Melt

by Robbi McCoy

  Pippa looked satisfied, her smooth, golden-hued face creating the perfect canvas for her richly sculpted lips and those incredible eyes.

  “Why do you like that idea?” Kelly asked.

  She shrugged. “Otherwise it’s just so sad. Those poor people and their totally crappy lives—barely surviving for centuries and then just gone. All for nothing. We don’t even know most of their names. They were born and suffered and died and there’s no evidence they ever existed.”

  Kelly nodded sympathetically. Pippa was right. It was a sad idea, and her romantic young imagination wanted to turn it into a happy ending.

  “If I could do anything at all with my life,” she said sincerely, “I’d want to study genetics and unravel the mystery of my blue eyes.”

  “Do you think that’s possible?”

  Pippa nodded. “Oh, sure! Everything we’ve ever been is coded in our DNA. If we could understand it all, we would know the story of life on earth. Not just how humans evolved, but the evolutionary history of everything that lives or ever has lived on this planet.”

  Pippa had clearly spent a lot of time thinking about the mystery of her blue eyes.

  Kelly raised her camera and focused on Pippa’s face. She thrust out a hip and smiled coquettishly as her photo was snapped, then darted off to help Mr. Stewart who had lifted off from the safety of his bench again.

  The old woman, Nivi, emerged from the cabin and approached the Coopers, producing a pair of butter yellow boots that she held out for their inspection. The boots were decorated with tan fur.

  “Kamik,” she announced proudly.

  “This is very soft,” Mrs. Cooper said, feeling the leather. “Did you make these?”

  Nivi smiled, but said nothing.

  “Let’s get the guide to translate,” suggested Mr. Cooper.

  They called Pippa, who took one look at the boots and became visibly alarmed. She addressed Nivi in Greenlandic and sent her away. The only word Kelly recognized was “American.”

  “What’s wrong?” Mr. Cooper asked.

  “She can’t sell you those,” Pippa explained. “They’re made of seal skin.”

  Mrs. Cooper’s eyes widened. Mr. Cooper nodded his understanding. “It’s illegal,” he said.

  “It’s illegal to import any marine mammal product into the US.” Pippa clarified. “It’s not illegal here. Or in Denmark, so I sent her to the Danes.”

  “Did she make those?” Mrs. Cooper asked.

  “Yes.”

  “From a seal?”

  “It’s how she makes money,” Pippa explained. “She sells most of her pelts to a tannery. But she makes a few traditional pieces like the kamik to sell to tourists.”

  “So she kills seals,” Mrs. Cooper persisted. “With a club?”

  “With a rifle. Like you would shoot a deer.” Pippa smiled cheerfully, unfazed by Mrs. Cooper’s distress. “Seal hunting is a way of life here.”

  Mr. Cooper put his hand over his wife’s. Kelly took that as a silent request not to make a scene. She apparently got the message, as she said no more about it.

  As the boat slowed and turned toward land, Kelly stepped over to Pippa and asked, “Is this where Nivi gets off?”

  Pippa nodded, then pointed. Kelly followed her finger to locate a bright yellow house on shore, a sheer wall of rock behind it. The house was a typical Greenland-style wooden structure, square with a steep roof. With its bright paint, it stood out in sharp relief from the gray landscape beyond it. There were no other houses in sight. Kelly heard dogs barking. As they got closer, she saw them, several huskies chained just out of reach of one another among a cluster of doghouses.

  “There’s no village?” Kelly asked, searching the shore for other houses.

  “Just this house. She lives here with her son and daughter-in-law. They’re hunters.”

  “It seems awfully scary to be so isolated.”

  “Don’t you have people who live outside of towns in Colorado?”

  “Sure. But they can get on a road and drive to town if they need to.”

  Pippa laughed. “It’s all in what you’re used to.”

