31. Culture Shock
Culture Shock
LILLIAN
Ididn’t consider the culture shock I’d experience when returning to LA.
The air hits me first.
It’s thick, heavy, and carries the smell of exhaust and sunbaked asphalt. And I’d almost forgotten the way Los Angeles sprawls endlessly. Not a natural one, but a sprawl forced on the land, built up over and over again.
In Alaska, I’d grown used to the quiet—a quiet that has its own sounds: wind over water, bird calls, the distant crackle of branches in the forest. Here, the noise presses in, constant and loud as if everything is happening at once.
It’s an entirely different world.
My Uber takes me to Sarah’s West Hollywood apartment since my subletter is supposed to stay at mine through November. Sarah doesn’t know I’m coming yet. I haven’t had the heart to talk to anyone since I left Alaska.
Better late notice than no notice, I suppose. As he pulls out into traffic, I whip out my phone and call my bullish, lawyerly sister.
“What’s up?” she answers.
It comes out in a torrent of word vomit. “Everything went sideways, and all of Naknek hates me, and now I’m back in LA on my way to your apartment.”
“Woah, slow down. Start from the beginning. What?”
It takes most of my ride to unwind the tale for her. I’ve been keeping her updated, but not in much detail. Last she knew, Matt and I were knocking boots, and the research was going great. So, there’s a lot to tell her.
My poor Uber driver stops in front of Sarah’s apartment while I’m still telling her the story.
He gives me a wary look as he unloads my luggage.
It’s mortifying enough that any of this happened, let alone having my freaking Uber driver overhear the tragic details in all their glory.
I stand on the curb, staring up at the building, unable to move.
“And then I left. I didn’t even think about where I’d stay or anything, I just?—”
“Okay, stop. Take a breath, Lil,” Sarah tells me.
I do so, though my breath is shaky and strained.
“I’m coming home now.”
Only now do I realize it’s the middle of the workday. “Oh, my god, Sarah, you’re at work. I’m sorry, I?—”
She doesn’t let me finish. “You think I can sit here and let you suffer alone? Absolutely not!”
I shut my eyes. I don’t know which way is up and which is down. My whole world has gone topsy fucking turvy since yesterday. I don’t think I’ve even slept. But the idea of a big bed with crisp white linens sounds like heaven. “I’m sorry,” I say meekly.
“Don’t be sorry. You’d do the same for me.”
I smile for the first time since I left the cabin. She’s right. I would.
“What are sisters for? Other than being there when the chips are down?”
“And giving me shit.”
Sarah snickers. “That, too. You have my key, right?”
I fish my ring of keys out of my purse. “I do.”
“Head on up. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
I crash as soon as I get into Sarah’s place.
Her apartment is luxurious, the kind of condo you’d see on Selling Sunset with floor-to-ceiling windows and one of those walk-in rain showers.
However, I bypass all of that to plant, face first, in Sarah’s bed.
I wake up shortly after Sarah arrives. She brings me greasy fries, burgers, and milkshakes in bed.
We eat while Bravo plays in the background.
There will be plenty of time for conversation about what happened.
Right now, I’m just happy to have my sister.
The next day, I go into PMI to meet with Dr. Harrison, and when I walk into his office, his lack of reaction sends a shiver down my spine.
“Take a seat, Dr. Harvey.”
I do, placing my laptop and the manila folder holding all my research on my lap.
Dr. Harrison says nothing, his beady eyes focused on me.
He wants me to talk first. Okay. Fine. “So, I’ve compiled most of my findings for you. While my samples were destroyed, I still have most of the data from the two and a half months I was in Naknek. I know it isn’t the scope of four months we originally wanted, but?—”
“No, it’s not,” Dr. Harrison bites out.
I grip my laptop harder. “I assure you my findings are conclusive, even with the limited timeline.”
Dr. Harrison holds out his hand, and I give him the folder.
“I’ve yet to compile them into a cohesive research paper, but?—”
He opens the folder and holds up his hand, signifying for me to stop talking.
What an asshole.
For far too long we sit in silence while he pages through my research. I’m incensed he’s angry with me when my literal safety was being threatened. However, I have to keep an even keel. Naknek might have wanted to drive me away, but now I’m determined to help them, even if it’s out of spite.
It will serve them right if things get better thanks to me. I bet they won’t even send a fruit basket.
I bet Matt won’t even call.
At first, I blocked him. And then, I unblocked him because I wanted to know if he could defend himself against the awfulness of destroying my samples. But then I blocked him again when Sarah arrived. I didn’t want her giving me shit for hoping.
“Where do you see this going next with this limited research?” Dr. Harrison asks.
It’s not limited. It’s plain as day what’s happening.
“Well, first, I’ll draw up the report. And then, I’ll submit it to the Alaska state government. I’d also like to start looking at grants and various projects that might be sustainable in the climate. Political and otherwise.”
Dr. Harrison lifts his chin, eyes the folder again, and then tosses it across the desk to me. “I have to say, there’s a lot more here than I anticipated.”
I take the folder, trying to tread carefully through the things I want to say to him.
“I promise, Dr. Harrison, if I had not felt so threatened, I would have happily stayed. But from the beginning, they were clearly unhappy with me being there. It probably would have been more sustainable if you’d sent a team rather than just me. ”
“Yes, if we had the budget.”
I nod, but I want to ask why his office is so big if we’re concerned about money.
“You have until the end of the week to get your full report in.”
I gulp. That’s not as much time as I originally anticipated, but I can make it happen. If I have to. And given how annoyed Dr. Harrison is with me, it’s clear I have no wiggle room.
“We’ll review it and see if it’s worthy of publishing. And then, you can explore the grants and related projects on your own time before your next project.”
My stomach turns. Not that I’m not excited at the prospect of moving onto something else. It simply feels unceremonious. Write a report, find some grants, move on.
Dr. Harrison won’t understand or appreciate how difficult it was to leave Naknek. He’d probably chastise me even more for mixing business and pleasure. With how everything turned out, I can’t say I blame him.
“That’s all for now,” Dr. Harrison says, turning to his computer screen as if I’ve apparated from the room.