The interior of The Bozeman Taproom was crowded with couples, friends, and even singles enjoying the Montanan summer afternoon. Loud chatter mingling with the sounds of athletics games blaring out from the numerous televisions provided the signature soundtrack of a busy bar.
But Matthew Illuyda was not paying attention to the televisions. Indeed, he was immersed in his own friend group, yesterday’s conversation with Krkthal, a faint memory in the back of his mind.
“So let me get this straight,” one of the men said, sipping from his mug of beer. “You got chased by a biker gang?”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah, it sounds too crazy to be true, but it happened.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “It’s a lot more fun watching an action movie than living it.”
“So, what’d you do to them?” another man added. He brushed back a lock of his long blond hair as he drained the rest of his beer bottle. The man was leaning against a wooden stepladder attached to the front of the bar.
“Sir,” the bartender said, upon noticing the man doing so. “Please don’t lean on that.”
The man adjusted his stance so he was now leaning against the counter instead. As he did so, he accidentally knocked over a small countertop sign that stated smaller Mesozoicans were not permitted to walk or climb on the counters. The bartender sighed and picked up the sign.
Matthew’s face hardened. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about it.”
The first man put down his mug. “Come on, no one’s going to judge you!”
“Yeah, come on! It can’t be anything worse than Crazy Earl’s done!” the second man chimed in, pointing to the first man.
Soon, his friends were clamoring for the details. Matthew bit his lip as his emotions finally got the better of him. “Guys, I don’t want to talk about it! Just drop it!”
That silenced everyone, leaving just the indistinct chatter of the other patrons and the sound from the televisions to fill in the silence.
It was then the sound of tinkling bells cut through the din. “Hey, look who’s here!” Earl exclaimed.
Matthew turned around to see a triplet consisting of a man, a woman, and a Stenonychosaurus.
“Sorry, but we hit some traffic coming south from Mesozoica,” the Stenonychosaurus said. They ruffled their golden plumage, making their belled tail band jingle. It was then that Matthew noticed that this raptor was wearing a skirt. He blinked slightly, but mindful of his manners, he averted his gaze and quickly ordered a hard root beer.
“So, this is Lkzkras,” the woman said, taking a seat on the bar stool. “They’re partners with my boyfriend.”
Earl blinked. “So, uh, is he cheating on you?”
“No, he is not cheating on Danae,” Lkzkras replied. “I’m his partner as well.”
“Well, that’s nice, he gets a choice between cloaca and vagina,” the blond man replied. The crass exclamation got a few looks from the other patrons, but they soon ignored him and were back to their drinks.
The man standing next to the Steno held his forehead in his hands. “Kaw, Fred, do you have to say it like that!?” He took a seat at the bar and ordered some hard cider.
“Come on, Cuz, it’s normal!” Fred replied, as he also took a seat at the bar.
It was then Lkzkras cut in. “I would rather we keep those discussions between myself and my partners,” they said coldly. That quickly ended the conversation as no one wanted to anger the Mesozoican.
“What will it be?” the bartender asked the Stenonychosaurus.
“White Russian.” The Mesozoican remained standing as there was no appropriate seating for them.
Matthew looked at the man drinking the cider and Fred. He idly wondered if they were Northern Cheyenne (or at least, had a lot of connection with reservation life) since he had only ever heard the term “Kaw” and “Cuz” used by Natives. That and their English was distinctively accented, matching the accent he heard at the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation. Even Danae had a slight touch of the Rez accent, making him wonder if she picked it up from her boyfriend and his own friends.
Danae ordered a shot of whiskey. As Matthew drank his glass of hard root beer, he watched Lkzkras drinking the cocktail. “So,” he said. “Is everyone ready to order?”
The raptor gently sipped their cocktail. “Yeah. How about a nacho mountain and some curry fries to share?”
There were murmurs of assent as the bartender took down their order.
Almost immediately, the five began placing the orders for their lunch.
“An order of six taproom wings with house dry rub and ranch.”
“A fried chicken sandwich.”
“Fish and chips.”
