“I will Mr. Bai,” she cordially answers, “Have a nice day.”
Before he can reply she’s gone and he’s listening to dead air until the dial tone returns. Disheartened, he hangs the phone up and solemnly resumes his work.
Through the trailer window he can see the firelight flickering against the backdrop of glittering stars. He can hear the members of his team shouting and laughing through the thin walls as they sit around the campfire drinking and carousing.
He should be outside with them—would be too if he didn’t have a call to make—again.
Picking up the receiver he briefly thinks about setting it back down and joining the party outside. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for six days now and he hasn’t returned even one of my calls. He may be my father but if he doesn’t want to talk to me then why should I bother?
Looking back to the window he sees his conflicted reflection in the glass as he hears the captivating laughter of Felicia outside. The relaxed melody reminds him of his mother’s laugh. It’s enough to compel him to try once more.
The phone rings five times before it clicks over to the recorded message: “You’ve reached the home of Jing Bai. Leave a message after the beep and if this is important I will call you back.”
Even as a recording the severe pitch of his father’s voice causes his stomach muscles to clench.
Beep.
Clearing his throat he begins, “Hello Dad, I...” he lowers the phone briefly and squeezes the bridge of his nose before saying, “I’ve been trying to reach you. I have some news you might be interested in. Give me a call when you get this. Please.”
He disconnects the call and immediately begins dissecting every word he left on the machine. Above all else he regrets adding please. Weakness, he closes his eyes contemplating, my father will dismiss that as so much weak mewling.
He buries his face in his palms lamenting, why am I always so flustered around him? Why am I always so weak?
Standing outside the trailer with the portable phone clutched tightly in his hand, Hong watches as his team piles into the Jeep and heads for the site by the shores of Mono Lake.
The sun is halfway up in the transcendent blue sky and the air is warming up fast. It’s going to be a glorious day this late in the season and he intends to accomplish a lot. He’ll join them onsite shortly.
But first…feeling the weight of the phone in his palm, he brings it to his ear to try once more at reaching his father.
This is it, he vows, if I can’t reach him today then that’s it. I won’t call again. If this is really how he wants things to be between us then that’s on him—I won’t carry the guilt around.
“Black Creek Consulting, Jing Bai’s office.”
“Is my father there?”
“Please hold the line,” she replies.
As the seconds are drawn out Hong imagines her telling his father who is on the line. He can see him groaning and instructing her to give some excuse to avoid my call. My own father…
“Mr. Bai will be with you shortly.”
Shock banishes his dire imaginings to the back of his mind. Steeling himself, he mulls over all the things that he wants to say to him and yet somehow knows he won’t have the time to get to most of them.
That’s just the way the great Jing Bai operates—no time for anything that doesn’t make him money, his only son included.
“What is it Hong?” his father’s hardened voice asks in greeting.
Stepping inside the trailer Hong responds, “I’ve been trying to reach you for some time now father.”
“I know.”
“You got my messages then?”
“Obviously I did Hong.”
The exasperation is evident in his clipped tones. Not even a minute of his precious time and already he’s lost interest. Hong’s blood begins to warm. “You never called me back.”
Jing’s sigh is audible across the line before he ventures, “Was there a reason you called besides stating the obvious?”
A breath catches in his throat as he trembles slightly before asking, “Why didn’t you call me back?”
“This might come as a surprise to you Hong,” Jing declares in a condescending manner, “But some of us have important matters to attend to and can’t afford to simply waste time.”
Immediately knowing what he means, Hong defends “I’m not wasting time father—my work is important.”
“Please,” he scoffs, “Important work creates value Hong. What of value have you ever created? You’re a child playing in the mud while dressed up in adult clothes. There is no value in what you do.”
The all too familiar barb still manages to land squarely in his chest. No matter how many times we have this conversation I’m continually surprised by how little he respects me—by how little he seems to care.
It hurts every time as if it were the first time.
After a moment to regain his composure, Hong relents “I don’t want to fight father.”
“Then you should stop wasting your life,” Jing coldly ripostes, “And my time.”
“I have news,” Hong stammers, “I-I thought you’d like to know that I’ve met someone.”
He hears the click in his ear as his father hangs up without so much as a goodbye. Whether or not he heard what he said…he can’t say. Collapsing in a chair his emotions are churning up a storm inside him.
He wants to call back and tear a strip off his father. He wants to scream at him and make him feel small. He wants to demand the respect he deserves. He wants to…
Setting the phone down he knows he can do none of these things. What he really wants is to not want his father’s love—to not crave his respect so badly that it hurts.
Talking to the walls he mumbles, “I think I’m in love dad.” He wipes a tear from his cheek whispering, “Just thought you’d like to know.”
With a tired sigh, Hong pushes back from the laptop in front of him rubbing at his weary eyes. He’s been staring at screens of DNA strands for hours now without a break and his eyes are starting to blur.
It’s been a week since the conversation with his father. He’s told no one about it. Felicia has tried to pry loose from him what’s been bothering him so, but he’s less than artfully dodged her every attempt.
