Just Because We Can

JUST BECAUSE WE CAN

a novel

Nicole Brooks

Copyright © 2018 Nicole Brooks

First Erid Press Inc. Edition: January 2018

All Rights Reserved

Print book ISBN 978-1-7751554-0-9

eBook/.mobi ISBN 978-1-7751554-2-3

eBook/.epub ISBN 978-1-7751554-1-6

Print and eBook Cover Design by www.ebooklaunch.com

Book Design by www.ebooklaunch.com

Editing by www.naomiklewis.com

Just Because We Can is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, events, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. And resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental—except for the rainbow flip-flops aka second-hand shoes, which really existed in the author’s closet.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without permission from the publisher.

To the earth for sustaining us.

For Jeremy. Thank you for being you.

To put it poetically:

But in the end the most relevant change must occur inside of you. The real revolution is the revolution of consciousness. And each one of us first needs to eliminate the divisionary, materialistic noise we have been conditioned to think is true while discovering, amplifying, and aligning with the signal coming from our true empirical oneness. It is up to you. - Peter Joseph, Zeitgeist

Or to put it bluntly:

Evolve or die. - Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Acknowledgements

About the Author

1

My heart sank as I looked over the lab results. So contaminated. I looked again at the soil profile logs. Sand and gravel. The perfect pathway down to the bedrock at ten metres. Once there, the chemicals would be swept away on the groundwater flow. Dilution is the solution to pollution. The industry epigram popped into my head. But obviously the rain from above and the incoming groundwater from upstream had not diluted this site enough.

I heaved a long sigh. The mom and pop drycleaners of the past hadn’t known that dumping used cleaning fluids out the back door was such a bad idea. As usual, I was torn between sadness for the incredible burden now placed on the property owners and anger at humans in general for ruining the planet.

What’s the matter, Dale? Olga asked over the partition.

I smiled at how she still said my name. My boss was from Hungary, so when she said Dale, it sounded more like Dahl. It made me sound more special than I actually was.

They’ll never sell now, I said mostly to myself, forcing a stray hair off my forehead. I felt a tiny hitch in my chest as I remembered the look of hope on the old couple’s faces as they watched me drill the property. As if their faith in me was enough to manifest a clean report. Every day, they had brought my crew tea at lunch and told me all about their plans to use the money they made from the sale to go back home to China for the first time since immigrating sixty years prior.

Olga suddenly appeared and leaned over me to look at the lab results. She made a tsk noise and said, Too bad.

I rubbed the frown lines between my eyebrows. Who ever thought cleaning clothes with chlorinated solvents was a good idea?

Oh, Dale. Technology can be a great thing, you know.

So can regular soap and water. I could feel my jaw clench.

The surfactants in soap are a problem, too. Olga winked as I turned to look at her fully.

I had always admired her ability to be reasonable. But at the same time, it irritated me that she, along with so many other people, just kept plugging along. Doing the work that needed to be done without trying to develop any kind of foresight or consciousness.

Olga patted me lightly on the shoulder. You always make things so hard for yourself, Dale! It’s just a job. If we don’t do it, someone else will. She straightened up to her full five feet. It was always comical to watch big, tough contractors bow easily to her no-nonsense Eastern European attitude.

How many times had I heard her say that? At first, I felt that she tried to justify the work we did. But what she really meant was that as long as people kept making a mess, we would be here to clean it up. It’s just a job. Good old supply and demand.

Twelve years earlier, I had been shocked and thankful that I landed the job. Environmental Management Corp had hired me practically on the spot, fresh out of the University of Calgary, Bachelor of Environmental Science in hand. Either they were desperate or Olga had seen something in me. I tried to assume the latter.

Dale! Line two is for you, Marie called across the small office.

Do you know who it is?

Mr. Chang.

I looked up at Olga, sighed and pursed my lips.

Do you want me to take it? she asked.

I shook my head. Not everything in life is sunshine and rainbows.

She gave me a small, encouraging nod before walking back to her desk, leaving me alone to take the call.

