She pushed the past out of her head. There was no exhilarating chill on the other side of that door, no aurora borealis. She opened the door and let the humid Key West air brutally remind her that it wasn’t a bad dream, she’d still made the mistakes she’d made, and she still had to accept that this was how it had to be. Key West was her chosen place of exile. She loved living in the Keys. The years of bartending to get through her bachelor’s degree at U of Fairbanks had paid off as her only real vocational skill. Who cared if she could set an avalanche charge or tell, just by looking, if the glacial ice was stationary or moving? Useless. So what if she came from generations of sturdy Russian stock that thrived best when conditions were harsh? Why not live in paradise?
She felt heavy and slow as she claimed her scooter from the lot. Find wisdom, she told herself. It’s not about having what you want, but wanting what you have. Key West, oh she loved the humidity and the sparrow-sized bugs. She loved the constant sweat on her palms and the six-toed stray cats. It was always summer, the flowers were always in bloom and nothing ever changed. Who could want more than all that?
She headed into the thick, cloying night, the sky loaded with stars. She wished she could call it beautiful. She knew that the fireworks tomorrow ought to be spectacular if the clear weather held for one more day. Look forward to the fireworks, she told herself, and stop wishing you didn’t smell of scotch.
Her bungalow was on the other side of the tourist district, past the Hemingway house and into one of the low-rent side streets near the airport. Many of her neighbors also worked in tourism, and she wasn’t the only one arriving home at that late hour. A shower was her top priority, and then a long sleep to start off her Independence Day.
“Ani-dear,” someone called softly, not too far away. She turned to track the voice and saw Shiwan waving. “A package.”
“Sorry,” Ani said as she crossed the small patch of unmown grass that separated their doorways. “They never get it right.”
“Postman lazy. My door much closer.” Shiwan flashed her a tired smile. “I going to bed, so good thing you come home now.”
“Thanks.” She hefted the box, telling herself not to hope that it was from Tan. “I appreciate it.”
She heard Shiwan’s door close before she was back on her own front porch. Once she was in her own narrow foyer, she glanced at the return address A. Salek, Fairbanks, Alaska. It was from Tan. She hadn’t lied to Lisa, after all. This box was a bona fide date.
The familiar mix of excitement and dread played out in a rush of adrenaline, and she quickly pulled off the club tank top and kicked off the worn black Levi’s. Within minutes she was in the shower, scrubbing the odor of booze out of her pores. She toweled her hair until it was damp, enjoying the cool feel of it against her neck. Though she reveled in the club’s icy air, it was stale. The bungalow’s lack of central air conditioning was welcome. The moist air from the swamp cooler refreshed her sinuses, doing as much good as the moisturizer she massaged into her rough hands.
Even as she automatically tended to all the steps that would lead her to bed, she wondered what she’d find in the box this time. What gossip from the university? Would there be new issues of geoLogics? Would any of the newspapers mention people she’d once called friends? It had been three years of experiencing a brand-new climate, but she missed Alaska desperately. That her exile to Key West was her own damned fault only made it harder to let go. Tan’s box of news was an act of pity by the department administrative director to a former grad student who had screwed up. Maybe Tan and the rest of the world believed her guilty of the wrong thing, but she had still made some big mistakes and now she was paying for them. Karma was karma.
Knowing if she opened the box she would not get the sleep she so badly needed to truly study the contents, she made herself leave it on the floor next to the bed. Exhausted as she was, she felt its presence as she waited for sleep. News from home…
She awoke to the pop of firecrackers. Her heart raced at the surprise of it, even though her ear reassured her that the high, light report couldn’t be anything but the rapid crack of tight paper cylinders exploding. She had to blink sleep out of her eyes before she could see the clock. It was already after ten. For just a few moments her day off was no more complicated than wondering if she should doze for another half hour or go back to sleep for even longer.
Another round of firecrackers solved the question and she pushed herself upright with a groan. The day was already humid and hot. A tank and shorts would be too much clothing. The Fourth of July was usually one of the short range of days when a person could wear a tank and shorts in Fairbanks. It was probably in the eighties at home.
