If Life Gives You Plastic

Kimberly Espeland 

A love story without using the word “love”

If Life Gives You Plastic

The day Brayden and his family left the Biodome, easing their boat down the ramp, through the airlock and into the water, it occurred to me: this was permanent. The small crowd seeing them off dispersed quickly, as if business could go on as usual.

Mom patted Dad’s arm. Softly, she said, “It’s all for the best, and we really need to keep settling higher ground. We have to keep trying.”

Dad pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then looked at my mom wearily. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But I just can’t believe they’re projecting that the Biodome will be submerged within seven years,” he said. “It’s all happening so fast.”

Then Dad glanced over at me, clearly worrying he’d said too much. But none of that was news to me, and anyway, I was busy having my heart broken. I kept my nose to the cold window, watching the boat bob out across the vast, dark water, until Brayden – my best friend, my secret crush – was gone.

Brayden had always been better to play with than the other kids. We had fascinating conversations, sharing the curiosities that had occurred to one of us. We noticed and wondered quirky things that other kids didn’t. Brayden and I delighted in talking about our ideas, and laughing about the amazing and ridiculous things we imagined. The other kids said we were boring, as they ran around, yelled, and threw things. We didn’t care.

It crushed me to realize I wouldn’t have any good conversations after Brayden left. And I missed sitting next to him, swinging our feet as we looked down on the vegetable beds and the grain mill. I wondered, sadly, whether he would make new friends and forget all about me.

I didn’t see Brayden again until the year I turned twelve, when my parents finally let me come along and help make supply deliveries. I was ecstatic. I would finally get to travel to the mountain settlements four times a year. “Seasonally,” my dad said. He looked pained when I asked what that meant, so instead of waiting for him to answer, I pretended to be distracted by something, and skipped away. But I kept wondering.

It didn’t seem like we had seasons inside the Biodome. We farmed in rotation, so something was always green. Through the windows, I could only see water, no trees with pink flowers or orange leaves, like in old books. So, maybe seasons outside didn’t really look like that. Mom seemed generally better equipped for questions than Dad, so when I was still wondering about it a few days later, I tried asking her about my latest theory.

“Mom, does plastic have seasons?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, and paused. Finally, she asked, “What do you mean?”

I explained that during the cloudy, quieter times, when small waves lap the lower windows of the Biodome, plastic bags oftentimes swirl and school gently together. But during the bigger storms, giant plastic pieces swim their way up to the surface excitedly, sometimes rapping my outstretched palm through the glass.

“So,” I repeated my question, “does plastic have seasons?”

Mom took another quiet moment, gently smoothing one of my curls behind my ear. Then she said brightly, “You have a marvelous way of seeing the world.”

That didn’t really answer my question either. I knew Brayden would be the best person to discuss it with, so I jotted it down in my notebook. On the front inside cover, I was already marking off the time until I could start seeing him again – four fantastic visits a year.

When the day finally came to journey to Brayden’s settlement, I double checked my pack and managed to don all my gear almost as fast as my parents. We pulled our waders up to our thighs and set out. As I left the Biodome for the first time ever, I tingled with the excitement of the adventure. 

Secretly, I had always wanted to touch the water – and finally I had my chance. Under the dark, dense smog cover, with our gas masks reducing visibility and my parents being busy with the rigging, I knew they wouldn’t see. I lay back in the boat, exhaled, and felt the pleasure of dipping my hand into the cold darkness. I traced shapes in the chilly current, feeling the little microplastics swimming gently through my fingers. It was so peaceful there, under the surface. Above the water, the thunder and lightning all around was thrilling. As the boat rolled, I savored the sensation through my whole body.

When we finally beached the boat and trekked up into the mountain country, above the smog layer, we joyfully flung the gas masks off. I thought it would be fascinating to breathe outdoors, but it wasn’t much different than in the biodome, apart from the sharper smell. Everyone was glad to see us. I knew that the settlers needed our wares. They grew scrubby plants from the root vegetables we brought, and baked flat breads with our flour. They seemed happy to see some fresh faces, too. The grownups exchanged news stories, and boring stuff like that. Meanwhile, my first reunion with Brayden flew by, and I almost can’t remember it at all. It seemed like we had to leave right after we got there. But I remember feeling a glow from him, and our friendship picked right back up where we had left off. I left with a smile and a covert mission.

Over the next two years, while becoming woman-shaped, I grew strong muscles from helping to steer the cargo boats through the storms, and hauling goods up the hills to the various settlements. Back at home, I often thought of questions I wished I could ask Brayden. I worked, hefting and carrying big cloudy sacks of flour or firm potatoes, often taking quick breaks to scribble down my ideas. I wondered if Brayden thought about me, too. Each time I visited, we talked and giggled, and I gave him what he had specified the last time. Then, too soon, I had to leave again.

Late at night, I sometimes crept out of our pod and leaned my head way back, to look up at the top of the Biodome. The grid high above me reached down, seeming to encircle me in a giant embrace. By now, I had spent the night at quite a few of the settlements. It felt strangely exposed, but exciting. As I stood, cozy under the Biodome, I wondered what it was like for Brayden to sleep at his settlement every night. Then, it occurred to me to wonder if he could see anything above the cloud cover, at higher altitude past the smog layer. Were there stars? Surprisingly, I hadn’t even thought to look up when I was there. I got out my notebook and wrote it down, then finally settled back to sleep.

