Two weeks before the start of the semester, I embark on the long, uncomfortable public transit voyage back home to visit my parents. The wealthy area in which they live is four hours away by car, but three times that by bus and rail.
It's an obligatory visit, another stipulation imposed by my dad, and not much fun for any of us.
My mom makes an embarrassingly big deal of my arrival, but she has no real interest in my studies and quickly runs out of new things to say, while my dad criticizes everything from the length of my hair to the scuffs on my shoes. He tells me I looked like 'a real hobo' when he saw me step off the bus, and that he hopes I've learned the value of a solid paycheck by now.
Both of them more or less ignore me after the first night, leaving me wondering why they insist I make the effort, but at least I have Hazel and my upcoming classes to occupy my mind.
The only bright side is that I see how much I've outgrown the box my parents tried to keep me in, and that even if I wanted to, I don't fit it any more. A lot of that growth is very recent, and thanks to Hazel, but he's the one part of my life I can't share.
At the end of the week, my dad surprises me, offering to drive me back and saving me 12 hours of trouble.
When I accept, he surprises me again by engaging me in conversation, though this is a less welcome offering.
"You know, Mike Dunn's daughter is in the same program as you," he begins, once we've been on the road for a while.
"Who?"
"Mike—the realtor. The one with the yacht."
"Oh. Right." I have no idea who he's talking about, and I also don't care.
"Don't know why he's wasting money on her education—females are only there to meet a husband, you know, and they'll drop out of the workforce as soon as they get knocked up, anyway."
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood, but somehow manage to keep my anger in check.
"Anywho, he's all for it. Apparently, he's already got her a job lined up for an oil company doing offshore drilling. It's big bucks." He whistles. "You should look into it. Mike offered to set you up, too."
Stunned, I say nothing for too long.
"Charles, are you listening? That's a nice offer, don't you think?"
"Dad... I want to study paleoclimatology. Do you know what that is?"
"Does it pay well?"
"I... I don't know. Probably not."
"Well, there you go. Never heard of it."
"It's the study of pre-historic climate change. I want to study paleoclimatology so I can help better understand the changes happening to our planetary climate today, which is in large part caused by the oil and gas industries."
He makes a dismissive noise and waves his hand. "You've just disproved your own point. If it happened in the past, it's a natural process, not something we can do anything about."
Sighing, I sit back in my seat and give up. There's no point arguing, or trying to explain how the evolution of the first oxygen-producing cyanobacteria nearly wiped out all life on earth 2.7 billion years ago, or how the Deccan Traps—massive eruptions of magma in what is now India—resulted in climate changes that may have contributed to the extinction of the dinosaurs.
The point isn't that it's happened before; the point is that when it happens, it's bad news for a lot a species—especially dominant species, like our own.
All I can do is sit back and let my dark, doom-laden thoughts roam while my dad drones on about stocks, bonds, and dividends, and how the world would be such a better place if more people just saw things his way.
We have that much in common, but the chances of either of us ever seeing things from the other's point of view are about as low as a T-Rex's chance of survival after the asteroid hit.
🐚
"Six classes?" Lana frowns at the printout of my schedule. A few days have passed since my return, and the start of the semester is less than a week away. "Why are you taking a full load? Isn't this your second to last semester? I thought you were done with all this general ed. shit."
"I am." I join her on our threadbare couch, ugly mug of instant coffee in hand. "Two are my final upper division courses; the rest are for fun."
"Fun?" She blinks at me. "How is taking extra classes 'fun?'"
I shrug. "Why not? They sound interesting, and I'll probably never have another opportunity to take random classes in random subjects again. Besides, my dad's paying for it; might as well take advantage."
Lana gives me a wide eyed, 'if you say so, mofo,' sort of look. "Slay, I guess," she says, and sips her homemade instant coffee and oat milk latte. "You won't have much time for your boyfriend, though."
I bite the corner of my bottom lip. Hazel had said almost the same thing. "Yeah, but he'll be busy, too. Apparently, he's still technically a registered student, even though he hasn't taken classes in a year. He switched his major to kinesiology and signed up for classes."
"Wow, his dad must be hyped."
I laugh. "It's not earth sciences, but yeah; I think he's pleasantly surprised."
Warmth infuses my cheeks, and I hide my blush behind my coffee mug. Since our return from the internship, Professor MacDowell had made good on his word and welcomed me like family. I'd been to the modest house he shares with Hazel several times, and on my last visit he'd pulled me aside while Hazel was out of earshot and thanked me for having a good influence on his son.
It was weird, but sweet, and especially touching when he told me he hadn't seen Hazel so focused and happy in a long time.
