by Paul Sating
As soon as he was done with his work.
As soon as he found Bigfoot.
*****
The restaurant where Peter wanted to meet overlooked the tiny but powerful waterfalls and the abandoned Olympia Beer brewery site. It was an odd place, with the natural beauty of the falls sitting in the foreground of the pale, decaying building that blotted the landscape of this small suburb of Washington's capital, unused since the brewery closed its doors three decades earlier. It was an eyesore, one that Tumwater could ill afford because the town couldn't afford any more eyesores than it already hosted. There were rumors the abandoned brewery had been sold but those rumors were as reliable as the sun in this part of the country. When you started getting excited about the possibilities it provided, it would disappoint you by fading into obscurity. That building would outlast them all.
The old brewery hovered behind the restaurant, a permanent scar on the horizon, as Jared pulled in and shut off the car, enjoying the peace that came with the relative silence. The only noise was the distant rumble of Tumwater falls, running fast this time of year. With a big sigh and a last thought about how he screwed up everything with Maria, Jared stepped out of the car and took his first step toward the restaurant. Meeting with Peter was, after all, the beginning of the end in his pursuit to find the Pacific Northwest’s most famous creature. The host showed him to Peter's table on the balcony, overlooking the falls.
"Hey, old friend," Peter stood and they embraced.
"Hey, bud," Jared smiled, "nice digs. Who do you know to get the prime real estate?"
Peter’s bland expression meant his fun jibe missed its mark, as often happened.
Jared laughed. "I've been trying to get a seat out here for three years and they keep telling me it's reserved each time I come. Even on those special date nights I planned for Maria, they couldn’t do me any favors. I figured you know someone with pull because I've seen you play the political game before and you could never charm yourself into getting this spot."
Like a switch was flicked, Peter’s expression exploded with flavor when he laughed raucously and hugged Jared again. "Oh man, it's good to see you. Who knows? Maybe they think I smell funny after being cooped up in the lab all day so they put me out here where Mother Nature could do her damnedest to hide my funk and not upset the clientele. Ever think of that?"
"I didn't want to say ..." Jared gave his friend a wink as they sat.
"But," Peter indicated the waterfalls, "you've got to admit they provide a nice backdrop to anyone who wants to listen in on our conversation."
"Yeah, I'm going to have a hell of a time cleaning that racket out of my audio," Jared smiled, pulling out the reliable, and only slightly dated, Tascam portable recorder from his jacket. It wasn’t the latest model; in fact, it was old enough to enter kindergarten if it were human. But it got the job done. Over and over. Peter eyed it on the table between them as if he was waiting for it to spring to life and pounce on his face at any second. Jared noted his friend's discomfort. "Are you still okay with me recording this?"
Peter blinked. "Oh, sorry. Yeah. I am."
"Are you sure? I don't want to put you out or make you uncomfortable. You gotta feel okay about this, or I don't want to do it."
"No, really," he waved away Jared's comment. "Let's do this. It's my pleasure. This project of yours. It's … interesting. I'm glad you're finally doing it."
Jared smirked. "It's overdue."
The waiter stopped, introduced himself, and took their drink order. Jared asked for two stouts from his favorite brewery, which was located in Oregon. Peter whistled when the waiter walked away. "You know you're not supposed to be supporting our state rivals, especially not in public."
Jared laughed at the very genuine spirit behind Peter’s observation. Restricted to a 'Seattle versus Portland' rivalry, tens of thousands of people enjoyed the somewhat friendly combativeness between the states themselves. Washingtonians weren't supposed to like Oregonians and vice versa. It was all rather ridiculous, but since when wasn’t that the nature of people? "Yeah, well, when we start making beer as good as this stuff maybe I'll support local," he laughed.
Peter wagged a finger at him. "Tsk, tsk. A public figure, not supporting local businesses? That could be bad for your image."
"Public figure'? I don't think so."