She bashed a foot on the box from Tan as she swung out of bed. Torn between a curse and giddy anticipation, she hobbled to the small kitchen to start the coffee. If she had the Internet she could look up the weather at home. She sloshed water onto the counter as she filled the little coffeemaker, then koshed an elbow on the cupboard as she reached for a mug. It was all the fault of the box. News from home always upset her equilibrium the reason she wanted no home computer, no Internet, no contact. If a little box filled with journals had her spilling jam down her shirt, she knew she’d have no peace at all if she could click her way to the university’s class schedules and faculty bios. She dabbed at the jam smear and knew that she really didn’t want to read about the latest candidate to become a tenured geologist at GlacierPort. The bottom line was that it wasn’t her, and never would be. Dr. Anidyr Bycall was a lost dream. Monica Tyndell, professor, doctor of Quaternary geology, undisputed expert in the glacial history under Gates of the Arctic, and Ani’s mentor and idol, would have had to have seen to it that Ani’s entire academic career was expunged.
Tormenting herself with daily news would drive her crazy. Better to wait for these boxes every other month and fill her time and her bank account at the bar. Some day she would explore a different line of study. Some distant day.
By the time she finished her toast and had a half-full mug on the table, her hands were shaking so badly she nicked her thumb with the knife she used to cut the tape. Great, it would sting like hell the next time she made a margarita.
She could have sworn she smelled smoked salmon as she pulled back the flaps. Tan had put Alaska Today right on top, and her breath caught at the stunning photograph of the ice fields east of Juneau. Her nostrils responsively tightened and her perceptions sharpened as if a bite of the icy air had hit her full force. It only lasted for a moment, but in that moment home existed.
The dinette table creaked as she pulled the box closer to her. The technical journals went on the left, the Fairbanks Gazette, University of Fairbanks magazines and newspaper clippings in the middle, and GlacierPort newsletters on the right. Many of the latter were printouts from online versions. She scanned headlines as she sorted geoLogics featured an update to the ice timeline, promising an article that would take her all the way to evening to read and digest. She regularly lied to herself about how much she missed the pleasure of studying data, but when she held some in her hands, she couldn’t deny she was starved for it. She would take the ice data to the beach later, and enjoy it while she waited for the fireworks.
The bottom of the box finally reached, she set it aside so she could fill it with key limes, fresh roasted coconut and the toffee covered hazelnuts that Tan had said she loved. It was the very least she could do to repay Tan’s kindness, especially since so far Tan had refused all offers to come and visit—too hot, too far and so forth. Tan had been the only one who had thought, regardless of what Ani may or may not have done, that Ani had been ill-treated. She had offered to listen, at least. Eve hadn’t listened.
“Enough of that.” She pushed away the memory of Eve’s eyes squeezed tight and her hands over her ears. Don’t tell me anymore! Ani had done exactly what Eve had asked and that was that. She opened the geoLogics to the first page and began on the editor’s abstract.
Her stomach growled so pain
fully that she closed her eyes for a moment. Dizzy and cramped, she looked in disbelief at the clock on the stove how could it be three o’clock already? She turned her head too quickly and was repaid by a shooting pain along her neck. When she looked at the page of tabular data in front of her the numbers wavered against the white background.
“I get it, I get it.” She muttered more words under her breath as she stamped one foot to get circulation going again. Time for something to eat, and to stake out a spot at the beach. She quickly filled a messenger bag with an older issue of Alaska Today, the geoLogics she had been reading, a couple of Gazettes, and an issue of Terrafrost in case she wanted a break from all the science. Every once in a while, a student’s short story was worthwhile. Adding a thin beach towel to the bag, she headed out to her scooter. She put a bottle of water and an apple, along with a bag of frozen blue ice, in the small cooler bungeed to the back, added her messenger bag with another bungee and puttered out onto the already crowded streets.
