36. You Haven’t Gone Pro, Have You?
You Haven’t Gone Pro, Have You?
MATTHEW
I’ve never seen a town hall meeting so full. Granted, I haven’t been to many in my day. But still, I don’t think there’s an empty chair in the place.
The room is buzzing with nervous energy, wooden chairs squeaking as people sit, shift, and stand. Even the walls seem to pulse with the whispered hopes and fears of everyone crammed into the small space.
I stand in the back, taking everything in, sort of like a security guard. If someone does something stupid, I’ll take care of them right away.
However, so far, it seems like everyone is on their best behavior.
At the front of the gray room, Lillian stands with a couple of city officials and representatives from Fishers First, the foundation through which Lillian received the proposed grant.
The weight of the moment presses down on my shoulders.
If the grant is received poorly, I’m not sure what more Lillian can do.
What any of us can do. For selfish reasons, I want this to go well.
I don’t want her to feel she’s a villain here anymore.
I want to be able to hold up a big middle finger to Naknek and say, “I told you so.”
But the bigger picture is this grant could save us. There’s little hope these days when the climate is changing so fast. I know everybody here doesn’t believe that. Some think it’s some sort of conspiracy.
But that doesn’t change the fact that the coho yield has been decreasing every year. And facts are fucking facts.
If Lillian can show them this can change, then we might all stand a chance.
“Now that you’ve seen the data,” Lillian says, gesturing toward the PowerPoint presentation on the projector. “I know you’re eager to hear what we do with this data.”
Some folks mutter to each other in the crowd. I swallow, leaning my head back against the wall.
“She’s good. Don’t worry,” Sarah whispers beside me.
I smile at Lillian’s sister. She gives me a hearty wink. Over the past week, I’ve gotten to know her quite well. She’s a sassy spitfire. A Lillian in a different font.
Tuma sits on my other side in solidarity.
Lillian continues. “We have a plan to protect the coho salmon populations and help sustain the lives of fishers here in Naknek as well as the greater Bristol Bay community,” Lillian says.
“This will all be done in tandem with Fishers First, an Anchorage-based foundation, which has taken an interest in the issues here, thanks to the research I’ve done. ”
I withhold a chuckle. Lillian might love Naknek, but she’s getting a kick out of flaunting what she’s accomplished.
I am, too. That’s my girl. She’s smart, gorgeous, and takes no shit.
I’ve never seen her in such clean-cut office wear before, and it’s a crying shame because it’s a side of her I want to see more of.
Tailored slacks, a cream-colored blouse, and her auburn hair clipped back in an elegant, effortless bun finish off the look.
“Here to help me explain the plan is the head of grant allocation from Fishers First, Steve Yonnitz. Steve is a Native Alaskan with Aleut roots and has been advocating for fishermen during the climate crisis since the early 2000s,” she says with a gesture toward her counterpart, an older man with olive skin and a worn face indicative of a life lived in Alaska.
Steve nods. “Thank you for that introduction, Dr. Harvey. I’d be happy to.”
I smile every time someone calls her doctor. I’m dating a doctor. As Steve begins to wax poetic on the plan, Lillian looks away, her eyes searching the crowd. She sees me, and for a second, her hardened exterior breaks.
I give her a big smile and a nod. It’s going great.
It’s not a lie. I’m terrified the tides could turn at any given moment since Naknek has a groupthink mentality. But for the most part, she has them in her grip.
I scan the crowd. Marina and Rio are here, toward the front. Jesse, too, with some of the younger fishermen. Whether or not he believes in Lillian’s cause, he has made it clear he owes it to both of us to help. And help he has. Hell, he even managed to get Lefty to come.
“The two-point plan will hopefully cover all the concerns many of you have. Obviously, in order to preserve a population, we have to proceed conscientiously. Which means turning an eye toward overfishing coho. There is no way to do this without habitat rehabilitation and a more rigorous permit process.”
There are audible groans and curses from the audience.
I hold my breath, gripping the arms of my chair.
“This won’t impact the way you can fish sockeye or other populations at this time,” the man goes on, unfazed.
“However, Dr. Harvey has made it clear that is not an option on its own. This is why we think Naknek would be a prime candidate to institute a coho-stocking program. This is point two of our plan. We would provide money to repurpose one of the defunct canneries into a hatchery, where we can build up the population of salmon in the area. This would mean the creation of many jobs. Construction, management, operations, maintenance . . .”
There’s something for everyone on that list.
