The desolate landscape provides us no refuge from the cold, damp wind that rips right through the camp. I’ve bought clothes that make me look like Nanook of the North -- warm boots, gloves, jacket, hat, scarf and additional blankets for my bed. Remarkably, our gas heater warms up our little room and keeps it relatively snug. The weather is much more moderate than what I had growing up with in New York, though it’s colder than what I became used to in California.

Every time I find myself depressed, I rally myself when I realize that in the Zaatari camp, families are living in tents. Many of the refugees have fled with their lives; they now have few clothes to protect themselves from the weather, and little money to buy what they need. I’m now living with so much less. It makes me wonder why I thought I needed more.

With our limited access to the web, e-mail, texting, and Twitter seem to be our only window to the world. Many things that at home always seemed so important, now seem frivolous and ridiculous. All the people that work at the camp are either aid workers or construction workers. Fashion consists of work boots, hiking pants, thermal tops and rugged jackets. My wardrobe has become very functional.

At night I dream of rich green meadows, flowers, clear blue lakes, and big leafy trees. Emma and I visit the Azraq Wetland reserve every chance we get. My eyes and my soul are restored by walking along the boardwalk that lines the water, then we sit on a bench, look at the grasses growing along the shore and watch the birds. It’s turned into my little bit of heaven. I will always look at marshes differently after this.

Conner and I see each other infrequently. He has a number of mysterious things he must do and he shows up at unpredictable times. Yvonne is pissed when he’s around, but considering she’s never gone out of her way to becoming my friend, I really don’t care.

***

“You can have the truck for the day,” Laura tells me in December when the days are short and so are my spirits.

“Do you need me to pick things up in Amman?”

“No, I think you should get out of camp. Jordan’s an interesting country, go someplace with your friends.”

It feels like I’m sixteen and suddenly handed the car keys and full tank of gas. I race out to find Adam. It takes us no time to get Emma and Lars to join us. We decide to use our freedom to visit the Roman ruins of Jersha. They’re located about a two-hour drive away. In our bid to avoid driving at night, we get up at dawn, grab some of the always available pita bread and spreads in the canteen for breakfast, and then head out.

I’ve been to Rome, so seeing Roman ruins isn’t a surprise; though I still find it awe-inspiring to walk around structures that have been standing for thousands of years. Jersha has an amazing display of Corinthian columns, Arches, a hippodrome – used for horse races, theater, baths and a forum. After taking a million pictures, we head into the modern town of Jersha for a late lunch.

“What a surprise, they serve Jordanian food here,” Lars jokes.

Though I have to admit the food is wonderful, and so is the food made by the Jordanian cooks who work in our canteen.

***

As the New Year arrives, our pace of building gets even more fevered. The basic plumbing and roads are finished. We start building the one room metal homes in earnest.

What surprises me the most is that Yvonne has started to thaw. Our roommate relationship has now slowly morphed into almost a cordial friendship.

“I didn’t think you would make it two months, so I figured it wasn’t worth getting to know you,” she confides as she hands me a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“You’re not alone. None of my friends back home thought I could gut it out either.”

***

Coordinating a few days off with Conner, we decide to head to Petra, which is a four-hour drive south. We splurge, staying in a Marriott hotel located on a hill near the town of Wadi Musa. The entire ride is a prelude to sex, we talk, then touch, then get quiet.

 “Pull over,” I plead with Conner. “We can do a quickie in the back seat.”

“Olivia, this isn’t the US, it’s not safe.”

Damn, when did he get so practical?

By the time we arrive at the hotel our sexual energy is palatable. All I can think about is skin against skin. At the reception desk it feels like they’re taking forever to get us our key. On the elevator ride up we each face off against each other on either side of the little box. I think if we touch, we’ll explode. As soon as the elevator door opens, Conner grabs my hand and pulls me to our hotel room door. He opens the door and nearly throws me against the wall as his mouth meets mine. I love the way he tastes, the way he feels, the way he makes me feel. I open my eyes and moan.

Then I push him away … “Oh, Oh, Oh,” I gasp as my eyes register the shower. It’s big, clean, with a sparkly glass door that highlights handles for both hot and cold water. My body starts shaking from excitement. I push Conner away as I run into the bathroom. With my arms extended, I hug and kiss the sparkly glass door.

“Hot and cold running water, a heater,” my eyes fall on the counter, “electricity, a blow dryer,” I moan out in ecstasy.

Conner is breathing hard, his eyebrows are knit as he leans his forearms against the bathroom door casing.

“You want shower sex?” he groans out.