After a stop at the ATM to deposit her paycheck, she wove her way through stop-and-go traffic along Flagler until she could use side streets to get to the water. The scooter culture in Key West meant it was generally okay to carefully use the shoulders to pass traffic, but it paid to keep an eye out for fallen fronds from the palms that lined every street. She’d already gotten one flat tire from driving over a dried out edge.
Even though the heat of the afternoon usually kept most of the locals indoors, the fact that it was a holiday meant a lot of people were walking the last few blocks to get to the long strip of eastern shoreline. The fireworks would be visible from almost anywhere on the miles of beach, so she thought she’d spread out near the dog park. There was shade and fresh water nearby. Scooters were three deep along the parking lot fence, but she found a spot to wedge hers in, then walked out to the nearest cabana, the cooler dangling from her fingertips. A few slightly soggy bills from her tip cache acquired a trio of fresh fish tacos with mango salsa, and a thoroughly chilled juice blend the locals called conch-conch. It was never the same twice. Today it tasted like guava had been the primary component.
Her stomach finally at peace, she half-buried the cooler in the sand for insulation and sprawled on the towel, mostly in the shade. She relaxed first with one of the stories from the literary magazine. The Jack Londonesque tale of a dog sled race wasn’t particularly original, but it was certainly enthusiastic and brought back her own exuberant sledding experiences. She pressed the chilled exterior of her conch-conch cup to her cheeks and closed her eyes and let herself have just one moment of vivid remembrance. Her only win had been a midnight race, late June. Her father had said her good fortune was genetic. Those black eyes of hers could see in that mixed twilight, and she’d seen every flag while her competitors had veered off course. When she’d come across the finish line he’d swung her around and around until she was dizzy. She’d been maybe thirteen? She’d never forget Tonk Senior and Bannon and Jeeves and Klinkatet. Beautiful dogs. They’d loved racing.
She wondered what had happened to Tonk Junior. No matter how mad Eve had been with her, Ani knew in her heart that she wouldn’t have taken it out on Tonk. Tonk was still in a loving home, older and slower, but happy. Had to be.
She opened her eyes to the dazzle of orange-gold light. The sounds of puppies and dogs at play in the dog park brought painful nostalgia, but not so much that she wanted to move. She deserved the reminder. She’d disappointed Monica Tyndell, broken Eve’s heart, and Tonk wouldn’t have understood why one day Ani didn’t come back. Dogs only understood hellos, not goodbyes.
Damn. Okay, time for some data to distract her. She studied her way through another temperature table in geoLogics, this time for what was left of the ice sheet near Ellesmere Island, then decided it was time for Alaska Today. She’d never read the magazine when she’d lived there, but now every article held some element of interest. It didn’t matter if the subject was netting salmon on Cook Inlet or bull moose locking horns in Denali. In the Keys she was daily surrounded by yellow sunshine. The photographs from home had blues, beautiful deep, rich saturating blues. Blues in the ice, blues in the ocean, blues in the rivers and even tinting the spruce. Without mountains, it seemed, there were no real blues.
She drank it all in. A recipe from Ketchikan for new pea salad recalled her mother’s Easter dinners. A bed-and-breakfast just outside Anchorage reminded her of the place her folks had run for a while when she was small. Her mother had done most of the work, but dad had helped out between his expeditions. After her mom’s death, Dad had sold the B&B for a tidy sum, a chunk of which had helped with Ani’s first four years of college, with some left over to get her foot in the door at grad school, along with her scholarship. Fat lot of good that had done.
“Hey fancy meeting you here.”
Ani looked up into a flash of blond hair. It took a moment to recognize the face without the snowsuit hood framing it. “Oh, hey.”
Lisa plopped onto the towel next to her. “So where’s that date of yours?”
The question didn’t seem hostile, though the lift to Lisa’s eyebrows suggested doubt at the existence of any date. Ani indicated her reading material. “You’re looking at it.”
Lisa frowned as she picked up the geoLogics. “I can’t say I think much of your priorities.”
