How does it feel? (Infatuated Fae Book 1)
How does it feel? – Chapter 3

Callie

The scream I tried unsuccessfully to stifle was enough to make Cecelia drop the clipboard she had been holding. It hit the ground with a clang as the gray-haired woman clung to the large metal desk in shock. The mailman behind her visibly jumped with the clamor of screaming women and clipboard dropping.

“Mother Mary! Will you stop screamin’ and take your damn package.” The old woman’s voice sounded harsh, but I swore there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

We had an interesting relationship, Cecelia and me. She acted like she loathed me and I acted like it bothered me. Truthfully she had been nothing but a sweetheart to me since I started at the rehab center. I would even call her a friend, but I’m sure that wouldn’t look very good to her fellow townies, so occasionally, she pretended to replace my bubbly, perky nature annoying. At least, I thought she was pretending.

“My microscope!” I squealed, running over to the large brown box that waited for me on the desk.

Golden light from the heavens beamed down dramatically over the package as angels sang a victorious tune—at least in my head.

After dramatically picking up the abandoned clipboard, Cecelia finished her task and handed her signature back to the shocked mailman.

“Told you she was off her rocker,” she shouted dramatically for both of us to hear as he hurried out the front doors.

I scooped up the large box and practically ran back to my office to open it up. If it were lighter, I might have actually attempted to run had it not been so expensive. I’d been waiting on this equipment for nearly a year. A year! My hands began to tremor, and my vision blurred from excitement. This was better than any Christmas morning I had ever had, even though those had stopped when I was a young kid anyway.

The ALMScope B/20c was the best in-field compound microscope available. This was it! When Stanley, my boss, told me to just “deal with it” after I had begged for a new microscope, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Months ago, the old one had quit working completely. I had to have one though. How else would I replace them? I haven’t been able to proceed in so many of my projects without one. Plus now, when I get called to Mexico to help track the monarchs, I can take it with me. This will hurry everything up, and then I will replace them.

I was glowing, I was sure of it. Like someone had poured a fresh pitcher of hope into my system.

I set the box on my small metal desk, ignoring the adorable cage of brown and gray baby bunnies to my right. They were ready for rerelease today. I made a mental note to get Cliff to help me rerelease them in the meadow today before we did anything else. I also needed to check through my books and letters for any more details from my family on when I might get the chance to see them.

I grabbed the pair of orange-handled scissors from my very fancy Solo cup pencil holder and cut into the tape that held the large cardboard box together. Nearly vibrating with joy, I peeled back the tissue paper and pulled out the Styrofoam package prison to reveal (cue the angelic music and shimmer effects) the most beautiful compound microscope ever!

I could have hugged it! Happiness doused my mind’s interior as I carefully pulled the shiny scope against my chest and closed my eyes, finally feeling a bit of peace. Everything would be okay now.

I was readying my glass slides, about to take them for a trial run, when my cell phone rang. The sound of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons played loudly from my dark-green backpack on the floor.

With the temperament and equal mentality of a pouting toddler, I carefully—yet dramatically—set my new slides on the desk and made certain they were secure before I pulled the moth-covered iPhone case from my bag’s front pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, so they would get my very official and professional salutation.

“Hello, this is Cal-Callie Peterson?”

“Callie, it’s Mary again. How are you?”

I froze solid, afraid to move for fear the tiniest shift in my appendages would alter the course of this conversation. Today was going to be the best day ever.

“Mary, oh my stars. Mary from the Lepidoptera Migratory Society?”

Oh. My. Stars. This was it! The call I had dreamed about for years was happening.

The other woman chuckled. “Yes, the butterfly lady. Listen, I just reviewed your work from last year’s Actias luna migration. We had no idea they were so abundant in Willow Springs! Your thoughts on using mycelium to eradicate the Compsilura concinnata are absolutely astounding.”

I shifted to sit in my chair, attempting not to make a sound. My body hovered for a second, praying the ominous screech from the wheels wouldn’t ruin this dream-like moment.

“Oh, thank you! Ever since I was little, I’ve had somewhat of an obsession with winged creatures. If I can do anything to help them, I’d love to dedicate my time to the cause. We ran a few similar trials with the Pteropus scapulatas, and the megabats showed significant promise with parasitic immunity.” I let out a breath.

Did I sound too eager? I needed to follow these monarchs, the luna moths were proving to be leading me nowhere.

“Well, listen, I know that this is important to you, but—it’s just—how do I say this?” The woman’s alto voice would forever be etched into my memory.

Please let this be good news!

“Say what?” I asked as I attempted to steady my voice from raising seven octaves due to the excitement of what I was certain was about to be said. It had to.

“You know that if you get the position you requested in Mexico, you’ll be in the field . . . for years? Some of the others are concerned that a young, pretty thing such as yourself might . . . well, might end up wanting more than the lonely field life of chasing butterflies. It’s not as glamorous as a lot of people think. You don’t have kids or a husband, and I don’t mean to pry, but don’t you think that’s something you’ll want? Especially at your age?”

I tried to breathe but forgot how. Darkness crept into the edges of my sight. I could hear the rejection lacing her voice.

“No,” I said, feeling frustrated. “I don’t have kids or a husband, and I won’t be getting either. Just because I’m twenty-nine doesn’t mean my hormones have gone feral and I feel the required need to reproduce, Mary. I-I know what I applied for, and I plan to see it through.” Did I sound too stern? I added a huffed laugh, just in case.

