was there too." I point at the photograph. "Einstein."
"You have quite the memory."
"It's an incredible story, when you met Grandma Sophie. The party, the house, and all the people who were there—"
He stands up out of his chair suddenly, as if what I said has knocked all the air out of him. All the color has left his face.
"Are you okay?" I approach him cautiously.
"What else did she tell you, about the
people
we met there?"
"Nothing. Just her parents and you. There must have been others at the party, but she never spoke of anyone in particular."
I wait, hoping that he'll come back to me. Back to the conversation we are having, but he is in retreat. I've hit a nerve.
"Why are you always pulling me into the past? Ghosts, Gabriella—they are just ghosts. Finish your packing for school. Go, please, let me be."
I back away from his desk, hurt by his uncharacteristic words. Clearly I had upset him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring this up." I choke back the tears. "I don't understand why we can't ever talk about her anymore?"
"Gabriella, just leave it alone."
"It was always through her eyes," I say slowly, "that I could see myself. Really understand."
"Don't do this; choose something else to think about!" he practically shouts, and I see the anger and frustration on his face.
"Yes, of course." I say. But I want to tell him that I need to choose for myself, that she would have wanted me to.
The sun shifts and a beam of light comes into the room and catches the edge of a small bronze medallion that I have always loved. I reach for it, its edges polished from years of touch, and turn it over in my hands. Slowly I look at the odd shapes and symbols on its surface, the lines that create a star and the seven spaces, ancient letters that I do not understand. Symbols of the ancient mystical tradition of my family.
"You've always loved that," I hear his voice behind me. I am embarrassed that he has caught me holding one of his precious objects and I quickly put it down.
"It's all right. Ever since you were a child, something about it has always attracted you. I want you to have it."
Removing an object from this sacred space seems wrong. I stare into his deep blue eyes and wait to see if he is going to say more, but it is as if he has stopped himself, catching a thought that he was not yet ready to reveal.
"No. I know how you feel about her things; I would never want to take it from here." I wonder in a way whether these precious feelings and vibrations even exist outside of this room.
"She found it on her first trip to Palestine—on an archaeological dig. I think it was the day we met. It was one of her most treasured possessions. Take it. She always wanted you to have it."
"I don't know."
"Gabriella, you have arrived at a time in your life that we have waited many years for. Such an adventure, such excitement awaits you. And, there is something else." He pulls several small leather books that are tied together with a ribbon out of a box. I know they are my grandmother's diaries. "I want you to have these." The authority in his voice is final. "Think of them as a good-luck charm of sorts, although you really don't need any luck."
"Of course I need luck." Help, his guidance—anything.
"I do remember one more thing that I wanted to tell you." He seems uncomfortable, yet there is an urgency and seriousness that I don't often hear in his voice. He smiles and his eyes mist.
"What is it?"
"I met your grandmother when she was exactly your age." I stare back at him and try to meet his powerful words.
"No," I start to object. I want to clarify that this is not at all a priority, the last thing on my mind as I am going to begin school. "Papa, this is—"
"Gabriella, listen to me." He speaks with an intensity that I know requires my attention. "I know you have been too busy to notice the effect you have on people. Men, I mean. Except, of course, Philip."
My face burns as he proceeds with the topic that has previously
"You have quite the memory."
"It's an incredible story, when you met Grandma Sophie. The party, the house, and all the people who were there—"
He stands up out of his chair suddenly, as if what I said has knocked all the air out of him. All the color has left his face.
"Are you okay?" I approach him cautiously.
"What else did she tell you, about the
people
we met there?"
"Nothing. Just her parents and you. There must have been others at the party, but she never spoke of anyone in particular."
I wait, hoping that he'll come back to me. Back to the conversation we are having, but he is in retreat. I've hit a nerve.
"Why are you always pulling me into the past? Ghosts, Gabriella—they are just ghosts. Finish your packing for school. Go, please, let me be."
I back away from his desk, hurt by his uncharacteristic words. Clearly I had upset him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring this up." I choke back the tears. "I don't understand why we can't ever talk about her anymore?"
"Gabriella, just leave it alone."
"It was always through her eyes," I say slowly, "that I could see myself. Really understand."
"Don't do this; choose something else to think about!" he practically shouts, and I see the anger and frustration on his face.
"Yes, of course." I say. But I want to tell him that I need to choose for myself, that she would have wanted me to.
The sun shifts and a beam of light comes into the room and catches the edge of a small bronze medallion that I have always loved. I reach for it, its edges polished from years of touch, and turn it over in my hands. Slowly I look at the odd shapes and symbols on its surface, the lines that create a star and the seven spaces, ancient letters that I do not understand. Symbols of the ancient mystical tradition of my family.
"You've always loved that," I hear his voice behind me. I am embarrassed that he has caught me holding one of his precious objects and I quickly put it down.
"It's all right. Ever since you were a child, something about it has always attracted you. I want you to have it."
Removing an object from this sacred space seems wrong. I stare into his deep blue eyes and wait to see if he is going to say more, but it is as if he has stopped himself, catching a thought that he was not yet ready to reveal.
"No. I know how you feel about her things; I would never want to take it from here." I wonder in a way whether these precious feelings and vibrations even exist outside of this room.
"She found it on her first trip to Palestine—on an archaeological dig. I think it was the day we met. It was one of her most treasured possessions. Take it. She always wanted you to have it."
"I don't know."
"Gabriella, you have arrived at a time in your life that we have waited many years for. Such an adventure, such excitement awaits you. And, there is something else." He pulls several small leather books that are tied together with a ribbon out of a box. I know they are my grandmother's diaries. "I want you to have these." The authority in his voice is final. "Think of them as a good-luck charm of sorts, although you really don't need any luck."
"Of course I need luck." Help, his guidance—anything.
"I do remember one more thing that I wanted to tell you." He seems uncomfortable, yet there is an urgency and seriousness that I don't often hear in his voice. He smiles and his eyes mist.
"What is it?"
"I met your grandmother when she was exactly your age." I stare back at him and try to meet his powerful words.
"No," I start to object. I want to clarify that this is not at all a priority, the last thing on my mind as I am going to begin school. "Papa, this is—"
"Gabriella, listen to me." He speaks with an intensity that I know requires my attention. "I know you have been too busy to notice the effect you have on people. Men, I mean. Except, of course, Philip."
My face burns as he proceeds with the topic that has previously
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