"Not yet," Peter replied. "But by the sound of your voice the last time we talked, I get the impression you're becoming a lot more confident with what you have. You break this investigation wide open with a major find and, sorry, but a celebrity you will be."
Jared hadn't thought about that, didn't want to think about it. Any distractions from what he wanted, including becoming ‘the man who found Bigfoot’, weren't welcomed.
"What's up, Jared? You seem frustrated? I'd say you're becoming jaded, but I think I know you too well to believe that."
"Ha, yeah. Investigating sightings and gathering evidence for the past twenty years has worn me down a little, I concede that. Which is why I appreciate your help kicking this project off."
The beers arrived. The waiter asked if they were ready to order. "Give us a few, please?" Peter asked. When the waiter walked away, Peter turned his attention back to Jared. "It's not a problem. Honestly. I'm happy to talk about this. You know I geek out about Bigfoot. Plus, if I can help with your project by getting good science behind it, then we all win. There's a story to tell. Plus, you and I both know there aren't enough legitimate influencers talking about Bigfoot in the public forum. That creates a vacuum which has been filled by too many fame-seekers who end up getting the spotlight ... and that's what hurts the legitimacy of your work and my study."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, I really am," Jared smiled as they toasted. "Let's get started. I know you're busy, and I've taken up too much of your time with this over the years. Want to try and wrap up years of conversations in one recording?"
They shared a laugh and Jared tried to transition away from the personal conversation and into something more professional. A podcast audience expected him to sound professional. He just hoped he would be able to fake it well enough. "Can we start by getting your thoughts on why the Pacific Northwest is an area of focus for experts interested in Sasquatch?"
Peter's lips curled down in thought, "Geography and climate. Simple as that. The Pacific Northwest has the perfect combination of four and a half million acres of wilderness, rainforests, and a moderate climate that is preferable to this particular species."
"But that's a sticking point,” Jared responded. “How do you answer people who'd have a problem with a fur-covered ape living in a moderate climate?" Careful to cover his internal smirk, Jared clung to the professional tone of the conversation.
"If I bought you the best arctic gear money could buy, would you still live outside in the elements, no matter how moderate they are, or would you spend the winter inside, probably near the fire?" Peter said. "I get it. Hell, I appreciate skepticism, but a species like Sasquatch, of the Hominoidea superfamily, would have evolved for the conditions of their environment. If Sasquatch exists, it is a migratory species. They would have to adapt to their environment, probably by moving.”
Peter paused when Jared was in mid-swallow. And before Jared could clear his throat to ask a follow-up question, Peter was off again. “They didn't always live here. Their body hair isn't there to insulate them from the cold but to maintain constant body temperature.”
Peter's response didn't surprise or confuse Jared. He knew Peter and he was ready for how the zoologist would respond. The only way anyone would give Jared’s work a chance was if he could convince them he was a skeptic-first, Bigfoot enthusiast-second. Otherwise, any potential audience would tune him out before they read a single one of his findings. There was no room to create doubt. "What about the geography? There's plenty of open space all around the country that is temperate. What advantage does this area have over others that skeptics say are similar?"
Peter shrugged. "Th
e forests and waterways. It's an easy land to live off, chock-full of resources for any clever species to take advantage of. Plus, open space in Washington, Oregon, or British Columbia means something completely different than the open spaces of Nebraska or Kansas. No offense to any of your listeners in those places. If Sasquatch ever made it that far, they moved on or died out. An environment like that wouldn't be conducive to their survival for the same reason that history has never shown vast Homo sapien populations in the middle of deserts ... well, not until technological advances allowed for that to happen."
Jared pointed at him. He needed Peter to hit this point accurately. "Would you say having plentiful resources is what keeps Sasquatch here?"
"That and the fact that Sasquatch wouldn’t be a stupid animal." Peter made it all sound so obvious. "Few species get the credit they deserve from us humans. Over the course of my studies, and even to this day, I'm amazed at how quick humans are to dismiss the possibility of Sasquatch as an intelligent mammal."