“What we foresee is being able to employ fishers in the area for half of the season while the other half can be out on the water.” Steve takes in the crowd as if anticipating the questions he might need to answer.
This grant would change more than just the future of Naknek. It would define what our lives can become. What our town can become. We don’t have to be Egegik. We can grow.
“Seasonal job opportunities would increase, along with the potential of tourism and more money to the community.” Steve goes on. “And with the spawn from the hatchery, we can stock the rivers with more fish as we better their habitat.” Steve glances at Lillian. “Did I miss anything there, Lillian?”
She smiles. “I think you got it all. I think we should open the floor to questions.”
I hold my breath.
And so does the rest of the room. No one moves for a long moment. I hope this is a good sign.
“You can make a line here at the center aisle,” Lillian says. “We’re happy to answer any questions you might have about the proposal.”
Someone stands from the crowd.
It’s Jesse.
I move to the edge of my seat.
“Let him go,” Tuma whispers.
Jesse makes it to the center aisle as Lillian sits up. She doesn’t betray any surprise on her face, just a pleasant, eager smile. “Good to see you, Mr. Benton,” she says.
“What’s he doing?” Sarah whispers, the disdain clear in her voice.
“I don’t know.” I gulp.
Sarah pulls up the sleeves of her sweater. “He better play nice or else I won’t.”
Yeah, she’d be good for Jesse.
“You, too, uh, Dr. Harvey. Um . . .” Jesse shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m just curious if the kind of work we’d be doing, if we were hired, would it come with benefits?”
Lillian’s eyebrows lift as if she’s remembering something. “Yes, there will be benefits for both part-time and full-time employees. Health insurance . . . retirement programs. There is even potential for the hatchery to have an ESOP, an employee stock ownership program.”
More buzz in the room. Excited buzz. A buzz of potential.
Jesse nods. “Okay, just checking. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Benton, that was a fantastic question,” Lillian says.
He turns on his heel and goes back to his seat, catching my eye on the way. He gives me a lopsided smile.
I smile back.
“Did he just try to help?” Sarah whispers in disbelief.
“I think he did,” I reply.
Sarah settles back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Hm.”
I hold in a laugh. I know that “hm.” It’s an interested sort of “hm.”
Lillian leans on the table in front of her. Now, she can’t be stopped. She’s beaming ear to ear. “Any more questions?”
Several people get up and move to the aisle. Although with an apparent endorsement from hard-ass Jesse Benton, I’m sure they’re questions of curiosity rather than attack.
Sarah presses a knuckle into my arm. “I think she’s got ‘em.”
I inhale, chest puffing, with both pride and relief. “Yeah. Me, too.”
After all the questions have been answered, the town council makes a motion in support of the grant. It’s done and dusted. And sure, there’s a long road ahead, but there’s a road. It’s no longer a foggy plain.
The hall clears out. I get a couple of apologetic looks and handshakes from the men I used to call friends. Perhaps, there will be a reckoning. Real apologies. But for now, I’ll settle with knowing I’m right.
And, that I got the girl.
Once Lillian is settled with Steve and the Naknek council, she rushes over to me. I open my arms and hug her tight. “You did it.”
“I can’t believe it,” she says. “I feel like I’m in a dream.” She palms my biceps. “You can’t be real.”
“A big, sexy fisherman is in love with you, Lillian. Believe it,” Sarah says.
Lillian turns to Jesse. “Thanks for setting me up with the benefits! It had totally slipped my mind.”
Jesse shrugs. “I know health insurance gets people around here listening, so?—”
“You were right!” Lillian exclaims. “I owe you a drink.”
Warmth spreads through my chest at the sight of Lillian and my brother getting along.
Sarah intercedes, scooping Lillian away by the arm. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Jesse flushes and opens his mouth to speak as Sarah drags Lillian away, talking a mile a minute.
“It’s like another language,” Jesse says as he steps up beside me.
I give him a wry smile. “You just don’t understand women.”
He scratches the back of his head. “True.”
“What happened to my cocky little brother? I thought you were good with the ladies.”
I follow his gaze to Sarah. Yup. Totally infatuated.
Sarah looks over Lillian’s shoulder, her smile turning into a thin line. “What are you looking at?”
Jesse holds up his hands. “Nothing.”
Ignoring him, Sarah announces, “Let’s go get drinks! On me! I’ve got law money.” She grabs Lillian’s hand and pulls her ahead of us.
Jesse, Tuma, and I stand there a moment before following.
Tuma grins at me. “He likes it when they’re mean to him.”
“Shut up, dude,” Jesse retorts.