by Paloma Meir
“All right,” I was relieved he finally understood the weight of the situation.
“Here,” He reached into his pocket for his cracked leather wallet and pulled out a fifty dollar bill, “Take your sister out to lunch and listen for your phone.”
I took the bill from his hand and saw him clearly for the first time in years. His faded clothes that hadn’t been new since we first moved into our house. His thin body that looked like it hadn’t seen daylight or movement in the same amount of time. His hair that had once been dark now filled with streaks of grey and in need of haircut. A shabby man my father had become.
“Are you okay?” I asked my sister as our father pulled out of the driveway. “Let’s open the rest of the gifts.” I hoped to distract her from the thoughts I could plainly read on her face.
“Are we really going to pretend our mother didn’t just leave in the ambulance with DTs?”
“That was my plan.” I laughed a laugh that I shouldn’t have laughed.
“I’ve never understood why you’re so secretive... You know how I feel? I don’t know how I feel, but I’m happy she’s gone. Sometimes I hate her, most of the time I don’t like her. She’s mean. I think she hates me too. I don’t think that will change if she quits drinking. I wish we could get to college already. If it weren’t for Zelda... I don’t know what I would have done without her. You know the worst part? Our mother treating her as if she were an idiot all the time.” She picked up a present from under the tree.
“Did you know Zelda and I started drinking? Not like mom but when we would go down to the beach... Before you start with a reprimand, we already quit.” She tore into the present as if she wanted to destroy the gift inside, “Nothing good ever comes from drinking, you know?” She threw the box to her side without looking into it and ripped open another present.
“Let’s go for a drive... I don’t know how I feel either.”
“Open a gift.” She threw a box from the Moreau’s to me.
“If that will make you feel better, I will open the gift.”
“I want us to open all of them. I want Christmas to be gone from our house. I want it to be warm outside. World peace would be good too.” She tore into another one, again ignoring the contents.
“I’ve always hoped for a unifying theory of everything but world peace would be fine.” My gift from the Moreau’s was a navy plaid pea coat. I threw it in the pile with Carolina’s discarded boxes. “Do you want to take the tree outside and chop it up? There’s an axe in the garage.”
“Do you ever talk to anyone, Serge? The answers aren’t in the stars. Why would I want to chop up a tree?”
“Celena, I talked to Celena.” I gave up.
“You’re crazy girlfriend up the street?” She looked up at me from the pile of torn boxes and ribbon. I must have looked surprised. “My God Serge did you really think I didn’t know you had a girlfriend? You do know that you and your friends are kind of popular? It’s high school. People talk.” She threw a box to me. “Open it. It’s from an aunt we've never met. I told Zelda about her once. She didn’t believe me. She thinks you don’t have any interest in girls. If it’s possible she’s weirder about you than you are about her. You should see how she acts when Veronica talks about you.” She stood up. “Take me to meet Celena.”
“It’s Christmas. We can’t just go to people’s houses like that.” That wasn’t true, and it was an insult to my sister who was just reaching out to me. She wanted honesty. I would give her honesty. “Celena is bi-polar. She’s taking medication. I’ve been trying to help her, but nothing works. I’m embarrassed by her and by our mother. I’m most embarrassed by our father. I may hate our father. He’s not a man. I like to think of Zelda as the perfect human being, and no I don’t have romantic feelings for her, as you like to think sometimes. That’s it. That’s all the secrets I have for you. Are you happy now?”
“Our alcoholic mother just left in an ambulance with our worm of a father following behind in a broken down old car. No, I’m not happy. I didn’t know Celena was bi-polar. I’m sorry I called her crazy. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure Zelda’s one wish would be to put you in a box and keep you all for herself, no “romantic feelings” on her part either. I used to think you two were lying to yourselves, but I guess I was wrong.” She sat down in the pile of torn gift-wrapping and looked away, “We... she... it was so bad...” She started to cry and curled up on the floor.
“Whatever we may or may not feel, our mother getting help is good, okay? Don’t cry, Carolina, it’s going to get better, and I’m not just saying that, I mean it. Come on, get up. I’ll take you to meet Celena. We can go visit Zelda, and even your “official” boyfriend John.” I completely misunderstood the source of her tears. My honest and open sister was carrying the biggest secret of them all.
“We can’t visit Zelda... Take a shower. You have vomit in your hair. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’ll go take a shower. You get yourself together, and we’ll go for a drive. We can go visit whoever you want.”
My shower was quick but Carolina was quicker. I came back downstairs to find all the evidence of Christmas was gone. She had dragged the tree out onto the lawn, ornaments and all. All the packaging was in the garbage. The gifts, other than what was left to give others, were open and in piles of who they belonged to.
“Good work, Carolina.” I picked up Celena’s, Zelda and Anthony’s packages. “Let’s drop these off. Did Dad call you? I don’t have any messages on my phone.”