  They edged up to a weathered dock and Nuka clambered onto it, taking one of the guidelines in both hands and easing the boat into position. He wrapped the rope around a post and Amaalik cut the engine. Pippa rushed over to the side to unfold the stairs, then she reached for Nivi’s hand. Nivi gripped it firmly and stared intently into Pippa’s face. She spoke to her in Greenlandic, gesturing emphatically, then stepped up on the stair and transferred her grip from Pippa to Nuka, who helped her make the final stretch to the dock. When she had steadied herself, she turned and waved up at Amaalik with a toothy grin.

  When they were underway again, Kelly joined Pippa in the cabin for another cup of coffee.

  “What did she say to you?” Kelly asked.

  “Nivi? Oh, nothing. Just talking about my eyes. I get that a lot. The old-timers have their stories.” Pippa held her mug between both hands.

  “Stories? Like what?”

  “Legends, you know. Like light-eyed people have special sight. In English, you would say seer or shaman.”

  “She thinks you’re a shaman?”

  Pippa snorted. “Yeah, sure. Traditionally, Greenlanders gave special status to people with blue eyes because they were so rare. They believed we could see into the future and the past and talk to spirits. Some of them still believe that. Like Nivi.” Pippa shrugged. “Anyway, she was just telling me I was special.”

  Kelly smiled. “You are special, Pippa. Even if you can’t see into the future.”

  Chapter Five

  When at last the time came to send the boat back to Ilulissat, Pippa helped the Stewarts aboard while Sonja Holm stood beside Kelly on the dock. She wrote her name and email address in a small notebook, then tore out the page and handed it over.

  “Send me a note when we’re both back home,” she said. “we can meet at the Jumping Bean for coffee.” She leered, holding her bangs back from her face. “Or something.”

  “Thanks,” Kelly replied, tucking the note in her camera bag.

  “Maybe we’ll run into each other again here in Greenland.”

  “Maybe. We’ll be around the area for a few more weeks.”

  “If that’s an invitation to visit,” Sonja purred, “I may just make an effort.”

  Kelly smiled at her teasing hazel eyes and the liquid movement of her body, so obviously offering to pour itself onto Kelly’s.

  Pippa waved her arm impatiently to urge Sonja to get onboard.

  “Have fun on your hike,” she said, grasping Kelly’s hand briefly, then she ran to the boarding ramp.

  Pippa and Kelly waved goodbye as the boat eased away from the dock. A few moments later the sound of its engine faded as it moved further into Disko Bay and disappeared around a bend. Almost as soon as the boat was out of sight, two little boys came running across the rocks, a puppy scampering awkwardly after them. A woman appeared from one of the houses with a basket of laundry, walking toward the community building, the only building with running water. The ordinary life of this village went unobserved by the tourists. You would hardly know there were people living here when the boat was at the dock. But now, as the visitors made their way back to town, the villagers emerged to resume their daily lives.

  From the dock the whole town was visible. A couple dozen houses framed a small, sheltered harbor where the only vessels in sight were a few kayaks. The houses were painted in the colors seen all over Greenland—brick red, mustardy yellow, bright green and sky blue, each one built in the same style, steeply slanted roof, a square attic window above a white front door with two small windows on either side of that. Each roof had an identical chimney and all the buildings were trimmed in white. The only difference between the dwellings was the color of paint.

  Drying on wooden and twine racks throughout the village was the staple food for the sled dogs, halibut. The couple dozen adult dogs were chained in a cluster
on a small hill and several thick-furred puppies frolicked loose. Next to one of the houses a red snowmobile was parked, useless until autumn.

  Kelly and Pippa stood in front of the post office and general store, the Pilersuisoq. The only other commercial building in town was a restaurant, a brick-red building across the harbor that survived by serving lunches to tourists and the occasional group of hikers.

  “Was she flirting with you?” Pippa asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

  “Sonja? A little.”

  “Do you like her?”

  “No idea. I just met her. She seems okay.”

  Pippa was curious about the lesbian dating game, Kelly decided. Though she hadn’t come right out and said it, she had thrown out a few timid remarks that suggested she might be gay. Or at least wondering if she was. Without a community of lesbians around, she naturally had questions about how women get together.

  “Are you going to see her again?” she persisted.

  “I don’t know, Pippa. Flirting is just harmless fun. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” She put a hand on Pippa’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get going.”

