“You’re okay, little man, right?” Jason asked. “Miss Betsy said you were doing well. There is more light at the back. You can do this. I know you can. For me and Pete, okay?”
Micah considered this for a long time. Before he could answer, Pete’s lecture began with the story he’d told Micah the night he put him to bed. Recognition crossed Micah’s face. He nodded and allowed Jason to take him inside, his small hand gripping tightly.
Jason tried not to disturb too many people as he slinked to the back. He couldn’t help but hear Pete’s voice crack just a tiny bit as he recognized Jason and Micah, and then pick up stronger.
“This painting by Floyd Odjick is based on a famous one by Kenojuak Ashevak called The Enchanted Owl.” Pete gestured to the tattoo on his arm. “The owl is a special bird in Inuit mythology. It is full of silent wisdom and helps to heal during times of transitions, especially when someone is stuck between two worlds. When I was a child, my father painted many of the images you see in this gallery. But when interviewed by academics or museum curators, he never liked to talk. My mother was the talker, telling me stories about owls, falcons, and the animals around our house. I used to think I had to pick between the two of them when I grew older. Become a painter or a poet? A talker or a listener? But you need both of these elements to survive in a place like this. You need to appreciate the big pictures, and the small ones, and you need the proper words to string them together.” Pete flicked by a couple paintings as he spoke, followed by a few words in a language Jason didn’t recognize.
“That’s from a poem,” Pete said after he’d spoken the language. “It’s from the work of a Tagish writer. It means that you need to cherish your bonds. Your bonds are your family, but also your friends. It’s also the earth itself, and those who destroy the earth, because those are the people who need the connection the most. They need to be loved, because maybe in being loved, they will understand what’s good in this world and learn to cherish it too. That’s what her poem is about.”
Jason’s heart hammered as the full poem in the Tagish language came across the screen. Pete recited all of it, his tongue forming the difficult vowels and consonants mixtures seamlessly. When he was done, Pete looked directly at Jason. No emotion was visible on his face.
Jason was sure more than ever before that coming wasn’t a mistake.
When Pete finally broke the stare, he went on to discuss other Inuit artists as Keith and a woman came out dressed up in similar clothing to the headshots that flashed on the screen. After performing a small skit, part of which involved Pete dancing, Keith and the woman walked up the aisles. They handed out small drums, painted figures, and many other mini-replicas of the art pieces they had in the museum. When the woman handed a drawing on stretched canvas no bigger than a Post-it note to Micah, Jason saw the other symbol from the e-mail that had started all of this.
“It’s the moon and all its faces,” she said to Micah. “Drawn in the style of most Inuit art.”
“Thank you,” Jason said. He nudged Micah to also say his thanks before the woman went back to the front.
The rest of the lecture was more interactive. A white bird on a stick was used to fly in order to tell the story Pete had spoken about from the painting, and another bird was soon added to flesh out the scene. When a large moon rose on the projection screen, all the lights of the theater shut off.
Jason held his breath. He waited for Micah to scream in fear or burst into tears. Instead, he held on to Jason’s hand. The moon on the screen must have been enough to keep him unafraid, or Miss Betsy had been right, and he was getting better.
“Soon, we will hit out darkest days,” Pete said, projecting his voice as far as he could. “There will be six hours of daylight and eighteen hours of darkness. As scary as it may be, the darkness makes us better people. It makes us deal with things we forgot. The darkness also gives us something to look forward to. As the dawn rises, we can chase the light and hope for a better future.”
This time, when Pete’s eyes met Jason’s, he wasn’t afraid.
WHEN THE lecture was over, it took forever for everyone to leave the theater space. Jason waited in the back, talking to Micah in hushed whispers, and kept a close eye on Pete. He was swamped by children asking for autographs or endorsements on their toys. Keith and the woman worked on cleaning up the set pieces and removing their costumes. By the time they were done, the crowd had thinned. Soon it was only Pete, Micah, and Jason.
Micah squirmed and waved. “Pete! Pete! Look what I have!”
“It looks great, Micah. I have a piece just like it on my stomach.”
“You do? Can I see?”
“Not right now. But you can check out my owl piece if you want.” Pete rolled up his sleeve extra high and extended his bicep for Micah to examine. Micah gasped and ran his fingers around the edges of the line work, murmuring in delight.
“Hey,” Pete said, breaking the silence between himself and Jason. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad I came too. I’m… so sorry.” As soon as Jason started, the floodgates opened and it was like he couldn’t stop. “There was a news broadcast last night. A rival company broke in. Not you. Not anyone in your crew. I shouldn’t have assumed. I should have paid attention and actually gone to one of these lectures, because man, your dad is really talented. And—”
“Shhh. I know. I saw the news broadcast too. And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For a lot of things, really. One of them being that I didn’t give this little man any warning that I’d suddenly be so busy with these lectures that I didn’t have time to stop by to see him.”
“It’s okay,” Micah said. “I think Daddy missed you more than me. Daddy said he made an ass of himself.”
