Fare Forward Page 16

  I feel weak as I listen and put together the pieces of everything she is saying—what it means.

  She continues, "Whoever understands the pathways will have unprecedented power. Clearly, there are many who would want to stand in the way of people knowing that other worlds might exist. This would change even the most basic assumptions we have about—well, about everything. " The corners of her mouth turn down, as if she is afraid to finish her own sentence. "You see, if the secret of the pathways fell into the wrong hands—"

  "Fates would change," I whisper. The words my grandfather had often said now making sense to me really for the first time.

  Dr. Potter's eyes soften. "In theoretical physics we deal with possible futures all of the time. Anything can happen."

  "Anything?"

  "It's possible."

  "But, what if," I say, knowing I sound desperate, "what if you spend your whole life looking? Looking and looking and you simply never find it?"

  "Find what, dear?" she says softly with sympathy in her eyes, as if she can feel the unbearable pain, the feelings I've been trying to suppress.

  "What you thought you'd find. What you wanted. What you were always promised was waiting for you. What if it's not there at all?"

  "That happens."

  "Yes," I say the words mechanically. "I understand."

  "I'm sorry, Gabriella, to be the one telling you these things. Come, let's go inside now and hear what your grandfather has to say."

  "No, Dr. Potter, you go ahead. I'll be right there." I try to fill my words with a calm I do not feel.

  "Please try to understand. There has always been two opposing ways to think about science. One is that within the complicated, seemingly random workings of our world there is a larger, loving manipulative force, the other is that our universe is simply made up of matter and energy interacting in space and time."

  "So you're saying that whether you believe in God or not the science is the same?"

  "Gabriella, promise me that you will remember something. There are rules in the universe. They may be difficult for us to comprehend, but there are still rules."

  As she stands up to walk away, I see the sadness in her eyes. But for the first time, I recognize something else: The road my grandfather is on is far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

  * * *

  35

  * * *

  I HEAR THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE coming from the auditorium as the doors push open. My grandfather walks toward me, surrounded by his teaching assistants, the head of the Physics Department, and the president of the university. I notice something else this time. He is being followed closely by two men with small earpieces and stone expressions. Security.

  "Gabriella!" He lights up as he sees me leaning against the wall past the large doorway. "There you are."

  I hope that he hadn't noticed that I was absent from his lecture, preferring to remain on the bench as I absorbed everything Dr. Potter and I had discussed.

  "Papa." I throw my arms around him. "I've really missed you."

  "I've missed you too, sweetheart." I hear the surprised happiness in his voice. He takes a step back to look at me and kisses my hand. "Let's go, there is a special dinner or something at the Faculty Club in my honor." He pushes his thinning gray hair back on his head. "Imagine that."

  "You don't need to be humble with me. You've been waiting your whole life for this." I link my arm through his for the walk over to 119th Street and the penthouse restaurant that overlooks the city.

  "How is Philip?"

  "You always like to change the subject. But, Philip is fine. Actually, he's doing well and has been quite a wonderful friend."

  "I know." He winks at me. "I invited him to dinner." He sees the puzzled, almost hurt expression on my face. "What's the matter?"

  "I've told you before, Philip and I are just friends."

  "He sees you, Gabriella, as does Emily. You can trust them." He squeezes my hand. "Remember that."

  As we walk into the main lobby together, I become concerned by the presence of the twin security detail trailing behind us.

  "What is it?" he asks me.

  "Must they follow us everywhere?" I turn around to stare at the oversized, incongruous men closely following my grandfather.

  They try to look inconspicuous and melt into the wall they're leaning against.

  "Shhh, there's nothing to worry about." He shrugs his shoulders. "They're always with me now. Whenever I'm out or traveling."

  "Nothing to worry about?" I'm incredulous.

  "Someone must think I'm important."

  "That's not funny." I look back at them as I try to get a grip on how anxious they are making me.

  "Tell me about New York," he asks, trying to distract me.

  "My life feels crazy; I just don't know what's happening to me."

  Actually, it was whirling out of the carefully designed parameters I had constructed. Benjamin had completely cracked the code of my security field. Easily it seemed.

  "Talk to me. Dinner can wait. What is it that's bothering you?"

  "It's just that—well, I don't know. I was hoping to have some time alone with you tonight."

  "Of course." I can hear the hesitation in his voice. "I always have time for you, and you know you can talk to me about anything. Whatever is on your mind, Gabriella." His voice is soft.

  He has opened the door, releasing the emotions I have held in for so many weeks. The fear, the questioning, the worry over him, and of course the complete and overwhelming thrill of Benjamin that I need to express. It feels like so much has happened so quickly—as if time has slowed down or sped up. However the hell Einstein would have said it.

  "I met Benjamin Landsman."

  He steps back from me suddenly, then shifts his body, as if he has been struck by something. He looks away and shakes his head. His reaction makes me very uncomfortable, but he does not say anything.

  I continue, "you thanked him, at the awards ceremony remember? At the museum?"

  He stares straight ahead. Silent.

  "How long have you known him? What is he working on with you?" I ask.