  “In a minute. I want to get some ræklinger first.” Pippa nodded toward the little store.

  “Oh, crap! Are you going to eat that stuff on the trail?”

  “You don’t have to eat it.”

  “I won’t, believe me!” Kelly wrinkled up her face in disgust. Remembering the one bite she’d had of the stuff the last time she was here, even the thought of the dried halibut made her cringe.

  “You don’t have to kiss me either,” Pippa said cheekily, casting a sideways glance at her before sauntering toward the store.

  Kelly stood where she was, taken off guard by Pippa’s joking comment, then roused herself to follow. For such a small space, Pilersuisoq had a remarkable array of goods, like an old-fashioned general store—food, fishing equipment, clothing, CDs and DVDs, small appliances, tools. There wasn’t much choice of any one thing, but there were lots of things. Since this was the only place to shop for twenty kilometers around, the inventory had to be diverse.

  Pippa found her ræklinger, sold in a small package, which surprised Kelly, considering the racks and racks of dried halibut throughout town. She decided these packages were for the tourists looking for a fitting souvenir. Fitting, maybe, but not edible for anyone who wasn’t raised on it. She was sure of that. It was the worst thing she’d ever tasted. Dry and sponge-like, unsalted, with an intense rotten fish flavor that lingered on your tongue long after you’d spit it out. Pippa, like other Greenlanders, loved the stuff and ate it as a snack.

  After leaving the store, they put on their packs and started on their journey, heading south along a rocky ridge. Rodebay remained clearly visible behind them for the first kilometer before they dropped down over the ridge and lost sight of both the town and the bay. Now there was no sign of human habitation. Wilderness in all directions. Ahead of them was nothing but essential Greenland terrain—bare rock, mats of green ground cover and ruddy-colored lichen. Above them was a cloudless pale blue sky.

  Pippa led the way in her baseball cap and bright red jacket, her thin but sturdy legs striding confidently onward. Kelly followed, feeling happy and energetic with the onset of a new adventure.

  “Do you think we’ll see anyone on the way?” Kelly asked.

  “Maybe. But I won’t be surprised if we don’t. There’s a group hike once a week for tourists, but that’s on Wednesdays, so we won’t run into them. You don’t usually see locals doing this.” She laughed. “Greenlanders aren’t big on hiking.”

  “I appreciate your doing it for me.”

  “No problem. I love it! I’m not your typical Greenlander.” Pippa flashed a joyful grin over her shoulder.

  Without slowing, Kelly removed her hat to wipe the sweat off her forehead. “How far are we from the ice cap?”

  “About forty kilometers.”

  Kelly did a quick conversion in her mind to come up with twenty-five miles.

  “It’s closer in some places,” Pippa explained, “but the only ice you’ll see this close to the shore in summer are the tongues of glaciers.”

  They walked over uneven terrain, dropping into gullies and rising up to expansive views of the sparkling bay, following trail cairns placed at irregular intervals on bare ridges. They traveled steadily, covering mile after mile, stopping only when Kelly took an occasional photo. After a few hours on the trail, her stomach started grumbling in earnest.

  “How much longer until snack time?” she asked. “Lunch has apparently worn off.”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  The spot Pippa chose to stop was a long flat slab of rock with an incredible view in three directions, sheltered by a low wall against the wind. They sat down and unpacked their snacks.

  Pippa opened the bag of dried halibut and popped a piece in her mouth. An odor of rotten fish wafted past Kelly’s nose.

  “I brought some birkes,” Kelly said, “if you want some.”

  “Sure. I’ll share my ræklinger too.” Pippa grinned impishly and bumped up against Kelly’s arm.

  “You can stuff your ræklinger up your butt for all I care,” Kelly joked.

  Pippa chewed on her snack like a cow on its cud, calmly and contentedly. “I guess you really don’t like it,” she noted.

  “Are you kidding? I hate it! It’s the worst thing I ever ate. Hands down!”

  “For reals?” Pippa looked surprised.

  “For reals.”

  “Maybe it’s an acquired taste.”

