Sigrid rested her elbow on my knee and said softly, “Bahl.” She hadn’t learned Wyatt’s name yet, or if she had, she wouldn’t say it.
He set the terrarium on the rug next to her, smiled down at her. “You know these creatures, Sigrid?”
She glanced at the terrarium, then away, shifted her weight to her other foot, absentmindedly picking her nose. Wyatt reached down toward her shoulder. She snapped to attention and backed away.
“Come on over here, kiddo. Have yourself a better look.”
But she’d utterly lost interest; she kicked a toy walrus across the floor as she wandered toward the kitchen and a plate of just-baked sugar cookies Jeanne had left on the counter.
“Hey, Sigrid, watch this.” Wyatt snatched up the terrarium and set it down tight to the long, low heater that ran the length of the wall. “You have to see this, Sigrid. It’s magic. Can’t you call her over, Val? Maybe she’ll come if you—”
I joined Wyatt by the glowing coils of the heater. “Sigrid, come over here for a second,” I said in mashed-up West Greenlandic and Danish. She turned to me, gnawing on a cookie, fat crumbs falling to the floor. I gestured and patted my knee. She wandered over to us.
Heat blasted at the sides of the case, steaming it up. With a cloth, Wyatt steadily wiped away the condensation. Nothing was happening. The furry caterpillar blobs stayed blobs; the curled, brittle beetles stayed curled, brittle beetles. Sigrid wandered away, distracted by the animated bergs on Wyatt’s screen.
“Hey, Sigrid,” he said, rotating the terrarium, exposing each side to the warmth, the glass squeaking as he wiped it. “Don’t give up so fast.” I stared at the sad little frozen dead things, suppressing images of Andy, trying to stay present.
I yawned, only closing my eyes for an instant.
I saw it the second I opened them. At first I thought, This is some trick of light and shadow. But it happened again. One of the beetles’ legs jerked as if kicking a tiny foe, then trembled in the humid air of its cage.
“Sigrid,” Wyatt said gruffly. “Get back here.”
She turned, gave me a questioning look.
“It’s okay,” I said. But she stayed where she was.
A few of the insect’s other legs shuddered, as if a current of electricity was passing through, then it grew still, and I thought, It’s just thawing out; things shift and move as they thaw, don’t they? Long seconds passed with no movement, but I couldn’t look away from the warmed-over black lump.
Suddenly its antennae stiffened from their drooping pose, straightened as if stretching, before slowly helicoptering. The two appendages then worked together, dropping down to probe the floor of the terrarium, then a neighboring beetle. Other beetles had already rolled off their backs, taking tentative steps with a stiff, rocking gait. A dung-colored caterpillar unfurled centimeter by centimeter, extending itself luxuriantly. It took a few sips of air before trundling its many legs along the pebbles at the bottom of the tank. Sigrid, picking up on our rapt attention, made her way over and squatted, chin level with the top of the tank.
Cross-legged on the floor, Wyatt joined her, attempting to get his head in line with hers. “You know these bugs, Sigrid?” he asked with unconcealed excitement. “Have you eaten these? Ask her, Val.”
I did.
She continued gnawing on her cookie as she observed the crawling insects, all of them now quite lively, scrambling over one another and venturing up the sides as they scouted an escape. I asked her again, pointed, Have you eaten these? She shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth, swallowed thoughtfully.
Nodded.
Wyatt sprang to his full height, paced around us in his droopy-toed socks. “She said yes, right? Good God, she said yes.” He smacked his forehead. “Can you ask her, how does she eat them—cooked? Raw?”
I pointed at my mouth as I asked her. “Do you eat them just like this?” I gestured at the insects and made little walking motions with my fingers.
She nodded again, quite somberly.
“I think she’s saying she eats them raw, but who knows,” I said.
“Makes sense,” he said. “Makes total sense.” He stopped, thought a few seconds. “But I need to see her do it.” He reached into the terrarium and plucked up a beetle, caging it in one hand. “Here you go, kiddo.” He held out his closed fist. “Have at it.” He took her hand and opened his over her small one, folding her fingers around the bug. The beetle dropped and scrabbled around on her palm. With a yelp of shock and surprise, she shook it off; it scuttled under the couch. She clutched my knee; a flood of words pouring from her.