Contracts by Matt Rogers (i like reading txt) 📕

bones together endlessly, on and on and on as it started getting darker.

3

There was no trouble.

They made it with plenty of time to spare before the sun fell and night swept over the mountains.

But Aidan Parker arrived exhausted to the bone.

He realised with staggering clarity that there was a world of difference between mental stress and physical stress. He thought he’d be prepared to handle anything Nepal could throw at him due to the chaos he handled on a daily basis in his small windowless office in Washington. But as he stumbled into the teahouse’s communal area and sat down at a polished wooden bench and dropped his head to the table, he understood the depths the human body could plunge to when pushed to its limits.

Raya said, ‘Are you faking it?’

Parker lifted his head. He felt cold and clammy. ‘What?’

She was sitting across from him, looking no worse for wear, scrutinising him. ‘Are you pretending? You know … to get out of our talk?’

He nearly groaned. ‘What talk, Raya?’

‘I told you I’d hold off until we were here safe and sound.’

‘Hold on. I need a moment.’

‘Like always.’

‘Raya,’ he snapped.

The owner of the teahouse, a small squared-away Nepali man, tiptoed out of the kitchen. ‘Namaste.’

‘Namaste,’ Parker said.

Raya repeated the greeting.

Then the rest of the party arrived.

Winston, then Oscar, then Sejun, then the porter.

The two bodyguards conducted a rudimentary survey of the premises. It didn’t take a great deal of effort. There was the communal area which doubled as a dining room, then the separate low building consisting entirely of sleeping quarters. Each room had rickety metal bed frames and thin mattresses and nothing else. Maybe blankets, if they were lucky, but they’d brought their own sleeping bags regardless.

They watched the porter drop their bags on the concrete patio in front of the bedrooms and trundle into the communal building. He sat separately, as was the custom. He seemed to prefer it. They’d tried to coax him over many times during their time together, but the guide had quietly informed them it was Nepali tradition to sit on a separate table to the clients. Anything else would be seen as intrusion.

Parker respected that.

He appreciated his alone time as much as the next man.

Now, Raya said, ‘I feel like this is our only opportunity to talk.’

Parker raised an eyebrow. ‘And why’s that?’

‘Winston and Oscar are sweeping the rooms. Soon they’ll be here.’

‘They could sit at another table if you want to talk privately.’

‘“We can’t do that, sweetheart,”’ Raya said, impersonating her father from the night before. ‘“We don’t want to exclude them.”’

Parker sighed. ‘Look, if you really want me to…’

‘I don’t want you to do anything. Except think about what a vacation entails.’

‘This is a little tougher than a regular vacation, don’t you think?’ he said, attempting a half-smile.

She scowled and turned away.

The joke fizzled out, dead on arrival.

Sejun sauntered over, sensing an opportunity in the silence, and said, ‘The usual?’

‘Yes, please,’ Raya said.

Five minutes later, the teahouse owner brought out steaming mugs of masala tea. The spices and herbs had been added without restraint, which Parker appreciated. He liked the tang. He sipped gratefully at the drink until it was all but drained. Now that they’d stopped they were getting cold, and the spicy tea warmed his insides. He hunched over the tabletop and stared at his daughter.

‘Let’s talk,’ he said.

She looked up at him. ‘Oh, now you want to—?’

‘Yes,’ he said abruptly. ‘Let’s cover what we need to cover.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m in the mood now.’

She said, ‘I already told you what I wanted to—’

‘People depend on me,’ Parker said.

A pause.

Raya said, ‘Okay…’

‘Do you understand what that means?’

‘Of course.’

‘My job is what you’d call high-stakes. I’m not supposed to tell you that, Raya, but I will. I handle very important matters every day. I know you’re not an adult, but you want to be treated like one, so I’ll do exactly that. Without me doing what I do, people will die. I’m not exaggerating. I take my job very seriously, but sometimes the schedule isn’t as clear-cut as it seems and I need to stay back at the office. Sometimes it takes all night — you’ve seen that. And I don’t want to stop because people rely on me to be very good at my job. I’m sorry if it’s hurting you. It’s hurting your mother, too. But I have a tough decision to make day in and day out — do I want to give my family my undivided attention, or do I want to protect the lives of my countrymen?’

Silence.

Deafening silence.

Raya sat back and chewed her bottom lip and intermittently sipped at her masala tea.

Then she said, ‘Do you like what you do?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say.’

‘Do you look forward to going to work?’

‘I guess. Because I know that the only thing I’m good at is coordination. And my job involves a lot of that. And if I wasn’t doing that, I’d know full well that I was letting people die.’

‘But then isn’t that just guilt?’

‘I guess.’

‘So you don’t really enjoy it?’

He said, ‘This isn’t a conversation I wanted to have with my daughter.’

‘Why?’ she said. ‘Because I’m young? Because you think I won’t be able to understand?’

‘No…’

‘I’m nearly fifteen. I can hear this shit.’

‘I know.’

‘Then what is it?’

He said, ‘I guess I just never wanted you to be in danger.’

‘You think I’m in danger?’

‘No,’ he said, backtracking. But he gulped involuntarily. ‘Just a hunch I’ve always had.’

She seemed to pick up on something. Something deeper in his eyes. Something … caring.

She leant forward and said, ‘Can we sleep in the same room tonight, Dad?’

He tensed up. ‘Raya, you know—’

She held up a hand. ‘If you need to spend that much time at your job, then I understand. But it doesn’t need to carry over out here. We’re alone on a mountain. And I don’t like it when Oscar has to sleep on the other bed every night. Can’t you make the bodyguards share a room? Just for