“Cajun mac and cheese.”
“North Shore Burger. Grilled chicken.”
“Taproom burger. No cheddar and a side salad.”
Once the bartender took down their orders, the group resumed talking among themselves.
“So, Matt,” Earl said. “You’re normally in Billings. What brings you to Bozeman?”
Matthew took a sip of his drink. “I’m meeting up with my family…and since I figured everyone would be here, why not meet my friends as well?”
“So, I assume everyone actually found jobs?” Danae asked.
“What kind of question is that?” Earl asked with a scowl.
“Yeah. IT professional in Billings,” Matthew said.
“Glassblower,” Lkzkras said.
“I said job, not artist,” Danae replied.
The Steno sighed and held a clawed hand to their muzzle. “Danae,” they said. “For the last time, the glassblowing I do isn’t art!”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s scientific glassblowing for Mesozoica State University, mainly making glass or quartz beakers, tubes, and the like for chemistry purposes.” The Stenonychosaurus then spoke up. “Of course, I do occasionally like to dabble in artistic glassblowing, but where I work, most of the process is automated anyway.”
“So, have you met Faye?” Matthew said. “She runs a store called Montana Stone Wonders. I’m sure she’d love to have your glasswork on display.” He wisely decided to not tell the raptor how he knew about her.
Lkzkras nodded. “Yeah. She seems like a nice woman. I actually haven’t offered that to her yet, I only recently bought my own glass blowing equipment to use back home, since the machines at work don’t leave much room for customization. In fact, the first jewelry piece I made is being worn by Edwin right now.”
The man who had previously been drinking the cider turned around and showed off a bolo tie with a pair of red glass teardrops affixed to the clasp. “It’s not blue bling,” Edwin replied, using the Native slang term for turquoise jewelry. “But it’s still quite nice,” he added.
Earl shrugged. “Not one for jewelry, but I can recognize nice things.” He chuckled. “Plumbing does that to you.”
“Ehh, I’m more a practical guy,” Fred replied. “Not much room for beauty in welding and metal work.”
“Is that not jewelry?” Lkzkras asked, gesturing to the silver cross necklace that Earl was wearing.
“Yeah, you’ve worn that thing since high school, Earl,” Edwin added.
“It’s different, it’s a religious item!” Earl countered.
“It’s still a necklace. And a very well made one at that,” Danae added, looking at the silver crucifix. The cross wasn’t just a simple stylized depiction with two featureless silver bars perpendicular to each other, but had Philippians 4:13 laser etched on it in flowing letters evocative of a medieval manuscript.
The man touched his necklace, feeling the cool weight in his hand. “Okay, you got me there.”
“So, I hate to interrupt,” Fred said, glancing at the waiter who placed down a plate of curry fries and another with a massive mound of tortilla chips drenched in queso and sour cream along with all the assorted fixings. And of course, a sizable helping of shredded chicken atop it.
Matthew blinked as he watched the Steno grab a chip covered in queso and eat it. “Can you actually eat that?”
Edwin, Danae, and Lkzkras all turned to look at Matthew.
Almost immediately Matthew wished he could somehow suck the last thing he said back into his mouth. “I mean, I just wanted to make sure it was safe and all,” he said, trying to salvage the situation.
“I’m an adult. Though I do understand it’s not always easy to tell that I’m not like most other Mesos. My species is fully capable of eating pretty much anything a Human can. Your concern is appreciated though,” Lkzkras said as they took another queso-covered chip.
“Is running your mouth how you ended up running for your life from a pissed off biker gang?” Earl asked with a smirk.
Matthew pointedly did not answer him as he took some of the nachos and curry fries to put on his plate.
“I think that’s a ‘yes’,” Danae whispered to Edwin as she ate some of the nachos.
“And here are the meals,” a waiter said. “Taproom burger without cheddar and a side of salad?”
Lkzkras held up a clawed hand as the plate was placed in front of them.
“Six taproom wings with house dry rub and ranch?” Edwin raised his hand.
“Fried chicken sandwich?” the waiter called.
