Where'd You Go, Bernadette(77)
Then music filled the room, ever so faintly, and over the span of a couple of minutes it gradually got louder. I’m starting with the man in the mirror… It was Michael Jackson, a wake-up call coming from the speakers, and there was a blazing crack between the window shade and wall.
“Well, good morning,” said the voice over the PA. After his ominous pause, he continued, “For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of looking out the window, welcome to Antarctica.” With those words, I shot up. “Many of you are already on deck relishing the clear, still morning. We got our first glimpse of land at six twenty-three, when we came upon Snow Hill Island. We’re now making our way into Deception Bay.” I yanked the cord on the shades.
There it was, a black rocky island with snow on top, black water under it, and a big gray sky above, Antarctica. I got a huge knot in my stomach because if Antarctica could talk, it would be saying only one thing: you don’t belong here.
“The Zodiacs will be begin loading at nine thirty” the Kiwi continued. “Our naturalists and camera experts will be leading walks. And kayaks are always available for those who prefer to go kayaking. The temperature is minus thirteen degrees Celsius, eight degrees Fahrenheit. Good morning and, again, welcome to Antarctica.”
Dad burst in. “You’re up! How about a swim?”
“A swim?”
“It’s a volcanic island,” he said. “There’s a hot spring, which warms a patch of water near the shore. What do you say? Do you want to take a dip in the Antarctic Ocean?”
“No.” I was looking back at myself. It was like the old Bee was standing there saying to me, “What are you talking about? That’s something you’d love to do. Kennedy would freak.” But the new Bee was the one who controlled my voice and she answered, “You can go, Dad.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to change your mind,” Dad said, all singsong. But we both knew he was faking.
Days passed. I could never tell what time it was because the sun never set, so I went by Dad. He’d set his alarm for six a.m. like at home, then go to the gym, then I’d hear Michael Jackson singing, and Dad would come back to shower. He figured out a system where he’d bring clean underwear into the bathroom and emerge in that, then get dressed the rest of the way in the room. Once he said, “It’s the damndest thing. I can’t find my neti pot anywhere.” Then he’d head off to breakfast. He’d return with a plate of food for me and a Xerox of the six-page New York Times Digest, which had big handwritten letters across the top, FRONT DESK COPY ONLY—DO NOT BRING TO ROOM. It was printed on the back of the previous day’s leftover menus. I liked seeing what fish they served the night before, because I’d never even heard of any of them, things like toothfish, hake, wreckfish, and red porgy. I saved them in case Kennedy doesn’t believe me. Then Dad, the layer king, would elaborately get into his expedition clothes and salve himself with sunblock, lip stuff, and eyedrops, and head out.
Soon, black rubber boats with motors called Zodiacs would ferry the passengers ashore. After the last Zodiac headed out, I’d stir to life. It was just me and the vacuum cleaners. I’d go to the way-top floor, which is the library, where I kept tabs on an epic Settlers of Catan game some passengers were playing. There were a bunch of jigsaw puzzles too, which got me excited because I love puzzles, but inside the boxes I’d find a note saying, “This puzzle is missing seven pieces” or some number, and I thought, Why would I do that puzzle? There was another lady there, too, who never got off the ship, I don’t know why. She didn’t talk to me, but was always working in a Sudoku Easy Does It book. On top of each page, she wrote the place where she did the puzzle, as a souvenir. They all said, “Antarctica.” Mostly, though, I just sat in the library. It had glass on all sides, so I could see everything. All you need to know about Antarctica is it’s three horizontal stripes. On the bottom, there’s the stripe for the water, which is anywhere from black to dark gray. And on top of that, there’s a stripe for the land, which is usually black or white. Then there’s a stripe for the sky, which is some kind of gray or blue. Antarctica doesn’t have a flag, but if it did it should be three horizontal stripes of different shades of gray. If you wanted to get really artsy, you could make it all gray, but say it was three stripes of gray, for the water, the land, and the sky, but that would probably take too much explaining.
Eventually, the flotilla of Zodiacs would head back to the ship. I couldn’t tell which one Dad was on, because all the passengers were issued the same red hooded parkas and matching snow pants, probably because red makes them stick out best against the gray. The guides get to wear black. I made sure I was back in my room when the first Zodiac returned, so Dad would think I’d been moping. The housekeeper always left a towel twisted into the shape of a bunny on my pillow, and each day it got more elaborately accessorized. First, the towel bunny was wearing my dark glasses, then my hair band, then one of Dad’s Breathe Right strips.
Dad would burst in, still carrying the cold on his clothes, full of information and stories. He’d show me pictures on his camera, and say the photos didn’t do it justice. Then he’d go to the dining room for lunch, and bring me back something, then afterward he headed back out for the afternoon excursion. My favorite time was the evening recap, which I’d watch on TV in my room. Every day, the scuba divers went down and videotaped the seafloor. In this hostile, black water, it turns out there’re millions of the craziest sea creatures I’d ever seen, things like glassy sea cucumbers, worms covered with graceful, foot-long spikes, fluorescent-colored sea stars, and copepods, which are spotted and striped, like out of Yellow Submarine. The reason I’m not calling any of them by their scientific names (not like I even would) is because they don’t have names yet. Most of this stuff humans are seeing for the very first time.