Peter Lee's Notes from the Field

by Angela Ahn

  How did I not know any of this? How did I not notice? My face flushed.

  Haji gave me a minute before he said, “Come on, we have lots of work to do.”

  I nodded.

  “You can take it home. I think Hammy would want you to have it.”

  I looked down at the picture that Hammy had drawn of me in my field vest. I stared out the kitchen window and caught sight of my abandoned excavation pit. My chest started to hurt.

  Chapter 36

  UNDER PRESSURE

  Saturday, September 28, 8:30 a.m.

  Conditions: Smog. 80 percent chance of desperation

  “L.B.!” Mom shouted up the stairs. “It’s time to go see Dr. Stephanova! I couldn’t get that green stain out of your lab coat, but it’s washed!”

  L.B. and I were in my room, trying to ignore each other. She was doing a headstand on her foam mattress while trying to read at the same time. Her braids were splayed on the floor like two dead snakes. I was just sitting on the floor on my bum like a normal human being reading the regular way. Luckily, reading upside down actually required her to concentrate, so she was unusually quiet.

  As soon as she heard my mother’s voice, she dropped her legs down to the ground and, from her knees, turned around and yelled back down the stairs, “I don’t want to go today!”

  “I wasn’t asking your opinion!” Mom shouted back.

  She grabbed Trixie and held him to her ear. “Trixie has a fever!” L.B. shouted.

  “Honestly, L.B., stop it! Trixie cannot possibly have a fever—he’s a toy dinosaur! Get down here!” Mom’s voice was getting louder and more impatient.

  “I’ll be home in three hours,” she said to Trixie as she placed him on her pillow. She tucked him in and pulled up the blanket, so all I could see was his stupid green head poking out. She then got up, left the room and slammed my door behind her. L.B. was forbidden to take Trixie to her mentor sessions. Mom thought it was inappropriate to bring him because, you know, it was in a university classroom and Trixie was, you know, a stuffed dinosaur.

  L.B. proceeded to stomp-walk down the hallway and then down the stairs. A stomp-walk is extremely difficult; I’ve tried it. It involves a lot of anger, tremendous heel strikes to the floor and good speed. When L.B. stomp-walked, she was upset, really upset.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I heard Mom say as L.B. passed her at the bottom of the stairs.

  “When I’m learning about chemical compounds, I am not spending time with Hammy! Your priorities are…wrong!” L.B. spat angrily.

  “You see Hammy every single day! She’s out for a walk with Haji anyway,” Mom exclaimed. “She wouldn’t like you to fall behind in your learning.”

  “What would you know,” L.B. grumbled. “Let’s get this class over with.”

  “Peter!” Mom shouted back at me. “Don’t forget to do your homework!”

  “I’m doing it right now!” I yelled back. I was lying, of course. I was reading a sports magazine I had borrowed from the school library.

  “That’s what I like to hear!” I heard the front door close.

  Finally, some privacy. I had my room to myself for a few hours. And while I should have been enjoying it, looking around, I realized it was a disaster. My desk was a mess. It was usually a lot neater than this, but with L.B. around, the desk just seemed to sprout paper in random places. I put down my magazine and started sorting paper. My sketches. I gathered the whole pile and tossed it straight into the recycling bin.

  One page missed the bin and landed on the floor. I picked it up and looked at the picture I’d drawn of Trixie doing dinosaur math. My heart sank. I was just about to throw it in the bin with all the other papers, but just before I let go of it, I thought of Kendra and the contest. The deadline was in three days. Three days.

  Part of me wanted to salvage any of the self-respect I had left out there in the badlands and just try, take a risk like Joe, or be like Samuel and not live with regret. I took one final long look at the picture of Trixie in my hands. Though it was supposed to be funny and make me laugh, instead it left me feeling depressed. Was this all I could do, some silly picture? I couldn’t submit a drawing of my sister’s stuffed dinosaur, could I? That would be completely mortifying. Almost as bad as getting an F in the Junior Scientist Dig.