I broke the news to Mr. Chang as gently as I could. I listened as the hope slipped out of his voice. I prepared him for the worst-case scenario, a full site cleanup with annual monitoring of the downstream plume. It wasn’t all their fault. Someone had owned the dry cleaner for fifteen years before they bought it back in the days when environmental testing wasn’t a part of the purchase process.

There’s one good thing I found. Good for you, I mean, I finally added. When we tested the water on the north edge of the property, that would be where the groundwater flows into your site, we found other contaminants that are likely coming from sites upstream.

What could be good about that? he asked incredulously.

Well, it means that in one way or another, all of the properties in the larger downtown area probably have some kind of groundwater contamination. Because of the proximity to the river, the area is underlain by gravel and the flow of water is very high. There were all types of activities in the past that are more regulated now. Leaking fuel tanks, other dry cleaners, creosote and chemical spills from the railyards.

So what does that mean?

It could mean, if you carry out due diligence and clean up your own property as best as you can, and we see no changes in the groundwater monitoring results for several years, they may let you off the hook. It’s unreasonable to hold one person responsible for a larger problem. It’s just something we have to live with. And why the fish caught in the Bow River downstream of the core are toxic.

By the time I hung up, his mood had lightened and my headache had begun.

Are you ready to go, Dale? Olga arrived at my side after lunch.

Yes. Can you drive so I can calculate some volumes and double-check the commercial criteria? I tried my best to focus on work while she drove and not how much I hated being the centre of attention. Or talking in front of people. I didn’t like all those eyes on me, trying to uncover my true strangeness. But I was Olga’s right hand woman and the lead on this project. I knew the site inside and out.

As we entered the boardroom, I inhaled deeply to try and slow my pounding heart while trying to appear naturally calm and confident on the outside. I was a barely contained pulsing ball of mixed emotions. The last thing I needed was for this roomful of men to think I couldn’t handle myself. Or that I didn’t know what I was talking about.

Realtors, contractors, lawyers, and bankers watched Olga and me as we sat. We shook hands, introduced ourselves, and spread our business cards out on the boardroom table for everyone to collect. As a few men took my card, I noticed one of them smile and lean over to show it to his neighbour. They both stifled a laugh and tried not to look at me. I frowned and looked at the pile of assorted cards.

Shit. My stomach flopped. A card for a local midwifery practice lay in the middle of the pile. Somehow, a couple of these had been mixed in with my business cards. I usually kept them in a separate compartment in my wallet for this exact reason. What the heck was I supposed to do now? I could cower and pretend it never happened, my first impression blown. Or I could join them.

I squared my shoulders, reached into the pile and pulled out the clinic’s card. I held it up and grinned, looking directly at the two men who had been laughing. I’m assuming nobody here will be needing a midwife in the near future? I raised my eyebrows.

A man beside the pair, their lawyer I believe, said. Actually, I would like that if you don’t mind. He looked down at the table and then snuck a glance at me, silently beaming. We just found out.

Congratulations, Paul! someone from the end of the table said. I had no idea you were expecting. A round of laughter burst from the men.

I cut in and said, I’m glad to have been of service. My outer cool, I hoped, hid my inner mortification. What a way to break the ice.

Olga cleared her throat. Dale will lead you through the details of the site. I’m just here for moral support.

Thanks, Olga. I swallowed and then jumped right in. So as you all know, the Chang’s site downtown has some serious contamination issues. I looked around the table to assess who had actually read the email I’d sent out that morning. About half of them looked away when my eyes met theirs. We are estimating about two thousand cubic metres of contaminated soil. About half of that is beneath the building. We aren’t certain of the extent of contamination at the adjacent property, as it hasn’t been drilled yet.

The guy from the bank interjected. There’s no way we are remortgaging this property to fund the cleanup. We would like to make that very clear. He looked to his associate, who nodded deeply. "The Changs are going to have to find another way to fund the resolution of this problem."

How the hell are they supposed to come up with, what Ms. Carrigan? A million dollars? The Changs’ lawyer looked to me for support.

Yes, that is the rough estimate. I said.

"The property is worth almost that much because of its close location to the core and its unusually large size. It is a desirable property. If they could remortgage until the cleanup is completed, then they could pay back the money once it sold. It’s not rocket science." His face turned a pink colour as he finished speaking.

