Chapter 10 Charlie
CHARLIE
What if everything I’ve believed about myself—who I am, what I want, what I need—is wrong? And if I can’t trust myself, how can I trust anyone else?
—from the journal of Charlie Savage
Imoseyed across the lecture hall and clicked to a new slide. It was a picture I’d taken a few weeks before, kelp floating upward in green-tinted water like Atlantic skyscrapers. The lights were low, and the students in my intro to oceanic botany class filled nearly every seat.
I loved teaching summer session. The campus was mostly empty, since only a few classes were offered, and the weather permitted considerably more field study. The Juneau campus’s summer sessions were full, so once I transferred there, I’d be on a wait list to teach them.
I imagined my dad sitting in the back of this classroom while I taught—in the same seat I used to come sit in during the summer to watch his lectures.
He’d have a proud smile on his face if he could see me now, like he’d had when he asked his class a question, and my arm would shoot into the air to answer it, unafraid of a room full of college students.
Confident in a way that felt mythical.
I wanted to make the ocean a better place one student mindset at a time, and my dad taught me that the best way to do that was through story.
I flipped to a slide of a sea otter floating on its back, its legs wrapped in seaweed.
I got a few “awws” from my students, which made me smile.
“Adorable, right? Well, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, otter pelts were a hot commodity, and they were aggressively hunted. British, Russian, and American settlers became obsessed with the luxury and warmth of a sea otter’s pelt, and a robust sea otter hunting industry was born.
Within 200 years, 99 percent of the sea otter population was killed, bringing them to near extinction. ”
I sat on the edge of the table at the front of the classroom while they contemplated the near reality of a world without the adorable sea otter.
“So why am I telling you this story? Obviously, otters aren’t extinct. They’re a protected species, so we know legislation was passed to save them. And this is a marine botany class, not a marine biology class.”
That got a few chuckles. I lived off of those chuckles.
I clicked my slides back to the green-brown kelp floating upward.
Everyone should experience what it’s like to be a teacher for a subject they absolutely loved, with students who signed up and paid to be there.
I paused the way my dad used to when telling a story.
He believed silence could have an enormous impact on the listeners.
“Give them time to process, to anticipate,” he used to tell me.
It was the only place I felt comfortable doing that. Here, no one interrupted me or motioned their hand like they wanted me to talk faster and move on. Instead, they looked up from their phones or their notes to see what made me pause.
The back door of my classroom opened, and Rosie stepped inside. She waved brightly, but even across the room, I could tell something was off. She took a seat, and I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Her responding frown made my stomach flip.
I continued my lecture, racing through it faster than usual, my eyes continually drifting to where Rosie fidgeted and constantly checked her phone.
“Sea otters eat large amounts of abalone and sea urchins—which, in turn, eat large amounts of kelp. Without the otters keeping the sea urchin population in check, the kelp began to disappear as well. And why do we care about kelp?”
You do care about kelp, I had to remind myself as I gave into the urge to skip through a bunch of my slides so I could talk to Rosie sooner rather than later. Normally I’d have the class discuss this, but today I was going to spoon-feed them the answer.
“We care because kelp forests are a habitat for many types of ocean life, and they increase biodiversity. And, even more salient for us humans, kelp forests help prevent erosion of our coastline, something that is especially necessary with rising sea levels and frequent storms. Our actions have impact. Plant, animal, human. We are all connected.”
I turned on the light, and the class clapped, something I’d never get used to. It didn’t happen after every class, but they loved it when I ended my lecture with a story.
“It’s a beautiful day. Go explore. Touch some grass. If you email me a picture of a sea otter this weekend, I’ll throw out your lowest grade. I’ll accept cute dog pictures as well.”
I grabbed my phone to check my notifications as Rosie raced down the stairs toward me. I had three missed calls from her, and one from my mom.
I grabbed her arm tightly as panic raced through me. “What’s going on? Is my mom hurt?”
“No,” Rosie said, out of breath. “She’s fine. She’s at work and can’t leave, and when she couldn’t get a hold of you, she reached out to me.”
