Page 87 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

“Ah,” he says, setting a container in front of me. “Well, it won’t be much longer, right? As of the first of the new year?”

I grunt and nod, but don’t say anything as I open my container.

“Why does it bug you?”

“Because Styrofoam is so damaging to the environment,” I mumble with a mouthful of lo mein. Swallowing, I continue my rant. “They think it takes five-hundred years to decompose, and even then, they don’t know how quickly after that it would be gone. So it’s just sitting in the landfills, being broken into tiny pieces for animals to mistake for food.”

Sam grins at me, but his eyebrows are sky high. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about that stuff.”

I shrug, scooping another forkful of noodles into my mouth. “Nature’s been in my blood ever since I was little. My mom said even as a baby, I was happier outside. As I grew up, I learned all about the atrocities of humans and their effect on nature.” I hold my fingers out as I list them. “The depletion of the Ozone layer, deforestation, global warming, The Great Pacific Garbage Patch?”

“The what?”

“Garbage patch. It’s a huge collection of trash floating around the ocean, roughly twice the size of Texas.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Whoa.”

“So, from a young age, I knew I wanted to do something with my life that would help the environment.”

“That sounds like the Brynn I know.” Sam shoots me a quick smile before taking a bite of his orange chicken. “Already had her life planned out by age eight. Am I right?”

“Not exactly.” With a sigh, I settle against the couch, setting my food in my lap. “I knew I wanted to help the environment, but I didn’t know how. There were a lot of options, I just couldn’t decide. Then, my friends started applying to colleges, my parents pestered me about scholarships and loan applications, and even my teachers were questioning what path I was taking.” I pause, stirring my noodles. “It was a lot of pressure.”

“Sounds like it.”

I look up to find sympathy on Sam’s face and have to take a steadying breath. “One day, I decided to go for a hike to do some serious thinking. So, I headed to Red Rocks. I guess there was a concert happening that night, because it was already crowded, so I had to park down the hill. I passed this old, beat-up truck, and honestly wouldn’t have thought anything about it, but a rabbit scurried out from under it. Its little feet left black tracks in the dirt.”

“Black?” Sam scrunches his face.

I nod. “Yeah, I thought it was weird, too. When I looked underneath, there was a good-sized black puddle on the ground. The truck was leaking oil.”

“Oh, shit.”

“So, I called the Denver Parks and Rec to report it. Turns out, based on the speed of the leak, the truck had been sitting there for like three or four days.”

“You stayed until the service people showed up?”

“You bet your ass I did,” I say authoritatively as I swirl my fork in my noodles. “I watched them assess the situation and was enthralled with the remediation process. I knew right then and there, that’s what I wanted to do. So, I went home and began researching career options, which is how I found out about Professor St. James’ lab.

After reading how her lab is one of the top in the country for environmental research, and how their work has advanced tons of green initiatives across the country, I knew I had to be a part of it.” I chuckle to myself. “I even told my dad to sell my car shortly after the Red Rocks thing. I didn’t want to contribute to pollution anymore.”

“That’s admirable, Brynn.” Sam’s tone is soft and endearing. “I understand why that internship means so much to you now.”

“It’s the reason I applied to go to UNC. Working at the lab is my dream job, and getting my education from the woman running it seemed like the obvious thing to do.”

Sam lets out a breathy, one-note chuckle. “And here all I saw was a prestigious job opportunity that could further my chemistry career later on.” Exhaling sharply, he stands from the couch and heads to the kitchen. He returns with two plates and hands one to me.

“What’s this for?”

“To transfer your food to. That way, you don’t have to look at these Styrofoam containers anymore.”

I melt with appreciation. “Thanks.”

Sam nods, but says nothing as he clears the trash from the coffee table. When he sits back down, his expression is sullen. “I wish there was something else I could do other than throw all that stuff away.”

“It’s okay.” I pat his knee. “Hopefully, with the ban, the amount of Styrofoam and plastics will diminish quite a bit. Things will improve.”

“I’m sure you’ll see to that.” The adoration pouring from Sam’s eyes steals my breath.

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