Grandfather

Jenny slowly swung open the door to her grandfather’s house. The air smelled musty, and dust motes danced before her eyes. Just today she had received a letter from her grandfather’s attorney, letting her know that the $20,000 he had set aside for her would be deposited into her account. Tears formed behind her eyes. She needed the money for her school tuition, but she would gladly give it up to have her grandfather back.

Six months ago today her grandfather had disappeared without a trace. No note, no explanation, no indication of foul play. One day he was here, and the next...gone. He had been her only remaining family, and her emotional rock. Without him she felt cast adrift, unaligned with her goals and out of touch with the people around her.

She ran her fingers along the dusty banister as she climbed the sagging steps to her grandfather’s workroom. At first, the police had investigated his disappearance, but as time wore on and no leads surfaced, they gradually found they had more pressing concerns. Jenny didn’t blame them. As the months had passed, she too had felt her resolve to discover the truth weaken, until she could feel nothing but despair and a strange sort of numbness.

The door creaked softly as she entered his cluttered work space. She had looked here before, of course. As a scientist, her grandfather loved to collect anything that would feed his scientific curiosity. Haphazard piles of books leaned precariously on every available surface. The desk and counters bristled with glass beakers and chrome machines, most of which Jenny couldn’t have identified if her life depended on it. At first, Jenny had rifled through everything over and over again, hoping to find some clue to the mystery surrounding her grandfather’s disappearance. Her frantic searching had contributed to the natural chaotic state of the room, making it difficult to wind her way to the window where the writing desk stood.

As she approached the desk, her foot hit a particularly skewed pile of books, and she stumbled. Throwing out her hands to catch herself, she rammed them against the lip of the desk. She sucked in a breath and whimpered, shaking her aching hands and rubbing them together. Even above the sound of her elevated breathing, however, she heard a small click. A hidden drawer in the desk popped open, revealing a little black book. Jenny sat down heavily on a nearby chair as her legs began to tremble. With shaking hands, she removed the book from its hiding place and set it on the desk in front of her. She had never seen it before, but the very fact that it was hidden meant it must be important. Jenny hesitantly opened the cover. She ran her fingers down the page as she saw her grandfather’s spidery writing jump out at her.

It looked like a diary, of sorts. Her grandfather, normally never one to use two words when one would suffice, had jotted down thoughts, feelings, and observations, seemingly at random. She leafed through the book, reading everything from snippets of his everyday life to theories on the nature of the universe. Some theories she understood, but most sailed over her head. Although her grandfather would have dearly loved for her to pursue science, her talents tended toward the arts. Toward the back of the book, the science became more and more complicated, and his daily observations all but disappeared. The writing abruptly stopped with a series of equations.

Stymied, Jenny flipped through the remainder of the pages, but they were all blank. Turning back to the equations, she took a closer look. Her artistic brain couldn’t make heads nor tails of them, but she did know whose could. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a quick picture. Scrolling through her contacts until she landed on Rick’s number, she hesitated for a few seconds before pushing the button. She’d loved Rick once; still did if she were to be honest with herself. Contacting him now would tear open the fragile scars that had formed on her heart, but he was the only person she knew who might be capable of deciphering her grandfather’s equations. Taking a deep breath, she sent off the text before she had time to talk herself out of it.

“Found these in grandpop’s house. Any idea what they mean?”

She set her phone down on the desk and continued to leaf through the book. Several pages before the equations she found a reference to Schrödinger’s cat, a concept she knew her grandfather enjoyed toying with. She didn’t understand quantum physics at all, but she’d liked listening to his explanations, even if she didn’t fully grasp the scientific ramifications. As he spoke, her own mind had spun fairy tales about cats caught in a magical spell, neither alive or dead, until the princess figured out how to break it. In her version, the cats always remained alive and lived happily ever after, of course. She supposed her grandfather resembled Schrödinger’s cat at the moment, neither alive nor dead until he was found. Jenny smiled to herself. He’d like that.

Her phone vibrated on the desk. Rick’s number appeared on the display. Jenny forced her voice into cheerfulness and answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jenny,” Rick replied, his voice sounding as artificially upbeat as her own. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad,” she answered. “I’m going through my grandfather’s stuff.”

“Did they find him?”

“No, not yet. I just feel closer to him here.” Jenny shifted on her chair. “Did you take a look at the equations I sent you?”

“Yeah, I did. They’re pretty dense.”

“Can you summarize them for me? Physics never was my strong suit.”

She knew that would make Rick smile. They’d often joked about their different aptitudes.

“They’re quantum. Looks like time dependent equations involving reflection or refraction. I’d have to spend more time to really understand them, though. Your grandpa was a smart guy.”

“Yes, he was,” Jenny agreed. “Could those equations have something to do with his disappearance? They’re on the last page of a journal I found hidden in his desk.”

“I don’t see how,” Rick replied. “Most of quantum mechanics is theoretical, you know that. It’s unlikely he would have found a practical application.”

Jenny felt her heart drop. She’d let her hopes rise with the discovery of the journal, but she knew Rick was right. Nothing in this book could have anything to do with where he’d gone and why he hadn’t returned.

“Thanks for looking,” Jenny said. “I’d better get back to sorting.”

“Jenny, I...” Rick trailed off.

After a moment’s pause, Jenny said, “You what, Rick?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “Take care of yourself.” The phone clicked in Jenny’s ear and Rick was gone.

Jenny glanced around the room one more time. She needed to go through her grandfather’s possessions, but she no longer had the heart to continue. She promised herself she would return soon as she picked up the book and turned to go.

Across the room, Jenny noticed a large framed poster of Schrödinger’s cat. She weaved her way through the debris on the floor until she stood in front of it. Jenny debated with herself. The cat brought back memories of good times with her grandfather, so part of her wanted to take it home. But would the constant reminder of his loss be too much for her to live with?

Her hands reached out and lifted the poster from the wall, as if they had a mind of their own. As the poster descended to the floor, she saw a mirror behind it. That’s odd, she thought to herself. Why would anyone cover up a mirror with a poster? The mirror seemed to undulate, more like a body of water than a smooth sheet of glass.

Despite the ripples, she could still see herself in the reflection. She brought her hand to her cheek and watched while her reflection did the same. Then her reflection tucked her hair behind her ear.

Jenny’s eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back. She hadn’t tucked her hair behind her ear. Even now she could feel the hair swinging freely against her face. The image in the mirror remained standing quietly, her hair stationed firmly behind her ear.

As Jenny watched, a figure strolled up behind reflection Jenny and put a hand on her shoulder. Tears coursed down Jenny’s face as she recognized her grandfather. She reached up to touch him, but then she hesitated. Her hand hovered inches away from the surface of the mirror. The reflection of her grandfather faded in and out, shifting from solid, real, and alive to grey and corpselike.

“Schrödinger’s cat,” Jenny whispered.

This was her grandfather’s experiment. This was the reason for his disappearance, the reason no one had been able to find him. But was he alive or dead? Jenny hesitated, her hand still poised in front of the surface.

“I have to know,” she muttered. “I have to break the spell.”

She lifted her other hand and held it beside the first. As both hands moved forward and touched the surface, she disappeared in a blaze of light.