Chapter 7
Cove
I hadn’t planned on telling Mark about Tobias’s offer until closer to the date my internship was scheduled to end, but Tobias had been right.
Waiting made it worse.
So when I found Mark by himself in the service corridor, I knew it was time to say something, even if there were two weeks left.
He was halfway through checking a clipboard when I stopped next to him and said, “Hey.”
He looked up, answering with a “hey” of his own, then glanced back down at the clipboard again like he expected me to keep walking.
I didn’t.
“I, um—” I shifted my weight, immediately aware that this was not how people usually started professional conversations. “Do you have a minute?”
That got his attention. He lowered the clipboard and raised his eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about after the internship ends.”
Mark didn’t move to speak, just continued looking at me.
“I wasn’t sure if there had been any conversations yet,” I continued, trying to keep my voice neutral but confident, and not like I’d spent the last week rehearsing this exact sentence. “About whether there might be a position opening up afterward.”
Mark sighed, as if being asked this was an inconvenience to him. “Yeah, there have been some conversations. I was meaning to get around to talking to you.”
“Right… Well, I’ve also had an, uh, conversation,” I blurted, wrapping my arms around myself. “I have a job lined up. So… I just wanted to say something in case you guys were considering hiring me on.”
Mark frowned, then asked, “You already have something lined up?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“What kind of position?”
“A private aquarist.”
“You?”
“Um… yes,” I murmured, not liking how shocked he seemed to be. Was it really that unbelievable that someone would hire me?
He stared at me for another second, then let out a short breath through his nose that wasn’t quite a laugh, but wasn’t not one either.
“For who?” he asked.
The moment I’d really been dreading had arrived.
I looked past Mark, not feeling comfortable enough to try to maintain eye contact, then mumbled, “For Tobias Kelly…”
Eventually, I shifted my gaze back to him after he was so quiet I was concerned he hadn’t heard me.
“When did this happen?” Mark questioned, his lips thin in poorly hidden displeasure.
“A few weeks ago,” I answered cautiously. “Well, he mentioned the position maybe a month or two ago, but I only just accepted his offer recently.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t go looking for anything from him,” I added quickly.
“He just—he asked me questions when he was visiting, like about the tanks and animals. It wasn’t until later that he mentioned he had a private collection that needed someone.
I didn’t mean to go around anyone,” I promised, the words coming out faster now.
“I wasn’t trying to—like—I didn’t ask him for anything. ”
“I didn’t say you did,” Mark replied, sounding a bit annoyed still. “I just find it odd that the bloke wants you over a more experienced aquarist.”
“That’s what I said to him,” I explained, a hint of pleading in my voice. “But—but he said he doesn’t like having strangers in his house, and that he felt comfortable with me,” I finished, feeling my shoulders creep upward toward my ears as I spoke.
Mark’s expression didn’t improve. “And how, exactly, are you not a stranger? You’ve only been here for a few months.”
I shrugged, unsure how to answer that when I partly agreed with him.
Mark exhaled slowly, one hand shifting to rest against his hip while the other rose to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“To be honest with you, Cove, we reached the decision not to extend a long-term offer to you weeks ago.”
I swallowed thickly and dropped my head.
I had already known it, but it still hurt to hear.
“Can I ask why?”
Mark didn’t answer immediately.
For a second, I thought maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
Or maybe he wasn’t going to tell me.
Or maybe the answer was going to be something polite and vague like budgeting constraints or organizational restructuring or we just didn’t have the space right now, which somehow always managed to sound worse than whatever the real reason actually was.
Instead, he sighed again and said, “It wasn’t about your work. You did well here. Better than well, actually.”
“Then..?”
“That’s not me being nice,” he continued, glancing at me briefly before looking back down the corridor like he didn’t entirely want to be having this conversation either.
“You’ve got good instincts. You notice things other people don’t.
Half the time I didn’t even have to tell you where something was going sideways before you were already fixing it. ”
“So why not keep me?” I asked quietly.
He shifted his weight again. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” I repeated, feeling a dull ache in my chest.
“You’re here on a training visa,” he said.
“If we hired you full-time, we’d have to sponsor you properly.
That’s not something we can do at the department level.
It goes through HR, legal, budgeting. There are salary requirements attached.
Minimum contract lengths. Documentation about why we’re hiring internationally instead of locally.
It’s not impossible, but it’s not simple either. ”
I stared at the floor tiles between us, following the grout lines like they might help me process what he was saying faster.
“So you just… didn’t want to deal with that?” I asked.
“It’s not that we didn’t want to,” he said, sounding a little sharper now.
“It’s that we didn’t have justification for it.
There are three domestic applicants already in the pipeline for the next intake.
Two volunteers who’ve been here longer than you have.
One returning seasonal tech who already has clearance. ”
Right.
That made sense.
It didn’t feel great, but it made sense.
“And honestly,” he continued, taking a moment to scratch at his chin, “a lot of our entry-level roles here aren’t structured for sponsorship anyway. They’re public-facing positions as much as they’re husbandry ones.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means outreach,” he said. “Tours, education programs, donor events, presentations. School visits and guest engagement.”
“Oh…”
“I know that’s not really your thing,” he added.
I opened my mouth to argue with him, then stopped, because he wasn’t wrong.
“I thought maybe I just wasn’t fitting in,” I admitted quietly.
Mark’s mouth twitched slightly. “That’s not exactly wrong either,” he said.
My stomach dipped.
