4. Helena
Helena
“Sorry that I’m a little late,” Helena said as she set her suitcase down. “I got completely distracted on the hike up—I saw the absolute cutest little scuffle break out between a pair of Mustela frenanoptera alexandrae—”
“What the ever-loving fuck is she doing here?” Bertram said.
Helena blinked.
This was not quite the greeting Helena was hoping for from her former lover.
Bertram’s tone was so riddled with shock and disgust that Helena could not help but feel that Dr. J may have exaggerated when she said her son was “well aware Helena would be joining the project, perfectly fine with this, and excited to see her.”
If anything, Helena would describe his reaction as closer to “completely shocked, incredibly furious, and ill at the sight of her.”
“Helena is my PhD student,” said Dr. J.
“No,” Bertram said.
“Yes.” Dr. J’s voice was even, her smile placid. “I promised I would have no more than three at the most and, look, I only have one! You should be thrilled!”
Bertram shook his head. “You didn’t say who that one would be.”
“You never said I had to make it anyone specific,” Dr. J countered.
“You never said it was going to be her!” Bertram snarled.
Helena flinched. For a second she thought she saw the tiniest flicker of regret in Bertram’s eyes, a softening of his features. For a brief moment, he looked like the boy she once dared to dream could be in love with her.
But she must have imagined it, because the second she opened her mouth to speak, Bertram’s jaw clenched and his eyes were cold and unforgiving.
“I can leave,” Helena said.
“You’re not leaving,” said Dr. J.
Bertram stood. “Then I’m leaving.”
“You’re not leaving either!” Dr. J snapped. “If I recall, you just swore mere moments ago that you would never let your historical interpersonal relationships interfere with the important work we’re doing in the field.”
Bertram groaned.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” Helena shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re here at my invitation—at my insistence,” Dr. J said. “As are you Bertram, so sit back down right now!”
The usually whimsical Dr. J’s voice was as stern as Helena had ever heard. Bertram must have felt similarly because he reluctantly took his seat without protest.
“Um.” Helena swallowed. “You two . . . maybe—I think you should, um, have a conversation that I, uh—I’ll give you some space to discuss—”
“Nothing to discuss,” Dr. J said. “My two favorite scientists will be assisting me on an important research study with urgent conservation implications. End of story.”
“Absolutely not ‘end of story!’ ” Bertram said.
“I’m going to head to my tent,” Helena said quickly. “Just to—let you have a moment; I won’t unpack or anything—”
“You can unpack,” Dr. J said.
“I’m not going to unpack,” Helena said.
“You can unpack!” Dr. J said.
Behind Dr. J’s back, Helena shook her head to indicate that no, she would not unpack. This was supposed to be for Bertram’s benefit, but he was now avoiding her gaze entirely, instead staring out into the dark of the surrounding forest.
Helena swallowed and retreated from the campfire, suitcase in tow.
She grabbed her cellphone and pulled up the research site map Dr. J had sent her. Dr. J had circled one of the tents as Helena’s, so she made her way to it quickly. She tried her best not to overhear any of the conversation struck up behind her, since she knew she was bound to be the subject of it.
Helena found herself more upset with Dr. J than she was with Bertram.
How did she think springing Helena on him was a good idea?! And why wouldn’t she at least warn Helena that she hadn’t warned Bertram?!
Helena arrived at her tent and unzipped the flap. She brought her bag in with her, mostly to erase any signs of her presence.
In a magical society, it was not uncommon for a tent to be larger on the inside than the outside.
Dr. J had warned Helena that they would be keeping their use of magic very limited so as to not affect any magic-sensitive creatures in the area.
So, the tent was exactly the size it looked, which was not too much bigger than the items it contained: a not-quite-queen-sized bed and a chest of drawers to unpack into.
It didn’t bother Helena. Growing up with her human father, they had neither magic nor money. The tent wasn’t much smaller than Helena’s childhood bedroom. It hadn’t bothered her then either. She had never needed material wealth growing up. All she had needed was her father.
Helena steadied herself, taking slow, deep breaths. She felt as if she might cry at any moment, and she worried she would fall to unfixable pieces if she did. If one tear snuck down her cheek, she might dissolve into a puddle and then evaporate entirely.
The six months since her father died had been the hardest of Helena’s life.
With Gerard gone, she had never felt so alone.
She had no close friends. Her paternal grandparents were long-dead, and she had never met anyone from her mother’s side.
Neither had Gerard, for that matter. Gerard’s knowledge of Helena’s mother pretty much stopped at “pixie,” “Madrid,” “very beautiful,” and “likes Jack Daniels.” He hadn’t given Helena Jack Daniels as a child, but he had given her book after book on pixie history, and he had learned Spanish so he could teach her.
But that was all she had of her mother.
Helena had grown up with a vague understanding that someone out there had given birth to her, but a much more acute awareness that no one wanted to mother her.
Until Dr. J.
After her breakup with Bertram, Helena had distanced herself from his parents out of respect for Bertram’s feelings.
Dr. J and her husband Urghk, who had been like an uncle to Helena, still checked in with her over the years.
But Helena used all her willpower to maintain at least some degree of separation. For Bertram’s sake.
That resolve completely crumbled at her father’s funeral.
She threw herself into Dr. J’s arms, wept and apologized and thanked her for coming and vowed to never lose contact again.
Dr. J, for her part, rose to meet Helena’s vow spectacularly.
She texted Helena daily, called her weekly, even flew out to visit a few times.
Helena’s relationship with Dr. J became her life raft as she was tossed to and fro on the sea of her grief.
When Helena quit her medical residency overnight, Dr. J once again swooped in to save her. Dr. J informed her of an opening on an in situ project on wild owl-bears. It was a PhD by research opportunity, and an opportunity for Helena to give her first dream a second chance.
Not only a PhD, not only a PhD in a magizoological field, but a PhD in Leopardoptera. And on Helena’s favorite leopardopteran out of all of them.
Helena had been over the moon with joy. She had an app counting down the weeks, the days, the minutes until the project began.
And now her time on the project could be over before it even started.
Helena put her face in her hands and shook her head. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by. She just couldn’t.
Helena had deprived herself for Bertram’s sake before. When Urghk died two years previously, Helena hadn’t talked to him in eighteen months. She would never delete the voicemail from Urghk assuring her that no matter what happened between Helena and Bertram, Urghk would always love her.
She hadn’t returned his call.
It tore Helena apart at Urghk’s funeral. For his part, Bertram hadn’t spoken a single word to her that day, hadn’t so much as looked at her.
And Bertram didn’t come to Gerard’s funeral at all. Gerard had always been kind and good to Bertram, and Bertram didn’t even show up for his funeral.
Helena took another deep breath and let it out. Slowly. Her nails bit into the skin of her palms, and the threat of tears was fully abated.
She had spent too long living her life for other People. Her dream was to study owl-bears. And some asshole holding a grudge from half a decade ago was not going to get in the way of her dreams.