I look at him surprised, “Sex? I want a shower, hot water, electricity.” then I grab his arm and push him to the door. “Get yourself a beer; I’ll meet you in the bar. Give me an hour. I’m taking a shower and washing my hair.”

“Liv, sex, now.”

“Oh, no way, I’ve had sex with you over the last four months. But a shower...” I open the door and push him into the hall. “I’ll be down in an hour.”

Even though I know how precious water is, I can’t help myself from spending way too much time in the shower, performing all the grooming routines I’ve seriously neglected. I’ve learned that you can go a shockingly long time between washing your hair if you braid it and wear a scarf. Washing my hair and blowing it dry feels like an unbelievable luxury.

The closet even has an iron and ironing board. I pull out my one dress. It’s spent the last four months in the bottom of my bag. I iron all the wrinkles out. For the first time in months, I feel feminine and clean.

With the happiest smile I’ve had in a while I head down to the bar. Conner is sitting by himself, looking out the window, nursing a beer. I slip into the big, comfy chair next to him.

“Enjoy your shower?”

I flip my clean blow dried hair over my shoulder. “Better than sex.”

“Really?”

“Four months. I’ve gone four months without hot water. If I had gone four months without you, I would have chosen sex over a shower.”

“That’s good to know.”

I order a glass of wine. Then realize Conner’s pouting, I give him a little kick, “GI Joe, we have three days. I think we can find some time for sex.”

“Says the women who wanted it so bad she begged me to pull over in the middle of an Arab country.”

“Anticipation, it adds to the excitement.” With my glass of wine, sexy soldier, and a view of the mountains I feel unbelievable happy as we watch the sun set.

When I place my finished glass of wine on the table, Conner smiles at me.

“Are you now ready?”

He stands up and extends his hand. The hotel is really quiet since it’s off season, though when we get to the elevator, there’s a family waiting. Conner points to the stairwell. I give him a shrug as a sign for agreement. He threads his fingers through mine and tugs me to the stairwell door. He walks fast up the stairs.

“G I Joe, are you in a hurry to do something?”

“My girlfriend cock blocked me for a shower.”

A flash of mischief crosses his face. We’re now on the landing. He almost throws me against the wall, his body aligns with mine as he kisses me deep and hard. I can feel him hard against my stomach as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and lift one leg to wrap it around his hip so I can bring him even closer.

“Our room is two flights up, it has a bed,” I purr.

Conner’s fingers reach down as he pulls up my dress. He runs his fingers along the smooth silk of my underwear. He runs a trail of kisses from my ear to the tickly spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

“I can’t wait, I want you now,” he growls.

“Anyone can walk in on us here”

“Again, I don’t care.”

He moves the slim material away from my heat and starts probing my folds.

I gasp.

Conner’s mouth covers mine as our moans get muffled. I reach down, unzip his jeans.

“Commando again?” I giggle into his mouth.

He plays with my clit applying just enough friction to make me tingle and quake.

“Condom in my back pocket.”

I rub my groin against his as I reach into his back pocket pull out a condom, rip it open with my teeth, then reach down and roll it on over his very impressive dick. Our lips meet as I arch my back so I can guide his dick into me. Then I jump up, I wrap my other leg around his hip. Conner braces us, with one arm on the wall, and another around me. I hold on tightly to his shoulders.

He thrusts as my entire back gets thrashed against the wall. As the tingles turn to explosions, I can feel us come together. I bite his shirt as I try not to scream. Conner finally stills and lets go of my waist. He rests his head against the wall as I keep my arms around his neck, my cheek on his shoulder. Finally, he picks me up and carries me the two flights to our room. He’s breathing hard as he drops me on the bed.

“You realize your dick’s hanging out and floating in the breeze. It would have been quite the site if we ran into someone.”

 “Says the woman who was just fucked in a hotel stairwell.”

The next morning, after sharing an American breakfast of waffles, pancakes, and omelets – yeah my man can eat. We head to the ancient city. It’s an amazing experience. We park our car outside of the ancient town and walk through a large, modern plaza, then take a wide dirt road that winds through the mountains. The mountain pass narrows. Carved into the three story high mountain walls are three dimensional animals, roman pillars, and façades of homes. The road opens up into a wider area, directly in front of us is the Treasury, the largest and most detailed façade. What’s interesting is these façades were never buildings. They were mausoleums where the families of first century Petra buried their dead. Past the Treasury, the mountain path widens into a wide plane. We follow the main road past a Roman style city that was abandoned almost two thousand years ago, after a number of earthquakes caused the buildings to weaken, and the inhabitants to leave. Conner and I spend the rest of the day wondering the abandoned Roman City. In the evening we continue to get very well acquainted.

