The Girl Who Never Read Noam Chomsky

by Jana Casale

  That Saturday they went to see the film. She hoped that seeing it would calm her and she wouldn’t care as much afterward. She got gummy bears and a Diet Coke. Once I see the movie then I’ll be over it, she thought, and ate a red gummy bear. The film was gripping and tragic. Tilikum’s life was one filled with fear and abuse and so much sorrow that it was almost unfathomable. The attack too had been completely misrepresented. He hadn’t accidently caught his trainer’s ponytail in his mouth, mistaking it for a fish, but rather deliberately grabbed her and dragged her into the pool, viciously thrashing her body around so violently that he dismembered her and actually scalped part of her skull. They had to pry his jaws open to get her mangled body out of his mouth. As the credits rolled Leda was still holding tight to the full bag of gummy bears. Her palm was sweaty against the plastic. That night she went home and watched the trailer again. If she could have watched the film again she would have.

  The weeks to follow, she kept up with all of her research. She knew everything there was to know about the case on Tilikum. If she’d been asked to testify in court on the whale’s history she could have done so with great authority. She learned the lineages of all the whales and which pods the wild ones had been taken from. Occasionally, she’d remember things she’d learned in the report she’d written in the third grade. It was in those moments that she saw something in herself that was wild and untamable. It was as if deep inside she had buried this childhood obsession and all it took was something to reignite it for it to emerge just as strong as it ever was. That which she believed she’d outgrown was really just dormant and waiting. It scared her.

  John began to worry.

  “It’s not healthy for you to be home like this all day just watching whale videos,” he said.

  “I don’t just watch whale videos all day,” she said.

  “What I mean is, I just don’t think this is leading anywhere.”

  “What leads anywhere?” she snapped. “What at all in life that you enjoy has any kind of real purpose?”

  It was such an intense compulsion. What impression of herself could she have given off then? How could she explain giving up grad school and moving to San Francisco and what it meant to her to have John? Could she have painted an accurate picture of herself, lying in her bed watching YouTube videos of orcas? Was it any different from herself as a child with a plastic orca family? The father cruising this way, the mother leaping that way, the baby staying near. Could she have said anything of her life then besides starvation?

  She decided that the only thing to do was to go on a trip to see the whales in person. John hadn’t accrued a ton of vacation time at Google yet, but she figured they’d be able to manage a long weekend. San Juan Island in Puget Sound wasn’t too far away from San Francisco, so it seemed perfect. She looked up what the best time of year to go was and where to stay. She found a small house for rent. That night she showed John a link to the whale watch she wanted to go on. John thought the trip would be fun.

  “I think it would be good for both of us to get away,” he said.

  She e-mailed the people with the house for rent and found that it was booked for the next three months straight. By the time it would be empty, the whales would have already left for winter. She looked for somewhere else to stay, but everything affordable had already been booked. She Googled “best place to see orcas,” and that’s when she found Telegraph Cove in British Columbia. The area was almost completely desolate. There was fishing, and of course the orcas, but little else. She found a few houses for rent that were much more affordable than the places on San Juan. She decided to e-mail about one of the properties, a good-sized house on Cormorant Island in the village of Alert Bay. She e-mailed:

  Hi,

  I was looking to rent your house for the weekend of the 22nd. It would be for myself and my boyfriend. We’re coming from San Francisco and are looking to stay for two nights. Let me know what your availability is like.

  Thanks so much,

  Leda

  The next morning she woke up to this e-mail:

  Hi Leda give me a call 778-432-0092 —Pat

  The e-mail was so short and curt. When she read it she was half asleep, and her first reaction was a mix of embarrassment and anger. She reread her own e-mail, which seemed so long-winded in comparison with Pat’s. Maybe this is what’s wrong with me. That I say too many things and try too hard. Maybe I should be direct like Pat, she thought. Pat seems like a bitch.

  But when she called Pat, Pat wasn’t a bitch at all.

  “Hello,” Pat said.

  “Hi, umm, is this Pat?” Leda said.

  “Yes.” Her voice was warm sounding, like that of a woman who was good at baking or blow jobs. Even from the few words she’d spoken Leda could hear her thick Canadian accent.

  “This is Leda, ummm. I e-mailed earlier about the house for rent?”

  “Oh, yes, hi! I should have known when I saw the area code. So you’re coming from San Francisco, eh?” she said.

  “Yes, uh huh.”

  “So were you planning on flying into Port Hardy?”

  “I hadn’t really figured that out yet. I was thinking of just driving up from Seattle.”

  “Oh, that would be really hard to do, honestly.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, see, that’s why I asked, because I saw that you were wanting just the two nights and the thing of it is that, and it’s beautiful here so don’t get me wrong, but it’s just not easy to get to. You’d really need to fly in and even then you’d be cutting your time super short because, you know, the traveling just takes a long time out here. So, you know, I just wanted to be sure you’d know kind of what you’re getting into with it.”

