As far back as I can remember I was never truly young. Even as a small child I was always clouded by worry. This I found was my first advantage over humanity. It was an asset just waiting to be utilized, but the understanding came with age was born into me from the very beginning. Perhaps this was the reason I felt myself to be very old.

I was regressing. I felt myself going back. I heard my mother calling. Oh, how I loved to hear the sweet voice of Josephine Marx. She always referred to herself by that name as long as I had known her. Marriage had not cooled her sense of independence.

“Mary, it is time to come in now,” she said. Her voice to me sounded like a singing bird inspired by its muse. “Mary,” she called again.

“Yes, Mother,” I said.

As I approached the deck, my mother’s face had gone wild with fright seeing my mud-caked body.

“Mary, what have you done to yourself?” She scolded. Taking my hand, she said, “Come inside and get cleaned up. Your father is on his way back from the airport this very minute.”

“Who’s coming, Mother?” I asked, jumping up and down.

“It’s a surprise. Now, you go up with Anna and take your bath and put on some clean clothes.”

“Mother, please, tell.”

“No,” she said, pointing her forefinger at me, “now, scat.”

“It’s Uncle Martin, isn’t it?”

“Well, young lady, if you don’t get upstairs right and get cleaned up, you are going to miss his visit altogether.” I threw her a sour look as she pointed to the staircase.

“Stop the lecture, Mother. I’m going.” I stumped up the stairs a bit over-dramatically. Anna was waiting for me at the top.

It made me laugh to think how I could always drive my mother crazy with my relentless procrastination. Father always said it was a trait all genius children carried, and Roland Faigon happened to be an expert in the field, like every other piece of knowledge he shared. I was never one to question my father. His words always spoke like gospel to me that left my debating skills to my bouts with Mother.

When I reached Anna at the top of the stairs there was a look of apprehension clouding her expression. “Oh, dear child, what have you done to yourself?” She took my hand and dragged me into the bathroom. “Come, now,” she said. “A clean child is a healthy child.”

I would have laughed at her untruth, if I didn’t care so much about her feelings. How many times did I hear at the Institution for Higher Learning that all child geniuses were cold, arrogant and insensitive. True knowledge comes not from superiority, but from the understanding not only of how things work, but most importantly, how things feel.

Father would say that my hard shell made me strong but inside lay a soft heart, and so always Father was right. I looked upon Anna as a second mother even though I didn’t understand her obsession with a well-polished surface.

Anna turned on the water testing often for the right temperature. She added some bubble bath and opened the utility cabinet and took out a fresh bar of soap. I slipped out of my clothes and placed them in the small laundry basket that lay near the tub. I stepped into the tub and sat down. The warm water felt so nice. That was until Anna began her work.

I felt as if Anna was taking off my skin as she vigorously scrubbed me down. When I finally stepped out of the tub I looked to see that the water was brown.

Anna put a towel around me and instructed me to return to my room to change for dinner. She stayed to clean up my mess. It was something I felt guilty about. Such a bother I was to a sweet lady like Anna, although she had never said as much.

Lying on my bed I began to dream about what my life would be like when I became an adult. Father believed me to be one already just a little smaller. At twelve years old I already had completed a full year of high school, but I was drifting and wondered what major I would take when I went to college. It was a toss up between chemistry and genetic exploration, but school wasn’t my major concern.

Sometimes I felt like I wanted to be a regular girl with a regular life, maybe more like Aurora. She was the orphan girl that Anna cared for.

I wondered what it was like for Aurora. She had no parents; there was no one she could count on, not until Anna took her in. Sometimes I could almost feel what was in her head. It’s strange to me how all the typical things that should make up my personality had no effect on who I was.

Drowning in my thoughts I almost didn’t hear the knock on my door.

“Come in, Mother,” I said.

She entered, saying, “How did you know it was me?”

“Easy,” I said and sat up on my bed. “I know your knock. It sounds like a symphony.”

“Really, Mary,” she said, laughing. “And in what key?”

“Umm,” I hesitated. “How about B flat?”

