A Study in Penguins

Jessica Coolich did not believe in moon signs, if she was an Aquarius or a Taurus, or if a picked-up penny meant something more than an extra cent in her purse. She believed in heels that she could wear for more than an hour without blisters forming, in coffee and energy drinks that actually did their job, and people who would show up on time when they said they would. So when her friend Clara told her, “He is the one for you,” she did what any rational person would do: she looked for evidence to back up the statement. Evidence beyond Clara’s enthusiastic, “Trust me, Jess! He is so dreamy when he talks about penguins!”

“Penguins,” Jessica had repeated. It hadn’t sounded any less strange the third or the fourth time she had said it.

“Yes, Jess. Penguins!”

Jessica had almost cancelled the possible meeting right then and there. She still remembered the time Clara had insisted that the “purple drink with the oat milk” would be the future before it vanished off the menu less than a month later. Or the time she had signed up for the lottery ticket because the rainy weather apparently meant this one was a winner. Or the time that she had signed them both up for a marathon because how hard could it be? Or this time when she was swearing on penguins like they were somehow the cosmos’s official compatibility test.

Jessica had found that romance, like most things in life, was never improved or accurately predicted by things like horoscopes, sworn statements, or heaven forbid, penguins.

Still, despite her lack of evidence, she decided to go anyway. The penguins apparently needed her to.

Clara had been right about Jonathon. Jon. JJ.

The first thing out of his mouth (after he had walked into the door, apologized to it, and then nearly into the waitress coming to give them their menus and glasses of water), was a passionate and unasked for explanation on why penguins were the best, in birds and possibly animals everywhere.

“Did you know that penguins return to the same mating pairs every season? It’s true! It’s because they want to. They recognize each other… in their feathers.”

Jessica had stared for long enough that her eyes had begun to sting. She took a sip from the lemon water. “In their feathers.” She blinked again. “Are you trying to promote penguins as a valid model to emulate for relationships and love?”

Jon turned slightly red, the freckles on his right side standing out more. “Perhaps that came out stronger than in my head.” After a pause, he added, “They are pretty great though.”

“It says,” Jessica replied as she scrolled through her phone, “that some penguins cheat on their mates.”

Jon had groaned and waved his straw at her like a baton. “Why can’t your phone just show you scenes from Happy Feet or cute pictures of penguins sharing fish with each other? Have you seen emperor penguin chicks? They are the best!”

“My phone believes in proper data. Facts. Besides, it was the first thing that popped up.”

“Your phone is biased against penguins.”

Jessica quietly opened her notes app and added a quick note under a section she had prelabeled as “Evidence.” Subject appears to carry strong and passionate opinions about penguins. And my phone. Further research may be required.

Later during the meal, Jon suggested that she try the cherry pie. He insisted vehemently that the cherry pie was the best dessert on the menu, and anyone who thought the peach could possibly come equal was pretending. She had planned to finish the meal after the main course. She had definitely planned not to share the fork—or even worse, the spork—that the waitress had brought over as an extra with the plates. Both plans went out the window with his eager smile and her realization that the cherry pie was not bad. Jon had stared at her while she slowly chewed it; the heat of the cherry mixed with the cool of the vanilla scoop he had insisted on adding. When she finally said, “You’re right. It’s tasty,” someone looking across the diner would have thought he had just been offered a lifetime supply to first class airplane tickets.

A second note. Jon seems to not mind sharing his food, thoughts, or time. Reliable when needed. Further research may be needed to confirm.

The morning after she returned home after staying at his place for the first time, her lipstick had been slightly smudged, and her cheeks were still an unnatural pink, shining like evidence at a crime scene. She had made it to the sofa before reaching for her phone.

She added a third note. Further research… possibly unnecessary. She paused, then added: But may do so anyway.

After that, she found her notes grew shorter. Sometimes, she went weeks without a single addition. When she caught herself, she told herself she was being careless. But deep down, she suspected it was because she had recognized the study was over and already knew the conclusion.

He once told her that penguins looked like they were wearing little suits. Tuxedos, if they were feeling particularly fancy. Jessica had laughed. “That’s absurd. Birds don’t wear tuxedos.” But then she saw them everywhere. In every person who wore a black and white suit. One. Five. Ten. A dozen penguins.

Jessica still doesn’t believe in horoscopes or what might happen if she steps on a crack. She believes that Friday the thirteenth is a day like any other on the calendar. But now she sees penguins everywhere. She sees him everywhere. In the black and white flower arrangements with the hint of orange delicately mixed throughout. In the cake topper of two penguins holding a fish between their beaks that Clara had custom made and insisted was “perfect.”

She might not believe in signs. But she believes in evidence, in patterns, in him. She believes in the penguins.

So, when they ask her the question—if she could say “I love you”—she doesn’t even need to look at her phone. The study is finished. The answer is clear. She responds in the way of the penguins—simple, confident, and with zero doubts: “I do.”