flirtatiously, getting her wallet out. “Keep the change, Alan.”
“Hope to see you around, Flo,” Alan farewelled.
Pauling smiled, remembering the phone call from the Administrator she had received hours ago. She glanced at herself in the reflection of a window and noticed just how much she had changed in six months. She looked older, fatter, but most importantly, happier.
And she had more vacation ahead of her.
“Me too.”