Fly by Night

by Andrea Thalasinos

  “It’ll take a bit of recalibrating.” Bryce winked at Charlotte. “But we’ve been in the animal biz a long time.”

  Marine science happened 24/7. Up all night in research vessels, running timed experiments that had to be tweaked every hour for days. She and Bryce were no strangers to round-the-clock work. If anything, the brief stint with unemployment and Sea Life had provided a short respite from the real work of science.

  “I fed and cared for two orphan baby seals as an undergraduate one summer,” Amelia said. “Lived with them in the aquarium.”

  “A baby seal. Bet it was cute,” Charlotte repeated and shook her head, imagining what that was like.

  “Cute but they stink,” Amelia added. “I’m a marine biologist.” She touched her chest.

  “We know,” Charlotte said.

  “So’s Bryce.” Amelia looked to him. “Been at this for twenty-five years.”

  “TJ and I explored your Web site—University of Rhode Island.”

  Amelia looked down at the pup.

  “Sorry about the grant funding,” Charlotte said in response to Amelia’s gesture. “Happens to TJ and GLIFWC all the time.”

  TJ had moved to his desk, seemingly working at the computer.

  “Yeah, well.” Amelia moved to sit down on the floor next to the pups. “We’re working to get funding for next fall, restart our lab, and hopefully move back East.”

  “We stayed up one night reading about your work, the places you’ve been,” Charlotte said. “Our sons Gavin and Skye—both are wildlife biologists like TJ.”

  “Alex, my son, did the same.” Amelia pulled her phone out of her back pocket and began showing photos. “He’s now working in Vancouver as a marine biologist.”

  “Animals must be in the blood somewhere,” Charlotte said, scrolling through photos to show Amelia.

  Amelia raised her eyebrows. Nothing about her father had ever indicated he’d been an animal lover.

  “Take the crate,” Charlotte suggested. “We have tons of them. TJ dug this one out of the shed. You’ll want to get bigger ones as they grow older. And I’ll send you off with enough Esbilac milk replacement formula to keep them for weeks until they’re on kibble. It’s powdered. Just add water like we’ve been doing. Make sure you shake well otherwise it’ll clog the nipple.”

  Amelia felt Charlotte was saying good-bye forever.

  Amelia’s stomach lurched at the thought of leaving, of driving back.

  “Hey.” Charlotte slapped her thighs and stood. “You guys wanna go back to the house, make s’mores before you hit the road? I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

  “You got me,” Bryce said as he stood and rubbed his stomach. “I haven’t made s’mores since getting shipped off to summer camp in Maine.”

  “Got one taker,” Charlotte said as if taking the first bid at an auction. “Anyone else?” The woman looked from Amelia to TJ before the hammer came down.

  The two of them were quiet. Both lost in thought, lost in things not said, lost in maybe not knowing how to start and wondering if it was worth it to even begin.

  “Fire’s probably just about right now. Bryce?”

  * * *

  After the walk back to the house, they sat by the fire assembling s’mores.

  “Can you tell me more about the wolf hunt?” Amelia asked, wondering how long he’d kept the Tyrian purple snail shell on his desk, seeing it in her mind’s eye and guessing maybe her father had picked up an extra one for him after she’d made such a big deal about how special they were.

  They both looked at her.

  “Wolf hunt’s forbidden on reservation lands,” TJ said. “Always will be.”

  “But you hunt deer.”

  “Wolves are sacred animals.”

  “But off reservation?” she asked.

  “Still sacred. But we have no control over hunting off-reservation,” TJ said.

  “He tried,” Charlotte said. “We all did.”

  Amelia watched as he withdrew and became sullen. She backed off.

  “Since this past October in Wisconsin. DNR took ’em off the endangered/protected list,” he said. “Now everyone wants to bag a wolf. Permits to kill two hundred and one of ’em.”

  Amelia didn’t know what to say. Her mind was calculating what must be the number of wolves in the region.

