Girl in Ice

by Erica Ferencik

I had a feeling we were in a sacred place, that we were being watched, that there was more life around us than we knew.

Icebergs are like people, you only ever really know twenty percent of them.

“She’s called them—those are male narwhals,” Nora said. Sigrid was reaching across species, across worlds! She was the linguist. Never had I felt such wonder, this delightful urge to cry and laugh at the same time.

She was telling me how she felt before telling me what she thought. I finally understood: in her language, every sentence

began with an emotion. What a compassionate, gentle way to communicate: prioritizing feelings over facts.

“Stahndala,” she said. By now, I knew this word. It meant “fear.”

She pulled away, said again, “Joy, Val, seals, many, love, want, joy.”

Looking into her eyes, I said, “Joy, Sigrid, seals, many, love, want, joy.”

Forget above the ice, this is the Enormity, the truth no one talks about, the other earth, the fifth dimension, the underbelly of dreams, the inverse mountain, all of it unbearably exquisite and strange.

“When you do come back, I hope you’ll tell me about yourself. Let me just be a dad for a little bit, for the time I’m here. It’s like I hardly know you, Val, and that’s my fault, I know. Here you are, bringing me my favorite candy every time you visit, and I—I haven’t the faintest clue what you like.”

I love that word.