  Kelly wrinkled up her face. “In fact, you should quit eating it around me. I can smell it. I might just barf.”

  Pippa folded the top of the bag over and stuck it in her backpack. “Sorry. I could eat that stuff all day.” She squinted in that way she did when she was apologetically happy, which she often was. It made her small nose look even smaller. In the short time Kelly had known her, she had observed Pippa to be happy most of the time. She was a naturally happy person, despite the narrow scope of her life and the brutally cold and dark winters. People simply are who they are, Kelly reflected, independent from their surroundings. Her mother, for instance, would be unhappy whatever was going on in her life. To justify it, she would emphasize every negative thing she could latch onto. Pippa, on the other hand, would always bounce back from adversity. She was cheerful, open and affectionate, and easy to like.

  They ate the poppy seed rolls, sitting side by side on their rocky perch. Kelly wiped her hands together to brush off the crumbs, then wrapped her arms around her knees and sat contently gazing at the peaceful floating ice.

  Pippa popped the last of her roll into her mouth. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

  Kelly turned to see a serious, questioning look on her face. It was a personal question but she decided it wouldn’t hurt to answer. “Yes,” she replied. “I was in love with my last girlfriend, Megan…at first. We were together six years. It’s been almost two years since we split up.”

  “Was that the only time?”

  Kelly hesitated. “No. I was in love one other time, but she didn’t want me.”

  “Was she straight?”

  “No. But she was older. I had nothing to offer her. Except adoration. It was ridiculous, really.”

  “Why ridiculous?”

  “Because I was too young for her. She saw me as a child. It wasn’t possible for her to love me like that. I was naïve and immature and completely inappropriate in every way. It was a classic crush. I absolutely adored her.”

  “She must have been something!”

  Kelly gazed into Pippa’s sincere face, encouraged to elaborate. “She was. She was a fascinating woman. Like nobody I’d ever known. She was a professor at my school. She taught geology, meteorology, physical sciences.”

  “I didn’t even know you studied science.”

  Kelly laughed shortly. “It was never my thing, but sometimes, you know, you find a teacher who sparks an interest.�
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  “You mean an interest in the teacher?” Pippa snorted, then grinned.

  Kelly nodded indulgently.

  “What happened?” Pippa asked, clearly enthralled with the subject.

  “Nothing happened. She transferred to a school in California when I was a junior and that was the end of it.”

  “And then you met Megan.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever see your teacher again?”

  “No. But I’ve often thought about her.”

  Kelly looked away. That was an understatement. She had forgotten almost nothing about the two years she had been obsessed with Jordan Westgate. After that initial geology class, she had taken every undergraduate class Jordan taught. Kelly still saw her clearly in her mind, the intelligent, ironic look in her eye, the tilt of her head when she considered a student’s bizarre statement, as absurd perhaps as two plus two equals six. Without revealing surprise, she would invariably give that unruffled look and say, “Hmm. Perhaps not.” Kelly got so she would start giggling before it even came out, in anticipation of it. When Jordan was in a more sarcastic mood, the response would be the less neutral, “Not in this universe!”

  In the beginning, when Kelly was nineteen and going through the first phase of falling in love, it was sweet and happy, but by the end, just as she turned twenty-one, it was merely painful. The day they said goodbye, as Jordan prepared to take a position at UCLA, was an episode of sheer agony seared into Kelly’s heart. Yet it was a moment of sublime happiness as well. Shockingly, Jordan had kissed her on the lips, a few seconds of bliss that would live eternally in her mind. One kiss was as close as she had come to realizing her dream of forever-after happiness in Jordan’s arms. And then she was gone, leaving the echo of her voice and touch like a flickering spark Kelly had nurtured for years against the chill of time and space.

  Now, with the anticipation of seeing her again, the spark had been fanned into a full-blown bonfire. Kelly worried that she would be unable to retain her cool when she met Jordan again face-to-face, standing in the midst of that inferno. But that was her goal, to come off with extreme grace and composure, to emulate as much as possible Jordan’s own example of elegant poise, to be the sort of woman, in short, that Jordan would find appealing.