Meanwhile, he'd transferred me to another faculty adviser to avoid a conflict of interest, but as this actually freed him to help me in a more direct fashion, it worked in my favor. He'd offered to read drafts of my dissertation and point out potential strengths and weaknesses, and to help me locate additional resources; the Pliocene wasn't his personal epoch of interest, but he knew the research community well enough to tell me which books and papers were worth my time.
"What about your dad?" Lana asks, setting her coffee on the side table. "You went home for a week and you haven't said a word about it. What happened?"
I lean back against the cushions with a sigh. "Let's just say I'm glad it's over."
"That bad, huh?"
"I dunno. My parents..." I shrug. "I mean, I guess they love me, but sometimes it feels like my dad regrets not talking my mom into an abortion, and like my mom would see my funeral as a good excuse to wear a nice black dress."
"Charlie!" Lana whacks my arm. "That's awful! And I'm sure it's not true."
"You haven't met my mom and dad. You'd think after not seeing me for six months, they'd take some time out of their schedules to do something special—go out to dinner, at least. Instead, I felt like an unwelcome guest. My mom only talked about her new fad diet, and my dad only talked about money and politics. He thinks the 1950s were the best decade because everyone 'knew their place,' by which he means women, minorities, and the 'the queers.'" I make scare quotes in the air.
"Ew." Lana gags.
"Yeah. They barely remembered to ask how I'm doing. The only positive is that my dad now thinks geology is a good path for me."
Lana's brows shoot up. "Really?"
"Yup. Because once I get this 'academic nonsense' out of my system, I can go to work for Big Oil, finding new places to wreck the environment. Somehow he found out that's where the money in geology is."
"Ugh." Lana leans over and rests her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. There's a win for nature in the 'nature vs. nurture' debate, though; you're really well-adjusted for having been raised by them."
I laugh. Lana has a way of finding the silver lining in just about everything.
"Thanks, I think."
"Hashtag FoundFamily," she says, and gives me a squeeze.
🐚
"This isn't so bad," Hazel says, meeting me outside the lecture hall when my philosophy course ends. "I get to see you more often, and sports science is pretty cool."
He links his hand with mine as we walk, and I'm proud of myself for not pulling away.
Campus is a safe place, its own little universe, and I don't mind when he holds my hand or even leans in for a light kiss. Nobody cares, and I've relaxed quite a bit since we started dating.
"You're not sick of me yet?"
He ruffles my hair, running his fingers through my blond corkscrew curls. "Never. But there is something we need to talk about."
Immediately anxious, I stop and look at him. "What?"
"My dad. I think he wants to adopt you, but you'll have to say no because I can't date my brother."
Laughing, I shove him lightly. "You ass."
"What? I'm serious."
"No, you're not. I'm glad he likes me, though."
"Eh." Hazel makes a face. "Honestly, I'd have liked to piss him off by dating someone he hates, but it can't be helped; I fell in love with you."
I squeeze his hand but say nothing. We walk for a bit in silence, following a paved path through a forested part of campus towards another cluster of buildings, where I have my next class.
"I think you're lucky," I say. "I get that your dad's not perfect, but I wish I could have an honest conversation with mine without worrying my world will end."
"I'd like to meet him sometime."
I laugh. "You really wouldn't."
"Sure I would. I'd like to give him a piece of my mind."
I laugh again, but also shudder at the thought. Hazel's so open and honest with his feelings, he can't hide who he is. Meanwhile, my dad's a crusty old bigot who thinks respecting other people's rights would somehow infringe on his own. Putting them in a room together would be like pouring gasoline on fire.
"You know what they say: a mind is a terrible thing to waste," I quote, "and yours would be wasted on him, believe me. Better keep all the pieces for yourself."
"Alright." He pulls me to a halt and forces me off the path, walking me backward until I bump into a huge old redwood tree. "I'll give it to you instead. Here's a little piece of it now: you're gorgeous, and I can't wait to get you alone and have you all to myself again. I dream about you every night."
"Gross." I wrinkle my nose, but he just laughs and angles for a kiss. Relenting, I kiss him back.
A wolf-whistle startles me, and Hazel backs off a little, but it's just a group of girls who giggle as they pass. I catch a few stage whispers of 'OMG,' and 'So cute!' and blush crimson.
"Damn it." Hazel sighs and leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. "Guess we better go."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I was only gonna give you a piece of my mind, but if we don't stop, I'ma lose the rest of it."
"You dog." I laugh and push him away, but the truth is he's not the only one eager for more 'quality time,' which—between Lana, Trey, Hazel's dad, school, and my trip back home—we haven't quite been able to pull off.
"Tell you what—come watch me surf this weekend. There's an unofficial competition on. If I take the top spot, you let me take you on a date—my choice of time and place.
Hazel's a good surfer, but so are a lot of other people. Figuring the chances of his winning are reasonably low (and given his idea of what constitutes a date) I agree.
"You're on," I say, and kiss him again, much to the delight of our impromptu audience.