Doesn’t really work, but hey. I tried, right?
Eventually, exhaustion catches up with me. I didn’t sleep very well last night at all.
I lean back against the sectional, just for a moment.
Just to rest my eyes.
The flames dance hypnotically and my eyelids are so heavy...
I wake up disoriented.
I’m lying down. On the sectional. There’s a rolled-up jacket under my head serving as a makeshift pillow. His blanket is draped over my shoulders.
What the--
I definitely fell asleep sitting up. Which means...
I look across the room. Gregory is in his usual spot, pretending to read some book. Like he didn’t just carry me or at least gently reposition me while I was unconscious.
Making sure I was comfortable even when we’re not speaking.
Even when he thinks I want nothing to do with him.
And then... then... I realize what he’s actually reading.
And I’m dumbfounded.
The tender gesture combined with seeing that book held in his hands breaks something inside me.
“You’re not actually reading that, are you?” I squeak. Like, literally squeak.
He doesn’t look up from the page. “I am, actually.”
It’s my ecology textbook. The one excitingly titled “Fungal Ecology.”
His finger traces a line of text. “’Mycorrhizal networks demonstrate remarkable resilience following mechanical soil disruption. Even when primary fungal highways are severed by human activities, the remaining hyphal fragments can regenerate connections within eighteen to twenty-four months, provided three critical conditions are met: cessation of disturbance, preservation of at least thirty percent of the original fungal biomass, and reintroduction of compatible host species.’”
He closes the book, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s exactly what you told me. The fungal networks can heal if you stop actively destroying them. Just like you said. But there’s a catch. They can heal only if... only if you don’t obliterate everything to begin with.” His jaw tightens. “Thirty percent. That’s the threshold. Less than that, and the whole system collapses permanently. More than that, and nature can do the work herself, given time and space.”
Oh my god, he actually understands it.
“The mines in Brazil,” he continues, his voice becoming tinged with regret. “We removed...everything. Topsoil, subsoil, all of it. We didn’t leave thirty percent. We didn’t leave anything.” He looks down at the book in his hands. “This whole section about post-mining restoration? It doesn’t apply to what I did because I made restoration impossible. Not difficult. Impossible.”
His thumb brushes over the page. “And the groundwater contamination you threw in my face that first day? That wasn’t separate from the soil destruction. It was part of the same process. Rare earth extraction uses acid leaching. Sulfuric acid, hydrochloric acid, sometimes both. We pump it into the ground to dissolve the minerals, then extract the solution. Except the waste... the tailings... contain heavy metals, radioactive elements, residual acids. We knew the containment ponds were failing. Knew the waste was seeping into the aquifer. But shutting down meant losing millions per day, so we kept operating while ‘investigating’ the problem.”
Stop talking.
You’re breaking my heart.
He sets the book down carefully on the cushion beside him. “So we didn’t just kill the fungal networks. We poisoned the water table. Made the soil toxic. Contaminated the entire watershed. Even if someone wanted to restore those ecosystems now, they’d have to remediate the chemical contamination first. Which would take decades. Or longer. And cost more than we’ll ever pay in settlements.”
“So yeah, Sorrel. I’m actually reading it. And I understand it. And I understand exactly what kind of bastard it makes me that I let it happen anyway. And yet I can’t help but wonder... is it... is it really too late for me? Am I so far gone? Or is there just enough of who I am deep down still left... that thirty percent...”
I have to look away because the tears are falling openly now and I don’t even know why I’m crying.
Is it because he’s sitting here reading my textbook and actually understanding the full extent of the damage he caused instead of making excuses?
Or am I crying about Brazil? About fungal networks that will never regenerate and water tables poisoned for decades and ecosystems so thoroughly destroyed they can’t even begin to heal?