  I imagined Kendra opening up my letter, looking at the picture and showing her assistant. “Remember the kid who lasted eighteen minutes in the field during a fossil dig this summer? He actually thinks we might use this on the cover!” And the two of them would have a good long laugh about it. I felt a flush rise up from the tips of my toes and burn quickly all the way to my face, like a fuse fueled by humiliation. The feeling exploded out through the top of my head.

  Spontaneous human combustion has been reported, but not widely proven by hard science. Would I be the first modern verified case of dying from shame and erupting into a heap of ash and smoke? No. I would not submit the drawing of Trixie. I’d rather send in nothing than something so lame. I wasn’t going to put myself out to Kendra again. Never again.

  What I had known for weeks, but wasn’t ready to admit to myself, finally hit me hard. I had to give up. These little doodles weren’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough. Like removing a bandage, I decided to rip away the idea of submitting anything to the newsletter in one quick, painful motion. I was done. I was almost out of time anyway. What was the point? Trixie doing math went in the bin with all my other drawings.

  Chapter 37

  TRUTH TIME

  Thursday, October 3, 7:00 p.m.

  Conditions: Low cloud cover and misty

  “Is it time, Haji?” I asked, sitting down next to him on the couch after dinner.

  “I think this weekend would be a good time,” he said confidently.

  “Do you think we did enough?”

  “We did everything we could.”

  “Do you think it’s going to help?”

  “Peter, you did a good job.” He patted my knee.

  I wasn’t sure about that. I needed to observe the effects of my work in real life. Sometimes things sound good in theory but, in reality, they don’t work. That’s why scientists have to do trials and experiments. You just never know if what you think will work, actually will. The doubt was killing me. But I’d have to wait a few more days to find out.

  Saturday, October 5, 7:40 a.m.

  Conditions: Tremors (my guts, not the Earth’s mantle)

  Haji stood up at breakfast. He dinged the side of his water glass with his fork. “Everyone, everyone. Listen, please.”

  My heart started racing. This was it.

  “I’d like for everybody to come to my house today,” Haji said.

  Mom glared at him suspiciously. “Do you need to pick up something?”

  “No, Peter and I want to show you something.”

  L.B. buried her face into the sleeve of Hammy’s cardigan and started giggling. “The suspense is too much to bear!”

  “What’s going on?” Dad asked. “Peter? Haji?”

  “Let’s go,” Haji said impatiently.

  “So early!” Hammy said as she strained to look at the clock. She was understandably confused. “What time is it, L.B.? I can’t read the clock.”

  “It’s 7:40.”

  “What’s so important to see at 7:40 on a Saturday morning?” Mom quizzed Haji.

  “Cha, stop asking questions and get dressed!”

  “But L.B. hasn’t finished her breakfast!” Mom protested.

  “Bring it in the car! Come! Come!” Haji gathered everybody up.

  “But I need my sweater,” Hammy said.

  “Yobo, you’re wearing a sweater already,” Haji said gently.

  Hammy looked down, patted her chest and shook her head. “Ah, I forgot.”

  I knew Mom and Dad had just added that t
o their mental checklist of reasons why Hammy needed to move out of her house. The thought left me petrified. I was sitting there like a zombie statue.

  Haji tugged me by my armpit and urged me to stand. He whispered, “Don’t be nervous!”

  “Too bad. I am!” I whispered back.

  L.B. leaned in and said quietly, “I have complete confidence that you executed our plan to perfection.” She then started giggling again. She even started to spin around in circles like a top gone out of control.

  “Okay, what in the world is happening?” Mom shouted. “I am not going anywhere until I get some more information.” She crossed her arms.

  Haji said angrily, “This is not about you. Not everything about you. Just drive the minivan, okay?”

  8:05 a.m.