The bank is not in the business of taking on high-risk environmental ventures. That’s for private finance companies. The Changs are going to have to figure something else out. The banker crossed his arms as if to settle the matter. Father popped into my mind.

Olga turned to me. Why don’t you talk about what exactly would be involved in the cleanup, Dale? I knew she was trying to calm the tempers flaring around us.

The Changs’ earnest faces floated through my mind. It was them I was working for. It’s not the worst site we have seen, I started. This was the one area I knew more than any of these guys. It was the only time I could talk to a room full of strangers with a semblance of the confidence that normally abandoned me. We have the contamination plume fairly well defined. We could install an in-situ passive venting structure or a more active bioremediation system, but it would take years for this to release all of the contaminants from the site. Considering that the building is seventy-five years old and would likely not be of any use to a potential buyer, we are suggesting demolition. That way we can conduct a full dig and dump. The hope is that this will remove groundwater issues on-site as well.

I touched one of the small ruby earrings Ryan had given to me when we were first dating. I rarely wore jewellery, but this morning while getting dressed, I decided I needed all the good energy I could find. We would be able to install a poly liner at the edge of the property, preventing any contaminants from flowing back into the site. Barring any future upstream contamination, the site would have a clean bill of health.

Robert, one of the realtors we frequently worked with, said, You know downtown, Dale. The chances of other contaminants flowing into the site are high. He was on our side, working with the sellers, trying to show the bank that this was always a risk in the city core. He was very savvy about making people see things his way.

Yes, you’re right, Rob. We did detect components of gasoline coming onto the site, but for now they’re below commercial guidelines.

Leaning forward and folding his arms on the table, he looked at the bankers. So there’s no guarantee that the site will stay clean forever anyway. And you know that you’ll be able to sell this site for more than it’s worth right now. It’s prime real estate. You don’t have much to lose. He sat back and draped his arm casually over the back of Olga’s chair. She leaned forward slightly.

Finally, the Changs’ lawyer spoke. Look, no one wants the liability of this site. We just want to carry out due diligence for the contamination my clients contributed to. Legally, we could go after the former owners, but they are likely deceased. We know the Changs may be on the hook for annual monitoring of the downstream sites that may be affected, but if there are contaminants coming onto the property, how can you really say who’s liable for what? He folded his hands on the table, surveying everyone.

We’ve handled dozens of sites like this. It would be a pretty cut-and-dry case if it wasn’t downtown. We don’t expect any more surprises. I looked fully at the bankers.

They talked to each other at length and then rose. Thank you for your time, one said, collecting his papers. We are going to take this to our in-house environmental department and let them have a look at it. We will be in touch shortly with our final decision. In the meantime, I suggest that you convince your client to get started on the remediation sooner rather than later. Their compliance with your recommendations may reflect favourably on our decision. He looked at me over his shoulder as he left.

Who does this guy think he is to threaten my clients this way? The bank had remortgaged this property once already so the Changs could put their children through university, knowing full well what kind of business they ran. The best hope the Changs had now was to come out even.

Olga and I said goodbye to everyone else as we left the meeting. I drove so Olga could make some phone calls.

This was how most of my days went now. I had started to feel the same worn-down attitude as everyone else. The kind of attitude that would have made the twenty-four-year-old me furious and indignant.

No one wanted to take responsibility or carry the liability for what we had done. And I didn’t know if I could entirely blame them.

Humanity got you feeling down, Dale? Carson’s voice startled me out of my data-entry stupor later that day. All of the lab results from the Changs’ site had to be entered into tables and then compared to the applicable provincial and federal criteria. I looked up at his face looming over my cubicle wall and laughed, You could say that.

I know how you feel. I just finished the Impact Assessment for that property south of the city. His left eyebrow twitched.

Where they want to build that huge casino?

Yup. I’m glad to report they won’t get away with ruining the wetland. They’ll have to work around it or scale down the size of the project.

Point scored for mother nature. I rolled my eyes.

You know, if we aren’t out there every day, watching their every move, they will try and get away with some kind of bullshit. There’s no way the wetland isn’t going to be impacted. Run-off, dust settling out of the air, noise.

