Impossible Odds

openedthe toiletry kit some of the men had gallantly assembled for me. I noticed there were four sports bras in various sizes but no panties. Well-intentioned males: You’ve gotta love ’em.
    I timidly asked a nurse about it. She gave an embarrassed laugh and had somebody bring me some underwear, but they turned out to be an extra-large pair of granny panties. Did I object? Are you kidding? They were actual underwear, clean, and meant for a woman.
    I was getting anxious to see Erik, but one of the first things they got across to me in my initial psych interview was their official concern for how and when Erik and I were to be reunited. Nobody knew if I was going to go hysterical, blame him somehow, scream recriminations, slap and claw at him—I guess they’d seen a wide range of behavior from people held in captivity for long periods.
    I felt no such anger or desire to cast blame on him, but I also had to privately admit I wouldn’t really be able to judge the effect of all this until Erik and I were back together and in a situation where we could talk it out. I knew he’d been racked with worry, and it seemed obvious the best way to bring a halt to that was for us to reunite without delay. So while I was eager to cooperate with my rescuers, their concerns sounded a little dramatic to me.
    They told me my initial phone calls to Erik and my father should be kept to a maximum of five minutes each. So I steeled myself for another couple of stilted, brief conversations that would at least be something, some small bit of direct contact.
    My first attempt to get through to Erik failed, so I tried my dad’s cell phone and got him on the first try. “Jess!” he cried out, and this man who was usually not an emotional guy sounded ecstatic. He called to my sister, who was right there with him, and she got on the line with us. We all cried together in sheer relief, and I apologized profusely for putting them through months of hell. Our call was short, but the effect on each of us was powerful.
    Shortly afterward, one of the FBI agents walked in with his phone, saying Erik was on the line. As eager as I felt to take that call, from the moment we lurched into the conversation, I began to understand the reasons for restricting initial contact. The floodgates of emotion opened wide. We were both completely overcome, dissolving into tears. I felt nearly too stunned to speak. His voice sounded so good, just as I remembered it, sweet and loving. We could do little more than assure one another, over and over, that we still loved each other, no matter what.
    “But, Erik,” I told him just before the phone was taken away from me, “I need to tell you that we’re going to have to have a long talk.”
    “Of course, Jess! Of course! We have so much to talk about, everything that happened—”
    “No, Erik,” I interrupted him. “I mean us. We have to do things differently from now on.”
    “We will! We will, Jess. Whatever you want. Your NGO is arranging to fly me to you as soon as possible. Jess, I can’t wait to see you! Honey, I’m so sorry that all this happened, but we have the rest of our lives to figure things out. It will all be good.”
    “I can’t go there now. We have to talk. We have to do better this time. For now, I just want you to please get out of Hargeisa and away from any revenge these guys might be planning. We have to think about their desire for retaliation.”
    “All right, I’m leaving for the airport soon. God, Jess, I can’t wait to see you!”
    We hung up a few moments later, each one assuring the other our love was alive and well. Still, as soon as the call ended I felt the full force of the wisdom behind the restricted time on first calls to loved ones. I was emotionally wrung out.
    Somebody brought more coffee, and then somehow, running on adrenaline and repeated doses of caffeine, I sustained eight straight hours of interviews. We drew up a complete list of thekidnappers, including names, physical characteristics, personality traits, and personal strengths and weaknesses.
    Once the FBI and the doctors were finally convinced they had learned everything they were going to get from me and the doctors had tested everything there was to test, they finally released me to go get some sleep. Poul and I ran into each other in the clinic hallway, and all I could do was put my head on his shoulder and weep. He just stood there and quietly hugged me back.
    I got my first sleep on the plane, at