Jake returned to the silent Igloo Hotel late that evening to find his half partner, half competitor sitting on a thick, kingly rug made from muskox fur that covered a chair carved from ice. She looked so comfortable in that tiny throne, bundled up in so much blanket fur, that he was surprised she hadn’t fallen asleep.
“Welcome back, Jake,” she said almost sarcastically. “Was it worth it going by yourself again?”
Jake didn’t feel like answering her. He was more interested in getting rid of the aches in his muscles.
“We agreed that we would make this calendar together,” she continued. “There’s no room in the budget for solo missions. You go alone again and I’m gonna abandon you here, got it?”
Jake found his briefcase sitting in the corner of the room next to his bed, which, like every other piece of furniture in this hotel, was made of ice. He sat on the muskox fur sleeping bag that was spread across the bed, pulled the briefcase up to his lap, and popped it open. Its interior was divided into twelve sections, each of which had labels devoted to specific months of the year.
“Did you at least get good pictures?” she asked. “I didn’t get much of anything around here. I think our tour guide dropped us in the wrong town.”
Jake unloaded the film from his camera and stuffed it in the February slot. Now he had six months of pictures ready to go. He knew that each roll possessed traces of gold within the silver halide fibers, so the hard part for him was in deciding which ones would make the cut. He would be okay if Kate wanted to use a bunch of boring shots for her version of the calendar, but there was no way he was going to be caught dead sending off still images of muskoxen standing around wagging their tails for his. Not that he had any dull ones to show off anyway.
“It’s not what you can find,” he said, “but rather how you make use of what’s already available.”
“In other words,” said Kate, “you figured out how to make a muskox kill a wolf and eat it, then smile for the camera after the first bite.”
Jake laughed. Now he remembered what it was about Kate’s sense of humor that he had liked.
“I can’t defy nature,” he said. “I can only play with it.”
Kate groggily climbed out of her chair and trudged over to him. She checked out the briefcase by his side.
“I got a picture of the first patch of grass just outside of town this morning,” she said. “I was rather proud of that. The grass is still frozen, but it’s surrounded by fields of snow.”
“No offense,” said Jake, “but that sounds pretty bland.”
“It’s a beautiful picture, Jake. It may not compare to the photos you took for the NFL, but fortunately it doesn’t have to. Do you know why?”
Jake closed the briefcase and placed it back on the floor. He turned his focus to see her soft blue eyes peering back at him. He found her to be a lovely sight, but her mouth to be a dripping faucet. Traces of frost zipped in and out of her lips, vanishing with each word she spoke.
“Because it’s nature,” she continued. “It’s the natural beauty of Greenland, not the best of Sports Illustrated. I don’t care that my pictures are boring because they’re still pleasant to look at.”
“You don’t think I can take pictures of beauty?”
“I think you’d take pictures of two reindeer doing it if you saw it.”
Jake thought about that a moment. That might have sent shock waves through the offices of National Geographic should he ever freelance for them. Where was his pen and paper?
“Remember our assignment, Jake,” she continued. “A calendar about Greenland’s nature at its most beautiful.”
“And exciting,” he interrupted. “It’s the best pictures, not the prettiest. And even so, I can capture beauty to its fullest. Don’t forget, I’m the one who earned the prize for best Gatorade-over-the-coach’s-head shot. The green color mixing with the blue uniform was…beautiful.”
Kate shook her head. Apparently her taste for beauty was a bit skewed. She walked back to her chair and bundled up.
“Why don’t you just try the still life shot for once?” she asked. “There’s nothing forbidden about that in our art.”
Jake removed his heavy jacket from his shoulders and slid his way into the sleeping bag he had been sitting on. The extreme cold biting into his skin dissipated as his arms conformed to the interior of the muskox fur. His nose twitched as the musky scent crossed his path, triggering a slight allergic reaction from the animal hair, but he stifled his sneeze before it managed to escape. Braving any future unpleasant responses, he huddled the covers up to his ears and left only his eyes and forehead exposed. He peered at Kate over the ridge of his wooly blanket.
“I think you’ll be more comfortable lying down,” he said.
“I’m done being within five feet of you,” she said. “Go to sleep. The boat leaves early tomorrow.”
Jake felt like jumping off the bed and sliding down the floor toward Kate’s feet just to spite her, but he was too comfortable where he was to disturb her peace, and he didn’t really want to snuggle up to her feet anyway. So he closed his eyes and waited for the raft to dreamland to make its departure.