Maybe the frogs will learn to enjoy poker instead of croaking.

Carson barked a laugh. Snail roulette will be the next big trend!

"Seriously, though. Do we really need another casino? When will we stop devouring the land for our entertainment?" My obsession with snorkelling in tropical locales entered my mind. Internally, I started to launch a defense on my own behalf. But I knew my hobby was just as destructive.

His face fell. When it’s too late.

I sat and stared at my computer screen for the rest of the afternoon, unable to stay focused on work. Carson’s solemn comment rolled around in my mind. How long could we keep going like this? We consumed everything in our path and left a trail of toxic waste in our wake. Humans were the very definition of a parasite. We took what we wanted from the earth and gave nothing back. I, too, had taken more than I needed to survive, simply because I could. I was sure the very sea turtles I loved to hang with choked on the trail of sunblock I left in my wake.

I felt certain that the planet had reached its carrying capacity, and tolerance, as far as the human species was concerned.

Time was not on our side.

2

On the drive home, I once again contemplated my career choice. I remembered when I first started at EMC and Olga had made fun of my poetic writing style. She told me I had to become more concise. We do facts. Lab results. Hard data, she said. She kindly mocked my rigid principles, repeating that I would become wise to reality sooner or later.

Since then, I had become everything Olga had wanted. Factual, concise, responsible, reliable. No creativity or fluffiness. Nothing poetic here, just the hard facts ma’am, I muttered to myself. I excelled at my job, and now worked all over Alberta, fixing people’s environmental wrongs. Of course hindsight was everything, and people didn’t know in the past the harm they were causing the earth. Well, most didn’t. The rest didn’t care. My career had become less about saving the world and more about business. It seemed all I did now was clear properties for real-estate transactions, giving lenders as little liability as possible. What had happened to the little girl who had cried after finding a dead duck caught up in a plastic shopping bag near the pond on our acreage? I had been so mad at the world for creating something so deadly to nature. My mother’s response: Sometimes mother nature gets in the way of human progress. I quietly buried the duck near the pond with one of Mother’s exquisite, pure silver tablespoons.

I never figured out where all her distaste for nature came from. She grew up on a farm, something I could only dream of as a child.

The house where I grew up, west of Calgary, was a far cry from the animal-and-wilderness-filled expanse I would have preferred. It was immaculate, with no less than five acres of neat, clipped grass and precisely placed ornamental trees and flower gardens. It was one of the original estates built in the Springbank area. The house was just shy of six thousand square feet, and boasted a five-car garage off one of the wings. Father had wanted a traditional Western-style log house, but Mother would have none of it. Their home was modern to the extreme, updated with three major renovations since it was built in 1973. The city had crept up all around the property, but it still felt like an oasis due to the unimaginable amount of money Mother had put into landscaping. I always felt slightly guilty at the peacefulness that washed over me when I entered the gates. I noticed the same feeling on a trip to New York. Lost in the middle of Central Park, I could not believe there was a bustling city all around me.

My family’s luxurious life was founded on old family money and maintained by Alberta’s healthy oil and gas sector. My mother, a hick girl from rural Manitoba, had headed west in search of big-screen fame and fortune. My father, a North Carolina transplant to Alberta, came in search of his own wealth outside of his plantation roots. They had met on the set of a movie being filmed in the foothills, she as the star of the film and he as a friend of the landowner who allowed the production company use of his ranch.

I stopped at the corner grocer on the way home to pick up some things for dinner. I prefer to shop here over the big stores. Those places have too much choice. It makes my head spin. Here, there’s one kind of pasta sauce, maybe two if they are trying to mess with me. As my hand ran across some apples, a strange sensation washed over me. A joyfulness. I shook my head and chalked it up to déjà vu. I did love eating the apples in BC during our childhood trips to the cabin on the Shuswap Lake.

I caught my reflection in a mirrored window on the way back to my car. Not terrible, I thought. Still young though, you never know what could slide, I heard my mother say. Just keep your hair long, it will detract from the undesirables. I was pretty sure my mother had a fix for everything a person didn’t like about herself. Don’t like your fat ass? Wear high heels! Eyelashes too short? Get extensions! And for god’s sake