Pete let out a loud guffaw that broke all the tension.
“An assumption,” Jason corrected. “I said I made an assumption and I shouldn’t have.”
Micah stared at him like he didn’t quite grasp the difference. Jason couldn’t blame him for missing the nuance.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jason said. “Have I mentioned that yet?”
When Micah stopped groping Pete’s arm, he folded back his polo uniform shirt and shrugged. “You have. You say it a lot, like thank you. But you know what? We both needed to hear it a lot. From both of us, so I’m sorry too.”
“But I’m also sorry for not talking about this—our jobs and your activism. We should have been. Because as much as cognitive dissonance works, it doesn’t keep me warm at night.”
“And you want me to keep you warm at night?”
Jason swallowed. He nodded. “It’s getting cold too. I’m going to need a lot more than just Micah.”
Pete took in a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder at the new crowd coming into the auditorium and then glanced back at Jason and Micah.
“You know, I think you’re right about it getting too cold in here. Maybe we can talk this out some other place and keep each other warm.”
“That sounds good,” Jason said. “You should come to my place. I assure you, I have enough soup and chili to feed an army.”
“We do,” Micah said. “I would only eat it because we had it with you last time.”
Pete smiled again, though his eyes also creased with something akin to sadness. “You know what? That sounds perfect.”
Chapter Fifteen
PETE LISTENED at the base of the stairs as Jason put Micah to bed. He couldn’t hear much through the door, but his heart fluttered each time he heard his name murmured between Micah’s lips.
The dinner had gone well. Micah asked a million questions about the museum and the art, which made the time pass without too many awkward pauses or backtracking to the fight. The chili was delicious and Pete wished he had brownies to bring. Jason sent him furtive glances all throughout the meal, ones that Pete could tell were caught between concern and desire because he felt the same way. They had already said they were sorry, but too many things wer
e still up in the air. With Micah around, acting like a cheerleader for his honor, Pete felt safe. Secure. More than he had in years.
When Pete was eighteen and left the reserve for the first time, his mother had told him he’d come back. His father, who left the reserve after fathering his last child—Pete’s sister Beth—said he never would come back. As much as his parents worked together with their art and stories, they also tore one another apart. Pete had always been stuck between the two of them in the same way he was stuck between painting or writing, listening or speaking. Pete pretended to be a prospector hoping to strike gold by chance, but he also took his future by its head and went out to get a computer science degree. He was always ping-ponging between the reserve and Whitehorse, between being Inuit or being First Nations. It had taken him too long to realize that both places were home. Both pathways were right.
And maybe, like Jason’s strange concept of cognitive dissonance, he could inhabit two places yet again without tearing himself apart. But they needed to talk through everything first in order to make sure they needed and wanted the same future.
When Pete heard the door close on Micah’s room, he hurried over to the couch. He pretended to be consumed by his phone and not eavesdropping at all.
“I think I’m going to have to get him another star,” Jason said.
“Oh. Why?”
“Because he wants to name his current one after you.” Jason sat down on the couch, giving Pete lots of space as he did. “I suggested Alison, for his mother, or Adelaide for his grandmother, but he came out with you. And while that’s not a bad thing….”
Pete closed the distance between them by putting his lips against Jason. So many feelings still swirled inside of him, but he needed this. A firm, hard kiss to be sure Jason was real and so was this discussion.
Jason seemed surprised, but soon kissed back. When Pete pulled away, he kept their bodies close.
“What was that for?”
“Does it have to be for something?” Pete asked.
“No. But if that’s the case, can I do it again?”
Pete laughed. This time, when their lips met and parted, the rhythm of their bodies was almost natural, normal. Like they hadn’t been apart for the past ten days and they’d known one another for years. Pete thought of all the stories and paintings his parents had done and how they fit together. He wondered if he and Jason could do something similar. With fool’s gold and oil? It wasn’t the prettiest image, but it was something.
And again, he told himself, you won’t have to tear yourself in two anymore.
Jason ended the kiss by clasping Pete’s hand in his own. “I love this. I want to keep doing it. But we really do need to talk.”
Pete nodded. They were quiet for some time. When their awkward glances met, they both smiled.
“Well, I suck at this. All I can think to say is sorry again.”
“Yeah, we got that. But what do you want to do now? For the future?”
Jason sighed. “I don’t know. I still can’t leave my job. And I don’t expect you to leave your activist circle.”
“I don’t want to. Especially since I think we’re finally zoning in on the real issue.” When Jason quirked his brow, Pete elaborated. “Before we only focused on who we perceived were the problems. But what you said to me in the restaurant has been resonating.”
“Oh? What did I say?”
“That you were a cog in a machine. You leave the company and someone else replaces you.”
Jason nodded along, now following. “So how does that change your plans?”
“We’ve been attacking cogs. Not the machine. So, we need to focus our energy on the politicians—on politics and laws and policies. Leave the day-to-day workers alone. The people who are just trying to get by and feed their family.”