“No calls. Should we go check on them? The paramedics said they were taking her to Cedars.”
“No, he needs to take care of her. We’ll see her tomorrow. Let’s go. We’ll drop off Zelda and Anthony’s presents, and then I’ll take you to meet what’s left of Celena. You know what? I feel lighter and more free talking to you. I’ve been holding all this in for months. Thanks Carolina. Celena isn’t Celena anymore... What I mean is she isn’t who... well, you know... The original Celena was difficult... but when she wasn’t difficult, she was perfect... brilliant.”
“Does someone have to be “perfect” for you to love them?” She laughed as we got into my car.
“Well, if we’re going by time, basing it on Celena ups and downs, 68% perfection is enough for me. Yes, I did a time breakdown. What can I say? Math comes easily to me.” I poked her hard in the ribs as brothers are meant to do to their sisters.
“Wow Serge," she laughed harder. “Imagine if you ever met the perfect human being. I wonder how you would feel?”
“Are you being clever again? I don’t like to go over 90% perfection. It gets a little too angelic. You’re lucky that way, Carolina. You’re a solid 54%." I pulled over in front of Zelda’s house unable to breath from laughter. I was pretty sure it was based more on the stress of the day than my perfection equations. “Will you drop these off on their doorstep? I don’t feel like seeing them.” I handed her the gifts.
“Come on, Serge. Let’s go inside.”
“No. Just leave the gifts on the porch.”
“Okay,” She rolled her eyes and ran to their door.
“Celena or John next?” I asked as she got back in my car.
“Celena.”
“Okay,” I made a U-turn on the wide street. The car handled well. “Know that this isn’t the real Celena.”
“You’ve said that a couple times, and I don’t know what you mean. How long has she been “not the real Celena”?”
“Almost four months.”
“You’ve been seeing her for four months like this? Why? You know I saw you two together once in front of school. She was yelling at you. Her hands were in fists. I worried she was going to hit you... Then all of a sudden she was kissing you. Really weird.”
“You don’t abandon people when they’re down, Carolina. I thought she would come back.” I shrugged and pulled the car up in front of Celena’s house. “How she is now might be as good as she gets. I
don’t remember the time you’re talking about. That happened a lot. My friends didn’t like her, not even Danny, and he’s a friendly guy.”
…
I could see the confusion in Celena's eyes as Carolina and I sat down on the sofa and made small talk with her parents. Her brain was slow, bland, but she didn’t suffer from memory problems. She knew and understood the reasons why I had always kept her apart from my family.
I watched Celena and my sister speak and wondered if I would tell her about the morning with my mother. Looking at the dullness in her eyes I knew I wouldn’t talk to her about it. Her response wouldn’t have insight. She would be full of the meaningless words we had always thought less of others for using.
“We have to go now. Come on Carolina.” I abruptly stood up ready to leave. “Merry Christmas.” I handed her the gift I had clutched in my hands.
“Don’t go Serge.” She had a pleading look in her eyes as she stood up next to me. “We’re going to have lunch. My grandparents will be here soon. You’ve never met them.”
I didn’t want to meet them, and in that moment, I wished that I had never met her. The brushed hair and blue corduroy dress looked like a lie to me, and her prettiness being the greatest deceit.
“Sorry, I promised my sister I would take her down to Santa Monica. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Carolina looked at me as if it were me, and not Celena who was the liar.
“Okay.” She picked up a small package and handed it to me, “Merry Christmas.”
I threw her unwanted gift into the backseat of my car and hoped to never see it again.
“That was so rude Serge. We don’t have a schedule we need to keep. Why did you act like that?” Carolina slammed the car door.
“I didn’t act like anything.”
“You shouldn’t see her anymore if you think that was acceptable behavior... Let’s just go home and wait for Dad to call us. I’ll reheat the duck.”
“You’re right. Visiting people after our morning probably wasn’t the best idea.” I pulled into our driveway.
Carolina made a meal of leftovers from the night before. We sat in the living room and watched a video of the great Richard Feynman that a friend in my physics club had put together. He had edited the six hours of clips in chronological order. I watched my hero go from a youngish clean cut man in slim cut suits to an older man of the 80’s with the longish hair and casual clothes.
Carolina sat beside me texting and occasionally asking me to clarify theories. I kept my answers short. I didn’t want a replay of my overexcited explanations to Zelda. Most of the clips were of him explaining the very complicated ideas in simple lay terms, a skill I needed to work on. Most physicists felt a duty to spread the concepts.
“What do people do with all of this? What if....”
“Are you asking if there are practical purposes to having a unified theory?” I wanted to laugh.
“I guess.”
“We’re on the verge of being able to see the light from the Big Bang. That’s not enough for you?” I did laugh.
