The Bones of Grace Read Online Free Page A

rippled through the lab when I had been chosen over the others to work on the dig in Pakistan had turned brittle over the course of the spring. Underneath it all was the implication that I had been chosen because I had a Muslim name and spoke a few words of Urdu. No one had been allowed near Dera Bugti since the start of the war in Afghanistan in 2001, but somehow the leader of the expedition, Professor Bartholomew Jones, had been granted permission to dig around the Western Suleiman. If we were successful, we had a chance to make a significant discovery in the field.
    All the graduate students in my department had applied for the place. I had waited until the last day to submit my application, uploading the essay with minutes to spare. And, instead of describing all the technical skills I would bring to the team, I painted a picture of the world as it might have appeared to Ambulocetus : the landscape of the Early Eocene Era after the extinction of dinosaurs, home to the whale who both walked and swam, an amphibian that was also a tetrapod, a creature embracing its duality, its attraction to both the lure of the seas and the comforts of land. I had sent off the essay and decided to think very little of it, telling myself I would have to do my thesis research in a library while secretly believing they would choose me, not because of my name, but because there was poetry in Ambulocetus , and she demanded someone who would understandthat. Kyung-Ju had congratulated me after the announcement, but I knew it was particularly difficult for her. She worked harder than me, had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the Eocene, and answered to parents who, unlike mine, took a daily interest in her progress.
    I tried to grab the cup from Kyung-Ju’s hand. I knew she had a crush on Brian and I didn’t want her to embarrass herself.
    â€˜My mom was so mad,’ Kyung-Ju said, dodging me. ‘It was bad enough I wanted to study palaeontology, but I couldn’t even be the best at it.’
    â€˜I just got lucky.’
    â€˜Don’t sweat it, Kyung-Ju,’ Brian said, ‘you get to stay here with the rest of us, while Miss Glamourpants gets her hands dirty.’
    Brian threw his arm casually around me, his unshaved chin bristling against my cheek. I smelled whisky. His beard reminded me of the concert, your fingers entwined in mine. I let a small sound escape my lips. Brian lingered, leaning towards me, and I thought about kissing him, because I wanted so much to kiss you. Brian had asked me out during our department orientation, and I had laughed it off, saying we had only just arrived, there would be plenty of time for romance. He hadn’t repeated the offer, and soon everyone knew about Rashid. I pushed him away gently now and wrestled Kyung-Ju’s paper cup from her hand. ‘That’s enough,’ I said. ‘Here, eat some cashews.’ I steered her towards the sofa, supporting her head as she leaned against the armrest.
    â€˜I wanted it more than you,’ Kyung-Ju said, her voice cracking.
    â€˜I’ll whisper your name into the dust,’ I said.
    I wandered onto the porch, wishing you’d given me yourphone number. I would call and tell you about the party, the people spilling onto the tiny patch of grass in front of the house, Kyung-Ju’s head rolling forward onto her arms, the smell of cigarettes and baked fruit. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started sending Rashid a text. It was a few lines long before I gave up, unable to capture the thread of feeling that had begun to unspool inside me: a sadness at having to leave this place, which I had always treated as temporary, and a parallel restlessness, an eagerness to go because the conversations were folding back onto themselves, and I was thinking about the woman who gave birth to me, tucked away in some part of my country, and that, out of loyalty to my parents, I would probably never know, because the word biological was