Jason nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Cameron actually came up with this. He’s been reading policies all this week with Joe and Josh, our adjunct professors, trying to figure out the best way to revise the law and perhaps even run for election. I know, it sounds ridiculous, but I think he may have actually found his calling.”
“As a mayor?”
“Or a lawyer. Either way, The Environmental Crew will be changing a lot in the next six months or so. As it should, really. We were working out of an abandoned train station before, rehashing the same plan over and over. Our goal is still the same, but everyone was growing restless. You can only do something for so long without getting real results without feeling discouraged. Maybe now, writing about policies to civic workers instead of zines to other punks will help.”
“I hope it does.” Jason bit his lip, still unsure. “How do you think it will affect Eakon Oil?”
“I don’t know. I doubt that we could ever revoke whatever contract you have. Chances are, you’re there to stay. But maybe we can keep your competitors out so the Yukon isn’t torn apart. And who knows, maybe your green energy bill will go through.”
Jason raised his brows. “Oh, wow. You heard about that too?”
“Oh, come on. Anything green energy wise doesn’t get past the crew. And I knew you had to be behind it.”
“I am. Or will be. I have a meeting on Monday.” Jason ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip again. “Truth be told, I don’t think it will go anywhere.”
“No?”
“No. I think they want to seem green-friendly, and it’ll stay on the books, but they’re going to postpone.”
“Hmm.” Pete thought back to his text messages between Joe and Cameron. They seemed far more convinced, but arguing about this was so not what he wanted to do right now. “You never know. I’ve seen a lot of people change.”
“Like me?”
“No, you haven’t changed. And that’s the amazing thing,” Pete said, his voice shaky with emotion. “I knew you were like this before. Kind, caring, responsible. You were just put in an impossible place to be, stuck between your child and your future. Cognitive dissonance was the only way out. But I don’t think you—or the Yukon or me—need to be torn apart any more in order to survive.”
Jason swallowed, visibly moved. “I don’t want the Yukon to be torn apart. I’m invested here, more emotionally than anything else. I live here now. And Micah loves it. Even in the dark times now, he’s so excited to see a white bird again.”
Pete quirked a brow. “What do you mean again?”
“Oh, when we first moved in. There was this white bird in our backyard that he called a chicken. I thought it was some kind of arctic falcon. I don’t know, though. I looked it up online and that’s what they told me. Part of me wants it to be an enchanted owl.”
“Huh, it may be better than that. You said it was there when you first moved in?”
Jason nodded.
“That’s an amazing sign, then.”
“It is? I mean, I gathered from your story, but… hearing it again never hurts.”
Pete edged closer to Jason, kissing his cheek. “Yeah. It means that no matter what happens, you’ll always have hope. Even during the dark times, there will be light for you to chase.”
Jason smiled. He linked his hand with Pete’s. “Please tell me you’re part of this light and goodness and hope. It’s silly, but I missed you. You were gone over a week, and it felt like so much longer.”
“It’s the darkness—”
“No, no, not all of it. I just… missed you. And I hated thinking that our jobs had kept us apart. Do you think they still will?”
Pete took a long time to answer. He’d gone over this scenario a million times in his head all over again. “No. But I know we’ll never agree on all issues. Your coworkers are probably going to hate that I’m part of The Environmental Crew, even if we are changing our punk rock ways.”
“So I won’t tell them.”
“You won’t?”
“Why would I? I only come into work to get a paycheck. If they find out I’m dating you, they don’t have to know about The Environmen
tal Crew. But don’t sell yourselves short. It sounds like both our sides are shaping up to be a little bit more understanding of the other’s plight.”
“Maybe you’re right. You guys are probably going to want a new IT specialist too.”
“What? Why?”
“Because your cyber-security is dreadful. That’s how they got into your system in the first place. I actually may be able to help with that if I have all the information.”
Jason’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
Pete nodded. “I went to school for computer sciences. I don’t use it much now, but I could moonlight. You just need a better firewall protection and a couple other things. From what I can tell….” When Pete listed them off, Jason’s eyes glazed over. He figured it was from the techie terms, until Jason shook his head.
“No, I can’t make you switch sides.”
“I’m not switching sides, though,” Pete insisted. “This is what a relationship is about, right? Give and take? So if I help your company, I insist you go to some environmental meetings. Talk to Cameron. And that tree planting business?”
“What about it?”
“You’re going to do it every spring for good measure,” Pete said. “Maybe I can make it part of the museum, since that lot is so close by.”
“You make an excellent point….” Jason pretended to consider this for a long time with his hand on his chin, clearly teasing. “My penance seems fair.”
“Good. Because I really want to kiss you again, and if you have no objections—”
Jason’s mouth covered his without another word. Pete melted into the kiss, allowing Jason to touch his neck, his back, and then zone in on the buttons of his plaid shirt. The shirt was soon discarded, leaving him in only in a T-shirt. Pete could barely concentrate on undoing Jason’s shirt; buttons seemed too complicated when all he wanted was more of Jason’s mouth and neck. When Jason’s hands grabbed his own, pushing them away from his buttons, he was almost relieved.
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