It may make me seem distant but I just can’t tell her what’s really bothering me. I mean how do you even begin to tell the woman you love that your father has no interest in knowing about her—or even about me if push comes to shove?
No, it’s better this way. I can put this all behind me with time and she need never know what type of a person my father is.
A slight breeze blows in from across Mono Lake, carrying with it the sounds of Wilson’s Phalaropes. In the distance he sees dark clouds gliding across the face of a brilliant yellow sun. There’s a butterfly chill to the air as the barometric pressure dips and he realizes a storm is on the way.
“Hong!”
Turning away from the water he sees the shadow of his friend and fellow astrobiologist coming down the dirt pathway towards him.
At only 27 years old, Amir Singh is a prodigy having already completed a PhD in computer science and a Masters in astrobiology. He has black, bushy eyebrows above dark deep set eyes. Possessing a slender build, this day he’s wearing khaki pants coated in a thin layer of dust, along with an untucked denim shirt monogrammed above the pocket with name and logo of Arizona State University.
As he draws nearer, Hong can make out the sweat glistening on his brown, pockmarked skin—the result of a childhood brush with a biphasic fever. Flashing a smile that creases his scarred cheeks, Amir declares, “There you are.”
“What’s up?”
Huffing the last few feet between them, Amir collapses in the chair next to him saying, “I was going to ask you the same thing. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. The last few days…you’ve been acting like something’s bothering you.”
Hong appraises him for a moment before replying with a wr
y grin, “You’ve been meaning to talk to me or Felicia wants you to talk to me?”
With a wan smile Amir admits, “She may have talked to me about her concerns, but it isn’t like I haven’t noticed too.” Bumping his knee against Hong’s he asks, “So what’s up? Did it not go well with your father?”
“What makes you think I talked to my father?”
Leaning back in his chair, Amir links his fingers behind his head of midnight black hair saying proudly in his lightly accented English, “I’m not an idiot you know. You were calling almost daily there, and now for the last week you haven’t made a single call. Simple deduction is that you spoke to him.”
Sniffing lightly Hong responds, “I did.”
“And…?” Amir presses, “Is that what’s bothering you?”
Looking out over the lake for a moment, Hong watches the clouds drifting across the face of the muted sun before turning back to Amir and asking, “Is your father proud of you?”
Taken aback by the suddenness of the question, Amir answers “Yes…I think so.”
“He tells you that he’s proud of you?”
“On occasion,” Amir smiles as he casts his friend a cockeyed look, “Why do you ask?”
“My father is ashamed of me.”
The admission hangs in the hushed air around them. For several moments Amir is simply too shocked to think of anything to say in response and when he does it’s only a weak placation. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“My entire life,” Hong mechanically recounts while staring blankly across the lake, “My father has not once told me he’s proud of me. Nothing I’ve ever done has ever been good enough for his saintly approval.”
“But Hong,” Amir argues, “You’re a leader in your field, you have the respect of your colleagues and a handful of degrees; surely that’s enough to—”
“It isn’t. None of that means anything to him. And you want to know why?” Hong turns to face his friend, his eyes aglow with a deep seated anger. “My work is not important to him. My accomplishments are not to him. Nothing I’ve ever done has ever created value.
“To my father, that is the ultimate yardstick by which to be measured. If what you do—if who you are—doesn’t create value then you are nothing to him.” Lowering his voice to barely above a whisper Hong adds, “I’m nothing to him.”
Resting a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder Amir offers, “I’m sorry Hong. Your father’s wrong.”
Forcing a half grin Hong replies, “You know after all these years I really don’t care what my father thinks of the world—or even of me. I-I mean I really don’t.
“I just wish I could stop wanting his approval—that I could stop needing it. I mean by now I know I’m never gonna get it, but I just can’t stop…”
He swipes the back of his hand across his eyes as a stray tear slides down his cheek. “The worst of it now though,” he continues, “Is Felicia. I was calling to tell him about her, to tell him that I was in love and I don’t even know if he heard it.
“He hung up on me without as much as a goodbye. He may have heard me and hung up disgusted or he might have hung up before I said anything.”
With a shake of his head he says, “I don’t know. But you tell me Amir, how am I supposed to tell Felicia that my own father doesn’t want to know the woman I love? I just…I don’t know how to say that to her.”
“Hong, she already knows something’s wrong. And besides, it’s not your fault your father is an ass.”
Hong’s facial muscles contract for a moment, hardening his features before with a glare he replies, “Don’t talk about him like that.”
Gasping in disbelief Amir lowers his head with a shake. “Are you really going to defend the man? After what you’ve just told me you still defend him?”
“He’s still my father.”
“He’s your father, yeah, but he’s also…”
“Also what?”
Contemplating for a moment about whether he should say anymore, eventually the look of longing in his friend’s eyes loosens Amir’s tongue. “He’s also not worth your devotion. Your father’s no better than the mercenaries he employs.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hong snaps, “I never should’ve told you any of this.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know my father!”