  The little Amelia knew about Canis lupus, they were known to be shy, reclusive animals that hid from humans.

  “They’re curious like dogs,” TJ said. “But in hundreds of years there’s been only one or two recorded incidents where a wolf attacked a human in North America and even then the circumstances were peculiar, if not suspect. They live in family groupings.” TJ turned to Amelia, seeking her out for the first time. It made her think she might be more in his thoughts than he’d led her to believe. “Like whales and seals, they bother no one, except for the deer and other wildlife that’re part of their diet.”

  “Why would someone want to kill a wolf?” Amelia asked in disbelief. “It would be like shooting a dolphin.”

  Charlotte looked at her. “The public explanation is that they attack livestock, depredation, but the recorded incidences are low, more animals die as a result of farmer neglect and bad practices than wolves.”

  “The state compensates them heavily for loss, and often it’s not from depredation. Very few are killed by wolves,” TJ said.

  “They also claim wolves kill pet dogs,” Charlotte began. “So few are. More dogs are hit by cars and killed on country roads in a week than are killed in a year by wolves. And these are the ones that are allowed to roam and when they enter wolf territory, they’re perceived as a threat to the pack family. Hunting dogs are attacked, usually bear hunting dogs that intrude on wolf territory, and injured for the same reason but then the state compensates the owner for that in addition to canine deaths because of bear hunting practices and the use of what are called bear dogs. Now they’re using dogs to hunt wolves who’ve been snared and trapped.”

  “What’s a bear dog?” Amelia asked.

  Charlotte shook her head in anger. “Then there’s others who are just bloodthirsty, they’re trophy hunters who want to go on an African safari just to kill in these hunting areas. The only time they feel a thrill or alive is when they’re killing something—something’s that done them no harm.”

  Charlotte stood and walked toward the kitchen. Amelia could tell she’d gotten upset.

  “Coffee’s ready,” she said in a subdued voice.

  “I could use a cup before we hit the road,” Bryce said and stood holding Lacey.

  Amelia lifted Junior and held him to her cheek as he grunted in protest and peed down the front of her sweater.

  “I’ve been christened.”

  Charlotte tossed her a roll of paper towels.

  * * *

  “So, Amelia.” TJ stood and walked to the kitchen counter in a way that suggested she follow. “A matter of business before you leave.” He turned toward her and held up a pen. “These are property transfer documents for the house that will make us co-owners.”

  Amelia walked over. She shifted Junior to her other hand and bent over. He’d already signed. She did as well below his name everywhere that was indicated.

  “Done.” She straightened up and handed him back the pen but he’d turned away.

  “In spring we can decide what to do with the place,” he said.

  He turned back and handed her a key ring with two keys. “House. Garage,” he indicated. “No one’s lived there in five years—no heat, water, electricity.”

  “No heat?” Amelia asked.

  “We kept it on for a year but the place just wasn’t safe for an elderly person.”

  “Could someone stay there?” Amelia asked.

  He looked long and hard at her before answering. Like she was an intruder and had butted up against a boundary of which she was unaware.

  “Not without utilities.” The way he said it made her feel distanced, like an uninvited guest
and that no matter how many photos hung on their dining room wall, she’d never be a member of his family.

  He studied her more as a warning. As if she better not have designs on coming up to stay at his mother’s house. It was a protectiveness she’d felt about her father at the Mall of America the day they’d met, but hadn’t felt from him until now—his turf, his home court, and she would forever be the visiting team.

  She’d wanted to respond, but it was only a feeling, no words. Instead she looked away. Amelia felt Bryce’s tension too as he stepped behind her.

  “More coffee?” Charlotte asked.

  “Sure.” Amelia held out her mug.

  TJ walked back by the fire and sat on the hearth bench.

  “You’re welcome up here anytime,” Charlotte said and reached to hug her. “You all have plans for Christmas?” the woman asked in a soft voice.

  “Alex, my son, will be here the day before Christmas Eve and then leaving the day after.”

  “Short visit. But why not come up? Our kids’ll be here too.”