  He turns to look at me, his blue eyes filled with pain and something else I have never seen before. It is fear. Then he says the words I never expected to hear. "I asked him, I told him. To stay away from you."

  He says it so quietly, that I am not sure I've heard what he said. The noise and laughter from the dining room, the clatter of dishes overpowers his words.

  "What? What did you just say?"

  He pauses and I know that he is struggling with what to do next. Deciding, weighing his words. Knowing the power they will have over me.

  "This cannot happen," he shakes his head. "You are to stay away from him. Do you hear me, Gabriella?"

  Philip has arrived and walks toward us to say hello, but I see him stop and back away as he clearly recognizes that something unusual is taking place between my grandfather and me, a conversation he wants no part of.

  "What are you talking about?" My voice gets louder, frantic, as I struggle to keep hold of myself. I feel the panic rising, like I am losing control. I don't understand any of it.

  "Gabriella, I will not allow this to happen," he says.

  He turns and starts to walk away, but I grab onto his arm and pull him around to face me. I realize that people are looking at us, shocked at the escalating scene.

  "Why are you saying this? Benjamin is everything—everything I thought you would want for me."

  "NO!" he yells. "No, I will not lose you, too!"

  "I don't understand."

  He storms away and opens the door out onto a balcony that leads to a small terrace. The sky is gray and it is cold, but we are finally alone. I follow him and try to calm myself, to slow down the words and everything that is happening.

  "Papa, please tell me, why?"

  "He is not for you!"

  His face is red, and I see him clutch his chest. I run over and throw my arms around him
and try not to dissolve into tears. We stand together for several minutes as the icy wind swirls around us, and I wait for his breathing to become more regular.

  He looks out at the city. "I should have stopped her, protected her. My beautiful Sophie. I will never let it happen again. It was just a crazy, impossible dream."

  "What?"

  He turns back to face me and slowly reaches up to unwrap my arms from around his neck. He pushes me away and takes a step back.

  I am shaking, shocked by the exchange. "I don't understand. What are you saying, Papa? I want to be with him, to find out why he has come into my life."

  I reach out for his hand but he backs farther away from me. He points his finger at me. "No, this cannot be. It can never happen."

  "Why not? Please tell me why!"

  His cold eyes meet mine. It's a look I have never seen before. I stand there in shock. I know there is no way I can understand, there is no precedent for this.

  "I don't ever want to hear this sort of talk again from you," he says with disgust. "Do you hear me, Gabriella? No more questions!"

  He turns away and walks back into the building, leaving me standing alone, tears streaming down my face. The silence of the rooftop is overwhelming. I can't bear to stand there any longer and run inside to where a stunned Philip is waiting.

  "Gabriella." He reaches for me as I storm past him and down into the stairwell. "Please stop!"

  I hear his terrified voice echo off the marble walls, but I ignore him and start to run. I don't know what to believe, who to trust, or what any of it means. The pain I feel is countered by one simple truth, what my heart is telling me: There is absolutely nothing that can keep me away from Benjamin.

  * * *

  36

  * * *

  I KNOW THAT I NEED to get away—from everything. The emotional roller coaster and confusion of the last few weeks has exhausted me. Even though it's pouring in New York, the forecast is sunny in Boston. It's time to get out, go back to the beach, and clear my head so I can think about something that is good: Benjamin.

  I can't get him out of my mind. This is a new sensation, making me feel out of control and unable to focus on my studies, my purpose for being in New York. Or, was that my real purpose? I was beginning to wonder. Emily was hovering and had insisted I accompany her to the Upper East Side. She is trying to distract me.

  "Sweetie, I know you're not telling me what's going on with you. I'm worried."

  "I'm really fine, Em. I just need to get out of New York." I try to sound convincing. "I think I'm going to go home to the beach this weekend. Maggie is expecting me," I lie. Maggie has no idea I'm coming.

  "Well, I'm going to go to Grand Central with you. We haven't been there in forever. Let's get a cab."

  "Emily." I laugh at her. "I'm taking the subway, it's pouring out and the traffic is terrible. You sure you still want to come?"

  She doesn't hesitate. "Of course, let's go."

  She grabs my hand as we run toward Lexington Avenue and the subway that will take us down the East Side. I see the shape of the sign through the teeming downpour as we approach the entry and try unsuccessfully to keep my hood over my head. The rain feels good, cleansing, like it's washing away the evidence of the last few days. We jump onto the express train, and I feel the power of the subway, the speeding vehicle that hurtles through the depths of the city, as if moving through another dimension.

  Ever since we were little, we had loved to travel through the dark tunnels of the city together. We would watch the blue, red, and green lights stream by, signaling our arrival into the stations. Grand Central Terminal felt like the beating heart of the city. The pent-up energy it contained drives the destinies of the voyagers who pass through the great space on their way to unknown locations. Passengers are filtered and redistributed through the tracks that act like arteries, then, shot out to the world beyond. Beloved and historic, Grand Central deserved its recognition as one of the most important landmarks in the city. This was a place where you could feel the soul of the past.

