Prologue
Sylvie
A loud crash jolts me in my chair, and my eyes snap open. I blink at the glaring light of my computer screen, wincing at the tight knot at the back of my neck as I try to lift my head from the desk.
Did I fall asleep? Not again.
The rhythmic tick-tock of the antique clock on the wall must’ve lulled me to sleep, but my bet is on the paper I’ve been working on—a topic that has been overdone and barely has enough juice left to keep anyone interested. Still, I kept my optimism up and figured I could make something of a topic that has been beaten to death by other graduate students. I was wrong.
I glance at the bottom corner of the screen and let out a sigh when I realize I’ve only been out for twenty minutes. Alright. That’s okay. I probably needed the rest. No need to beat myself up for it. Now that my mind is fresh—at least I hope it is—I can start all over again on the paper. Maybe the fourth time will be the charm.
With another sigh, I straighten in my chair and glance at the document I’ve been working on all night. The first chapter of a project I haven’t started yet mocks me. I’ve been racking my brain all night for what to write. Is it a wonder I fell asleep on my desk?
Butsomething woke me.The crash. Right.
My eyes move to the door when I catch the sound of muffled voices coming from downstairs, and it’s tempting to slide back into my work and ignore them. My parents have been fighting since I moved in with them two weeks ago. And here I thought I’d have a better chance of working on my thesis if I moved back home rather than living with roommates. The thing is, they never fight. Growing up, I’d sit by my bedroom window and watch themdance under the stars. When it rained, they’d play in the rain like little kids, and during the summer, the two of them would take long walks on the beach while I trailed behind them, kicking sand and wondering why they didn’t fight like the other parents I saw. The two are childhood sweethearts who built their life around each other, and somehow, I came in to crash the party and bear witness to their decades-long love story.
And now, they’re fighting.
I consider ignoring it, as I’ve done this past week, giving them space to sort through whatever this is. But when I hear my mother’s voice crack mid-sentence, I realize I can’t stay put any longer.
With a sigh, I push back from my seat, stomp out of my room, and head down the stairs to my father’s study. I don’t bother knocking but simply push in the door. When I enter, I find my mother turned away from my father, his face set in a pained expression. I feel a tug in my chest, unwilling to acceptthat these two—who’ve weathered all storms imaginable—are about to be swept away by this one.
“Are you guys getting a divorce?”
Two sets of eyes turn to me and I watch identical creases form on their brows. My mother angrily wipes away her tears and turns to glare at my father, “A divorce?” She sniffs. “What I’m about to be is a widow!”
“Darling, you can’t say things like that!” My father sighs before walking to his desk and dropping into his seat with another sigh. “Your mother is just being dramatic. Go back to bed, honey.”
“Dramatic. How dare you call me dramatic when you want to go to a remote island in Alaska when your doctor advised you to stay home and restrict travel for the next couple of months. You want to kill yourself, and I’m being dramatic?”
“Oh, what does he know?”
“He’s a damn doctor who went to medical school, Peter. I would think he knows a thing or two.”
“I am going, Martha. If I don’t, I could not live with myself if anything happened to those sea lions.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. How can you help them if you’re dead!”
“Those sea lions are at risk if no one steps up to protect—”
“Then write a letter to the senate. Why does it have to be them or you?”
They are both red in the face and glaring at each other when they stop arguing, and I realize this must be a play-by-play scene of what has been happening in this very room for the past couple of days. “So, Dad wants to go to a remote island in Alaskaover sea lions, and you, Mom, don’t want him to go because his doctor advised him against traveling?” I ask quickly when I notice them gearing up for another round.
“Honey, this isn’t just some protest like the others. It’s life and death!” Dad insists. “The Monteith Real Estate Development Company has submitted a proposal to the Alaska State Senate that, if approved, will allow the firm to build a resort on Adak Island. Do you realize how destructive that is? Adak Island is a critical breeding ground and habitat for western Steller sea lions, which everyone seems to forget are endangered.”
“If they are endangered, then the senate would never approve the proposal,” I argue.
“That is exactly the point that evil company is trying to disprove,” he says, his jaw tight and eyes cold. “The company is arguing that the eastern Steller sea lions have made a sufficient enough comeback that the critical site protections on the Bering Sea islands are no longer necessary. Can you believe that bullcrap? These billion-dollar corporations would risk the lives of sea lions just to build a luxury resort for other rich people.”
My father’s disdain for the ultra-wealthy and their lack of respect for the environment has never been a secret. He and my mother are wildlife conservationists and run a non-profit dedicated to protecting marine mammals. Heck, that’s where I learned my love for it. Following them through their protests and passionate speeches and watching their love for animals made me fall in love with the work, too. Growing up, I wanted to be just like them—doing what I loved with someone I loved.
And I can see how much it’s breaking my father’s heart that he’s being forced to pick between the two. His passion and the woman he adores.
“I’ll go,” I blurt out, watching with amusement as both turn to me, twin expressions of shock on their faces. “Why do you guys look surprised by that?”
“You have your thesis to work on.”
