“Don’t most of these go in the posterior region anyway?” I teased, making Dr. Ford close his eyes in disapproval. Spencer tried to hide his laugh behind a closed fist, but it wasn’t fooling anyone.

“I’ll just use your shower, Soph.” Spencer slid from beneath the covers and strode across the floor in his boxers without any sense of shame. Winking, in fact, toward Cassandra and causing her to choke on nothing.

“All the same, Miss Price, I’d prefer you in at least a robe.”

“As you wish, Dr. Ford.”

Cassandra grabbed the silk number that hung at the end of my door and brought it to me. Dr. Ford turned his head and I stood, sinking my arms through the sleeves of the robe Cassandra held out for me.

“Yummy, isn’t he?” I whispered low, teasing Cassandra.

Her face flushed and she narrowed her brows at me in obvious disdain. I smiled.

“You smile now,” she caustically bit, “but you have no idea what you’re in store for today.” She smiled in return and my own fell.

I swallowed hard and stared at Cassandra’s mean expression, shocked at myself for being unable to show no emotion. The truth? I was scared, terrified really because I had absolutely no idea what I truly was in store for. Not concerning the shots and certainly not Masego or whatever the hell they called it.

“Miss Price,” Dr. Ford said, “if you’ll sit down. I have several forms here for you to sign.”

He handed me a stack of papers.

“What are all these?” I asked him, perusing from one form to the other.

“Liability wavers.”

“Ah, so what exactly do you need liability protection from?”

Spencer walked in at that moment and sat beside me on the bed, drying his wet hair with a towel.

Dr. Ford sighed and pulled my vanity stool closer to me. He opened his leather satchel and inside, strapped tidily within a pouch, was an ungodly amount of syringes. I sucked in a breath and Spencer tucked his hand around my shoulder.

“Adacel,” he began, reading from a list on his lap, “which prevents tetanus, diphtheria and acellular pertussis. Hep A and B I’ve given you several months ago.”

“Why?” I asked curiously, just now wondering why I never asked questions before.

“Because of your,” Dr. Ford said, clearing his throat and glancing at Spencer, “increased activity as of late.”

“I see,” I said simply. Spencer laughed and I elbowed him. “Continue.”

“I’ll give you a revamp of the flu shot. Let’s see,” he said, glancing down at a few different sheets of paper. “A meningococcal booster dose, MMR or measles, mumps and rubella. Uh, pneumococcal, very important, polio you have, rabies,” he said, looking over a chart, “you’ll need a refresher on. You’ll need typhoid but varicella you’ve had.” He looked up at me. “Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, grasping Spencer’s hand.

“Calm yourself, Miss Price. You’ll need to follow strict food and water precautions while abroad. Consume only canned or commercially bottled drinks. Avoid using ice cubes, though I doubt they’ll have refrigeration where you’re going, which is also why you should only eat fruits and vegetables you peel and wash yourself. Avoid cold cuts, salads, watermelon, puddings.”

Dr. Ford looked up at me.

“It goes without saying, Miss Price, but do try to avoid casual sexual contact. I cannot stress that enough.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Never use needles or syringes used by other people. Avoid sharing a razor or toothbrush. No tattoos or piercings while there. Remain in well-screened or air-conditioned areas when possible. Wear clothing that adequately covers your arms and legs and use DEET-containing insect repellent on both your skin and clothing. Refuse blood transfusions unless in a life or death situation and try to ensure they’ve been properly screened first.”

“Yes, if I’m dying and in desperate need of blood, I’ll be sure to ask if the blood’s been properly screened first.” Deflecting your fear through sarcasm. Nice, Soph. He’s only trying to help you.

Dr. Ford’s face became deadly serious. “You do not understand, Miss Price. This is no joking matter. You are visiting a highly-diseased area. The things I am trying to protect you from can be the difference between dying a painful, horrible death...or not.”

Right, thanks for that visual, doc.

“Cassandra will be bringing by an immunization record to keep with your travel documents. Don’t lose it. They may not let you back in the country if you can’t prove you’ve taken preventative measures.”

“You’re shitting me,” Spencer piped in.

“Hardly,” Dr. Ford replied, now rolling his own eyes. “Shall we get started?” Dr. Ford asked, turning to me.

“You will be feverish and sore in the injected areas but Tylenol should help you there. Get some rest,” Dr. Ford added after the shockingly painful administrations, right before closing the door behind him and Cassandra.

“You should probably take those pain meds now,” Spencer said. “My mom always made me take them right before my shots as a kid so I’d avoid getting ill later.”

“They’re in my bathroom. Shelf,” I said, lying down.

Some of the shots I’d gotten hurt tremendously. I’m not joking. The needles were huge and the injections felt warm and invasive.

