Fare Forward Page 9

  "Thanks." I try to sound polite. "I have something tonight, for my family. It's a dinner kind of thing."

  "Come on, Gabriella, isn't tonight the night your grandfather is getting that award?" He holds up the cover of the New York Times and points to my grandfather's photograph. "Hardly a dinner."

  I can tell how taken aback they are, both by the comment about the evening and my physical transformation.

  "Yes, you're right, that's it." I move away toward the door. "I'll be back later; I really have to get downstairs."

  I make it into the hallway as quickly as possible, then will the elevator to move faster, knowing Emily is arriving momentarily. As I emerge into the crisp night air, the large black sedan pulls up in front of the building. The driver Emily has hired gets out of the car and opens the door for me. Once safely inside the confines and privacy of the car, I exhale gratefully, lean my head back, and see Emily, with her cheerful overly made-up eyes, looking right at me, slightly shocked.

  "Gabriella, you look very nice. Actually, amazing. You really should dress up more often. Isn't this fun?" She can't contain her exuberance.

  "Emily, you look beautiful too."

  She was, of course, ready and willing to start discussing every detail of what she was wearing, her preparations for the day, her classes, professors, and any sightings of gorgeous men. She realizes that I am not responding so she switches topics.

  "And how was the rest of your crazy day? Your walk to the bookstore? Did you find what you were looking for?" she asks me breathlessly.

  "What? Oh, you mean the book. No, I didn't find it. You know. The usual." I look straight ahead as I catch myself at the inaccuracy of what I am saying. The irony strikes me immediately. The most unusual things had happened.

  "Well, I can't wait to come to your architecture review. When you have your midterms." She claps her hands together. "Those are supposed to be wild you know, Gabriella. They have food, wine, and really famous people who come and sit on the jury right? It's like a big architecture party!"

  "Not really." I can't help laughing at her exuberance. "It's more like being on trial, but I like the way you see it better."

  "I'm sure you'll do great. You never know who might be there and discover what an amazing architect you are." She squeezes my hand tightly. "It's happened before you know. I've heard stories about how students are discovered at school and their whole life changes. Just like that. One minute you think you're going in one direction and then suddenly—" She stops talking.

  "Gabriella, are you even listening to me?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Emily. I've actually been thinking about this other class, you know the poetry one?"

  "You mean the elective?"

  "Yes, Professor Gray's class. We're reading T.S. Eliot."

  "Your grandmother's favorite."

  "It's interesting, Emily, he writes about time. Implying in poetry what science is saying. I see so many connections to everything, even to my grandfather's work." And to ancient mystical ideas, I think to myself. The expression changes on her face and I know she disapproves.

  "A connection between the poem and cutting-edge physics?" She is clearly concerned.

  "I don't know, Em. He implies that maybe things aren't always what they seem." I say it slowly and wait for the idea to sink in. "And that you have to feel things, even before you can try to understand them. Question what we're all looking for, what we're hoping for."

  She narrows her eyes. "Gabriella! What you're looking for? What the hell does that mean anyway?"

  "Sometimes I wonder, I don't know—if I'm running out of time."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Like they did. My parents, my grandmother—even Lily. They all ran out of time."

  "You promised me, you promised your grandfather." She takes my hand. "That you weren't going to worry so much about everything. Remember? No more scary stuff."

  "This doesn't scare me, Emily. I need to think about these things. It's how I look at the world. I don't want to ever take things for granted."

  "I know," she says, her voice softening. "You're the bravest person I know. You've been through so much. It's time. It's time for you to be happy."

  She keeps talking, and I listen as I hold her hand tightly. Squeezing it in a tradition we had begun when we were young and excited about something that was about to occur. I turn my head to look out the window at the city that passes quickly in a blur of speed. But my mind is very far away, another universe away.

  The excitement of the strange coincidences of my encounters with Benjamin are something that I have decided to keep to myself. Preferring to let the newness, exhilaration, and mystery of all of it play over in my mind. I know I am in uncharted territory.

  "There is one more thing, Gabriella. Something I've been thinking about. You I mean. Always living your life as if you're waiting for something or someone. Forget the future, okay? Let's try to enjoy now. You never know what the future will bring."

  "You're right."

  I wasn't so sure anymore either.

  * * *

  17

  * * *

  “JESUS, WHAT THE HELL? Come on, people, move!"

  The driver's head hangs out the window as he inches the car down the street. He is trying to get as close as possible to the front of the museum, but the streets are blocked off in every direction. Police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances fill the street, and the night sky is lit with flashing blue and red lights.

  "I'm sorry." He is frustrated and trying to understand what is going on. "We've been at a standstill here for almost thirty minutes." He slams the car into park. "Stay here. I'll be right back. I'm gonna see if I can find out what the hell is going on. This is insane. At this rate we'll be here all night."

  "Emily." I feel the heat beginning to burn down my back as my anxiety starts to rise. "Do you think this has something to do with my grandfather?"