Adrenaline zipped through me while I waited for Rosie to tell me what was going on.
“Your mom’s working at Icy Asps today. She said Kathy came in for lunch and had been talking to Jill, who teaches those dance classes for little kids down at the rec center.
” She paused to let me absorb the line of information, and I nodded when I had it.
“Well, Serene Hollinger is in her dance class.”
“Why is that name familiar?”
“The Hollingers have a dog named Molly.”
I stopped and placed a hand on the wall. This story wasn’t going to end with Molly getting the most amazing treat in the world, if Rosie came all the way down here to tell me in person.
“Serene was crying in dance class today and said they have to put Molly down.”
“Why? What happened?”
Rosie’s jaw clenched. “She said Molly bit someone last week, and that person is insisting they put Molly down. He’s threatened to sue if they don’t.”
“Molly bit another per—?”
Rosie shook her head.
“Greg?” I whispered.
“It’s happening at three.” She glanced at her phone again. “We have two hours.”
I moved one direction and then another, my brain too scattered to figure out what my next step needed to be.
Call the vet’s office. No. Call Greg. No, forget calling.
Rush over there and stop this from happening!
Molly shouldn’t be put down for something Greg had caused.
She’d been scared, and if he’d just listened to me, none of this would have happened.
Rosie grabbed my arms and made me look at her. “Charlie, we have time. Not a lot, but there’s time.”
I blinked, and she came into focus.
“Bennett’s parked out front in my truck. We’re going to stop this.”
I let her confidence seep into me. She was right. We could do this. I tried to channel the confidence I’d felt while I was lecturing. I straightened my back and pulled up Greg’s phone number. I could do this. I had to.
We decided to divide and conquer. Bennett headed toward the shelter to attempt to convince the family to change their mind. And Rosie and I drove to Greg’s work when he didn’t answer any of my panicked calls or texts.
Greg worked in a small office with only a handful of staff, all of whom I’d grown up with.
On an island like this, it was rare not to know someone at least by sight.
I hadn’t been over here, though, in about a year.
Greg liked to keep his work and the rest of his life separate.
I tried to imagine us having a little girl just like me following him around at work, sitting on his lap as he answered phone calls, pretending to quietly read her book in the back corner while taking in how amazing her dad was and deciding to be just like him.
It was an image I’d never conjured before…
and I was having a hard time now picturing it.
Instead, I imagined Greg insisting he couldn’t concentrate with an extra person watching him.
Which was fair. Not everyone could be like my dad.
I was just understanding that a dream I’d never realized I had wasn’t going to come true.
Rosie stopped me before we entered the office and took slow, steady box breaths.
When I found myself mirroring her, I realized I hadn’t breathed fully since she’d shown up at my lecture hall.
I also hadn’t taken off my computer glasses, and water ran down the lenses in small rivulets, distorting my vision.
Why was I thinking about my glasses right now? Why was I still leaving them on? Something in my brain was misfiring.
Rosie frowned. “What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head to clear it. “I just can’t believe he’d do something like this.”
Rosie clamped her mouth shut, but her expressions could never lie.
“Just say it,” I pressed.
She cringed. “I know you always see the best in everyone, but this is totally on brand for Greg. And you always let him have what he wants.”
It was easier to allow Greg to have his way, and over time, I’d stopped fighting for anything I wanted. But Molly’s life? I would fight for this. Adrenaline raced through my veins, and I flung the door open. “I finally have something worth fighting about.”
“You’ve been worth fighting for this entire time,” Rosie said.
I paused. When had I stopped believing that was true?
The receptionist, Mrs. Berry, looked up from her computer with a surprised smile as we wiped our feet off on the mat. “It’s been a while, dear! Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials!”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to calm my racing heart enough to think straight.
“We are so excited. Even Rog and June are coming, and you know they hate leaving their homestead.” I usually asked her about her son and daughter-in-law who were living off the grid, but time was of the essence. She continued, “It’s good for them to get out every now and then—”
“I need to speak to Greg. Now,” I said, cutting her off with an apologetic wince. “Is he available?”
“Oh, yes, of course. I think he’s just finished with a call.”