She burst out in laughter and sat next to me on my bed. “Come on, Mary. Time to get dressed, something pretty.”

“No, Mother. Don’t make me wear a dress. Please.”

“Mary, now, we don’t see your uncle that much. We want to make him feel special. Now, put on that lovely pink lace.”

“I hate lace,” I said and folded my hands. “Why can’t I look natural?”

“Mary, please, don’t argue. It isn’t natural for little girls to wear jeans and gym shoes.”

“It also isn’t natural for little girls to attend high school and study science.”

“Is this your argument for today, or are you in the midst of building a Frankenstein monster?

“Maybe,” I said and crawled off the bed and to my chestnut dresser that contained my casual clothes. “What do you think, Mother?”

I held up my light blue faded jeans and white New York tee shirt Uncle Martin had sent me for my birthday last month.

“I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

“Remember, Mother. Defeat is not a loss. Never trying is the true failure.”

“Yes, Mary. I see you don’t need me. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

“All right, Mother.”

She left my room as I contemplated her words. ‘You don’t need me.’ That couldn’t be true. Until I was old and gray and on my death bed, I would always need her. It hurts to hear her say those words, although I don’t believe she meant them in hate. Mother was many things, but not knowledgeable to what I truly understood. Our parent/child connection was limited at best, but I hoped it to grow with my coming maturity.

After changing into my casuals, I flew down the steps. No one was in sight, not even mother, who was usually lurking about when Father was gone. I went outside to wait in the front garden for his return when a slight wind blew and sent my dark brown hair into disarray. I went into the house to find a comb, knowing mother would be appalled at the sight of a messy mane.

I remained in the parlor until I heard voices in the foyer. I took to spying which was my favorite pastime. I considered for a moment that I might make a living as a gossip columnist, but Mother and Father would drop dead at the suggestion.

“Josie, how are you?” I heard my uncle’s voice. “And little Mary.”

“She’s as difficult as ever, like her father.”

“And you, sister?” Martin asked.

“I’m all right, and you would know that if you came to visit more often.”

“Now, who’s being difficult? If this is true of Mary then she takes after you.“

Father and Uncle Martin laughed while Mother stayed silent. At that moment I emerged from my cocoon and greeted our guest.

“Welcome, Uncle Martin,” I said, curtsying lazily.

“Oh, Mary, you have grown.”

“Only slightly,” I said, being modest. “How long are you staying?”

“Yes, old man,” Father said. “How long will it be this time?”

“Just a few days,” Uncle Martin said. “I have to be back in New York to interview potential students.”

“Oh, yes, the school,” Mother inquired. “How was the first year on your own?”

“Frightening, Josie,” he said, “but wonderful.” Martin Drell’s face lightened which lead me to believe that some brainstorm just entered his mind. “I would love it if the three of you could come for a visit soon.”

The conversation continued on our way towards the dining room while Uncle Martin waited for an answer to Uncle Martin’s proposal.

“Josie, don’t ignore the question,” Uncle Martin demanded.

“Oh, Marty. I’d love to say yes, but with the developments with the new experiment pending I couldn’t say.”

“Josie, you haven’t been home since before Mary was born. I will hear no excuses this time.” We stopped at the French doors that led to the dining hall. Uncle Martin looked towards Father. “R.J., tell her.”

“He’s right, Josie,” Father said. “Go with Mary. Everett and I can handle the lab.”

“Only if we all go,” Mother said. “Remember, Roland, we made that pact on our wedding night.”

“That’s not the only thing we did,” he teased.

“Roland, please, not in front of Mary.”

Father opened the door to the dining hall and ushered us all in when Mother shot him a sharp look. I could only guess what was going on with my parents. Sometimes, they were hard to figure out. Father’s eccentric behavior mixing with Mother’s disapproving glances. Like oil and water, they seemed at times, but for the majority they were like peas in the pod.

Dinner was simple and easygoing. Mother and I clung to our vegetarian ways while Father and Uncle Martin preferred steak.

Uncle Martin talked incessantly of his school, although I felt as if he had something to hide.