“To each her own.” Ani held out one hand for the journal.
Lisa continued to study it. “So is global warming real?”
“Yes it is. We might be in a warming era anyway, but our own pollution is accelerating it faster than our ability to adapt.”
Pointing at a column of core temperature readings for the polar ice sheet, Lisa asked, “How can solid ice have different temperatures and still be frozen? Or is that a stupid question?”
“It’s not a stupid question.” Ani shaded her eyes and was surprised to see that Lisa was serious. She knew a lot of women who ran screaming from data tables. “Fresh water forms the crystal structure of ice beginning at thirty-two degrees at sea level. As the temperature decreases, the crystal structure gets stronger. The inner temperature of the ice reaches a point where its strength turns brittle. Past that point the crystal structure is prone to shattering.”
“So that’s why avalanches are more risky when the temperatures stay unnaturally low?”
Ani hoped she didn’t look as surprised as she felt. “That’s right. Glacial calving is also more likely in extreme cold.”
Lisa dropped the journal onto the towel and gave Ani her full attention. “Just because I don’t look like I went to college doesn’t mean I didn’t.”
“I”
“It’s okay.” She tossed back her hair and flashed an unapologetic smile. “Lots of times I fall asleep to the Discovery Channel. I try not to use my brain a lot now, though. I don’t want to use it up. Sooner, rather than later, the skin’s going to get blotchy, and the equipment” She mimed her curvaceous figure in the air. “The equipment is going to go south. Lesbian sugar mommies are really quite hard to find, so I guess sooner or later, I’m going to have to get a real job. I’ll go back to being Myra, and I’ll need the brain then.”
Ani couldn’t help herself. “That whole bit about the tips was just a dumb act, wasn’t it?”
“Works on guys all the time.” Lisa grinned. “You, on the other hand, didn’t offer to let me keep some of your tip money. Clever woman.”
In spite of herself, Ani laughed. Lisa’s honesty about her motivations was refreshing. “The offer last night, was that about tip money?”
“No. That was about Kirsten saying you were great in bed. She had a good laugh about it when I called her this morning. I’m taking her off my list of friends.” Lisa rested back on her elbows. “So what’s a nice geologist like you doing in a place like this?”
“Earning a living.”
“And not much else, I’ll bet. Really what made you move here?”
“I love the beach.” At Lisa’s patent skepticism, Ani added, “Why els
e?”
“Because it’s a long way from there.” She pointed at the Alaska Today. “Kirsten was right about one thing. Any girl with a pulse has a heart attack when she walks into thirty degrees and there you are in a tank top and those sexy fingerless gloves.”
“It’s just the uniform. It’s not like I’m”
“Trying, no you’re not even trying, which makes it all the more intoxicating. Then they find out you really are in your element as cold as the furniture.” Lisa stared at her and there was no way she missed the fact that Ani was blushing. “Now I’ve got it figured out. I don’t know who she was, but half the lesbians in Key West hate her.”
“Who?”
“Whoever she was—the one that broke your heart.”
“Oh.” It was Ani’s turn to be rueful. “I broke her heart.”
“And then you took off?” Lisa cocked her head and Ani realized she was a little bit older than she’d first supposed. “Well, since I don’t think we’re likely to date given your preferences…” She nudged the geoLogics with her toe. “That leaves me free to say I think that’s chicken shit.”
Irritated, Ani snapped, “Who asked you?”
“Oh, please. Lesbian code of conduct. If we’re not going to go to bed so we can become judgmental exes, then that means we go directly to being judgmental, but without the whole bitter thing. You broke her heart and took off so you didn’t have to watch her suffer.”
Through gritted teeth, Ani said, “You don’t know anything about it.”
“What difference does that make?”
“God, you’re irritating.” This is why I don’t like people, Ani thought.
“Oh, now you’re talking like an ex. Maybe we should go to bed after all.”
Ani just stared at her.
“What?” Lisa’s gaze was level. “You’re freaked because my real name is Myra, aren’t you?”
Warming Trend Page 2