“Yep, that’s mine,” Earl replied. He looked at the crispy fried chicken sandwich with its side of perfectly seasoned fries.
“Fish and chips?”
Fred nodded and received his dish.
“Cajun mac and cheese.”
“Yeah,” Danae replied.
“North Shore Burger. Grilled chicken.”
Matthew didn’t need to say anything as the plate was slid in front of him. He took a bite of the perfectly seasoned and crisp fries. He looked at the nearby rack of condiments and decided that such well-made fries didn’t need any extra additions.
He held the chicken burger in his hand and was about to eat, but he couldn’t help staring at the Steno. Unlike any other Mesozoican, Lkzkras was eagerly devouring the salad with a fork.
“Ahem,” Edwin said, motioning with his head to Matthew’s burger. “Lost your appetite?”
“Oh right,” Matthew said as he took a bite. He hadn’t even been aware that he had been staring at Lkzkras. Thankfully, the Steno either didn’t notice or care.
Feeling slightly chagrined, Matthew ate his meal in silence. After he finished his meal, he checked his cell phone and realized that it was a little after 1:30 PM. “Hey, guys,” he said. “I have to go now.”
“But it’s only been an hour,” Fred said, as he took some more nachos.
“I have something personal to deal with.” He called over the waiter and paid his bill, including the tip.
Once the bill was paid, and he was finished using the bathroom, he got in his car, started up the motor and headed out of Bozeman.
***
Matthew let the hum of his car’s electric motor occupy his mind as he drove north on Springhill Road. There was not much to look at, just farmland broken up by a few houses. Eventually, the farms started giving way to forests.
“I hope Chris isn’t mad that I’m late,” he muttered as he watched the clock slowly creep towards 2 PM.
Unfortunately, just as he passed the “Welcome to Mesozoica” sign, 2 PM had already come and gone. Thankfully, the Archives weren’t too far, and he pulled into the parking lot. He was a bit surprised at how busy it was for a weekday, but many of the people he saw appeared to be university students.
Parking his car, he bolted through the front door, nearly knocking over a Dromaeosaurus who was about to enjoy a fresh pastry.
He looked around the lobby, seeing the familiar gathering area, café, and entrance to the museum. He was then suddenly aware that he had no idea where the conference rooms were located. The Human approached the front desk.
“May I help you?” the orange feathered Utahraptor at the front desk asked.
“Uh, where are the conference rooms?”
The large Mesozoican pointed down behind themselves. “The library and conference rooms are just behind me.”
“Thank you!”
Matthew cut through the gathering area and to the destination he was pointed to. Despite that single area seemingly having more doors than the entire Archive put together, everything was labeled.
***
Chris Delameter sat inside one of the Archive’s conference rooms. The chairs were cushioned and adjustable for both Human and Mesozoican use. There was also a projector and whiteboard, as well as a power hub in the middle of the wooden desk, but he did not foresee those being used in today’s meeting.
He checked his pocket watch: 2:05 PM with no sign of Matthew Illuyda.
“I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for another five minutes, but I really don’t have the time to hear apologies that are two decades and half an hour late.”
And seemingly on cue, the door opened, revealing a young man who looked like the spitting image of Samuel Illuyda. The man even had the same stone-carved facial features and sandy hair. The only difference was that the man was slightly taller and wore his hair slightly longer.
“You’re a bit late,” Chris said calmly.
“I’m sorry. I underestimated how long it would take to drive from Bozeman to Mesozoica,” Matthew said, closing the door and taking a seat. “Anyways, I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Matt—”
“I know who you are. Krkthal filled me in yesterday. Honestly I wasn’t too sure what to think when he told me you showed up out of nowhere to apologize.”
Matthew was slightly taken aback by the man’s cool tone and lack of pleasantries. “Well,” he said. “I was heading to Bozeman from Billings to meet up with family and friends. And I realized that maybe I should try to make amends for what I did in first grade.”
“Well it’s been twenty odd years, I guess I’m glad you’ve decided to apologize, but I’m also a little irritated that you never reached out earlier.”
