Page 13 of Resilience

They’d have more guests this weekend than there were places to sleep, so after Sam and Athena unloaded their party supplies and got the jet skis and the speedboat out of the boathouse and over to their dock, they spent more than an hour pitching four four-person dome tents and dropping rolled sleeping bags in them. The ground near the cabin was level and covered in pine needles and an almost silky layer of dirt under those, so the people who’d be passing out in those tents would be comfortable enough.

Blanche was at Athena’s side all afternoon, doing her job, which was to be aware of their surroundings in ways Athena could not and alert her to those things she couldn’t be aware of.

Athena actually did pretty well on her own, but that was mainly because she rarely left her little bubble of school and family when she was on her own. That bubble was set up for a Deaf person—for her specifically. She wanted someday to get an apartment and be truly independent, and getting a hearing dog had been her parents’ suggestion for how they’d feel comfortable letting her fly the nest.

She’d balked at first; a service dog seemed like just a different kind of minder, and what her parents were comfortable with didn’t officially matter, seeing as she was an adult. But she didn’t like them to worry, so she eventually arranged it in her head that a service dog was just a cuddly pet with buffs for protection and alertness, and then she agreed.

After going through training with Blanche, she understood that a service dog was really the opposite—a wary protector with buffs for cuddliness and lovableness—but she also understood that Blanche was not a minder but a partner.

Case in point: there were probably a dozen or more squirrels cavorting through the yard this evening, and countless birds swooping around. Blanche gave sufficient heed to the wildlife to know where they were and no more. She was wearing her vest, so she was working. Thus she did not care about the animals until and unless she needed to alert Athena to some danger they presented. She stayed at Athena’s side and surveyed the area.

Take that vest off, though, and Blanche would be one-hundred percent doofy Goldendoodle.

By the time everything was set up, the sun was low and golden, reflecting a bright path over the lake. Sam started a fire while Athena went to the kitchen to season some raw patties and collect the supplies for a simple dinner of burgers and potato salad. She brought down a six-pack cooler with three bottles of Stella for Sam and three cans of Diet Coke for her.

They sat in Adirondack chairs facing the fire and the lake beyond and ate the little meal they’d made. Blanche got to share in the meal, too; Sam had grilled her up a plain burger.

This was why Athena had told Hunter not to come up tonight. She didn’t want to be a girlfriend tonight. She wanted to be a best friend. She wanted to be calm and peaceful with the one person in all the world who made no demands on her, had no expectations of her.

She looked over at her best friend, who’d finished his three burgers and now was resting back in his chair, his head upturned and his eyes closed. She knew he was listening to the night sounds as they began to rise. He’d told her how much he loved the sounds of night creatures, and he’d tapped out the rhythm of the whippoorwill’s song on her palm once, to try to give her some semblance of understanding. She still didn’t really understand, but she loved to watch him like this, at real peace, truly enjoying a moment. He’d been struggling with that for the past year or so, and this week had been particularly hard on him.

Athena leaned back and looked up as well, focused on the night sky. Her father had been born on the day of the moon landing and had thus been named Neil Armstrong by his astronomy-buff father. Gramps had passed on his love of the stars, and of mythology, to his son, who’d passed them on to Athena. They had a really nice telescope that they took into the country sometimes to spend hours of the night studying the sky.

On this new-moon night, deep in the woods, she could look up with only her eyes and name an array of constellations: Pegasus. Andromeda. Delphinus. Aquarius. And more. Not to mention the planets in full view: Neptune. Saturn. Jupiter. What a magnificent thing the sky was. How many marvels and wonders it held.

Athena and her dad had been avidly following the images arriving from the James Webb telescope since its launch. Each image was astonishingly beautiful and just plain astonishing. She always felt something like vertigo when she first saw a new image, or if she studied any image for a long time. The sheer vastness and fullness of space was a lot to get one puny human mind around.

She absolutely believed there was life beyond Earth; how could there not be? How completely arrogant it would be to think that in all that vast, elaborate fullness, only humans evolved the capacity for reason and invention? Humans weren’t the only species on Earth to have evolved such capacity; studies had shown multiple species of animals to be problem solvers and tool users, just as studies had shown that many animals had real emotions as well. Some birds, like corvids and parrots, held actual grudges and vendettas. Dolphins were capable of meanness and spite. Many species could demonstrate kindness for its own sake. Of course other planets in other galaxies had been created with the right chemistry to support life; of course life had evolved on such planets. At its foundation, that was all life was: the right mix of chemicals evolving over time.

Thinking about space made Athena feel simultaneously insignificant and powerful, overwhelmed and hopeful.

Sam’s fingers brushed her arm, and she looked over. He was smiling. “You look so happy,” he signed.

She smiled back—actually, she realized she’d already been smiling. “I am.”

“You want to get a blanket and go down to the dock? Get the trees out of the way?”

Her smile grew so much she could almost see her own cheeks. She nodded. It would be impossible for her to count how many times over the years they’d lain together on a blanket under a wide night sky and looked up at the stars. Sam knew how much she loved them, and he loved them, too—probably he loved them because she did, but that was okay. He always asked her to tell him which constellations she saw, even though he knew the big ones himself.

This was why she hadn’t wanted Hunter here tonight, and she knew it was why Sam had told Lark to come tomorrow, too. It was a best-friends’ birthday weekend, and this was the first part of their celebration. For them alone. The party would be fun, and she’d be glad to have Hunter here tomorrow, but this night was the highlight for Athena.

When everything was perfect and she could trust that nothing would ruin it.

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~oOo~

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The next morning, Athena woke to the sensation of being shaken. She opened her eyes to a sunny room—ow—and a large Goldendoodle sitting at the side of the bed, pushing her shoulder with a paw.

When Blanche saw that Athena was awake, she went to the door, nosed the knob, and turned to her. Either there was something going on, or Blanche wanted something, outside the door.

“Potty?” Athena signed, and Blanche gave the alert that meant, essentially, yes.

Athena grabbed her phone to check the time. After eight. Of course the dog had to pee. So did she. Like a lot. Her pee place was on the way to Blanche’s, so she got firsts. She tossed the covers back and let Blanche from the room.

The cabin was bright and quiet, and it smelled of coffee. Sam was an obnoxiously early riser, so he’d probably been up for two hours or more, though they’d lain on the dock last night until well past midnight.

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