“Just please, give it up already,” Mom tells me. “I talked to Ben this morning and he can get you on at the Goddard Institute. You can stay with him and Carla until you get your feet under you again, but you’re going to have to let him know right away because there’s a very narrow window for him to squeeze you in.”
Standing up, I start to pace the tiny room. “I’m not moving to New York. I’m not abandoning my team. I’m going to stay on and keep fighting to live another day because that’s what teams do.”
“But you could be part of a new team—a much better one that does real work.”
“I do real work,” I grind out, exchanging eye rolls with Allie.
“You know what I mean—work that will yield real results, instead of spending your entire life waiting for something that won’t happen for another four hundred years, if it even happens at all,” she says, sounding totally exasperated. “This is your chance, Gwendolyn. You can finally do something important with your life.”
I think about what she said, and suddenly Ty pops into my mind, and what he said to me about my parents. “You know what, Mom? It’s sad to me that you can’t see me for who I really am because I’m fucking amazing.”
Keenan’s eyes pop open but he nods and mouths, “That’s true.”
“Gwendolyn! Language!”
“I’ll swear if I fucking want to, Mom, because I’m an adult,” I say, standing up straighter. “And you know what else? I have a rare combination of high-functioning logical reasoning, intelligence, and optimism. I’m a dreamer, and I’m not ashamed of that because you know who else was a dreamer? Einstein. And Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawking—all of whom were convinced that there is intelligent life on other planets. And I’m not saying I’m a genius, so don’t think you have to set me straight on that because you don’t. I’m just saying I’m in pretty damn good company.”
Bringing up Einstein, her hero, is definitely going to ruffle her feathers, but you know what? Good. I want to ruffle them.
“Einstein never explicitly said he believed in alien life forms.”
“He basically did,” I tell her, glancing at the poster of him sticking his tongue out. “In 1920, when he posed the question, ‘Why should the earth be the only planet supporting human life? It is not singular in any other respect.’ He was most definitely open to the possibility, and since he was the G.O.A.T., I’d think that would be enough to open your very closed mind,” I say, quickly following that with, “G.O.A.T. stands for greatest of all?—”
“I know what it stands for,” she snaps.
“Good,” I say, realizing I’ve fallen back into the trap of trying to argue her into believing in what I do. I sigh, and flop down into my chair. “You know what? This conversation is over. Forever. You can either accept that your daughter has a respectable career as an astrobiologist, or don’t. I don’t really care because it’s my life and it makes me happy. I’m not going to spend the rest of my days trying to convince you. You can be disappointed in me if you want, like your mom was that you only had two children instead of eight like she did. That’s up to you. But I’m done trying to prove myself to you.” Tears fill my eyes as I say, “I like me. I believe in what I do. I’m excited for my future, and that’s all that matters.”
There’s silence on the line, then, after a moment, she says, “Well, good, I guess.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Yes. I’ll stop trying to talk you out of your job.”
“You’re not just saying that because you believe it’s coming to an end?” I ask, scared to believe her.
“Maybe a little, but I promise I won’t say anything if you do somehow manage to keep things going.”
My heart lifts and I feel suddenly lighter. “Really? Why would you do that?”
She sighs. “Because you’re my daughter and I love you, and, according to Carla, I’ve been unnecessarily hard on you.”
Wow, score one for Carla, my new favorite sister-in-law. “Okay, good.”
“I know you’re smart, Gwendolyn. I’ve never thought otherwise,” Mom says. “Which is why I fought you so hard on your career. If I didn’t think you had incredible potential, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
“Well, in that case, thank you, but no thank you. I’ve got it covered.”
“I’ll do my best to keep that in mind,” she says. “Now, are you still coming home for Christmas?”
“No, but not because I’m upset. It’s because we have a tough job ahead of us and a very tight deadline.”
“I understand. It won’t be the same without you, but we’ll be rooting for you,” Mom says, adding, “Well, you know, sort of.”
I let out a laugh and she joins in, and suddenly, I feel closer to her than I have in years. The distance between us wasn’t just in miles, it was in keeping each other at arm’s length emotionally. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, Gwendolyn.” Her voice wobbles a bit as she says, “And even more than that, I’m proud of you. You have more determination than your father and I put together.”
My face scrunches up in an ugly cry and tears roll down my cheeks. My voice cracks and I say, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”