Fare Forward (25 page)

I stand there for what seems like an eternity. I look down at the ground as the echo of his words dissipates through the open space. And then, I fight back. I reach into the crush of emotion that has remained behind the dark wall I built in my heart and I find the light. This is a chance I know I need to take, there is no choice. I wait until the silence has settled all around us.

"I can see something, and Benjamin is there. I just know and I need to try, to trust this." I point to my heart as I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Gabriella." His voice is broken as he says my name and steps toward me.

"Papa, she's here with me and she's with you, too. I can feel her inside. She told me to make my own choices, to trust my heart and I do. Please understand."

He looks at me with eyes that have seen so much, more than I could ever know.

"It's been so many years." He takes my face in his hands. I feel that he wants to make sure I really understand. "And I'm so tired, Gabriella, of the fight and all the doubt."

Maggie walks over to him and puts her hands on his arm as she nods to him in encouragement. "Let her go."

"Gabriella," my grandfather says with resignation. "We took our chances, we had our dream. It's time for you to live yours."

I
SINK BACK INTO my seat on the train. I want to take this time to balance out the stunning revelations of the last two days. The rocking motion is a welcome predictability in the route I have traveled so many times between Boston and New York City. I keep replaying in my mind everything that happened. The terrifying pull of the sea, what I had learned from Maggie, my grandfather, and, of course, Benjamin. Everything they had said and what they had not. There was also the recognition that I was not alone, my grandfather's confirmation had finally acknowledged what had haunted me my entire life. The visions and dreams I couldn't understand and why my grandmother never came back. The pieces were coming together, and Benjamin was at the center of it all.

I couldn't help myself from feeling,
knowing,
that I was on the edge, the threshold of the beginning of everything in my life. What I had wished for and what had always been beyond my reach. There is also the undeniable sense of dread that I keep trying to push away about my grandfather and our trip. Maybe time with Benjamin will help clarify the many questions I still had and give us time to foster a more conventional progression of our relationship.

Fat chance.
Nothing
about this was conventional.

As sleep finds me, I feel myself clinging to my grandmother's words and Maggie's assurances. The feeling I have deep in my heart that meeting Benjamin is my destiny.

"Good morning, beautiful."

It's Philip.

It feels good to be back in the architecture studio in Avery Hall, safe at my desk, in a world I feel that I have a little bit of control over.

"Heyyy." I try to sound enthusiastic, overriding the exhaustion I feel.

"I got you coffee. You look like you could use one." He notices my eyes, my bandaged arm. "Or something stronger?" He laughs at his own humor and then becomes more serious. "Are you okay?"

"Thanks, it's a little early for the other, but I'll take the coffee." I ignore the question and the concerned look on his face.

"Did you go away for the weekend?" He has his foot on my suitcase thrown on the floor next to the desk.

"Yes, I went home."

He raises one eyebrow, and a devilish grin forms on his face. I can almost see the thoughts formulating in his mind. I know he is trying to engage me in conversation, to figure out what is bothering me.

"A wild weekend I see." He gently strokes the sling that holds my injured arm immobile next to my body. "Are you keeping someone a secret from us, love? That might explain your unwillingness to
socialize
with your close friends?"

If he only knew the secrets I had.

"No. Just visiting my grandfather."

I thought I would leave out the other information such as the almost drowning part, that my family were mystics, and my grandfather was on the verge of proving Einstein's theory that tunnels existed, connecting our universe to other worlds. Oh, and that I thought I had met my soul mate from another world who lived in the most mind-blowing loft in the middle of New York City.

"How is my good friend, the mad, lovable scientist Dokteurrr Vogel?" He says the word doctor with a German accent as he raises his fingers in front of his face. "Let me see if I remember what Ms. Mary Shelley wrote in
Frankenstein.
'The world was to him a secret which he desired to divine. Curiosity, earnest research to learn the hidden laws of nature, gladness akin to rapture. . .' Gabriella?"

"Something like that." I laugh at the absurdity of the inference, yet realize that I have always loved those words from the novel. "Well, you got something out of that fancy boarding school you went to. A few memorized lines from classic British literature."

"Quite right, darling."

I turn away and look out the windows.

"Helloooo?" He waves his hand up and down in front of my face. "Anyone home? What's up with you?"

I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything. I need someone to assure me that I am not insane, that my world still has pieces in it that are real, predictable,
normal.

"Hey, kid." He puts his hand on my shoulder as he looks down at everything on my desk. "How is your project coming?"

I stare at the papers and wood models, layers of computer generated drawings, charcoal sketches, and other works in progress that cover the surface of my desk completely. I see the books and papers that are piled high and squint my eyes to focus on the calendar pinned to the back of my bulletin board. Checking again how many days we have left to complete the semester, numbering the hours before the final critique.

"Fair actually, I'm not sure how I'm going to pull the whole thing together before the end of the semester. I have so much to do."

"You'll be fine. You always are."

"I don't know, Philip. It's been hard for me to concentrate."

He tilts his head. "Maybe what you need is a home-cooked meal. Why don't you come over later. I'll take care of you." He winks. "Given your injury?"

"No, I—"

"Wait, don't tell me." He puts his hand up in front of me in the stop position. "You can't, you have something to do. Let's see, meeting with someone who is about to change the world." He folds his arms in playful resignation.

"Now that's not fair, Philip, eating is low priority," I lie. I can't believe I'm rejecting his tempting offer of a home-cooked meal. "I'll probably just stay here at my desk. There's so much to do to get ready for the final critique."

"Right the
critttttt,
how could I forget?" He nods his head and looks up at the ceiling, tapping his finger on his temple. Remembering back to that day a few weeks before. His ever present sarcasm as he emphasizes and draws out the word
crit.