  Amelia glanced over at TJ.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte turned too. “Don’t mind him.”

  30

  Amelia didn’t want to leave. Every time she glanced at the threadbare baby quilt Charlotte had used to line the bottom of the crate for the pups, she felt an ache.

  They stopped twice during the four-hour drive at rest stops along the highway to feed Lacey and Junior. Everywhere snow was piled high and the bright clear-as-a-bell sky and sun were blinding. They set the tote Charlotte had given them filled with food down on the attached chairs in an information center/rest stop near the Kettle River in Minnesota, preparing for a feeding.

  The only person in the information center was a man in park ranger dress who looked more like a high school student. He’d perked up, trying to look busy as soon as they walked in. Amelia could tell the young man had probably been on his phone.

  “Welcome to Minnesota, folks,” he said in an effort at a smile. “Where ya headed?”

  “Oh,” Bryce said. “Just back to the Twin Cities,” he said and set the pups down on the glass counter as Amelia got formula ready, shaking each bottle like mad until the granules dissolved.

  “Can I?” the young man asked as he lifted Lacey and then Junior as Bryce discussed road conditions. “Hey, little guys,” the young man said. “How old?”

  “Coupla weeks,” Bryce said. So far the road had been icy in spots and the little traffic there was, was moving slow.

  “Can I feed one?” the man asked.

  “Sure.” Amelia showed the young man how as he balanced Lacey on his lap.

  “I swear to God they’re bigger since yesterday,” Amelia said and lifted Junior over her head like a human scale, gauging his weight.

  Bryce agreed.

  They watched as the pup sniffed the air and began to look around.

  “You’re right, he does look like Mr. Magoo,” Bryce said to Amelia.

  “Who’s Mr. Magoo?” the young man asked.

  “The cartoon?” Amelia said. “You know. Guy who wears thick glasses? Makes all these funny mix-up mistakes?”

  The young man shrugged and shook his head.

  “We’re old, Am,” Bryce said.

  “Can’t wait ’til their bodies get fatter than their heads like Charlotte said should happen.” Amelia examined and gently pinched the body fat around Junior’s ribs.

  “Charlotte’s really sweet,” Bryce said, taking Junior to feed.

  “And him?”

  “Umm—complex. A lot going on there: wolf hunt, his mom died. You.”

  She looked at Bryce.

  “Me, huh.” She watched the two men as the pups began eating. Watching Bryce she felt a longing that was new. Familiar, new, and was scared for a moment, wondering if the bottom of her life had dropped out.

  “Maybe I should just sign the place over to him,” she muttered. “Except I’m afraid I’d never hear from them after that.”

  She’d said it in a way as to invite Bryce’s disagreement, to defend what she wanted, to say that TJ would never do that, but he didn’t. Having someone dislike her because she was born was a new experience. Dislike was something she was far more used to having earned.

  It hurt her feelings. Amelia snorted a chuckle to hide them. Sometimes you get a truth you don’t want to hear, and Amelia wondered why she was hiding such feelings from Bryce from whom she’d never hid a thing.

  “Be right back.” She motioned and rushed off to the ladies’ restroom.

  “Shower’s closed,” the young man piped up after her.

  “That’s okay,” she answered with a wave.

  Inside Amelia paused in front of her reflection in the mirror. She watched her eyes tear.

  “Shit.” She hated crying. Hated the situation she was in. Hated that she didn’t know what the hell she was doing anymore. Hated that she suddenly felt scared with Bryce, with the pups, wishing that things would go back to the way they were in Rhode Island, yet was grateful they never would.

  “—just a fucking psycho,” she muttered. And she’d been doing so much of it in the last few days. Her irises became even greener in the saline bath. She reared back in surprise, suddenly seeing TJ’s expression in them.

  “Shit.” She shook her head as if there was no use in anything.