  "Come on, Gabriella. We're here." Emily pulls me out of the subway and up the stairs to the main concourse.

  "Look, Em." I stop and point at the famous turquoise blue ceiling of the constellations.

  She cranes her head back and exhales dramatically. "I know, it's amayyyzing isn't it?"

  "Remember when we learned the secret about it?" I ask.

  The celestial mural was one of Grand Central Terminal's most remarkable features. However, there was something extraordinary that few people knew. I remembered clearly the day my grandfather had taken Emily, Lily, and me to a special observation platform where we could look down at the travelers below and up at the painted sky.

  "Listen to me very carefully, children." He had waited to speak until he knew he had our undivided attention. "I have something very special to tell you."

  We huddled together like a small team, waiting for him to impart one of the deepest darkest secrets of the universe.

  "What is it, Dr. Vogel?"

  "Look at this image." He unfolded a large photograph of a dark night sky. His finger traced the line of white dots and circles that connected shapes and created the famous images."You see the stars on the ceiling? That is called the zodiac."

  "We know that!" Emily had said with excitement as Lily and I nodded in agreement.

  "Yes, my dear, but look closely at the two. Are they the same or different?"

  I knew him, I knew there was a reason for this adventure.

  "Different," Lily had said with certainty.

  "You are right! Now tell me how."

  The three of us stood there, our faces twisted in concentration. I knew what it was, I could see it clearly. Visual images were second nature to me.

  "It's backward," I said softly.

  "That's correct, Gabriella. It's as if we are sky voyagers, looking down at our solar system from outside our world. Some people think that the artist who conceived of the ceiling, Paul Helleu, made a mistake. But he did not, it was quite intentional. I want you to think about that story every time you walk through here. Promise me that."

  I remembered that day so well, the time my grandfather spent explaining this mystery to us, answering our endless questions. The concept of looking down at our earth from the heavens captivated him.

  "Gabriella." Emily throws her arms around me and points to the clock. "You better hurry and get the shuttle to Penn Station. You've got twenty minutes to catch your train. Have a wonderful weekend and do me a favor, please? Be careful."

  "Emily, I'll see you Monday."

  As I turn away from her I look up to the painted stars on the ceiling and run for the train that will take me one step closer to home. Unlike the recent exchange with my grandfather, the memory of that day was such a happy one. The captivating and oddly personal knowledge that was imparted to us by the seeker of other worlds.

  * * *

  37

  * * *

  I LOOK OUT THE WINDOW as I sit cocooned in my raincoat and hood, my hands buried deep in the pockets of my coat. I have chosen to sit in the "quiet car." No cell phones are allowed and minimal hushed conversations—anonymous and silent.

  Perfect.

  I see the landscape of Rhode Island roll by as we pass through. The rain streams down the window that separates the outside world from the interior space. The wet paths trace lines that jump across the surface of the glass. Earlier, when the train had passed through a tunnel, I saw my own reflection. I was jolted by what looked back at me and realized it was not my face but my grandmother's. The image in the frame on my grandfather's desk. Mine is younger and without the dark hair that was always tied up above her graceful neck in a sleek chignon, in stark contrast to the wild golden hair I would thoughtlessly twist and pin out of my way. She was from another time, an era where great care was given to appearance and propriety. My tomboyish predilection precluded that effort.

  My grandparents had shared a great and enduring
love affair. He spoke of her in the present tense, as if she still were with him every day. His "beshert" he called her. His soul mate. He believed in the fundamental concept that for every person, every soul, there is only one other that completes them. Two lost halves created for the purpose of being united, creating a divine union.

  I touch my cheek and slowly move my hand down to the edge of my jaw, across and over my lips. I want to trace the path that Benjamin's breath had moved over my face. I think about his mouth; I imagine it on me. His hands, his face—all of him. It is a sensation and memory that I have played over thousands of times since that night several weeks earlier.

  * * *

  The rhythm of the train's pace starts to change indicating the approach to Boston's South Station. The landscape out the window is familiar yet transformed into yellow, red, and bronze by the fire of the New England fall. Golden light on the river shimmers off the glass towers. It's an amazing city. Home to so many great minds, those who are creating, inventing, and describing the world. Revealing what is locked deep in the consciousness of yet unnamed sources.

  "Charlie!" I yell into my cell phone as I try to balance everything I'm carrying.

  He was part of our life in Gloucester, always around to help Maggie run the house or shuttle my grandfather to the airport. I planned to use the thirty-mile drive out to the North Shore to catch up on all the local news.

  "Sorry I didn't call you sooner, but I'm here. Almost at South Station."

  "Well, today is your lucky day, kid, I just happen to be doing a drop off at the airport. So, I'll be right there."

  "I'll be outside, the usual spot."

  Twenty minutes later, I am safely buckled into his car.

  I listen to him talk animatedly, describing events in Gloucester over the last few weeks. The highlights of weather and fishing. I look out the window and realize how in just a short period of time, everything seems so different, as if I am seeing things for the first time. Was it only a few months ago that my life had not included architecture school and, of course, Benjamin?