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“I don’t know what part you don’t understand. The Big Bang is when the arrow of time starts. It only goes forward, like a straight line. Nothing else in the Universe behaves that way. Second law of Thermodynamics entropy, it doesn’t fit with time, everything else moves around, changes shape, not time.” I knew I wasn’t explaining it well again, “Maybe time is just your position in motion.” I shrugged and went back to watching the video.
“Are you trying to build a time machine?”
“No Carolina, I am not trying to build a time machine. It’s a mystery I want to solve. Don’t you question things?”
My father walked in the front door before Carolina could answer my question. If it were possible, he looked even more pitiful than when he left in the morning that felt like another lifetime ago. I didn’t think either Carolina or myself had thought about our mother since coming home from our ill-fated attempt at going out into the world.
“Good, you’ve eaten.” He took a seat on the sofa across from us. “Your mother will be staying in the hospital for a few days for detox. After that she’ll be admitted to a rehabilitation facility. She’ll be away for a month.”
Carolina continued texting. I stared at my Dad and tried to formulate a question I felt duty bound to ask. Nothing came to mind. I had lived in Los Angeles too long to not know the procedure for people going off to rehab. It seemed like every few weeks at our school someone was sent away to rehab or one of those “therapeutic” boarding schools. It wasn’t limited to the kids either, a couple of the parents of my friends had gone off too. I knew logically there was no need for the embarrassment I felt, but there it was anyway.
“Carolina, could you put down your phone?” He sat forward in his seat and held his hands together, twisting them, “This isn’t something I’ve ever wanted to discuss with you two... It’s a matter of finances. We live on an annuity which up until now has always met our needs.” He sighed and looked away. I didn’t like where this was going, “It’s our insurance... It doesn’t cover the type of rehabilitation your mother needs... only outpatient... The detox is covered at 50%...” I wanted to shake the words out of him. “How are you two in line for scholarships?” He looked directly at me.
“I don’t know because my whole life I’ve been told I’m going to college without mention of how it would all be paid for. I’m sure that mom told me we had accounts set up for that purpose by her mother.”
“You do, Serge,” He glanced over at my sister, “and you too, Carolina. Unfortunately in our financial planning, we never anticipated a catastrophe. We’ll need to go into your accounts to cover the costs not paid by the insurance. It won’t be too much... and you two have always been strong students.... especially you, Serge.”
“That’s fine Dad. Take it from my account not Carolina’s. Between the Prism Prize and all the other competitions, I must have at least two years tuition.” My hate for my father grew deeper. I remained calm.
“Don’t listen to Serge, Dad. Split it evenly between our accounts. I can always get student loans,” My sister stated displaying her startling ignorance of how the system works.
“No Carolina. I’m not going to have you paying back money until you’re our parent’s age. I have it covered. I’m a National Merit Scholar, I have a 4.8 GPA, a 2380 on my SATs. I don’t have enough space in my room for all the awards I’ve won. I’ll get a full scholarship or enough to cover the years not covered by my grants.” That was very true. A college, most likely even a top tier one would accept me with full funding but not necessarily MIT or even Cal Tech.
“Okay, that’s settled.” My father stood up with an eye towards his office door.
“Hey Dad, before you go into your office, could you answer one question?” You went to Cornell? Right? Why don’t you work?”
“I met your mother through work. You know this Serge. I managed her parent’s hotel..."
“That was eight years ago.”
“After the move... She didn’t want me to work.” His head firmly down. He went into his office.
“Serge, I’m not you, but I’m sure I could get grants and scholarships. You’re so silly.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal anyway. How much could all of this really cost?” I leaned back into the sofa, “Do you think that’s why he didn’t get her help before? Because of the money?” The thought made me sick.
“I don’t think I could live in our home with him anymore if that were the reason. So I’m not going to consider it.” She went back to texting, and I went up to my room.
…
I did the mathematical equations in my head. I knew I had at least two years covered through my prizes, which left two unpaid years at MIT. Two years of UCLA would be the equivalent of one year at MIT. Student loans were not an option in my mind. I would have to earn two years tuition for the worst-
case scenario, more that that actually. I hadn’t counted living expenses. Frugal as I was, I still spent money.
Mr. Moreau had extended my hours and given me a raise with Anthony because the kid could not focus. His parent’s inattention worked in his favor. Any other family would have had him on ADD medicine. His mind ran like a rabbit, such a contrast to the soothing nature of his sister.
I had saved a little over three thousand dollars from my job. I figured I would need at the very least $16,000 for the four years of living expenses. I played with the numbers in my head. I thought of taking on more kids as a tutor. There were hyper rich kids up and down my canyon. I could make flyers and put them in the mailboxes. Even a two percent return on my direct advertising plan could conceivably cover my expenses.
I fell asleep facing the hard fact that I would go to the school that offered the greatest financial incentives. I would not take on loans. Students all over the country had to make the same concessions every day. I had assumed I would live a modest life within the walls of scientific research, but there was huge difference between modest living and crippling debt.