  Yanking out one tan paper towel after the other, she ran the faucet until the water turned cold and then saturated the towel. Holding it up to her eyes, she sighed. It felt cool but refreshing. Damn it, Bryce would know she’d been upset. He always did. He’d probably known by the way she’d just walked off to find the bathrooms and now she was taking so long.

  She then waved her hands toward her eyes and even turned on the hand dryer, bending over to dry her face .

  “Okay.” Last look in the mirror, wishing she had bangs to help obscure her eyes. Then she pulled several more fistfuls of paper towels from the dispenser and hurried back toward the information desk to clean up after the feeding.

  Amelia bent over, laying down a layer of paper behind the information desk. She positioned her back toward Bryce so he wouldn’t see her face.

  “There,” she said. “When she’s done,” Amelia instructed the young man, “just set her down on these to do her thing.”

  She then rested her elbow on the info desk and began recounting the story of how they’d come to find Lacey and Junior as both men set the pups down on the towels.

  The pups began to play. Lacey placed her paws on Junior’s back and raised herself to peek over his back and then dropped down, rolling over as he stood over her, pawing her.

  “Now that’s a power move,” Bryce commented as they sniffed about in the bunches of paper towels.

  “I’ll clean this all up, I swear,” she assured the young man.

  “Hey—no problem.” He shook his head. “Please—this is the most exciting thing that’s happened all winter.” He looked at her in such a way that Amelia believed him.

  “And you’re saving me from chemistry,” he said and set his elbows on the counter, resting on them. He’d been leaning over the center of a thick college textbook. “Been cramming for next week’s final.” His phone was lying across the pages. “At least trying to.”

  * * *

  They switched drivers. Amelia climbed behind the wheel. She felt Bryce studying her as she started to blubber.

  “So you want to talk about it?” Bryce asked.

  She looked at him. The way he looked back, she knew he meant the night before.

  “Not now.” Her chin quivered and she had that post-cry shudder.

  “Then when?”

  “It’s just crazy shit.” She waved her hand.

  “Like what?” he asked. She felt his eyes on her.

  “Like us.”

  “What about us?”

  “Everything’s different.” She choked up.

  He waited for her to go on.

  “I love you
too much as a person to lose you, Bryce.”

  She felt him turn to her.

  “Why would you lose me?”

  “What if we don’t like each other?”

  “We already like each other.”

  She glanced at him.

  “Yeah but as lovers.”

  “It’s been happening in me for a long time, Am.” His eyes were serious, his voice quiet. “Guess I wasn’t sure how you felt.” It made her shy. She felt embarrassed to feel him as a man. Yet she liked it. There’d been many times when he’d hugged her in the past few months that it had felt so good she’d not wanted to let go. Hugs of consolation, of comfort, but she’d felt something else and had cut it off.

  “Maybe we should get to know each other better or something,” she stuttered.

  He laughed as if just having been told a good joke and looked around outside.

  “Like how?” He snorted and made a face. “Go out on a date?” He lifted his hands. “I could drive around the block and then come upstairs to pick you up?”

  She started to snicker.

  “Come on, Amelia, I’ve smelled your farts.”

  He said the last sentence in such a formal way that she was laughing by the time he’d finished speaking.

  They’d already slept next to each other on dive projects for years, gone to plays, movies; they’d never been apart for more than twenty-four hours, forty-eight at the most. It would be a whole recalibration, moments they’d share but with an added dimension. It was as exciting as it was terrifying.

  “I don’t want to fuck it up. I fuck everything up, you know that.” She started to hiccup; it felt so little-girlish. “You’re everything to me.” Her voice came out in breathy, snot-filled gasps.

  They were both quiet for a while until Lacey began to grunt.

  “And what in God’s name are we gonna tell Jen?”

  He snickered. “She’s practically living with Doby anyway, besides Jen probably already knows. She always knows these things.”

  A silent moment passed.

  “You know, Am?” He reached to touch the side of her neck. She turned toward the feel of his hand, momentarily not recognizing the touch. “Sometimes you just gotta hold your nose and leap. Take a chance that maybe you’ll be happy.”