Two days later and our mini vacation is over and we’re back on the road to Azraq. Through the car window, I watch the rocky desert landscape and long for the lush green trees of New York. It’s not that I mind being here, it’s that after two days of modern comforts, the thought of showering from a spigot and sleeping in a tin can feels oppressive.

“You’ve gotten quiet,” Conner says as he squeezes my hand.

“This weekend was fun… but…”

“What?” he questions.

“I don’t mind being at the camp, it’s just…after spending two days with all the first world comforts, it’s hard to go back.”

“I actually have the exact opposite reaction. Not that I mind privacy, comfortable beds, or hot showers, it’s … I’m so used to living with the bare minimum, when I go stateside, I always feel overwhelmed by all the crap people have that they don’t need.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. In Switzerland I had the hardest time shipping my things home, I literally was hyperventilating. But now, I don’t miss them at all. I’m starting to wonder why people need so much stuff. All the stuff I thought was so important, now feels like an unnecessary burden.”

“Do you think you’ll revert back once you get home?” Conner questions.

“Probably, especially when it comes to taking showers and washing my hair. But I hope I never lose the important lessons I’ve learned.”

“That you don’t need all your fancy clothes?”

“The real lessons I’ve learned are that I don’t need all the trappings and that I can make it on my own in a difficult place. Before I came here I always thought I could gut it out in a difficult place, but now, I know, not only can I do it, I can thrive.”

“Yeah, I can relate. I grew up on a pig farm, it’s not like I came from a fancy life like you. I was used to safe, rural Indiana. I loved boot camp, but the first time, when we were on the plane to Afghanistan, I was so scared. I had never been out of the US, I had never been to a place where people didn’t speak English, and I had never been dropped in a war zone. Nothing the army does can prepare you for the first few days in a country where you’re dealing with hostiles. At least I had my squad with me, while you were all on your own. I can’t tell you how much better I felt having eight guys who I knew had my back.”

“I might have been on my own, but I spoke the language, was familiar with the food and culture, and most importantly, I’m not in a war zone.”

“But it’s not a nice safe suburb like you’re used to.”

“I grew up in the busy streets of New York. I took public transportation to school. I’m used to navigating iffy neighborhoods and dealing with street people.”

“I guess I was projecting. I grew up in a town that was almost one hundred percent white. In the four years I lived with my grandparents, they never left our county, they never ate in a restaurant, and they never spoke to a stranger.”

“Wow, the army opened your eyes.”

“True and I’ve really enjoyed it. I like seeing other places, meeting other people, eating new foods. That’s one reason I like you. When we went wine tasting, it reminded me of Afghanistan.”

“The mean streets of Sonoma reminded you of Afghanistan? Is that because their IED’s are made from artisanal cheese?” I joke.

“In that it was a completely different world. I had never eaten in a restaurant with table cloths, tried wine, or went into a shop that had all those fancy cheeses that you like. It felt as foreign to me as Afghanistan. But you were so comfortable, you knew exactly what to do. You were like my squadron leader, showing me the ropes.”

“You always know how to say the right thing,” I comment as I feel my apprehension about returning to Azraq dissipate.

“Telling you I was a fish out of water at a restaurant with a table cloth is the right thing to say? It doesn’t make me sound like some stupid country boy?”

“It makes you sound authentic. It makes me feel less guilty about enjoying first world pleasures. That’s one way we’re similar. We both like pushing ourselves out of our comfort zone. We both like experiencing something different. Instead of feeling dread about returning, I’m now reframing my experience. I’m feeling excited about returning to my adventure.”

When Conner parks inside the compound, a different kind of dread fills me. Three days with Conner isn’t enough.

“I know you won’t have an answer, but I feel like I have to ask this anyway, when will we see each other again?” I ask.

“You’re right, I don’t have an answer. I’ll go back to the air base and find out about my orders. You know when I have a break, I’ll be back.”

We get out of the car. Conner grabs my pack and hands it to me.

“Can you at least join me for dinner?” I ask.

“I wish, but I really need to get back,” he begrudgingly explains.

I lean into Conner and feel the strength and the warmth of his body. I miss every moment I’m not with him. I take a deep breath and suck it in, I need to be strong. Clingy girlfriend is not a role I want to play and not the kind of woman Conner would like.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” I pragmatically respond as he gets back into the car.

“I love you Liv,” he says as he leaves me standing startled in the dust.

I watch the dust cloud from his tires as I catch my breath.

“I love you too,” I speak into the wind.