  “Yeah, I guess I haven’t really looked into the whole thing enough.” Leda could hear a level of disappointment in her own voice that she hadn’t anticipated. It was then that she realized just how sad she was. How different her life had become, and not just the external of it. Her own voice held wavelengths that were too deep to ignore.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Pat said in her warm, capable-sounding tone. “It’s just beautiful here. And driving up through British Columbia would just be a phenomenal trip. Just breathtaking, but you need more time with it.”

  “Yeah, see, originally we were going to go to San Juan Island, but it’s pretty booked up at this point. See, I just really want to see the orcas. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since I was a child.” Leda searched for the right words to express what she was meaning, but all she could think of was, “It’s just something I really want to do.”

  “Yeah,” Pat said. “San Juan is really beautiful too. I think if you could find anywhere at all to stay there, that would be your best bet. I don’t want to discourage you, but, you know, I just wanted to let you know about what a trek it is and all. I just want you to get your money’s worth, you know. I don’t want you to waste your time.”

  “No, I appreciate that.” Leda listened to the way Pat had said “waste your time” and “discourage.” She wished that what she’d really said was I love whales too or You’ll get to see the whales.

  After John got home they scoured tons of travel websites for places to stay on San Juan. John was adamant about them finding a place. Even as Leda gave up on the search, he kept looking. She thought that was really sweet. In the end they decided they’d just go next summer.

  “Even if we’re back in Boston,” he said.

  But she knew as he said it that they wouldn’t be back in Boston at all.

  That night Leda couldn’t sleep. She stayed awake and wrote a short story about a woman who wanted to see whales so she drove up all the way through British Columbia with her boyfriend and then when she got there, right to Telegraph Cove, right to Johnstone Strait, she walked out of the car and into the water and just walked and walked until she disappeared into the water
. Her boyfriend screamed and called for her, but all he could see was the piercing black backs of orcas coming up for air.

  —

  Two weeks later Leda got a job at a coffee shop.

  CHAPTER 31

  Routine

  Working at the coffee shop, life was the complete opposite of the way things had been. Almost every day she’d wake up and have somewhere to be. It was hard work, and she hated standing all day, but she found such comfort in the certainty of it. John was at work, and she was at work. It was easier to explain to herself. If I meet someone and they say, “What do you do?” I can say, “I’m working at a café and working on a novel.” Or I don’t have to mention the novel at all.

  Originally John hadn’t thought it was a good idea.

  “What about being a writer?” he said.

  “I’m hardly writing now, John.”

  “I just feel terrible that you’re having to do this.” He shook his head and looked so sorrowful. She touched his elbow.

  “I bet I’ll write more if I get out a bit,” she said.

  “Will you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, but she wasn’t sure it was true.

  The coffee shop was only one stop away on the bus, so she didn’t have to worry about walking through sketchy neighborhoods or too long of a commute. On the bus she’d listen to music, and life almost felt like it had when she was a student. It’s all like it used to be, just like that, she thought, and she’d turn up the music in her headphones.

  At work she’d smile a lot at customers and say, “How are you doing?” and “Have a great one.” The interactions were small but precious in the wake of the vast isolation she’d been feeling. She did burn herself quite a few times and one burn scarred on her wrist. She’d used the emergency burn kit and everything, but it still scarred. She’d notice it while showering or putting on bracelets but rarely at any other time.

  There was a boy named Allen who worked at the coffee shop. He had a tattoo of a cross on the back of his neck and he wore hipster glasses and had thick, dark hair. His fingernails were a bit too long, but this was really the only thing she found to be unattractive about him. He was very nice to her her first few weeks and on occasion she thought he was almost flirting.

  “Cinnamon, yum,” he’d said.

  But when he learned that she had a boyfriend he stopped flirting, and this made her respect him even more. He was still nice, though, and they got along well. They were almost-friends in the superficial way you could be with someone of the opposite gender. They ate lunch together and Allen would do fake British accents throughout the day. John was jealous, but Leda didn’t care.

  “I don’t think you should have a guy friend that you’re, like, seeing all the time and everything,” he said.

  “Yeah well, I don’t see him all the time. We never talk after work.” And it was true. The starkness in contrast of her life at work to her life at home became palpable. On occasion she and John would be out at dinner or out for drinks, and she would be so caught up in thinking about what had happened at work that she would hardly talk. John’s life was something that seemed different from her own, as if he lived in this grown-up world of stock options and 9:00 a.m. meetings. Very often she’d have to remind herself that she wasn’t just working at a coffee shop like any twentysomething-year-old. Very often she’d have to remind herself that she and John were actually supposed to be living the same life.

  Allen told her he’d been working at the coffee shop for the last three years. He’d explained to her that he’d moved to San Francisco on kind of a whim and that his real ambition was to work in tech but that he didn’t have the skill set.

  “Couldn’t you take classes?” she’d asked him once when they were on break.

  Allen nodded as he thoughtfully chewed an Oreo.

  “That’s what I’m planning, or actually, what’s even better is my buddy has this really well-funded start-up and he said he could teach me some CSS, and I could work for him.”

  “Wow, that would be amazing.”