Matthew sighed. “It’s a combination of things, but it’s mainly the guilt and the realization that I’ll only be known for something terrible I did in elementary school.”
Chris gave a deep breath, reminding himself to remain respectful. “As much as I'd like to blame you for what happened, I need to remember that you were only six and had no idea what you were starting, and your father was the one who gave the tip.”
A slight scowl crossed Matthew’s face. He thought Krkthal would have kept who gave the California Department of Fish and Wildlife that tip a secret.
“Yes, Krkthal told me,” Chris responded, after seeing Matthew’s expression. “ I deserve to know after two decades who was responsible for almost having my son killed. But also know that I will respect your wishes and keep this between us. No good can come from releasing that information; it can’t and won’t change anything.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Matthew replied.
“Call me ‘Chris’, hearing a youngin’ like you call me Doctor makes me feel like I’m going to need a cane and a monocle.”
“Chris,” Matthew said. “What you said earlier. That’s one of the reasons I decided to apologize after all these years. I never learned that Krkthal was at risk of getting euthanized until my early middle school years. And it was only indirectly when I saw a news report that a problem grizzly bear had been euthanized.
“All my father told me was that he had reported Krkthal to the police. At that time, I just thought that he meant Krkthal would be expelled and would have to be kept at home like a pet. He simply said I wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again.”
That last part gave Chris a bad feeling in his gut. The way his father had worded that, it made him sense that his father had known quite well what was going to happen following his tip, and had even had the gall to keep it hidden from his own son.
Matthew continued. “In fact, even after I learned that problem animals were euthanized, I didn’t know how close Krkthal was to that fate until I saw that letter in the Archives yesterday.”
“Matthew,” Chris said calmly. “You still do not seem to grasp the severity nor the cruelty of your father’s actions. Up until that point, I had raised Krkthal as if he were entirely Human. Once your father had crossed that line, I had the thoroughly unpleasant task of explaining to Krkthal that not only was he explicitly not Human, that the world outside of his school and home saw him as an animal, and that his life was now in jeopardy because of what was happening.
“Do you understand how painful, how demoralizing, how disgusting the talk I had with him afterwards was? How do you tell a first-grader that the laws didn’t consider him a person, and that he was possibly going to be killed for what he saw as simply defending his dignity from a petty bully?
“Until December 14, 2042, the specter of California Fish and Game taking him away loomed. I even had nightmares about Krkthal being taken away and euthanized, with him not even getting the dignity of a burial. And for Krkthal, he became a prisoner in the estate, aware of his lack of personhood, his potential fate, and cut off from his friends because we feared busybodies like your father would report us. And Matthew, let me ask you this. What if Krkthal had been euthanized? Would you have been able to live with yourself, knowing the potential cost of your bullying? A first-grader, his life; your classmates, their friend; and a father, his son, his hopes, his dreams.”
Matthew felt a chill in the air. He suddenly felt like a young boy being upbraided by his very disappointed father. The phantoms of Chris he saw back in the museum returned to his mind. He gulped to rehydrate his dry mouth.
“Krkthal talked about living in an illusion when I met with him yesterday,” he said.
Chris solemnly nodded. “It was more of a constructed world,” he said softly. “The world of Comptche and the Delameter Estate. The world where Krkthal was merely a young boy growing up with a single father with his only worries being if he finished his homework, what games to play at recess, and who was going to be his friend. Not the real world where his worries were if he was going to be taken away and killed, or if he was a person or property.
“In that world he was Krkthal Delameter, son of Chris Delameter.” Chris then took a moment to compose himself before he continued, his voice containing over a decade of pain. “In the real world, he was ‘Krkthal’, the exotic pet owned by Chris Delameter, loaned out as property of Greenfield Genetics. Once Krkthal saw past that facade, there was no going back. From that point on, he knew what everyone saw him as.”
Matthew braced himself to hear Chris say that he never wanted to see or hear from him again. So when Chris gave a sigh and said something entirely different, he was slightly taken by surprise.
“All of that being said, in the end, what happened not only happened, but it set in motion a chain of events that resulted in the greatest demonstration of freedom our nation had seen in nearly a century.