  Conditions: Richter scale reading of 6.0 (my guts, not for real)

  “What is going on?” Mom asked again as she walked through the door at Hammy and Haji’s house.

  Haji adjusted the Time picture before he said, “Peter did a lot of work.”

  “You helped me a lot, Haji.” We smiled at each other.

  “Come inside, look! Look!” Haji motioned for everybody to come inside. Everybody was so tentative, especially Hammy.

  Hammy didn’t seem to know where to go first. “Let’s start here,” I suggested. I guided her by the elbow into the kitchen. I held on lightly because she had just had her cast removed and her arm was weak.

  I glanced over at Mom, who had had a slightly suspicious look on her face from the moment we left our house, but her face had relaxed and she was taking it all in.

  Hammy and I stopped and stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Each cabinet and drawer had been streamlined and excess stuff removed, and each front had a label on it. Haji and I had made each label by hand. I was nervous about what she was going to say about me and Haji rearranging her kitchen.

  “Oh!” Hammy laughed. “A label for kimchi jars!” She pointed. It was my favorite picture. I had used up all the ink in my orange marker for that one.

  “Look here! The chopstick drawer!” L.B. said.

  “You have a lot of chopsticks, Hammy,” I told her.

  “Every Korean person have lots of chopsticks,” she said, chuckling.

  I watched Hammy look at each label carefully. I chewed my lip wondering if I’d made the right choices. I had decided that there was no single size of label that would work. Each drawer and cabinet had a hand-drawn picture of its interior contents. I wanted the pictures to be big enough but not overwhelming. I wanted them to be realistic and colored accurately. The kitchen took a long time. I was glad to have Haji with me the whole time because when I was coloring, my hand started to cramp and he helped me when he could.

  Each label was also bilingual. I wrote in English and Haji wrote the Korean translation. Haji and I both noticed that Hammy was flipping in and out of Korean and English a lot more than she used to, so we thought she needed both. He also had very neat printing, just like me. I loved watching him draw the Korean characters, each word looking like its own little piece of art.

  “This is so good, Peter.” Hammy beamed at me as she ran her hand across the front of a label.

  “It was L.B.’s idea,” I said, giving her credit. “She found this really great article with practical advice to help when…” I struggled to find the words. “When somebody really important to you needs help.”

  L.B. smiled proudly and she hugged Hammy’s waist.

  “Wow,” Hammy said as she opened a drawer and looked carefully inside. “So organized.” She hadn’t been home in so long I wondered if she recognized anything. I wondered if any of this would help.

  I watched Hammy closely. It looked like she was seeing this kitchen for the first time.

  “Peter!” Mom said to me quietly. “This is incredible.”

  I smiled awkwardly.

  “It’s supposed to help a lot,” I said. “So she doesn’t feel confused. And if she’s looking for something, she can just read the label instead of randomly opening drawers and cupboards. The kitchen and the bathroom were the hardest to do. There’s just so much important stuff hidden away.”

  Dad patted my back. “Where did you learn to do all this?” he asked as he looked around in wonder.

  I thought about it. The answer was so obvious.

  “Paleontology,” I answered quietly. But they weren’t waiting for an answer, and they had gone off to wander around and look at the labels and the way I had organized things.

  I didn’t realize it until that very moment, and the realization hit me hard. All that time I had spent reading books, digging in the backyard pit and making field notes, none of that was wasted time. It had all brought us here to this moment where, at last, it was my turn to take care of Hammy.

  “Did you see Peter’s maps?” Haji asked Dad.

  “No! Show me!”

  Haji showed him the one I had posted at the bottom of the stairs. I drew that one in two ways: bird’s-eye view, like a flat, two-dimensional floor plan, and a three-dimensional picture—so if Hammy stood in the living room, she could look at the map and see that up the stairs to the left there were bedrooms. I also drew a very prominent arrow in the hallway pointing to the washroom.