“What makes these children so extraordinary?” I asked. “Genius status is not uncommon.”

“It is more than the feeding of the mind, Mary. It is a place of interaction with those of the same status.”

“So, what you’re saying is, these children are set apart.”

“In a way,” he stumbled.

“That’s not right,” I said. “These children are not cattle. They’re lonely and confused. They need guidance and assurance…some form of a normal life.”

Ignoring my statement Uncle Martin turned to Father and said, “Are you sure she’s only twelve?”

“In the physical sense, yes, but Mary’s far more mature mentally. She’s like a thousand-year-old scholar,” Father said. If he was joking I wasn’t for sure. I hoped it be a compliment, although I didn’t see the flattery. Father continued to speak as I felt he was about to humble our impromptu guest. “Martin, Old Man, this is not the subject to be debated with Mary. By rites she is an expert.”

“One thing we do agree on,” Mother said and quietly lifted her fork to her mouth.

From what I could see the American male believed women and children to be forms of amusement. If at any time women had anything enlightening or provocative to say, it was excused as eccentric thoughts of a flighty female. With children it was considered the cute but naive observations of an undeveloped mind.

It seemed Uncle Martin still held the mentality of a child and the intellect of a god. I hoped he would soon grow mature enough to utilize his abilities to their full extent. What good was knowledge without the vision to use it properly?

“Well, Uncle Martin, are you going to rebut my statement?” I asked.

“Never, dear Mary, how can I argue with such a pretty face?”

I hated it when he said things like that. Did he believe this to be my only asset? Was this the only thing that could be appealing to a suitor? It seemed too superficial to be true. Beauty, physical beauty, fades. Such preservation of the fleeing fancy was futile. The natural scheme of nature commanded all things grow, change and whither. Outward appearances do not make us who we are. Only through experience and teaching do we become who we are supposed to be.

Dinner soon ended on a positive note. As usual, Uncle Martin came bearing gifts. I believed it to be compensation for his usual absence. It appeared Martin Drell would become nothing but a fading story, then appear out of nowhere just as we were beginning to forget him. I guess I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to live with us in Maine. Our lives seemed rather small from the tales he told.

I decided to open my gift in my room. Discoveries of surprises were best dealt with in private. Gifts were a strange thing. They were wrapped in packages almost too pretty to open, but in the end curiosity won out and disappointment came. The gift could not gain the ability of its intended pleasure, only by its anticipation of its recipient.

I opened it anyway. I was careful not to tear the beautiful foil paper. I glared down at the thick book, Uncle Martin’s book. He had thrown around the idea several years before, but now seeing it the dream became reality.

‘Secrets of the Human Gene Pool.’ A lovely title, but I didn’t understand why he wanted me to have it. I thought my answer had come when I opened the book and found a sealed letter. I was curious about it, since there was no writing on the powder blue envelope. There wasn’t even a name to say whom it was addressed to.

When I unfolded the letter I noticed how short it was, but I began to read, anxious for its contents.

Dear Mary,

Please, accept this very special gift. I have dedicated this book to you for reasons I can not explain at this time. I hope in the coming years with all the changes that will occur in your life, the contents of this book will be of great help and confront to you as I hope I may be. Remember. I will always love you and be there for you.

Your loving Uncle,

Martin Drell

The letter confused me at best. What did he mean by help and comfort? Did he wish me to study genetics like him?

It seemed my entire life was already planned out for me. Father, Mother and Uncle Martin were probably already arguing on the subject. Were genetics and biochemistry my only two choices?

Science definitely defined my future, but something more lay beyond my dreams. I wished for music, nature, and dancing in the enchanted forest. Fairy tale dreams was what I craved- like those women in the funny novels Anna and Aurora read. I wanted to be swept away by a magic carpet and be granted three wishes from a magic lamp, but those kind of things only happened to princesses in storybooks. I may have been born a scientist’s daughter, but a princess I was not.

I easily fell into sleep that night. Dreams of the unreachable stars haunted me. I could hear them. They were saying, “Look. This is what you can’t have.” Someday I would have those dreams.