“Believe me, honey, I know. It’s just most of the people doing this project are older with grown children or retired, you know how it is. We’ve already lived, so it’s easy for us to focus on the work at hand. Listen, I think you’d be great. The theories you have sent over here were more amazing than anything I’ve seen in a really long time. It could be life changing to the conservation of Lepidoptera, and I personally don’t care about your personal life. I’ll do what I can to sway the others.”

“Umm . . . thanks.” I wasn’t sure what to say.

Words eluded me, and the wind had been knocked out of me. The awkwardness in the conversation hung thick like a damp blanket now.

“The Actias luna should be making their way to you next week or so, isn’t that correct? From what I understand, they have been hit pretty hard with the Compsilura concinnata as well. Be surprised if you even see any at all again this year, but if you do . . . anyway, I will let you go, Callie. I’ll speak with the others and tell them how committed you are. Send me some pictures of the moths if you get any good ones!”

The woman’s voice overlapped my worry.

“Okay, Mary, will do. Please keep me updated.”

I tapped the end button and tossed it onto the desk, not caring if it shattered into a million tiny pieces. I turned my head to stare at the new microscope. The glowing light and angelic sounds had receded and were now replaced with the anxiety of how much I’d actually spent when I should have been saving my money to follow the butterflies.

I wasn’t getting the position, and I knew it.

I swiveled my chair around, no longer excited about my new toy. Little squeaks greeted me as I watched Dorothy weakly flap out of the metal playpen and trounce into the open doorway of my small office. I wheeled over to her and stroked her back feathers.

“Well, look at you, miss two-winged hot shot,” I sang to the sweet bird.

Cecelia paused in the hallway to lean against the metal of the tiny office door frame.

“Is it broken?” she asked, nodding to the microscope sitting idly on the cluttered desk.

She crossed her wrinkly arms over her chest. The action made me realize how saggy her boobs really were. She was in her late sixties with a broad swollen upper body and thin legs covered in dark blue scrubs that made the gray of her eyes pop. Cecelia peered over her large framed glasses at me, reminding me of a mother watching her children pout. She brushed her grayish-yellow hair out of her face and back into the fluffy mullet it had fled from.

“No, well, I don’t know. I didn’t finish opening it. The butterfly lady with the group in Mexico just called.” I tucked my knees to my chest in the chair to get more comfortable as Dorothy pecked her way around the various cages and stacks of boxes in my office. It was a very small space filled with red and yellow speckled floors, white cement paver walls, and one shrouded window that looked over the woods and parking lot to the side.

My coworker shifted at my mention of the butterfly lady like she was secretly excited too.

“Well? What did she say, Callie? Are you going to Mexico and leaving us?” Her gray eyes peered over her glasses with the focus of a hawk.

“I don’t think so.” Saying the words out loud made them real, and I instantly wished I could vacuum them back in. “She didn’t say no, but . . . I guess the other scientists are concerned I’ll abandon the project halfway through to get married and have babies. Apparently, I haven’t lived enough at twenty-nine years old.”

I couldn’t look her in the face. I was too afraid of seeing someone else that agreed. I just wanted someone on my side for once. Why did everything feel so hard?

“Well, good,” she bit out defiantly.

“Good?” I said, a little surprised. “I have spent my entire life devoted to the saving of wildlife, and I’m about to get refused my dream position of saving more wildlife because I have done just that,” I huffed. “Instead of going out on dates, I stayed up all night researching. Instead of spending my weekends with my family, I propagated milkweed for the monarch butterflies, and now I’m going to miss out on my dream because I was too dedicated!?” I stood up, nearly screaming. Things were falling apart as quickly as they had come together.

“Oh, so what? I, for one, am glad they don’t want you. I’m tired of you thinkin’ you need to go all the way to Mexico to make a difference. Look at what you’ve done here in this hole in the wall. You’ve done more for the wildlife around here than all of us combined, and I am glad you’re not leaving.” She finished her speech with an actual harrumph.

She meant well, and to a normal person, that would have warmed me, but sometimes it was like I could only feel with half a heart.

I had a plan, and I wouldn’t let anything stop me from achieving my goals. The chance to follow a private society filled with special details of where the winged butterflies and moths migrated was a part of that.

“Well, she didn’t say no yet. She said she was going to talk to them, but I could hear it in her voice. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m staying,” I said in an attempt to comfort both of us.

“Yea, fuck ’em!” Cecelia shouted, making me jump.

“Geez, Cecelia!” I blushed at her aggressive swearing.

Call me old-fashioned, but Callie Peterson certainly wasn’t the type to use such crass language. I was a scientist, not a sailor. Was that childish? Either way, it made me feel like I was hearing something I shouldn’t be.

“You don’t need ’em. Save our damn butterflies. Show ’em what they’re missing.” The crass woman turned and walked back into the hallway, smiling.

“You’re right! I don’t need them!” I said, feeling a little more resilient.

I had moved here to follow the luna moth and hadn’t seen one yet. Maybe this was a sign to focus on what was in my own backyard.

I rested my hands on my khaki-clad hips and turned to look at the wandering turkey and curious teen bunnies that watched me.

“I’ll show them! I’ll save our own damn—” I coughed and mumbled like a child. I couldn’t swear. “Our own darn butterflies! Well, moths, to be precise but—” I was quickly losing steam, and I turned to finish unwrapping my new microscope. “I am going to replace and save the luna when they come to Willow Springs.”