“We have to get used to it, Mae.”
“Used to what?”
“Being apart. You’re leaving at the end of June. Plebe Summer. Annapolis. Then the military. Five years, right? That’s what you give in exchange for school?”
“Yes.” I overcame my inertia and rescheduled the interview; it’s in two weeks. My study session with Nate tonight is to prep for it. “But I’ll visit—”
“And then you’ll go to Florida or Houston or Russia or wherever NASA sends you. And then the moon. Or whatever.” She shrugs. “Let’s face it, Mae: Our family—it’s done.”
I stare at her. “What?”
My vision turns spotty, like the room has suddenly been infested with gnats.
Our family—it’s done.
“Besides, I’m going to LA soon. Micah and I are getting a place, you know?”
But he’s cheating on you, I want to say. You can’t live with both of them. All three of you.
“We still have a family, Nah. Me and you … and Aunt Nora, Uncle Tony, Nate, Gram, Papa…”
She backs away, toward the bed. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep now.”
“It’s only six! Come on, brownies—”
“I don’t want a fucking brownie, Mae.” She lies down, her back to me. “Shut the door.” She sighs. “Please.”
I walk outside, in the dark, in the cold, my coat buttoned, holding on to the straps of my backpack, which is carrying too much. There is no moon tonight. Too many clouds covering the sky.
I cannot see the stars.
* * *
Trains are good for thinking.
On the Red Line to Harvard Square, which is where Castaways is, my brain begins working the problem of Hannah. I think it’s possible when one decreases distance to Harvard you get an increase in intelligence. Just a theory.
And here is another theory:
The radius of separation between my sister and me is growing, which shouldn’t be scientifically possible, if you consider Coulomb’s law.
In physics, two charged objects of opposite charge are attracted to each other—they move toward each other, thus decreasing the distance of separation. This is why, historically—before the pills—my sister and I got along so well.
For this equation I’m categorizing Hannah as “negative” and me as “positive.” When one considers psychic energetic fields—not sound science, but this is a thought exercise, like string theory—it would make sense to use traditionally considered notions of what positive or negative is. Sad and Addicted = Negative, whereas Relatively Well-Adjusted = Positive. (Please note that “positive” is not a value judgment in which the positive quotient is better.)
Ergo: Hannah = (-) and Mae = (+)
Opposites, as they say, attract.
Not so anymore.
I’m really beginning to wonder if Mom was right. Perhaps humans really do have a quantifiable energy field and you can actually apply the laws of physics to relationships.
(!!!!!!!!!!!)
I’m not suggesting that this experience actually disproves one of the most basic theories of physics, as my sister and I are not objects. However, if my mother’s belief in psychic energetic fields were ever actually proven and shown to be sound science, then the increased separation between Hannah and I would directly challenge Coulomb’s law.
As we know, when distance increases, the forces and electric fields between the two objects decreases. More distance = less connection. Simple, right? Forces between objects (sisters) become stronger as they move together and weaker as they move apart.
According to Coulomb’s law (see below), it should not be possible for Nah and me to be moving apart BECAUSE WE HAVE OPPOSITE CHARGES. Opposites attract! But according to the work I’ve done, THE LAW DOES NOT APPLY TO HUMAN ENERGETIC FIELDS. (If they exist, which we don’t have enough data on yet, but I’m beginning to think they do. I should not mention this fringe theory in my NASA interview.)
BUT WAIT. It IS possible for us to have opposite charges and move apart because even though there is an attractive Coulomb force, our velocities could be moving us away from each other faster than the attractive force can bring us back together. Which means WE ARE GOING TOO FAST IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS. It’s like the wave has thrown Nah and me into separate, fast-moving currents that are moving away from each other. Well, I’m not an oceanographer and actually know nothing about currents, but YOU GET MY DRIFT. (No pun intended.)
My math checks out.
Coulomb’s law is F = kq1q2/r2
Or:
F being the force of our sisterly bond = Hannah’s negative charge as a result of being very sad multiplied by Mae’s positive charge of working the problem and eliminating things that can kill her next, divided by the radius of separation squared, which in this case is the psychic distance created as a result of grief, depression, and addiction squared …
Clearly we should be moving closer to each other.
I must consider the possibility that the radius between us must be so much greater than I thought. Maybe the relative distance is so vast that even though we’re opposites, the charges can’t pick up on each other.
I could have stayed in that room with Hannah. Lay down on the bed with her, or sat at her desk to do my homework. But I didn’t.
Turns out I can be as stubborn as her, when I want to be.
I should not be going to Harvard Square, to a boy with a magnetic force field. She will take another pill. I know it. She wouldn’t be able to, if I were there. But:
Our family—it’s done.
She is a rosa sericea, a winged thorn rose. Known for their huge thorns.
Would she have said that to me if she knew the truth about Micah?
Maybe fourteen years of being told we are sisters isn’t enough. Maybe it does matter—blood. Maybe she feels like her family is done because the other blood members are gone, and she is the only one left.
No.
She’s just depressed. And scared. She thinks I’m leaving her. I am leaving her.
Work the problem.
I stare at the floor of the train, where people have tracked in autumn leaves. Time is going by so fast. Just a month ago, I was wearing shorts and sandals. In LA, but still. Time is running out. I will be leaving soon. And what will happen to Hannah? She won’t be better by June. That’s not possible. That’s not how addiction works. Or grief.
This is why my sister said our family is done. She’s increasing our radius of separation on purpose, because she’s trying to say goodbye. Trying to get used to being alone. Hannah doesn’t practice being alone like I do. She’s not used to it. She hasn’t trained for it. She’s treating these months like a sim for loneliness, and she’s failing every day.
Work the problem.
The train takes a sharp turn, and everyone’s bodies—all the people in here with their coats and scarves and hats—sway in this new direction.
New direction.
Me leaving is a variable. A changeable variable. I’ve been acting like it’s a theory you can’t disprove. But it’s not.
A good astronaut is able to pivot. To work with the situation that’s happening, regardless of their expectations. If you have a flight trajectory set, but something happens to someone on your crew, you’re going to have to make changes. Even if it affects all your hard work. Even if it sacrifices the entire mission. Because the safety of the crew comes first. Always.