“It shaped my son into the individual he is today: Wise, strong, and with an indestructible sense of individuality and pride in who he is. The challenges that he faced, in the end, helped him become a better leader, and to lead the rest of his kind to the freedom that they deserve.”
“Guess my father actually did something good, even though he was a terrible person,” Matthew muttered.
Chris was slightly surprised to hear Matthew’s opinion of his father. “Your father wasn’t the good sort to you?”
Matthew snorted. “More like the ‘judgemental and never satisfied sort’. It’s always ‘Why did you get a B?’, ‘Are you stupid?’, ‘A fucking animal’s smarter than you!’, ‘You’re too much of a pussy to win a fight with a fucking nerd!’”
He then continued. “No tutors either, even though I legitimately struggled with schoolwork into my high school years. It’s always ‘Figure it out yourself!’, ‘Stop being lazy!’, ‘I’m not your fucking teacher!’, ‘I’m your father, not your friend.’”
Matthew gritted his teeth. “Even back then, I kind of knew that I shouldn’t treat people — Krkthal included — at school this way, but it was really the only thing that made me feel better. It was only later around the end of elementary school that I realized my father never really taught me any healthy coping mechanisms.”
Chris nodded. “Unfortunately, I know what you mean all too well. My own father was quite the similar type. Divorced my mother when I was seven, had little to do with my formative years, and then always complained when I didn’t fit the mold of his son.”
“Chris,” Matthew said softly, looking the older man in the eyes. “I don’t like my father, but I still feel obligated to say that I think you’re getting the impression that my father hated Krkthal. He didn’t hate him. He never did, not even after what Krkthal did.”
Chris’s narrowed eyes suggested that he did not quite believe what Matthew was saying but he decided to let the younger man finish. “Do you know why he did all those things?”
Matthew grew silent as he recalled the dinner table conversation that night — after an interrogation on his day’s academics obviously. “He told me that he wanted to make sure everyone else was safe from ‘that animal’.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I guess if I had to say one good thing about him, it’s that he’s protective of me.”
Chris shook his head sadly; it seemed Matthew was still in denial about his father’s motives. “Maybe he did want to protect you, but that’s not why he did it.”
The younger man nervously swallowed, not certain if he wanted to hear the next words out of Chris’s mouth. “Why did he do it?” The words came out, dry, strained and burdened with twenty plus years of built-up mystery.
“Because he wanted to hurt me.”
Matthew simply opened his mouth. He sat there, frozen, the only signs of movement being a few blinks of his eyes. After several awkward seconds, he spoke up. “What?”
Chris simply nodded. “Did you ever consider why he never told you that he called the California Department of Fish and Wildlife or that he just said you never had to worry about Krkthal ever again?”
The younger man gulped as Chris stared at him. It was a penetrating gaze that didn’t quite seem Human. “No. He just brushed it off when I asked and if I pressed, he told me in no uncertain terms that it was none of my business. But why did he want to hurt you?”
“Because I humiliated him. I told him off in front of the school principal, and worst of all, you.” Chris then continued. “Deep down, he knew he had no power over me and he couldn’t directly hurt me or my reputation.”
“So, he hurt you indirectly?”
The older man nodded at Matthew’s simple, yet profound statement.
“But why through him?”
“Because he hates me personally. When I met him two decades earlier in the principal’s office at the Comptche School, I could feel the sheer disdain he had for me and the existence of Krkthal.”
Matthew blinked at the revelation. “But he didn’t—”
Chris glared at Matthew. “Matthew, on that day, I was able to speak to your father and interact with him as an adult and an outsider,” he said, his voice growing cold. “His demeanor there was unambiguous: he despised both of us.” The older man’s voice then dropped to a darker, menacing, almost threatening register that reminded him uncomfortably of the more thuggish denizens of the dive bars he frequented during his trade school days but tempered with a father’s fury. “Do not tell me your father did not hate Krkthal for his species.”