The next morning I woke early. As usual I slept in my clothes. I felt more comfortable that way. Mother would be angry, but those were the moments I lived for.

I saw Anna in the kitchen with Aurora. “Good morning, Marianna,” Anna said, while cleaning the kitchen counters.

I sat at the breakfast nook next to Aurora. “I hate that name,” I said and Aurora laughed. I turned to her and laughed, too. “I wish I had your name.”

“Fine with me. We’ll swap.”

“What is this I hear?” Mother’s voice loomed from the doorway. “Oh, Mary, you slept in your clothes again.”

“Why are you so surprised, Mother? Changing clothes just wastes time.”

“All right, all right. There speaks our great philosopher,” Mother said and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Now, don’t make any plans today, Mary. Your father and I were hoping you would accompany us when we give Uncle Martin a tour of the laboratory.”

“Mother, we practically live at the lab. Can’t we take a vacation from it for a few days?”

“No, we can’t, Mary. We’re about to make a breakthrough. Don’t you want to be part of it?”

“No,” I said and stormed out of the kitchen.

“Mary,” I heard my mother’s fading voice.

I ignored her plea. Instead I ran towards the gardens to sulk. Dancing among the flowers was my form of escape, but it wasn’t long before Mother joined me.

“Mary, can we talk?” I defiantly ignored her. “Mary, please, stop acting like a child,” she demanded.

“Mother,” I said and turned to face her. “I am a child.”

I felt Mother sinking mentally to the ground. I had wounded her with my words, but through my stubbornness I went on.

“I just want to be twelve for a few days. I want to play silly games with my friends and swim in the mud. Watch some television and talk about nothing. Please, Mother, don’t make me go.”

“All right, Mary, but please, don’t mention this to your father. To him, you’re not twelve. To him, you’re more of a sibling than a daughter.”

“I am Father,” I said, looking to the ground.

“No, Mary, you are yourself. True, you do have many of his traits, but you are your own person.”

“How do you know this? Father is never wrong. He can’t be. Who am I if he’s wrong?”

“You are Mary,” Mother said and held me as I cried.

After a time I said, “Mary is just a name. Who is Mary… the true Mary?”

“Only you can answer that, but as for today you can go have fun with your friends. Your father will just have to understand that a child must be a child.”

“Thank you, Mother,” and said and gave her a quick hug.

I ran off into the meadows to join Aurora and Richie. They were spending the day at the swamp. It had been many months since I had been able to break free and act irresponsible.

Science gave me direction, but being with friends lent me the social skills I was so desperately lacking.

“Mary, over here,” Aurora called from the stables. She waved her hands up and down like she was performing jumping jacks until I reached her. Richie stood near her leaning against the barn and wearing a sour face.

“Why invite her?” He asked while keeping his eyes on me.

“Richie,” Aurora scolded. “How can you be so sour towards Mary?”

“I don’t hang out with spoiled rich brats like her. If you were smart, Aurora, you wouldn’t either.”

“Spoiled, am I?” I said and took a few steps towards him. “That may be so, but I, unlike you, am not prejudicial of things that I hold no understanding of. You, dear friend, also should not.”

Richie looked blankly at me then to Aurora. She laughed and said, “She means, don’t dump on people you don’t know. Another thing, Richie, don’t argue with Mary, unless you want to get blown out of the water.”

“I’m not afraid of a girl,” he demanded.

I stood up to challenge his statement. “That is not necessarily true, Richie. You only announce you’re not afraid, because that is precisely what you are.”

“Am not,” he whined.

“Are so,” Aurora said before I had a chance to answer. “If Mary says you are, then you are.”

“Am not,” he said, folding his hands.

“Prove it,” Aurora said, challenging him. “If you think you can beat Mary go ahead.”

“Na, I don’t hit girls,” he said, wiping his hand in the air.

“Likely story,” Aurora laughed. I joined in as Aurora flexed her arms as she took to chanting. “Big Bad Mocho Man.”

“Shut up, Aurora,” he fumed, “and let’s go.”

