6. Helena #2
The sound of a twig snapping startled Helena out of her memories.
“You need to put food scraps in the compost,” she said without turning.
“I know,” said Bertram.
“Food scraps attract mice, mice attract owls, owls attract owl-bears, and if we’re provisioning the area, intentional or not, we’re not going to get an authentic sense of owl-bear predation habits—”
“Yes, I know,” Bertram huffed. “I’m obviously going to minimize my own anthropogenic influence on owl-bear territory during a long-term study involving the analysis of anthropogenic threats to owl-bears—”
“Okay, well, it wasn’t obvious, because you threw a turnip on the ground and stormed away.”
“I did not storm away; I walked away.”
“With great fury,” Helena countered. “Like a storm.”
“I was coming back for the turnip; I was clearly coming back for the turnip because here I am.”
“And I know that now, but I didn’t when I picked up the turnip to reduce anthropogenic influences on owl-bear territory during a study involving the anthropogenic influences on owl-bear territory.”
Bertram threw his hands up. “What do you want me to do?!”
“Compost your food scraps! I thought that was pretty clear from the fact that I literally just fucking asked you to compost your food scraps!”
Bertram and Helena stared one another down. Helena was aware she was breathing more heavily than was warranted. Bertram was as well.
“This is an open-ended study. If things go well, we could be here for years. It can’t be like this the whole time,” Helena said, a note of pleading in her voice. “It just can’t.”
“Duly noted.” Bertram nodded curtly. “I will be more diligent in composting my food scraps.”
Helena sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
There was a glare in Bertram’s eye, a challenge, a dare for Helena to put it all on the table, spell everything out word by word.
But Helena couldn’t spell everything out, because she didn’t know the words she was trying to spell.
What had happened between them was still a heartbreaking, confusing blur to her.
She told Bertram she was going to medical school instead of moving in with him, and he had cut her out of his life.
To this day it seemed like an overreaction to Helena.
She tried not to judge his heartbreak, his pain, but she couldn’t pretend to understand how drastic his response was, how quickly and fully he had let her go.
All she could do was try to move forward, try to make this experience—if not positive, at least less miserable.
“This was always our dream,” Helena said, quietly. “I don’t want to ruin this for you. And I would hope you wouldn’t want to ruin this for me, even considering our . . . history.”
Bertram snorted.
“And I know you don’t want to ruin this for your mom,” Helena added. “Or for the owl-bears.”
“Don’t bring the owl-bears into this,” Bertram said.
“Don’t bring the owl-bears into the owl-bear research?” Helena asked. “Where do you suggest I leave them, exactly?”
“You know what I meant. Don’t—don’t manipulate me.”
“Manipulate you?” Helena couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m just here to do a job. A job I spent most of my life training for, a job your mother asked me here to do, a job that you’re passionate about, that I’m passionate about—”
“Okay, fine,” Bertram said, sighing.
“And I—”
“I said ‘okay,’ Helena,” Bertram repeated.
There was something so gentle in his voice that Helena’s heart leapt at the sound of it. She realized it was the first time she had heard him say her name in . . . well . . .
“You’re right.” Bertram ran his fingers through his hair, his feet shifting in the dirt, as if it cost him something dear to admit it. “You’re right. This isn’t about either of us. This is about the owl-bears, and how best to protect them.”
“Thank you,” Helena sighed. “So now can we just—”
“Stay out of each other’s way,” Bertram finished.
Helena’s mouth hung slightly ajar. “Stay out of each other’s way? On a mountain. On a remote Leopardoptera field research site. Where there are no other People except your mother.”
“Obviously I am happy to share or discuss any and all study notes and will help with research. Data that needs to be analyzed, pictures to be sorted and categorized—”
“You know the whole reason we’re doing the study through direct observation rather than via camera traps is because owl-bears don’t read well on pictures, right? Because the way their feathers—”
“Helena.”
Helena fell silent.
“I am well aware that owl-bears striate on film. I have been part of planning this study longer than you have. Don’t be condescending, or it’s going to be a rough time.”
“I wasn’t trying to be condescending,” Helena said, quietly. “I just get excited about owl-bears sometimes.”
Bertram’s lips twitched, and for a moment Helena thought he might actually smile.
He didn’t. Instead, his tongue darted out and touched the top of his one visible tusk. Helena remembered it was a nervous tic of his, but she refused to remember anything else about his mouth at this moment.
“All I was trying to say,” Bertram said, his tone gentle again, “is for the sake of the owl-bears, I will be a perfectly congenial colleague. But there’s no reason for us to force ourselves to engage beyond that.”
“So, that’s it?” Helena asked. “If I try to have a conversation outside of owl-bears you’ll what? Walk away? Ignore me?”
“I’m not going to be a total dick,” Bertram said. “If you say, ‘good morning,’ I’m going to say good morning back. If you ask me to pass the coffee, I’ll pass the fucking coffee. I won’t try to make your life miserable; I’m just not going to pretend that we’re—”
“Best friends?” Helena finished softly.
An intense look crossed Bertram’s face. But then he managed to school his features into neutrality. It happened fast enough that Helena wondered if it was only wishful thinking that she had affected him at all.
Bertram shook his head. “You want coffee? I’ll get you coffee. You want data? I’ll get you data. Other than that? Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
Bertram turned and strode away from the campsite.
Helena’s heart pounded. She should let him go, she should keep her mouth shut, she knew she should keep her mouth shut.
“What if I don’t want you to stay out of my way?” Helena called after him.
“Then I guess you’ll be asking for a lot of coffee,” Bertram called back without turning around. He disappeared into the dark, leaving Helena to fume alone.
Fuck him, Helena thought.
Fuck him and his good cooking and his passion for owl-bears and his broad back and his strong shoulders and the way he used to make her laugh, not that he would ever try to make her laugh again.
Who needed that energy in their life?
Certainly not Helena.
She was glad she wasn’t the proverbial turnip anymore.
And if her treacherous body didn’t agree, well . . . it was just going to have to get over itself.