  My mind races back to the night in Paris, the explosion, the rush of sirens, the flashing lights, ambulances, and people everywhere, holding me, comforting my grandfather. The moment my life changed, in so many ways, forever.

  "Gabriella, please don't worry. It's always like this, don't you remember last time?"

  "Actually—no. This seems different."

  I knew very well that anonymous threats had been made to the selection committee for the National Medal of Science honorees. Security had been dramatically increased in light of my grandfather's agreement to attend. I had also noticed changes in some of his habits and routines. He seemed to move with more caution, going over things, double checking. Even at the beach house, a place that had always been free from worry and the pressures of the world, a refuge of safety. The realities of the dangers of his life outside the isolated cape community were seeping into our sacred space. I could picture the black vans on the property, the men installing cameras in the trees and the day in his library where I sensed something was wrong. I had tried to explain this new caution to myself as his characteristic vigilance, but I knew there was more. Something was on his mind. I would catch him staring out the window, his brow furrowed in contemplation. He seemed different, almost distracted, and there were times I felt he wanted to tell me something. Struggling to find the moment or the right words, but then holding back.

  Before I left for New York, I had found a quiet moment alone in his library at the beach house to question him as I looked for reassurance that my fears were unfounded.

  "Papa, what does this mean?" I had pleaded, alarmed at the real changes he was making in his habits that went far beyond the new security system and everything we had done after that terrible night in Paris.

  "There are certain people, forces who do not want me to reveal the proof of what I have been working toward. My Theory."

  "I don't understand, are you telling me that you are in some sort of new danger? I thought the French, American, and Israeli governments had successfully shut down the terrorist cell. Those who set the bomb in Paris.
You told me we were safe, that you were no longer at risk."

  He paused for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how much to reveal to me.

  "Tell me." I caught myself as I tried not to raise my voice. "What's going on? Does this have anything to do with you leaving Columbia and all the time you spend traveling now?"

  "Gabriella, as you know, there have always been two theories, but at a certain moment in time, they negate each other. I have simply been looking for the missing connection. The proof that will finally allow for the legitimacy of both."

  "Both theories, what do you mean both?"

  "Quantum mechanics and Einstein's general relativity, one explains the very small and the other the very large." He looked at me and took my cold hands in his warm, protective grasp. I remember how he had leaned back in his worn leather chair as the sun illuminated his face, highlighting everything I loved about him.

  "You see, even Einstein saw the flaw in his theory. He saw it break down and spent the last thirty years of his life trying to resolve the conflicts. He wanted the new synthesis to be called, the 'Theory of Everything.'"

  We said the last words together.

  "I know, the Theory of Everything. But it's crazy. Sometimes you end up creating more questions than finding answers, right?"

  "That's true," he had laughed.

  "Well, have you found it?"

  "You will be the first to know. I promise you."

  "Are you worried?" I had looked down at the floor as I asked the question, not wanting to legitimize my fears by meeting his gaze.

  "No, of course not." He tried to reassure me. "I am safe. I promise you that I know exactly what I'm doing. If I'm worried, it's not about some external force, not about this anyway."

  He had a way of not answering my questions, but I couldn't get it out of my mind. The possibility that someone or something he would not explain to me was hovering above our lives. That they were back.

  "Gabriella!" The urgency in Emily's voice brings me back to the car and the crowds. "Here comes our driver."

  "Sorry, I was just looking at all the police. I mean the security, the guards." I try to steady my voice.

  The front door opens, and I am relieved to see the driver's smiling face as he slams the door behind him, buckles his seatbelt, and turns around to greet our expectant faces.

  "Coast is clear, no problem. Everyone should be moving toward the front now."

  "Well, tell us what you found out?" Emily didn't want to miss a thing.

  "Some crazies. A bomb threat or something."

  "What? Oh, I'm sure that can't be right—" Emily tries to stop him, but he continues.

  "You know the New York police. They're the best. Take this stuff really serious. But they found nothin'. So you girls are good to go."

  * * *

  18

  * * *

  EMILY THROWS OPEN the car door, grabs my arm, and pulls me out. Our eyes meet as she nods to me in encouragement. "No fear, Gabriella." She speaks my grandmother's words.

  "Right."

  "This night is about celebrating. Achievement, promise, and science. The accomplishments of the leaders blazing the trail."

  "And my grandfather—"

  "It's going to be a great night."

  We make our way to the front of the line as Emily forces her way through the crowd to the VIP entrance. I can see the back of my grandfather's head in the distance, accompanied by the president of Columbia University and several other dignitaries from the city of New York.

  "I see him, Gabriella. Come on!" Emily shouts as she points her finger above the heads of everyone in front of us.

  He is surrounded by his personal assistants. The current lucky few graduate students whom he selected from the thousands who had applied to work with him. I am overwhelmed by the flashing lights of the press, the crush of people, and the massive tent we are entering where the reception and ceremony will be held. I try to concentrate and follow behind Emily's steady, confident lead, but my thoughts are everywhere, pulling my emotions along in their wild tow. They rush back to the night in Paris four years earlier and to the recent conversation with my grandfather about his safety.