He isn't finished. I wait and cross my legs in mock impatience as I tap my foot in the air.

"Go on." I brace myself for more teasing.

"Well, Miss Vogel, the pursuant of the joint degree in painting
and
architecture person. What was it that mystery critic said about you? The physicist I believe it was."

I feel every muscle in my body tighten and my teeth clench together as I try to look at him with nonchalance. I don't want to reveal any reaction at all. What I am really feeling at the mere mention of Benjamin. But he isn't finished.

"Oh, yes, something about your inner creativity. Looking for a
new way
of saying things—or something along those lines." He waves his hand in the air. "Quite the compliment, Gabriella."

The memory of that day washes over me as if it had just happened.

"Philip—"

"Yeah, man, he really thought your project was—"

"STOP it!" I yell and hunch over the desk as I try to retreat into myself.

"Gabriella." His voice is soft with concern. "It's
him
isn't it? There's something about him and you? Your grandfather?"

I turn to face him. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"They've been working together."

"And? I know you, there's something else. You can talk to me, Gabriella, please, you can trust me."

"He's found it, Philip." I say it with no emotion. I am numb. "He's going to reveal his proof at the World Conference in a few weeks."

He stares at me dumbfounded, then says, "This is it. Everything is going to change."

"For all of us, for our world."

"I'm calling Emily." Philip picks up his phone. "You need us now. It's time for you to tell us. Everything."

We sit together in a corner booth at our favorite diner on Broadway. It's the first time that I can remember Emily not saying a word. She just sits and listens to what I am saying, shaking her head, tears in her eyes. They are both shocked by everything I am telling them. The truth about who Benjamin is, my grandfather's stunning proof, and what really happened to my grandmother in Switzerland.

Philip slams his hand on the table and everyone in the diner turns to look at us. "I knew it, I
knew
he could do it. This is amazing, historic, it's going to change everything."

Emily reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "Gabriella." She has finally found her voice. "You need to go find him."

"Oh, Emily, I think he's away. But I don't know."

"This is the most amazing, crazy, romantic thing I've ever heard. It's like a fairy tale."

"Emily is right. You've got to go. Now!"

And in their eyes I recognize for the very first time what these two people are to me. That they have really always been there, to support and love me.

"You're right." I feel my heart accelerating at the thought of what I am about to do. "Thank you, both."

I get up from the table and—I
run.

I
WILL GO DOWN to Benjamin's loft. To find him, to tell him, to thank him for saving my life. For saving
me.
The last few days, everything I did, everywhere I went, conjured up images of him and everything I loved about him: the cathedral, the architecture critique, and the way his face had looked at my drawings pinned up on the wall. Then, the night he saved me on the beach, the amazing things I had seen before the pull of the water and everything he had said. This was new territory that I found myself in.

I couldn't believe the absurd, crazy changes that had come over me in the last few months. Within minutes, I am on the subway hurtling through the depths of the city. My preferred means of transportation, I need
speed
to get to him. I cannot be delayed by traffic or other impediments. I feel that I am holding on for dear life, to the safety bar on the rocking subway and to my resolve—that I would never permit myself to feel this way about anyone. To open my heart completely to another.

It is all being discarded.

I can't wait to see him, touch him, and wrap my arms around him. I need to prove to myself that he is
real,
that I haven't simply imagined it all. So much of my life has been lived in the safety of my imagination. Now I question whether I can trust even that.

The screeching wheels of the train brake as we arrive in the mid-town station where I will emerge, closer to him. I stand close to the doors and wait for them to open so that I can rush out. My foot touches the platform and I break into a run, bounding up the steps two at a time while I sidestep other passengers.

"Excuse me, sorry."

I force my way through the crowd and out into the night air. Rain hits my face and again I realize how unprepared I am for everything. I have no umbrella to protect myself, not even one of the many Red Sox caps I was known to wear, inviting comment in this city of Yankees. The long avenue seems endless, and I run as fast as I can and turn down his street. I arrive at the door, its simplicity belying the world that I know exists beyond. The last time I was here had been burned permanently into my memory.

Changing my life.

I ring the bell once and then again as I feel myself being pulled forward by exhilaration and hope. I knock, praying he will open the door. Finally, I hear a clicking noise and a buzz. The small camera positioned above the door frame turns slowly and focuses on my face. The lens opens and snaps shut, and I hear the loud release of the door as it disengages from its lock. It swings open slowly, and I walk into the elegant vestibule and stand alone in its silent emptiness.

"Benjamin?" My voice is urgent, I don't understand why he hasn't answered himself. "Are you here?"

Everything seems different, empty and dark. It is all so quiet, so still. The warmth and magic that had pervaded the space the last time I was here with him is gone. I feel a panic that I try to suppress.

"Miss Vogel."

It's a soft male voice. He says my name as if he has known me my whole life. I spin around as I try to regain the sense of balance I seem to be without when I am here. Standing in front of me is a slight, middle-aged man, dressed in black. Some sort of a uniform. I had definitely not seen him the last time I was here. I know this because I had replayed every detail of that night in my mind hundreds of times.

"It is wonderful to have you here, again," he says the words as if delivering a well-rehearsed message. "I work for Dr. Landsman, my name is Max."

"Nice to meet you, but—" I try to stay calm, polite. "Where is he?"

"Unfortunately, he is unavailable, he's on his way to Geneva."

"What? He's not here? I thought he was still in New York." I need to hold myself together. "Please, tell me how I can find him."

"He left here about an hour ago for the airport. He flies out later this evening."

I don't want to acknowledge what he has said. I need to push it away. "No, this can't be. I thought he wasn't leaving for a few more days, I thought—"

"He did leave a message to give to you. He said that there was a possibility you might come here tonight."