Jared gripped the beer mug handle a little tighter, mumbling, "A cultural leftover."
Peter's raised eyebrow let him know he'd failed in communicating his point.
"I just mean that we're expected to see ourselves as a superior species," Jared clarified, trying to keep the heat out of his voice. "Humans seem to believe everything else, all nature, is part of our dominion, to rule and use how we see fit. When we view the rest of the world that way it's not hard to see why we disregard the intelligence, hell, the sentience, of other creatures."
A family of three walked by toward one of the tables at the end of the balcony. Peter waited for them to pass before speaking again, "You've got a point."
"Sort of one of my frustrations with people," Jared admitted.
Peter chuckled, his cheeks taking on a shine. "I know you've been at this a while. One of these days that stubborn skepticism will jade you into feeling nothing. I promise."
"Hitting too close to home for ya', bud? You can relate?"
"Anyone in this field worth their weight should be able to. Our common area of interest isn't something we parade around, unfortunately. Not if we want to be respected."
Jared grimaced. For a brief second his friend was vulnerable and Jared was reminded that Peter, too, was making sacrifices. For their friendship. For him. "One of these days we need to talk about some of the career problems you've faced because of your interest in Bigfoot."
Peter erased the temporary awkwardness with an unconvincing smile. "And make me relive my shame? How cruel. Mind you, I'm not a careerist so I'm not interested in some manufactured position of power and influence, but it would be nice to have this aspect of who I am taken seriously by my peers. Or at least have it not negatively impact me. That's a rarity. What about you?"
"Same,” Jared shrugged. "But I figure I pretty much set myself up for that since I made this my career."
Silence fell. They blamed the natural beauty surrounding them for their distraction. But Jared couldn’t deny that Peter got him thinking. He wondered if he had the same effect on his friend. "Well, I don't want to dwell on that," Peter interrupted his thoughts. "Let's change hearts and minds, shall we? At least that's what it sounds like you're attempting to do."
Am I? "You could say that. This project is my big, final push. If I can't convince people of the existence of Sasquatch when I'm done with this ... well, I worry my entire career will have been a waste."
"You must be pretty confident with what you're tracking to say something like that."
"I'm confident. If I'm not, then what's the point?"
Peter stared at Jared for what felt like the longest time. There was suspicion in those eyes. Peter was onto him. "You found tracks, didn't you?"
Jared was smug in response. "Even better."
After twenty years of heartbreaking and frustrating searching, he'd stumbled on a trail of evidence he knew in his heart was going to lead him to prove Bigfoot's existence once and for all. Or he'd prove the skeptics right. Either way, his recent finds were becoming more common and convincing, and now that Maria decided she could do other things with her life besides wait for him, Jared was determined to chase the demon to the end of the trail. As he listed the number of breaks he'd gained over the past few weeks Peter's face lit up. His friend was nearly as excited about the possibilities as he was.
What he had wasn't going to be enough though. It was encouraging without quite reaching convincing. The eternal question he pondered was how solid did the evidence need to be to convince those who refused to accept proof? That was the struggle. That was what led some other investigators down less scrupulous paths to the point of desperation. Creating their own evidence where the world failed to provide it for them. Jared had always been cognizant of that. From the very beginning, he got a full education on how far some people were willing to go to find Bigfoot. Since those early let-downs, he was careful to avoid creating even the perception that he was being fraudulent. There were times he'd dumped decent evidence because he worried it would be perceived as faked and he didn't want that door even cracked for skeptics to step through. Those decisions were always difficult. They hurt.
"Oh, good," Peter leaned back as the waiter carried a large serving tray toward them. "Looks great. Smells great."
Peter loved his food.
