SSSD - Keep trying!

Ro is under no illusions. The Norwegians are doing this because it’s practical, or because they find it amusing in their very relaxed, comfortable way. Outpost 69 has not suddenly turned into CCL House.

She rubs furiously, wrist aching and fingers stiff, clenching her teeth. It only gets more difficult the more conscious she is of how different she is from these women. For her, this is a huge deal. For them, it’s obviously not. Her insecurities are amplified.

It doesn’t work. Time kind of disappears, but a hand on her shoulder brings her back.

Ro realizes that she is surrounded. Frankly, being surrounded by naked women is not her fantasy. Not remotely. All the same, she would’ve thought that if it ever happened, the feeling would not be one of mortification.

But that’s what it is. They look concerned. They’ve clearly all finished and couldn’t look more normal apart from the nudity. Ro can’t get redder. And she can’t help but notice things, even if nudity is the last thing on her mind at the moment. Things like how puffy Julie’s nipples look, or Niv’s powerful hips, which is much more apparent when she’s naked. Linda’s tattoos and unruly bush, which shines with water.

“Are you OK?” Niv is asking.

Ro has done dumb things, but she isn’t stupid. Embarrassment is unavoidable, but she doesn’t have to show her cards as a total loser.

“Sorry,” she says, and she doesn’t have to fake sounding pathetic. “I’m just really stressed.”

Niv nods and the others look understanding, even Julie, whose affect is usually pretty flat.

<They are overdue,> Linda notes to Niv, who grimaces.

She means Alison and Signe.

“Signe will take care of your friend,” Julie assures Ro, and Niv squeezes Ro’s shoulder.

“She is in good hands,” Niv adds.

The Norwegians are so sweet and reasonable that the situation resolves without disaster. They don’t know that Ro is a pitiful loser who might be nursing a slight crush on the popular redhead currently tomcatting her way through Antarctica, breaking hearts and taking names. And they’re cool enough to see masturbation as a normal thing to do to relax rather than anything complicated attached to judgment.

Ro remembers her first boyfriend trying to explain something to her about a sci-fi movie that he liked, how people on lonely deep space missions would have sex without any romance attached just to have some connection and intimacy with other people. Ro feels like Outpost 69 is kind of like that, but it’s more to blow off steam. At least, that’s the vibe that she gets from Birgitte and Marit.

There’s still no sign of Alison and Signe at dinner. Ro’s worry is growing, and the Norwegians must be worried too, but they gravitate toward Ro and try to distract her.

Niv sits beside her as they eat, asking her questions about how to improve her English and opening the door for Ro to ask about Norwegian. Distraction is incredibly helpful. Ro feels childlike and high-maintenance, which makes her feel guilty and hammers her insecurity more, but it’s probably earned at this point. She’s a young undergrad in Antarctica. This is real life.

She wonders if she’s out of her depth.

It feels unjust when it’s time for bed. Alone in her room, she dons her thermal jammies and sits on the edge of her bunk. In a perfect world, she could remember the interesting scene from the shower and have some quality solo time. In reality, she can’t stop worrying about Alison. There’s nothing sexy about that.

She’s startled by the knock at her door. Frowning, Ro stands up and answers it to find Marit and Birgitte standing there. They’re sober, but not for long because Marit’s holding up a recognizable baggie while Birgitte rather casually carries an unopened bottle of Stoli.

Marit wears an oversized black crewneck sweatshirt while Birgitte has on a much more flattering and normal set of flannel jammies.

They don’t even use language; they just give her a look. Ro knows at once what has happened; the others, probably Niv, have sent these two here to keep her company. It’s sweet, really. Although it only makes Ro feel more intensely like she’s sitting at the kids’ table.

“Substance use. The perfect coping skill,” she says weakly.

Marit and Birgitte exchange a look. Their English is good, but not that good.

“You want?” Marit asks, shaking the baggie.

What Ro wants is to cry. “Sure,” she says and lets them in.

She finds herself sandwiched between them, sitting on the edge of the bed while Marit expertly rolls and Birgitte cracks open the bottle and takes a long pull. She passes it to Ro, who braces herself and has a drink. Plain, unflavored vodka. Literally the last thing that Ro wants to drink in the entire world. She chokes it down, then takes another swallow.

“Thank you,” she says and hands it back.

A puff or two later and she can’t help but feel better, although it says something about her that she’s trying so hard not to feel better. Maybe it’s time to listen to her roommate and see a therapist.

“Signe is a strong hero,” Marit tells her out of nowhere.

“Huh? Oh.” Ro sort of understands. They’re trying to communicate to her that she shouldn’t worry. But they’re worried. Not as worried as she is, but still. This is Antarctica. It doesn’t matter how strong or cool someone is; it’s like the most dangerous of the continents, Ro is pretty sure. She coughs. It’s a little difficult to be sure of anything at the moment, except that Marit’s stash hits hard and fast. Hard enough that it’s a little tough to keep up with the Norwegian language. Birgitte and Marit are saying things and laughing, and Ro is not catching it.

Marit nudges Ro with her elbow.

“Party in the shower today?”

“Huh?” Ro’s never too messed up to be embarrassed. Her face heats up. “Um…”

Birgitte laughs musically, then wiggles her fingers.

“Cannot finish?” she asks.

OK, so the Norwegians aren’t perfect after all. There has been some gossip, although it doesn’t feel especially mean-spirited. Ro’s impaired mind tries to grapple with that.

Tell the truth? [ Confess that she was nervous. ]

Or make something up? [ Claim that she’s really hard to get off. ]