Chapter 17 #2
Her voice lowers to a whisper. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. They’re rare.”
I know. I’ve researched them. A lot.
The cassowary is the largest flightless bird on the planet and looks like it leaped off the screen of Jurassic Park. Northern Queensland is one of the few regions in the world where you can find the majestic, terrifying birds.
If they weren’t cool enough on their own, with their blue skin, black feathers, and hornlike head, the females also force the males to tend to the egg and raise the chick while they mate with other males during the breeding season.
I tell Sofía all this, and she listens intently as I ramble, my hyperfixation on the topic front and center.
“Damn, that’s a badass bird,” she says, cracking open a container of sliced oranges and tilting it toward me. “What else do you know?”
“There’s this plant, it’s called the cassowary plum, and the bird is responsible for spreading the seeds. They eat the fruit and then poop out the seeds, and it allows the plant to distribute.”
Sofía lowers the berry from her mouth and sets it back into the container. “How…interesting.”
“But now that cassowaries are declining, conservationists are worried about the plant,” I add. “Nature relies on nature, and sometimes humans fuck that up.”
“You care about the planet a lot,” she says.
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway.
“Well, yeah. It’s the only one we have, and we’re actively destroying it.
I think it’s because people aren’t as connected to it as they used to be.
They’re connected by phones and social media, and they can access anything they want with a click of a button, but fewer people are flipping rocks. ”
“Flipping rocks?”
“You know that innate sense of curiosity when there’s a large rock and you want to flip it over to discover what critters live underneath?
” She gives me a baffled look. “Well, I loved to peek under rocks in the forest behind my house to find roly-polies and worms. And that kernel of curiosity grew into something more. It’s why I wanted to do the deep-sea documentary, to try to make people curious about the insane, incredible things that exist on the planet. ”
I take the container of breakfast sandwiches and pull one out for each of us.
“You surprise me sometimes,” she admits.
Surprise her how? In a good way?
“Oh?”
“You’re more intelligent than I ever realized.”
My stomach falls, the insecurity that never truly fades right back at center stage. Her words are unpleasant for my self-esteem, and I look away, watching a bird waddle down the beach, digging its beak into the sand in search of a snack.
I know I never graduated from college. Barely graduated from high school. I don’t know how to start a tech company or run a boardroom. My job is unstable, and at times, my ADHD causes me to hyperfixate or makes it impossible to complete simple tasks.
I’m terrible at remembering to switch my laundry, and sometimes I need reminders to finish tasks like doing the dishes or putting items away.
A few of the many reasons Grace ended it with me.
More intelligent is a kind way to say I thought you were stupid, but turns out, you’re only kind of dumb.
Self-consciousness turns into self-defense. “I have learning disabilities. It doesn’t make me stupid.”
“Jett, I—”
Indignation rises like a tidal wave. It’s not her fault, and she doesn’t deserve it, but I am so tired of feeling inadequate, less than, because I don’t have a degree or do well on standardized tests.
I’m not Mateo, who is working toward his PhD.
Or Oliver, who collects undergraduate degrees like Pokémon.
They’re academically brilliant, but I’m smart in other ways. That counts for something, right?
“I am intelligent.”
The quiet between us is a deadly thing, a house fire sucking the remaining oxygen from the room. I didn’t mean to snap at her, but it’s a special type of burn knowing she thought I was an idiot and is surprised I’m not.
“That’s not—I didn’t mean—” She stumbles over her words. “Let me start over.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
She inhales a deep breath. “It’s not fine. I stuck my foot in my mouth, upset you, and that’s not what I was trying to do.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” she yells, crawling across the blanket until she’s in my face.
Her hand grips my jaw firmly, securely. “You are intelligent. But you’re also kind and observant, and one of the most emotionally intelligent people I have ever met.
That’s what I meant to say before I fucked it up.
I only wanted to say that I’m lucky to have uncovered that side of you, and I wish I had learned about it sooner. ”
She’s so close, and her words ring in my ear, dousing the sting of her previous statement. I had no idea she felt this way about me. I part my lips, but her grip tightens and her eyes widen to saucers. “Oh my god,” she mutters. “Very slowly turn your head.”
Her hand pats the blanket until she finds purchase on my camera strap and drags it into my lap, her focus never leaving the landscape behind me. I crane my neck, and the air rips from my lungs.
At the edge of the forest, where the land meets white sand, a large female cassowary creeps out of the vegetation toward the water. I’m starstruck as the magnificent creature cautiously steps onto the sand. Sofía slaps my thigh.
“The camera, Jett,” she whispers. “You’ve got to record this.”
With slow movements, I adjust angles and switch between video and photos. The cassowary gives us twenty glorious minutes of cohabitation, commanding the beach like a queen surveying her kingdom.
The animal walks along the waterline, and I spend the first ten capturing what I can, Sofía doing the same on her phone, and then I put it all away to appreciate the rarity of what’s happening.
Sofía leans against my side. “I’m going to remember this forever.”
Eventually, the cassowary strolls back into the forest and out of sight. “Yeah. Me, too,” I respond.
For so many reasons, I’ll remember this, but most of all, I’ll reminisce on how it feels to have Sofía by my side and the knowledge that this gesture was for me.
A surprise for the ages.