The outburst echoes across the water as they sit staring at each other. Finally Amir murmurs, “I know enough. I’ve heard the stories about Black Creek.”
“Just stories.”
Shaking his head Amir asks, “You really believe that? You honestly think there’s no truth at all to them?”
Trembling in his chair, Hong closes his eyes before opening them as narrow slits and whispering, “My father may be cruel with me but…”
“But nothing.” Seeing his friend in pain Amir says, “Forget it. Jesus Hong, you are messed up.”
“I know,” he admits before asking, “But Felicia doesn’t need to know. Promise me you won’t tell her about any of this.”
“Again Hong, she knows something’s wrong.”
“I’ll just put it behind me.” He nods his head saying, “I-I’ll move past it. She’ll forget this past week when she sees I’m fine.”
The hint of desperation in his words leaves Amir wondering just who he’s trying to convince. “How are you going to put it behind you?”
With a forlorn smile he answers, “Maybe we’ll get lucky and make a great discovery to distract me.”
Patting him on the forearm Amir plays along for the sake of his friend, “Yeah could happen right? Stranger things and all…”
The midmorning sun reflects radiantly off the languid surface of Mono Lake. A southerly breeze this morning has already raised the temperature four degrees in the hour since Hong began working, and perspiration has begun to bead his forehead.
Bent low over the stern of the eight foot battered gray fishing boat, he carefully checks to ensure that all the required gear is stored properly. Across from him with her legs in the water up to her knees is his girlfriend and research partner Felicia Werner.
She is resplendent in this light. Her blond hair hangs down around her shoulders—normally the color of spun gold, it’s a shade darker this morning thanks to the water dripping off it. Like Hong and Amir, she is a gifted astrobiologist. She has a Master’s degree in biology and joined this expedition for credit towards her PhD.
She has intelligent pale blue eyes beneath long lashes, a button nose with a tiny diamond stud in one nostril, rounded cheekbones and thin red lips. Her frame is elfin at only a shade over five feet.
This day she is wearing a skin-tight neoprene rubber wetsuit pulled down to her slender hips revealing her glistening bronzed skin and curvaceous body. A red bikini top clings to her, cupping her pert bosom and inflaming Hong’s imagination.
“I’d say Minnie’s all set,” she says with a twinkle in her eye and a smile parting her lips.
When they arrived here six months ago they christened the beaten up old boat rental the S.S. Minnow—or Minnie for short—after the boat from Gilligan’s Island—homage to the fact that they would be “marooned” here for the foreseeable future.
“I just have a few more things to check and we can shove off,” Hong replies. “You look good today by the way.”
She playfully strikes a pose, flicking her damp hair back away from her shoulders saying, “I do, huh? I know that look.”
“What look?” Hong feigns innocence before their flirtation is interrupted by the sound of tires sliding over the dirt and gravel path as the expedition’s jeep skids to a stop nearby.
“Hong!” the driver calls as he throws the door open.
Reluctantly turning away from Felicia, Hong asks, “What’s up Dougie?”
Red-faced and clearly excited, Doug answers “Amir told me to find you. He needs to see you in the science trailer.”
“We were just about to head out to collect mo
re samples,” Hong gestures to the boat and the obvious asking, “Can’t it wait a few more hours?”
Shaking his head Doug replies, “He seemed really insistent that he needed to see you ASAP.”
“I can handle this alone,” Felicia offers, “Go see what Amir needs.”
“No,” Hong shakes his head, “You can’t go diving alone—it’s against protocol.” Turning to Doug he says, “Go with Felicia. I’ll take the jeep back to see what’s troubling Amir.”
Doug leaps down from the jeep’s door as Felicia hauls herself up into the boat. With a wink in his direction she says, “Wish me luck.”
Leaning over the boat he kisses her softly on the cheek before heading up the path toward the jeep. All the way back to the science trailer he can taste her on his lips—a mixture of lavender from her soap and saltwater from the lake.
Stepping into the trailer he finds Amir seated at the stainless steel counter surrounded by a liquid chromatography machine, a mass spectrometer, a laser induced fluorescence detector, and a pair of elemental analyzers, all on loan from the university.
Dougie was right, he looks frazzled.
The door closing behind him alerts Amir to his arrival. “What’s going on?”
Tossing a printout to him Amir states “This is. Take a look.”
He reads over the printout once and then quickly reads it again. This can’t be right. As understanding dawns on him it causes the color to drain from his face. He reads it a third time before stammering, “Wh-what is this?”
“The results for sample number FW-314. Felicia found it on the lake floor of quadrant 4 last week.”
“This can’t be right,” Hong says absently while shaking his head.
“I’ve checked the results six times already.”
Passing the papers back to him Hong says, “Check them again. There has to be a mistake.”
“All right,” Amir responds, “I will. But assuming they come back the same again for the seventh time—you know what this means right?” The excitement in his voice is palpable. “If this is correct, you realize what this means for our research? Forget GFAJ-1, we’ve just proven—”
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