“So you’re okay about letting Mary come with us.”

“Yea, yea,” he groaned and walked down the path. Aurora and I stood hesitating. He turned to us and said, “Are you two coming?”

“Yes,” we both said in unison.

We made it to the swamp within an hour. I had been here many times before with Aurora and even Father, but I could never get used to the eerie darkness and protruding sounds that seemed to haunt this place.

“Watch, Princess Mary,” Richie said, waving his hands around me, “or the gaders will get you.”

“Or you,” I fired, reacting to Richie’s grumpy attitude “Look at you. You’re the one so close to the water.” I rose from the log Aurora and I used as a bench and walked slowly towards him. “If you’re not careful, Richie, you’ll fall in.” He stepped back further with each of my forward steps. “Feel the water rising. Watch out before you get all wet.”

With my last words, he fell in. The water was shallow but enough to get a laugh out of Aurora.

“Oh, Richie,” she said. “You look so funny.” She continued to laugh herself into hiccups until Richie came out of the water wrapped in swamp weeds and surprised her by roaring at the top of his lungs. “Richie,” she yelled in annoyance. “Wow,” she said and danced around with her arms outstretched while spinning in circles. “My hiccups are gone.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, thank you.”

She fled to the other side of the swamp, leaving him dazed and confused. I shrugged my shoulders and followed her. Richie followed as well but kept his distance from Aurora.

This was the last day I could remember when no worries consumed my thoughts. The one and only time I ever felt young. It all seemed too much like a dream when I think of it now. Like something I saw in a movie or read in a book. These were forgotten joys. Something lost in the achievement of age. In our so-called civilized adulthood, a child’s wonders became invisible.

Even with the coming of age I wondered if that girl ever really existed.

Aurora and I bid farewell to Richie at the stables that joined the meadows. All the way home Aurora couldn’t stop talking about Richie- from his bad manners to his dirty feet. I got the feeling Aurora’s complaints of Richie were masking deeper feelings.

Mother once told me about the hate masking love syndrome, but among twelve-year-old children I believed it to be a simple infatuation.

Aurora and were greeted at the front door by father’s stern face. “Hello, Father,” I said.

“Aurora,” he said, “if you will please excuse us.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said and quickly left the room.

He took my hand forcefully. “Come, Mary, we must speak.”

“Whatever you want, Father,” I said and followed him.

He led me into the parlor before releasing my hand. I saw the worry lines consuming my father’s forehead. “What’s wrong, Father?”

“You tell me,” he said. I didn’t answer in my ignorance of what he meant by those three little words. “Mary,” he continued, “you know you can talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What could be wrong, Father?”

“I don’t know, Mary. I hoped you could confide in me. When your mother came to me and told me you would not be joining us, I…”

“I’m sorry, Father. I just wanted to spend some time with my friends. We went to the swamp, and Richie fell in the water…”

“You went to the swamp instead of the lab.” I could tell father was getting angry. He sat own in one of the wodden chairs while remained standing. “Don’t you enjoy our work?”

“Yes, Father, but it’s your work, yours and Mother’s. I just…”

“Just what?” He asked, raising his voice a bit.

“I wanted to have some fun, silly, stupid, juvenile fun. I wanted to be normal for a change.”

“You are normal, Mary, and special.”

“No,” I said, turning away from him. “I don’t want to be special. I just want to be a kid and do kid things.”

Father stopped for the longest moment and studied me. A submission of sorts escaped his mouth.

“Oh, dear god, what have I done?” Father said. Then he took my hand and continued, “Mary, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting your only twelve. Forgive me.” He had risen out of his chair and turned away from me, while running a hand through his dark hair.

“Yes, Father,” I said as he leaned down to face me eye to eye.

We embraced, finding a new understanding between us. Father and I had always been alike, but his understanding of my situation made me feel as if Roland Faigon was more than just my father. Somehow he became my friend.

I felt like a tiny stone shining in a sea of coal and father was my gold setting, supporting all my endeavors. I just hoped it would always be that way.