would that be?” he asks, sounding skeptical.
I point to the pimple on my chin. “Finding a cure for acne.”
“Hmm. That
would
be revolutionary.” He shakes his head. “Enough about all this. Is the plunger in the garage? I need to use it to clear the toilet. It took a few tries to get the
T. melvinus
down.”
“You flushed it? Why didn’t you just put it in the trash?”
He scoffs. “The trash? Your mother would probably forget to put it out. Then raccoons would get into the cans and eat the
T. melvinus
, and who knows what would happen next? Vicious raccoons that never get old rampaging around the neighborhood?”
We laugh.
Nicole calls to tell my mom that she wants her old babysitting job back. The ear-piercing place is not turning out to be the great opportunity she thought it would be. My grandfather greets this news with enthusiasm.
“It’s time for me to move on anyway,” he informs us.
I look at him in horror. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ll be back. Don’t worry about that,” he says.“I have to make sure you get into a decent PhD program.”
“But who’s going to look after you?” my mother exclaims. “You’re thirteen years old!”
My grandfather gives my mother a steady look. “Melissa, we both know this isn’t working out. There are things I want to do—that I need to do. And I’ll look after myself. I’m a grown-up.”
She looks like she wants to disagree, but then she purses her lips.
“Where will you go?” I ask him.
“I’m not sure exactly. I thought I’d travel. Take a bus ride.” He pauses. “See the country.”
I remember my grandmother’s dream.
My mother arranges for movers to put everything from his apartment in storage. She also gets him a cell phone and puts him on our family plan so that he can stay in touch on the road.
On the day he’s leaving, we wait with him in the bus station. It’s bustling with people coming and going, rushing to catch buses leaving foreverywhere. My grandfather’s not sure where he’s going. He says he has nothing but time and money.
“Will you be okay?” my mother asks him.
“Of course I will. I have two PhDs,” he says firmly.
I hand him my going-away present.
“What’s this?” he asks, surprised.
He opens the wrapped box and looks at what’s inside: my collection of ponytail holders.
Tears prick at my eyes. I don’t want him to leave. I grab him, hug him tight.
“I love you,” I say.
My grandfather hugs me back, whispers in my ear, “I believe in you, Ellie. You’re my
possible
.”
I watch him board the bus and know I will never look at a bowl of fruit or cheese, or anything ever, in the same way again. It turned out that what I needed to teach me about life was my grandfather.
He was the fourteenth goldfish.
Everything’s back to the way it was before, but it doesn’t feel the same. The house is oddly empty. Who knew you could miss the smell of teenage-boy socks?
I decide my room needs a makeover; I don’t want to look at all those little handprints anymore. My dad helps me one weekend when he’s home. We paint the walls a deep sea blue. We use glow-in-the-dark paint to add jellyfish near the ceiling. When I lie in bed at night, it feels like I’m on the bottom of the ocean.
Ananda has started his college search. Raj and I go with him the day he checks out Berkeley. The campus is beautiful, the lawns green and bustling with students. I can almost see Oppenheimer striding around, full of purpose.
Momo and I have been spending a lot of time together lately. She’s into scary films, too. We discover a whole category of old horror films about science gone wrong (
Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, Tarantula, Godzilla, The Fly
). Our favorite is
Them!
It’s about a bunch of ants that turn into giant ant-monsters after being exposed to radiation duringthe New Mexico atomic bomb tests. We even convince Mr. Ham to do a class about monster movies and science. It’s fun hanging out with
I point to the pimple on my chin. “Finding a cure for acne.”
“Hmm. That
would
be revolutionary.” He shakes his head. “Enough about all this. Is the plunger in the garage? I need to use it to clear the toilet. It took a few tries to get the
T. melvinus
down.”
“You flushed it? Why didn’t you just put it in the trash?”
He scoffs. “The trash? Your mother would probably forget to put it out. Then raccoons would get into the cans and eat the
T. melvinus
, and who knows what would happen next? Vicious raccoons that never get old rampaging around the neighborhood?”
We laugh.
Nicole calls to tell my mom that she wants her old babysitting job back. The ear-piercing place is not turning out to be the great opportunity she thought it would be. My grandfather greets this news with enthusiasm.
“It’s time for me to move on anyway,” he informs us.
I look at him in horror. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ll be back. Don’t worry about that,” he says.“I have to make sure you get into a decent PhD program.”
“But who’s going to look after you?” my mother exclaims. “You’re thirteen years old!”
My grandfather gives my mother a steady look. “Melissa, we both know this isn’t working out. There are things I want to do—that I need to do. And I’ll look after myself. I’m a grown-up.”
She looks like she wants to disagree, but then she purses her lips.
“Where will you go?” I ask him.
“I’m not sure exactly. I thought I’d travel. Take a bus ride.” He pauses. “See the country.”
I remember my grandmother’s dream.
My mother arranges for movers to put everything from his apartment in storage. She also gets him a cell phone and puts him on our family plan so that he can stay in touch on the road.
On the day he’s leaving, we wait with him in the bus station. It’s bustling with people coming and going, rushing to catch buses leaving foreverywhere. My grandfather’s not sure where he’s going. He says he has nothing but time and money.
“Will you be okay?” my mother asks him.
“Of course I will. I have two PhDs,” he says firmly.
I hand him my going-away present.
“What’s this?” he asks, surprised.
He opens the wrapped box and looks at what’s inside: my collection of ponytail holders.
Tears prick at my eyes. I don’t want him to leave. I grab him, hug him tight.
“I love you,” I say.
My grandfather hugs me back, whispers in my ear, “I believe in you, Ellie. You’re my
possible
.”
I watch him board the bus and know I will never look at a bowl of fruit or cheese, or anything ever, in the same way again. It turned out that what I needed to teach me about life was my grandfather.
He was the fourteenth goldfish.
Everything’s back to the way it was before, but it doesn’t feel the same. The house is oddly empty. Who knew you could miss the smell of teenage-boy socks?
I decide my room needs a makeover; I don’t want to look at all those little handprints anymore. My dad helps me one weekend when he’s home. We paint the walls a deep sea blue. We use glow-in-the-dark paint to add jellyfish near the ceiling. When I lie in bed at night, it feels like I’m on the bottom of the ocean.
Ananda has started his college search. Raj and I go with him the day he checks out Berkeley. The campus is beautiful, the lawns green and bustling with students. I can almost see Oppenheimer striding around, full of purpose.
Momo and I have been spending a lot of time together lately. She’s into scary films, too. We discover a whole category of old horror films about science gone wrong (
Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, Tarantula, Godzilla, The Fly
). Our favorite is
Them!
It’s about a bunch of ants that turn into giant ant-monsters after being exposed to radiation duringthe New Mexico atomic bomb tests. We even convince Mr. Ham to do a class about monster movies and science. It’s fun hanging out with
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