  “Yeah, I feel good about it.”

  “When do you think you’d be able to quit working here?”

  “Probably over the next few months.”

  “That’s too soon!”

  “Sorry, but I have places to go,” he said, and pretended to smoke a cigarette. “This is an electric cigarette, by the way, because I’m fancy.”

  She laughed and took one of his Oreos.

  There were three other people she shared shifts with besides Allen. There was her manager, Tina, a large girl who wore bright lipstick and generally kept to herself. Leda didn’t mind working for her, as she was fair and didn’t expect too much from anyone. “I know this isn’t your dream job,” she’d say loudly anytime someone complained, “but as Tim Gunn says, ‘Make it work.’ ” On a rare occasion she would even let the baristas go home an hour early with pay. Leda liked to imagine that Tina was someone who had a lot in her life besides the coffee shop, and that was why she always kept to herself, and that was why she was so nice to everyone. She liked to imagine that she was happy.

  Besides Tina and Allen, there was a girl named Callie who was living in the city with her best friend and was taking summer classes at art school. Callie was super skinny with a very elegantly placed nose ring. She had sort of a long, aloof way of talking. Leda never did find out much about her. Whenever she asked her a question or tried to make small talk, Callie would take an enormous pause and then respond with a one- or two-word answer that made it virtually impossible for the conversation to continue. The best example of this is:

  LEDA: Hey, Callie.

  CALLIE:…Hey.

  LEDA: How was your weekend?

  CALLIE:…Good.

  LEDA: Did you do anything fun?

  CALLIE:…Yeah. I did.

  The other person was a boy named Zeke. Zeke was from an island off the coast of Portugal. He was studying full-time at Berkeley and working his way through school. He had a cold, quiet demeanor. Leda didn’t really talk to him much because Allen hated him.

  “Zeke is an asshole,” Allen said after she first met him. “Don’t bother talking to him.”

  “Why?” she said.

  “It’s a long story, but basically I just really hate the kid,” Allen said as he steamed milk. “He’s an asshole.”

  A great many things happened in the time that Allen and she worked together at the café. She was hit on by a millionaire tech tycoon, an old woman accused her of being a “slobbery mess,” and she and Allen made up a song called “Waffles and Espresso Will Get to You.” But the defining moment between them would happen on a Friday when he missed his shift.

  That morning as Leda got to work only Tina was there.

  “Have you heard from Allen?” Tina asked.

  “No,” Leda said. “Did he call in sick?”

  Tina shook her head in the kind of pensive way she often did. “I’ll call Zeke and see if he can come in.”

  It turned out lucky that Zeke could come in because the day ended up being considerably busy. It was hot out and everyone wanted iced drinks. By the afternoon Tina gave them an extra break.

  “Why don’t you two go sit down and rest for a few,” she said. “Things seem to be slowing out here finally.”

  Leda looked at Zeke, who met her stare with the same cold expression he always bore. They walked to the little back patio at the rear door by the Dumpster. Zeke took out a cigarette, and Leda sat on one of the three stools that were out there.

  “You don’t smoke, right?” he said as he went to put the pack back in his breast pocket.

  “No,” she said.

  He nodded but then paused. “You don’t mind if I do, though?”

  She was taken aback by his courtesy. “No, I don’t mind,” she said.

  The two were quiet
for a minute. Leda hadn’t ever really taken the time to look closely at Zeke. Most of the time she was too busy working or goofing off with Allen to notice much about him. He was actually more handsome than she’d thought of him. He had high cheekbones and big eyes.

  “Don’t you want to sit?” she asked him.

  “No, if I sit I won’t be able to get back up. I’m super tired.”

  “Late night?”

  “Finals. That’s why I’m super pissed I had to come in today.”

  “Yeah, that must suck. I’m surprised Allen didn’t show up.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause he’s usually always here,” she said.

  Zeke scoffed and tossed his cigarette. “I know he’s your buddy or whatever, but you shouldn’t trust Allen.”

  Leda didn’t answer.

  “I’m not trying to offend you or whatever, but Allen is the kind of person who isn’t doing anything with his life. He’s been here for eight years. Did he tell you that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Yeah, he dropped out of school and moved here when he was twenty. He’s not like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re not gonna be here forever. You’re not messed up like Allen. I mean, he has problems. You just shouldn’t really trust him is all.”

  “I think he said his buddy has a start-up that he’s gonna go work for in a few months.”

  Zeke smiled and waved his hand dismissively, “Nah, that’s something he’s said for years. It’s not true. He lies a lot.”

  “Well, I don’t know, maybe he’s just going through a rough time. There’s nothing wrong with working in a coffee shop, anyway. I mean, look at us, all of us, look at Tina.” She said “Tina” but she was thinking of herself.

  “There’s nothing wrong with working in a coffee shop. My parents run a grocery mart. That’s what they do for a living. I don’t have a problem with it. But that’s not the situation with Allen. He’s not like the rest of us. He’s just a messed-up person who isn’t serious. I know he’s funny and fun to be around or whatever, but you should just be careful.”