“You’re excellent with the animals,” he clarified. “Systems too. But this place runs on people as much as it runs on filtration.” He paused as if debating whether or not to say something, then quietly stated, “And there was the donor situation.”
I stiffened. “What about it?”
“Your future boss went over all our heads, straight to the director, and asked not to be interrupted by staff when talking to you,” he said. “That raised some eyebrows.”
“I-I didn’t ask him to do that,” I stammered.
Mark raised a hand to stop me. “Whether or not you did doesn’t matter. It happened.”
“Still, I’m sorry…”
“It’s fine. Honestly, it wouldn’t have changed anything anyways.”
I nibbled at the inside of my cheek, brows drawn together in thought.
Something was bothering me about his explanation.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, lad.”
“If sponsorship’s such a big deal, and if entry-level roles here usually go to domestic applicants… why bring me over in the first place?” The words came out quieter than I expected. “I mean—if there wasn’t really a path to staying.”
Mark nodded like he’d expected the question.
“Internships like yours aren’t hiring pipelines,” he explained.
“They’re training placements. Exchange positions.
Half the time they exist because universities partner with us, not because we’re trying to recruit someone permanently.
We get international interns every year,” he continued.
“Some stay in the field here. Most don’t.
A lot go back home and end up working in research programs or get picked up by regional aquariums with better long-term sponsorship structures. ”
“Really?”
“It’s not meant to be misleading. It’s just how the system works. The placement gives you experience in a major facility. It gives us additional staff support during rotations. Everyone benefits.”
I nodded slowly. “I guess I just thought…”
“That it might turn into something permanent?” he finished for me.
“Yeah.”
“That happens sometimes, but it’s not the default outcome.
” More gently, he added, “And for what it’s worth, you weren’t brought here as a courtesy placement.
You earned the slot. Your references were strong.
Your coursework lined up with what we needed.
You did exactly what you were supposed to do while you were here. ”
“It’s just…” I swallowed down the emotions threatening to well up. “It is misleading. Especially to someone straight out of school, who moves across the globe thinking they’re going to start a life here.”
Mark didn’t argue with me. “I get that.”
That surprised me enough that I looked up at him.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I really am. But that’s how these placements work. They’re meant to open doors, not necessarily to keep you in the same building.”
It still didn’t feel good.
It felt like showing up somewhere with all your bags packed only to realize nobody else had expected you to stay the night.
“Okay,” I said after a moment.
Inside my chest, though, something still hurt in a way that wasn’t going to disappear just because the explanation made sense.
“There’s something else,” Mark said cautiously.
“What?”
“If you’re going to be working for Kelly,” he said, lowering his voice just a little, “I’d keep that quiet for now.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. “Because donors hiring staff directly out from under institutions doesn’t sit well with people,” he said. “Especially when they’re already… involved.”
“Involved,” I repeated weakly.
“You know what I mean,” he sighed. “He’s not exactly subtle about how much influence he has around here.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said quickly again, even though he hadn’t accused me.
“I’m not saying you did, but people talk. And if you want to leave on good terms, my advice is to keep it to yourself until you’re done here.”
“Okay…” I said quietly, nodding. “Thanks.”
The last thing I wanted was to leave this place with people thinking I’d done something wrong.
Mark gave a small nod back, already half-turning his attention toward whatever he’d been doing before I’d stopped him.
“No worries,” he said. “And, Cove?”
“Yeah?”
“Private aquarist is a hell of a first job out of school.”
Something about the way he said it made it sound like maybe—even if he didn’t understand it—he respected it a little.
That made me feel a little bit better about everything.
Still, it wasn’t enough to pacify the sadness in my heart, so I excused myself before my voice could do anything embarrassing.
I didn’t make it very far before I ducked into the nearest staff bathroom.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as the door shut behind me, and for a second I just stood there, staring at my reflection like I was trying to recognize the person in front of me.
My face looked normal.
Which felt incorrect.
I stepped into one of the stalls and locked the door behind me, then sat down on the closed lid and pressed my hands over my eyes.
I wasn’t even sure why I was crying.
Nothing Mark had said was cruel.
Nothing he’d told me was truly unfair.
It had all made sense.
My throat burned anyway, and before I could stop it, my chin quivered, and my breathing hitched in a way I couldn’t quite control.
I stayed like that for a minute.
Maybe two.
Just sitting there in a locked stall in the middle of a workday, trying very hard not to make any noise while everything I’d been pretending not to think about for the last month finally caught up with me all at once.
I had really thought I was going to stay here.
Not forever.
Just—
Longer.
Long enough to build something.
Long enough to belong somewhere.
I scrubbed clumsily at my face with the heel of my hand before the tears could get properly out of control.
This wasn’t the end of anything.
If anything—
My chest tightened again, but this time for a completely different reason.
If anything, I was ridiculously lucky.
Because somehow, for reasons I still didn’t fully understand, Tobias Kelly wanted me.
Out of everyone he could have hired.
Out of all the people with more experience, better resumes, longer careers, and actual credentials beyond a training placement and a degree that still felt new in my hands—
He’d picked me.
He’d listened to me.
He’d asked me to stay.
I wiped carefully under my eyes again and took a slow breath, letting it out through my nose.
By the time I got up, splashed some water on my face from the sink, and left the bathroom, I didn’t feel miraculously better, but I did feel steadier.
Because I knew for a fact that at least one person felt I had worth.
One very important, accomplished person, at that.
And that was enough.