It was nice to have a meal with him again. But it wasn't enjoyable when Peter asked about Maria. Jared avoided that topic and hadn't told any of his friends much in the way of details. He didn't want to trouble them, he told himself, but it was a lie, the same lie that all selfish people told themselves to rationalize away their shame. Deep down he didn't want to tell anyone because they knew how much he sacrificed and everyone was amazed how he and Maria did it all without killing their marriage. And now his friends had no idea how dead that marriage was. So he couldn’t be upset when Peter asked him about her.
"What's Maria think about this? She has to be so happy for you, being this close to finding Bigfoot?"
He didn't mean to sound rude, but the flat response came before he could think through his response. "We're separated."
"Oh," Peter stopped eating, setting his fork down, "I'm sorry. I—I didn't know."
Jared tried to put on his best reassuring smile. "No, no. It's fine. You couldn't have known. This ... all of it, the investigation, the time, the expense, the professional consequences. It's been ... taxing, to say the least. Maria tried to be patient ... she waited a long time. So, yep, I guess you could say she isn't a fan of what I've done with my life."
"I'm sorry, Jared," Peter said. "There's a heavy price associated with pursuits like these. People don't get it. I've had a lot of friends and colleagues over the years who've paid that same price for conducting their own investigation. That damn thirst for knowledge, it's wrecked too many good homes. It'd be nice to get a break. For all of us."
Jared’s laugh was bitter. "I don't know if we ever had a good life, but I get your point. You're preaching to the choir. I hope what I'm doing will be helpful to someone. Maybe I'll save everyone else's marriage, even if I couldn’t save mine."
Awkward silence, the type that can only fall between two men suddenly finding themselves in a vulnerable spot, fell again. Peter thumbed the side of his beer mug. Jared moved his pasta around the plate, without design or purpose. Each silently urging the other to make a comment, a remark, to say anything to pull the conversation out of the quagmire.
"A noble aim," Peter nodded at his beer mug before his chest expanded in a deep breath. "So what's next?"
Jared appreciated the abrupt change of direction because his thoughts already spiraled down, chasing the Maria-rabbit down the black hole. He didn't need to be there. Not now. He needed a clear head until this was over. "Headed to Rainier."
"Really? That's not where you've been searching. What's out there?"
"A park ranger called me yesterday," Jared said. "Supposedly there was a sighting. Not sure if he believed it or not, though. It was a strange co
nversation."
"The National Park?"
Jared nodded. "He sounded ... conflicted. I'm heading out there first thing in the morning. I want to hear what he has to say, see the site before some visitor trips across it and disturbs it. Who knows, it could be legit ... or not. There hasn’t been a reported sighting at Rainier in a long while."
"I'd love to hear about it when you get back," Peter said.
"I don't want to abuse our friendship with every sighting."
"Nonsense. Call me when you get back. Even if it's nothing."
Jared conceded to his determined friend. "Alright. You asked for it."
That drew a laugh from Peter. "Let me ask you something, as a friend," he paused. "What's this all about for you? This investigation? Why still do it, especially now that I know what's going on with Maria?"
There it was again: purpose. The most frightening thing he had to face throughout this life-long quest; why he was doing what he was doing, sacrificing everything for ... for what? "Someone has to. Someone has to find the answers ... either way. Either it's out there or it's not and we're never going to know without dogged investigation. So I can either tell people what needs to be done or I can go do it myself. The latter seems ... less hypocritical. And, well, I've got other reasons."
"Got it," Peter smiled regretfully. "Well, I've taken enough of your time. Jared, be careful out there."
"Of course."
Peter's expression turned stern. "I'm serious. The closer you get to finding answers, the more dangerous this is going to get for you. Don't forget that."
"Dangerous? I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Sasquatch has to be a solitary creature for the most part," Peter answered. "It doesn't want to be found. Tread carefully."
Jared was still confused. It wasn't an insightful reply and Peter wasn't one to dodge or give undue credit to a cryptid. "I will. But ... I feel like you're not saying what you want to say."