Suddenly feeling immensely uncomfortable, Matthew fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt. He tried to find a suitable reply, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words emerged.
Chris then continued in that same menacing tone. “Say the scenario played out like this: you got punched by my hypothetical Human son, call him ‘Kirk’, because you made fun of him for being adopted? Would your father have called CPS and tried to get him taken away by claiming child abuse?”
Matthew shook his head.
“Children are impressionable and learn from their parents.”
The younger man flinched, an expression of shock crossing his face at the non sequitur and the resumption of Chris’s normal tone. “Huh?”
“Your father,” Chris said, not taking his eyes off Matthew as he tapped his fingers on the desk. “He clearly saw Krkthal as less than Human and my relationship with him as not ‘real’. That’s why he felt empowered to do what he did. To him, it wasn’t separating a boy from his father; it was forcing someone to give up their beloved pet. And for all he said about ‘protecting you’, it was a lie to shield a young child from their father’s vindictiveness and to keep their son’s image of them as the perfect father intact.”
Matthew grew silent as he thought over the previous conversations with Chris. None of those were lies. Since that day, he recalled his father being more aggressive with his academics, harsher towards him, and less pleasant to people. The only sounds he heard were the tapping of his feet, the steady drumming of Chris’s fingers against the table, and the indistinct white noise of people filtering through the door that separated the duo from the rest of the Archives.
Soon, seconds melded into minutes as the two men remained deep in thought, processing their own experiences.
The younger man was the first to break that silence. “‘Less than’,” he said as a ray of understanding illuminated the dark corners of his mind where he had hidden his childhood resentment like a shameful family heirloom. “That is why I targeted Krkthal so much and with such specific vitriol even though there were others who were just as smart as he was.”
Chris nodded. “Exactly. Now, Matthew, I know this was a journey to soothe your conscience, but at the same time, it’s clearly helped you grow as a person. However, I want you to keep in mind that the apologies aren’t about you. They’re about myself and Krkthal,” He then checked his pocket watch. “It’s almost 3 PM, so we have to wrap this conversation up.”
Matthew got up from the chair. “I’m grateful that you both decided to accept my apology even after twenty years.” Chris got up and shook his hand. “It was not an easy task, but holding grudges isn’t helpful or healthy. But remember, talk is cheap. Take the conversations you had with myself and Krkthal and be better than your father ever was.”
“I will.” A wistful look then crossed his face. “Though I wonder if getting him to reconcile with all of us — you, me, and Krkthal — would make him a better person.”
A brief stormy expression crossed Chris’s face but he suppressed it. “Matthew,” he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Because of what he did, neither myself nor Krkthal are ready to forgive him. And we may never be ready.”
Matthew nodded. “I understand. Goodbye Chris,” he said as he exited the meeting room and made his way to the exit of the Archives.
The duo matched each other in movement until they reached the parking lot where they split off to get into their own cars.
He climbed into the driver’s seat of the car, started up the electric motor, and pulled out of the parking lot as he drove to the Mesozoica Business District. As he drove, he passed by a young boy with deep black hair and a young Deinonychus with dark green plumage and brilliant red feathers on their arms and tail, accompanied by a man dressed in a long sleeve shirt with a backpack. Matthew couldn’t hear anything, but the general demeanor suggested the Dein and the Human boy were both very good friends and the man was the boy’s father.
And in that moment, Matthew saw the phantoms of an alternate past: a six-year-old sandy-haired boy joyfully chatting with a young Dein covered in steel-grey feathers adorned with blue feathers on their tail and arms. All watched over by a tall, well-built man with dark hair.
As he continued driving, those phantoms vanished like morning mist but the memories of today and yesterday’s conversations lingered.
Matthew Illuyda, the bane of Krkthal's first grade existence, has met up with his old victim and the two have reconciled their differences and found closure.
Now, he has to meet up with the father of Krkthal, Chris Delameter. Will the father be as receptive as his son, or will Matthew learn that even decades later, some wounds are still too deep?
Fun fact: The Bozeman Taproom is a real sports bar in Bozeman, Montana and everything the characters can be ordered there.