Spencer brought me a glass of water and a fever reducer. I drank it down quickly. We both laid down on the bed facing the ceiling after I turned the stereo on low.

“Well, that was enlightening.”

“I’m frightened beyond belief, Spencer.”

He sighed loudly. “I know, Soph. I can tell.”

“It’s a good thing I haven’t used my father’s stupid card yet.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I would have gotten short shorts and tank tops had I not known I needed to wear longer sleeves and pants.”

“Christ, Soph. This is scaring the shit out of me and I’m not even going. I’m panicked for you.”

He dragged me over to him and culled me into his body, spooning me and smoothing my hair behind my ear. It was the first time a guy had ever done anything like this with completely innocent intentions and I fought the tears burning to shed. He was so nice to me and I didn’t really know why. I mean, yeah, he did want to sleep with me. What guy didn’t, if I was being honest with myself, which was my own fault but Spencer wasn’t asking me to do anything. He was offering himself as comfort without any expectations in return.

I turned over and wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me fiercely in return. After a few minutes, I drew back and looked into his eyes.

“You’re a good man, aren’t you, Spencer?”

He laughed at me. “No, I’m not, Soph.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m not a good man.”

“Then you just aren’t aware of it, but you are.”

“Fine, fine. I’m a friggin’ saint, yada, yada. Can we get you your shit before all the stores close? I want this Africa shit done and over with so we can finish out the week in total debauchery.”

He made me laugh, but he wasn’t fooling me. Somehow, growing up in the house he did, with the father he had, Spencer had the unbelievable potential to become a very great man. He amazed me. I suppose the choices you make really are what define you.

Why can’t you get into him then?

I took my father’s card and maxed it out. I bought all new sturdy canvas luggage because my soft leather designer bags weren’t going to cut it, obviously. Spencer took me to the store his mother visits when she goes on safari and the clerk there was exceedingly helpful, informing me what would work best in mid-Africa and what I could get away with. I only bought a few things but still took their advice to my own favorite shops. The hell I would look like a slob if I could help it.

I bought fifteen pairs of badass jeans and a lot of formfitting button-ups as well as a few knee-length riding boots to wear over my jeans. It wouldn’t define me, that fashion sense, but it would keep me safe and I had to admit I wouldn’t look like a total slob. I tried on a complete outfit for Spencer and paraded around him in the store.

“You look transformed. I’m not used to seeing you so casual.” My shoulders slumped a little in disappointment and my signature pout came to the forefront. “Oh, please,” he continued, “you look sexy as hell as if I needed to say it. Your ass is the sweetest I’ve ever seen, especially in those jeans.”

I smiled devilishly at him. “Thank you,” I told him, sashaying off, swinging my hips from side to side. His audible groan sent that secret thrill through my stomach again, but it was short-lived by that nagging sense of guilt. What is wrong with me!?

When Spencer took me home and helped me load all my purchases into my bedroom, we came across a massive pile of things resting on top of my bed along with a letter from Pembrook.

Pemmy told me to go with the impression that I wouldn’t have electricity ever, as Masego only had it sporadically and for maybe a day at that. All that translated to me when he wrote that was I wouldn’t be able to fix my hair and I had nothing but cold showers in my future. He included a huge bed net to protect me from insects at night, a massive medical kit containing things I’m fairly certain only a doctor should have a license to handle, various over-the-counter medicines as well as prescription antibiotics from Dr. Ford, which, by the way, looked like they were lifted directly from the pharmacist’s shelf. The bottles obviously held hundreds of pills. It made me nervous just looking at them.

Pemmy closed his letter telling me that he loved me like a daughter and he wished me to be careful. I didn’t know what to think of that, but I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t make me smile...just a little.

CHAPTER SIX

I woke at three in the morning shaking. Dr. Ford had told my father about Spencer’s sleepover and that had been the last night Spencer was able to stay much to my dismay. If ever I needed a warm body by my side, it was through the long nights before my departure. Nights of quiet. Nights of speeding thoughts and concocted scenarios of danger and disease.

I stood in the shower for close to half an hour, attempting to let the steam soothe my fears, but it did no good, no good at all. I stepped from the water and wrapped a towel around myself. I stood in front of the mirror and took a good hard look. I was as bare as I could make myself, no makeup with wet, stringy hair. I hated to look at myself in this state. I didn’t feel real. I felt too exposed and that made me exceedingly nervous, but I made myself look that morning. I memorized that girl. That girl was the real me. Frightened. Worthless. A terrible friend. Terrible daughter. Well educated but so limited in ideas worth having. Beautiful yet repulsive...

And finally honest.

Spencer picked me up that morning for my flight at seven in the morning. He rang me from inside the house and I met him in the foyer standing next to Pembrook, no sign of my mother or father.