Over time, I started to feel more nervous as visits with Brayden neared. I started to worry that he might not feel the same way I did. Despite his welcoming smiles, I might just have a foolish childhood crush. What if he only wanted what I always smuggled along? Back at the Biodome, I plunged myself into more physical work, trying to ignore the dopey kids chucking carrots at each other. And I tormented myself by wondering what I would do if Brayden turned out not to be interested in me at all.

On the next visit, Brayden’s hair was longer, and his arms and legs seemed to be, too. As soon as we arrived, he smiled at me with a questioning look, and I grinned back. We didn’t exchange words while unpacking, but as soon as the others had gone, Brayden came close to me and asked “Did you bring them?”

I told him that I would show him at the secret place, and we ran off together. He grabbed my hand. My heart sang. Halfway across the ridge, Brayden stopped, unable to contain his eagerness for another moment.

“Show me some of them now,” he pleaded.

“I hope you like them,” I replied, opening my pack.

I pulled out a sturdy plastic bag, and Brayden opened it carefully. For this batch, he had requested transparent pieces, as brightly-colored as I could find. For a second, I worried that he would be disappointed. But with a whoop of joy, he pulled out a crimson-tinted sunglass lens, a toy car with a tangerine windshield miraculously intact, and the cracked, clear aqua lid of a food container.

I stood a little taller, feeling pride in my work. Luckily, I was uniquely positioned to gather such gems. While the water in the Biodome was filtered, and the settled mountain country was above most of the quality pieces, the water we traversed by boat was a treasure trove of plastic, ripe for mining. It was easy for me to trawl with my hands for special items. My parents eventually discovered what I was doing, and provided me with a net and gloves, which in hindsight was a pretty good idea.

Brayden reined in his enthusiasm, and he closed the bag.

“I’ll look at the rest when we get there,” he said. 

He didn’t look at me, or even say thank you. On we ran, Brayden clutching the bag. He didn’t reach for my hand again.

We crawled through the narrow tunnel, rising when we reached the larger, central area of the cave. I was shocked when our flashlights hit the sculpture, and Brayden lit the lamp inside it. The sculpture had grown since my last visit, and it was over three feet tall now. It looked like a blossoming tree, like in a book – intertwined with a strong skyscraper, like in a book. Flowers and vines grasped angular black frames and threaded through open windows. Brayden had added some of the wild, unpredictable details that we had talked about. It occurred to me that this beautiful thing came to be because of my material finds, Brayden’s creative hand work, and our combined vision. But I didn’t feel like I could say something so cheesy out loud. The sculpture itself seemed to spark questions in me, ideas bubbling into my mind as I looked at it. It was magnificent.

The top of the sculpture was jagged, unfinished. Brayden had started forming a canopy of outstretched branches, some of them already adorned with the pieces I’d brought last time. His makeshift hot tools and cutters lay in neat rows at the base of the sculpture. When I pulled my eyes away and looked over at him, he was sorting pieces as if in a trance, delving deeper into the bag I had brought and fishing out each one with delight.

“Purple!” he exclaimed. “There’s nothing but microplastic up here, and never purple. This is awesome!”

After that, Brayden kept sorting silently, and he didn’t look up for a long time. I had hoped we’d talk about all of our saved questions, like we usually did, and I tried a couple of times to get a conversation started. But he seemed preoccupied. I even got the sense that he was a little uncomfortable around me, or wanted me to leave, which was weird. I thought it was probably just my imagination. But eventually, I crawled out of the cave and headed back to the settlement. He didn’t seem to notice me going.

After a restless night’s sleep, I woke up resolved not to push things with Brayden. A good childhood friend is hard to find, and maybe it was never meant to be more. Maybe I would need to open up room in my heart for making other friends, or be okay with not having any, wherever my family ended up settling. Heavily, I joined the group and started prepping my gear.

Soon the settlers’ group came to see us off, with Brayden trailing along. Apparently, he had emerged from the cave at least long enough to say goodbye. He hugged me tight, which was normal. But to my surprise, he then softened his embrace, and held me more tenderly.

He looked into my eyes and whispered, “You make everything beautiful, Olivia.”

Brayden pressed something that felt like a rounded stone into my hand. Slowly opening my palm, I gazed upon a multicolored heart – bigger than a bottle cap, but smaller than a fruit cup. He had melted and swirled reds and yellows together into a beautiful, swooping design. As I ran my fingers along it, I discovered that the piece was entirely smooth, except for a tiny hole with a chain threaded through it. I burst into tears. My parents started laughing, and then went back to pretending they weren’t watching.

“It’s incredible,” I breathed.

“I already have a lot of questions to talk about next time,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry I was so quiet yesterday. I just got nervous, and I didn’t want to make it weird!”

We promised that we’d talk about everything on the next visit, and we did. Over the following years, we started making a game of saving up wilder and weirder questions, breathing new life into our childhood game. Eventually, we started including more grounded questions and ideas that related to the real world, and our place in it.

Now, as Brayden fastened the pendant around my neck, I smiled and wiped my tears away, so that I could slip on my gas mask. As we trekked down the rocky slopes, my heart had never been lighter. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance as we pushed off into the rolling waves, and lightning lit up the way home.