  When Mom was alone in the kitchen looking at the labels on the cabinet fronts, I walked up to her and asked, “Do you think she’ll be able to stay at home now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You won’t send her away to a seniors’ home?” I said. “Not even that place in Surrey?”

  Mom sighed heavily. “Peter, how did you find out?”

  “Partly the recycling, partly I overheard you.”

  Mom closed her eyes.

  “Listen, Peter, I don’t know how Hammy is going to do at home. Nobody knows how this will play out over time. Dementia is very common in the elderly, and for some people it progresses quickly and for other people it doesn’t. We have to keep our options open,” Mom said gently. “She is on several waiting lists right now. But I promise you we will give her every opportunity to stay at home, as long as it makes sense for everyone. We hired an aide to come visit her twice a week and help with cleaning, and, of course, we will be visiting more often too. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  I looked down to the ground.

  “Peter, what you did here, to help Hammy, I’m sure that it is going to help her right now. It’s going to make her life here, right now, so much easier. That’s pretty amazing, right? Isn’t that all we can ask for, to enjoy the here and now?” she asked hopefully.

  I nodded and didn’t speak right away. I wanted to make sure Mom knew I was listening. “L.B. will be crushed if Hammy gets sent away,” I said. I should have also included myself, but I didn’t.

  “I know,” Mom said. “Then let’s enjoy being together for as long as we can.”

  Chapter 38

  WHEN MOM DOESN’T KNOW BEST

  Friday, November 8, 8:30 a.m.

  Conditions: Crisp. Season is definitely changing

  The best thing education has given children is the extra-long weekend. I don’t know what teachers do exactly on “professional development days,” but based on what I’ve seen in the staff room on regular school days, there is probably cake. And when there’s a PD day on a Friday and then a holiday on the following Monday, in this case Remembrance Day, well, those four days off are pretty sweet for the kids too, even if we don’t have cake.

  The first day of a four-day long weekend break from school is a bit disorienting because it’s a Friday but it has that Saturday feel. There was no rush to get out the door and no reason to change out of my pajamas.

  Mom was really going all out this morning—she was making poached eggs, on a weekday! She was whisking the hollandaise sauce vigorously when the doorbell rang.

  “Peter, I can’t stop or the sa
uce will break. Can you see who it is?” Her wrist flew around in circles.

  “Sure.” My pj’s weren’t super embarrassing this morning, just old sweatpants and a T-shirt. Both were just a little too small.

  I cracked the front door open. At first all I could see was a bright pink sweater. It was Hammy. I opened the door wider.

  “Hammy!” I proclaimed. “Haji!” He was standing right behind her.

  “Good morning!” They stepped into the house.

  “Mom? Dad?” Mom yelled from the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just stopping by,” Hammy said reassuringly.

  L.B. raced down the stairs and ran into Hammy’s arms.

  “I was just thinking about you!” L.B. gushed.

  “Do you want some eggs?” Mom asked.

  “Sure!” Hammy and Haji sat down at the table.

  Mom gave everybody their breakfasts. It may have been the best meal she’d ever made. L.B., the notorious nibbler, licked her plate clean like a cat. Hammy even asked for more ham, which made Mom happy.

  Hammy and Haji had been back in their house for about two weeks now and everybody was adjusting. It was a bittersweet day when they packed up their things from our place. Haji and I had done what we could to make it easy for Hammy to feel good in her house, and after all those weeks sleeping next to L.B., I was ready to get my bed back and her out of my room. Sitting around eating breakfast with them again, I realized I missed them a lot.

  “I found circus camp,” Hammy said to Mom as she took her last bite and put down her fork.

  “You’re a little too old to run away and join the circus, Mom,” she said humorlessly.

  “Not for me,” Hammy replied irritably. “For L.B. It’s only for four days over the long weekend.”

  Mom stopped loading the dishwasher and looked at Hammy, confused. After finishing her breakfast, L.B. had left the table to read Human Invention: A History on the sofa. Now she looked up hopefully and put her book down.