Nathan called them odd. He called them stupid, and by extension, me, for finding them fascinating. While I knew he was only teasing me, it was another metaphorical paper cut into our already deteriorating relationship.

He sat in his room’s corner, one headphone pushed past his ear, his attention fixated on the bright blasts coming from his monitor’s screen.

“Have fun today with Kara?” he asked, manically clicking his computer mouse.

I nodded. “Yeah, she loved it. I bought her a stuffed kangaroo at the gift shop.” For a split second, Nathan’s lip twitched upwards in a half smile. Being raised with only brothers, the bond he shared with my younger sister still surprised me.

I went on. “They got two new additions at the penguin house too.” And just like that, Nathan’s face turned neutral and he leaned closer to his monitor, a nonverbal cue that this conversation was finished.

Getting off the edge of the bed, I stripped off my sweater and faded jeans, trading them for my favorite worn pajama set – a set I received in high school and still had not outgrown.

I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, planting kisses along his neck. A tiny growl escaped from his lips and he planted a kiss on the back of my hand.

“They named one of them Tootsie Roll.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“One of the penguins. They named it Tootsie Roll,” I watched as his character cast some sort of spell on the screen. “Isn’t that cute?”

“Yep.”

He did not think it was cute. Not in the slightest.

I sighed.

His shoulders tensed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What?”

“Why can’t you be supportive of me? You think it’s cute that Kara loved the zoo, but yet my dreams don’t seem to matter to you. I tell you I want to work with the penguin exhibit and you just shut it down.”

Nathan’s dreams and my dreams were something of an issue in our relationship. While I was what most would call a ‘nature lover,’ Nathan was more of a ‘money lover.’ While his appreciation for the environment and for conservation wasn’t at zero, it could certainly be higher.

He swiveled in his chair, pushing me back in the process. “Why are you so fixated on this…phase?”

I hated when he used that word. “It’s not a phase. It’s my calling.”

He stared at me, dumbfounded. “There’s no money in it. You’d be underpaid, reaching into buckets filled with fish guts, and scrubbing penguin shit off the concrete all day. That really appeals to you?”

Grabbing my phone from my purse, I went and curled up on my side of the bed away from him. I pulled up the zoo’s website, watching the penguin live feed video ignoring his obvious sighs.

It’s been years since Nathan and I went our separate ways. The last I knew, he and his brother became next in line to take over their father’s financial firm. Meanwhile, I spent the last five years working odd jobs, living to paycheck to paycheck, in order to achieve my only dream.

And I had finally arrived at the finish line.

The San Diego Zoo’s parking lot was barren this early in the morning, except for a row of cars near the employee entrance. Getting out, I threw my hair up into a ponytail in the window’s reflection before heading inside.

Sunlight streamed in, showcasing the hallway’s freshly mopped shine. Quintin, was busy squeegeeing a window as he watched me pass by. “You’re gonna do great today, Greta!” I gave him a thumbs up before picking up my pace.

Today was the day I had envisioned from the very beginning. A dream I had before I’d met Nathan, and a dream I continued pursuing even after we sold our apartment and went our separate ways. I was the lead educator in today’s penguin show.

My rubber overalls clung against my jeans as I slid them over, along with my boots. After ensuring all of the penguins in the group (or waddle, as I would be saying later) had been fed, I took a glance as the bleachers began to fill. Weekends weren’t as busy as weekdays, but this weekend was proving to be an exception.

Rows of children sat alongside their parents on the bleachers, pointing and giggling as the penguins made their way towards the waters edge, hopping in. The exhibit quickly fell into silence as remote-controlled curtains slid down the windows, encompassing the exhibit into darkness. Against the far wall, a projection video began, introducing today’s performance.

Children laughed as the video played, while I stood near the center of the exhibit, scrolling through social media on my phone. The video wasn’t very long, but I could only stand to watch it so many times in a week.

After the video ended and the curtains came back up, I turned on my microphone. “Good Morning everyone, and welcome to the San Diego zoo!” A roar of applause erupted. “Whose ready to learn about these adorable creatures today?” Another set of applause.

I went through my list of facts, including my waddle joke (which made one boy in the front row laugh until tears streamed down his face). As my presentation reached its mid-point, I felt a sudden surge of nausea. What is this, I wondered. Anxiety? That wouldn’t make any sense, this was my third performance as the lead educator this week.

Too busy inside my own head, I failed to notice a young girl with curly pigtails raising her hand in the front row. Making my way over to her, I placed my microphone out to her. “Can we touch the penguins?”

A mixture of laughter and aww’s came from the crowd. Giving the girl’s arm a gentle squeeze, I shook my head. “I’m sorry hun, but we can’t allow visitors inside the exhibit. It wouldn’t be sanitary for you or for them.”

“Could I touch them if I worked here?” she asked.

I nodded. “You sure could!”

Content with my answer, she nodded in determination. “I want to grow up and do this. But my daddy said this isn’t a real job.”

I had no idea how to respond to this. Clearly this child wasn’t afraid to throw her father under the bus. And in a way, I admired her for it. If anything, she reminded me of myself.

Glancing around the bleachers, I looked for the man of this brave, outspoken child. When she pointed to the row behind her to a man in a suit fixated on his phone, my heart sank. I recognized his sandy blonde hair and his pointed chin, even from this distance.

Nathan. This daughter’s father was Nathan.

When the silence of the audience finally grabbed his attention and he looked up, his eyes locked onto mine. My mind went blank, and for the first time in years, I was transported back to feeling that my life had no real meaning. That none of this, had any meaning. Nathan’s words replayed in my mind. No money, fish guts, scraping shit off the concrete.

Strangers stared down at me, then to each other in confusion.

The pig-tailed girl continued to stare at me. She had Nathan’s golden flecked eyes. Staring at her was like staring into a reflection of myself. Her hopes and dreams were going to be hanging on every word I said from here on out. I was going to do for this girl what no one in my life had done for me.

Clearing my throat, I went to the middle of the exhibit, surrounded by my waddle of penguins. They too, looked up at me eagerly.

I tapped my microphone, making sure it was still on. “I’m going to take a slight detour, if that’s okay.”

Silence.

“I want to speak strictly to our younger members of the audience today. I want to tell you that when I was your age, I only had one dream, and that was to work here.” I gestured vaguely to the exhibit, and then to the bleachers. “I remember the first time I sat right where you are, and I was mesmerized by these little guys. But no one believed in me. I once even had a guy tell me there was no money in doing this kind of job.” Nathan’s cheek’s flushed as he pretended to ignore my intense stare. “But I’m here to tell each and every one of you, that if you have a dream, don’t give up on it. Work for it. Just like I did. No one believed in me, but guess what? I’m the one standing here, accomplishing my dream and loving what I do.”

By the time I finished, not only were the children standing and applauding, but the parents as well.

Staring out into the crowd, a sense of pride washed over me. The pig-tail girl cheered and clapped, and when I looked over at Nathan, he gave me a thin-lipped smile before mouthing two words:

“I’m sorry.”