8. This Isn’t a Pleasure Cruise #2
Lillian pauses. “That must be an honor and quite the undertaking to preserve your culture.”
Tuma’s eyebrows rise. “It is. Both those things.”
Ian and I exchange a look. Non-native Alaskans often don’t know how to broach the topic of what it means to be a Native Alaskan. It’s both surprising and impressive Lillian isn’t afraid to get right to the heart of the matter when so many around here are willing to ignore it.
“You know, there are a lot of dying practices our elders have passed down. A lot of people have left or opted for a more, eh, conventional way of living,” Tuma says.
“And you know, when you have children, you don’t want to hold them back from the lives they want.
But I hope mine have some desire to preserve our culture. ”
Lillian listens with rapt attention as Tuma speaks. She is not distracted by anything else in the bar, shining all the light in her eyes on him. Tuma’s usually quite shy around strangers, but Lillian has a knack for making people feel comfortable.
A lump grows in my throat. Maybe the way she speaks to me isn’t that special after all.
“Where are you from?” Tuma asks. “Before California.”
I cough. What happened to pretending?
Lillian laughs and looks askance at me. “So, you’ve heard of me?”
Tuma grabs his root beer and hides his face behind it as he drinks.
“Hard not to hear about a newcomer, love,” Ian says, leaning back in his seat. “I should know.”
“Oh, really? You?” Lillian says, her eyes widening in clearly melodramatic shock.
A laugh bubbles out of Ian. “I know, it’s hard to believe.”
I laugh a little too. She’s sharp, I’ll give her that.
“Originally,” Lillian picks up Tuma’s question. “Michigan.” She holds up her hand and points at the knuckle of her pinky. “About here. Right on the lake, actually. Similar to Naknek, but different.”
“Very different, I’m sure,” I say.
“Far cry from the ocean, isn’t it? Lake Michigan?” Ian says.
Lillian tilts her head from side to side. “In some ways, yes. I mean, sure, you’ve got the obvious that it’s salt water versus fresh. And we have different marine life because of that, but both water systems are incredibly biodiverse.”
Oh, we’re getting into the lingo now. Good thing I love to listen to her talk science.
“And like Naknek, where I grew up has an economic dependence on water. Ours isn’t dependent much on fishing. But tourism and the crops. Commercial shipping.” Lillian stops to sip her beer.
None of us speak. Something about the way she talks, both commanding and casual, has us hanging on her every word.
“And, of course, we’re experiencing impacts from climate change in both places.” Lillian tips her shoulder up. “Erosion, spreading of invasive species, warming waters.” She licks her lower lip and keeps her eyes down on her drink. “Population decline.”
“That’s why you’re here, right?” I ask.
“Yes, you’re correct,” she says, something enveloping her voice that sounds more . . . flirty than professional.
Which I can’t say I mind.
“The declining coho salmon population has become a high-priority issue. It’s time someone does something about it. And if we have the data, we can accomplish a lot. You may have heard I was supposed to go out on?—”
“Lillian,” Ian interrupts. “Look, I know we all appreciate what you’re doing in theory, but in practice . . . I don’t know one guy around here that would loan you a boat.”
Lillian sits up a bit straighter, glancing at me and then back to Ian. “But you said it yourself, outsider sees outsider. Wouldn’t you?—”
“Oh no, no, no. I worked hard for the title of insider.” Ian grabs his beer and gets to his feet. “Listen, love, best cut your losses. Quit while you’re ahead. You’re bright. Just use it elsewhere.”
I look hard at Ian, trying to get him to look at me, but he ignores my gaze. He gives the table an open-handed wave before joining a couple of guys at the pool table.
Tuma gets up too. “I better get home to Kat. Been out late too much, and now the season is over.” He gives Lillian a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps, I can introduce you to her sometime.”
“I’d like that,” she says, forcing her lips up the way she did when she left me at the airport.
Fucking heartbreaking.
Tuma leaves his empty glass and hustles out of the bar like his life depends on it, leaving Lillian and me alone in a sea of people.
“You don’t have to sit with me,” she says, gripping the base of her glass.
“I’m not gonna just leave you sitting here,” I reply. “Unless you want me to go.”
“I just know what it could do to your reputation. Clearly.”
I want to tell her I don’t care about that shit. But if that were true, would I have been trying to close myself off to her? Withhold my boat? I care about it a little. “I don’t care about that enough to leave you here on your own.” And that’s the truth.
Lillian doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, she lifts her head and sets her jaw tight. “I know what the hell I’m doing.” Her voice is low and dark, and in other circumstances . . . might be an incredible sound.
Not now, though. “I know you do.”
Her voice says sharply, “No, you don’t. You’re all scared I’m going to screw things up for you. But newsflash, things are already screwed up.”
My muscles tighten. “That’s not our fault.”
“I didn’t say that,” Lillian says, rubbing her hands over her eyes.
“But that’s how the government will treat it. That’s how activists treat it, as if?—”
“Matthew, I’m not an activist. I’m a scientist. I’m not working off my feelings. I’m working to make the world better through facts and figures. For us. For you and all your friends and this damn town. And you all hate my guts,” she exclaims.
Lillian drinks her beer. A lot of it. Gulping it down to make it hit faster. Can’t blame her for that.
She slams the glass down and lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you know how disheartening that is?”
I glance around the bar. Ian is now shooting pool, and Jesse is chatting with his woman du jour, a tiny woman with a black pixie cut and an arm full of tattoos. I know the name of almost every person in this town. It can be exhausting, but I’ve never felt like I didn’t belong.
And Lillian is sitting here against all odds, trying to have people see her. And they keep turning away.
Not me. Not anymore.
“I’ll take you out on my boat,” I say, making sure no one overhears me.
I watch the news wash over her. Confusion. Recognition. Her jaw drops. “What?”
“I said I’d?—”
“Really?”
“Shhhh! Lower your voice!”
“I could kiss you. Oh, my god! I could just?—“
“Please don’t make a scene.” I’d accept a kiss, but not when we’re out in public like this. Not when someone might think I’m a traitor for giving her too much rope. Not when it would be impossible for me to stick to only one kiss.
Lillian beams from ear to ear. “Are you sure? I know, it’s not?—”
“Don’t give me an opportunity to change my mind. You got me hooked. Don’t let the reel go.”
She giggles. “Okay.”
I shift in my seat to get a little closer to her. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Yes.”
“Early, alright? This isn’t a pleasure cruise.” Isn’t it? In a way?
Lillian nods. “Got it. I promise I’ll be early.”
I bite down on my lower lip. “Naw, I’ll pick you up. Don’t want people to see your truck there.” Overkill much? “And goes without saying, but don’t tell anyone.”
She twists an imaginary key in her mouth.
Keeping secrets in a town as small as Naknek is like putting toothpaste back in the tube. But I’ll try. Or else I’ll never hear the end of it.