  I force myself to think about something good, wonderful—and especially to earlier in the day: Benjamin and our indescribable connection. The powerful energy I felt in the cathedral with him.

  I can see him, the beauty of his face in the dim light of the nave, the music he played, the shape of his shoulders, and the way he said my name. I think of the strange recognition I had felt when his arm grazed mine and the unexplained power he seemed to have over me. I wanted him to move closer as I watched him exhale. I had looked at his mouth and imagined it on me, his hands, his face, his skin next to mine. "I am a student of your grandfather's work," he had said. Well, these days, who wasn't.

  "Gabriella!" Emily pulls me in. "Are you okay, honey?"

  She links her arms through mine and with the determination of an athlete completing the last leg of a race, guides us past the crush of curious onlookers, protesters, and photographers. We enter the giant white tent on the lawn outside of the museum. Its peaks point into the illuminated sky and enclose fountains, gardens, and cobblestone areas to create an otherworldly venue.

  "Wow."

  "Amazing isn't it?"

  We both stand and take in the scene. This community of scientists seem slightly uncomfortable in their formal attire. Dressing up, moving in a world of flashing lightbulbs, if only for a night.

  I look up at the glowing cube, the glass and steel architecture of the Rose Center for Earth and Space, and think this a fitting backdrop for the science awards. The event planners had brought in an array of LED lights and lasers, picking up the theme of space and planets that were rotating on a regular basis, illuminating the partygoers and attendees.

  "This place is perfect for tonight," I say to no one in particular.

  It's as if the venue had been chosen specifically to honor a man whose theoretical work was about the universe. The strength and power of possibility proudly reflected in the architecture of the place. I had spent countless hours as a child in the Hayden Planetarium's four-hundred-seat Space Theater, one of the world's largest virtual reality simulators, staring up at the map of billions of stars and galaxies. I could remember, when I was a little girl, the sound my shoes made on the polished floors, the faint echo as I ran from the different displays, looking for something. Clues. Answers.

  "Come on, we're almost there." Emily looks quickly at me as she follows the usher who leads us to our table at the front of the room.

  I can feel the many eyes on us as we hurry to the table. I recognize the burning sensation in the pit of my stomach, reminding me that I have not eaten all day and credit my dizzy and lightheaded sensation to this fact. We manage to arrive at our seats just as the lights are dimming. Our table has place cards that show me seated next to my grandfather and Emily, a few chairs down. She winks happily at me conveying her pleasure at sitting next to the two mysterious young men on either side of her.

  "Brains," she mouths as she points her index finger to her own temple.

  The master of ceremonies clears his throat at the podium. The lights dim.

  "I would like to welcome all of you to the National Medal of Science Awards. Tonight is testimony to the creativity and vision of men and women who are not willing to simply accept the status quo. They won't rest until they have found answers to the questions that have been asked since the beginning of time. Their fearless voyage into the unknown is an attempt to ask the deepest questions that face mankind."

  The silence of the room is filled by the counterpoint of the descriptions of mind-boggling achievements. There is a palpable energy to this world, driven by the force of possibility. The full glass of red wine that I clutch is helping to calm my nerves and the rocky condition of my empty stomach, as well as my keen awareness of the many eyes that are on our table and the whispering about my grandfather.

  "
I guess I'm next." He must have noticed that my eyes were down and lifts my chin so he can look at me.

  "Yes, Papa, of course."

  I want to be happy, to stay in the present and enjoy the moment, but I'm trying to push away the familiar feeling. The room starts to spin slowly and the voices from the podium seem to be deepening, slowing down.

  "Are you all right?" Across the table I see Emily's concerned gaze locked on me as she mouths the question.

  "And finally, I would like to present our guest of honor, Dr. Sydney Vogel!"

  My grandfather pushes back his chair to thundering applause, and I force myself to stand and help him navigate to the podium. The words of praise continue as does the standing ovation.

  "Dr. Vogel is being honored tonight for his groundbreaking work in theoretical physics. Finding proof for the theories he has held for so many years, he has said that he will show the world the unfathomable. Make known the un-knowable. And we have no doubt that he will."

  I try to concentrate on what is being said but I have the familiar and distinct feeling that I recognize. It's unmistakeable. I need to pull myself out of the dark zone and back into the present. I see my grandfather at the podium speaking, pointing his finger in the air, then smiling and pausing as everyone claps in response to what he is saying.

  "So." His powerful voice has in it the seriousness with which he speaks about his research, practiced over the many years filled with valuing achievement and hard work, facing his many critics. "People have always assumed that just because we cannot see something it isn't there. We are now on the verge of proving the physics of the impossible and understanding the mind of God."

  The room breaks into deafening applause as he is presented with the National Medal of Science for his expanded model of the Big Bang theory. But we all know what it really means.

  He is going to prove that our universe is not alone, that other worlds exist connecting to ours through the wormholes that Einstein had first suggested.