Watching for Comets

Interlude

I followed Dad's distracted gaze across the road to where a girl – or so I surmised by her ponytails – looked both ways before crossing the quiet, suburban street. My parents had mentioned that a new family had recently moved in, but they didn't say whether or not they had kids. She skipped over to where we were seated in the grass, then stopped, one foot partially in the air, as she got a good look at my face.

"You're not a girl," she accused. "Are you?"

"No," I answered calmly, used to the question given my shoulder-length hair. I stole a glance at Dad; he was watching curiously, waiting to see how this would play out.

The girl smiled. "I'm Julia. What's your name?"

"Epsilon."

"Nice to meet you, Epsilon," she politely recited, carefully sounding out my name. The adults all made a big deal out of it, but the other kids took it in stride. They had no idea it wasn't a "real" name.

"I'm Daisuke," Dad added.

She twisted her hair between her fingers. "I'm supposed to call grown-ups 'Mr.' or 'Ms.'"

He smiled. "Then 'Mr. Daisuke,' if you wish." He didn't mention that most people called him Dr. Steele.

This satisfied her. "What are you doing?" she asked instead, gesturing at the contraption in Dad's hands.

"Looking at the grass." He showed her how to use the miniature microscope that we'd borrowed from the library. Her gray eyes went wide with excitement at the sight of the previously invisible details in the blades. She spent the whole afternoon with us, never asking to do something else because this was boring.

#

The first time we ran into her parents was at the grocery store. They did a double-take upon finding out that I was her new friend from across the street, especially when Dad preemptively introduced me as his son.

"Someone needs a haircut," her dad said with a laugh.

"No, thanks," I replied politely, like my parents had taught me to, even as my heart rate spiked with anxiety.

Dad smiled dryly. "Good luck getting him anywhere near a pair of scissors."

"They're sharp!" I proclaimed, latching onto his pant leg.

Julia looked confused, but she pat my arm and said patiently, "Don't worry, it won't hurt." But I'd already been over this with my parents, and it didn't work. "Just ask your mom to do it. Do you have a mom?"

"Mom's in space."

Her parents started laughing. And kept laughing.

Meanwhile, Dad kept silent with a bland smile.

Julia looked lost, and mildly embarrassed.

Finally, I spoke up. It wasn't the first time an adult didn't believe me and Dad let me stand up for myself. "My mom really is in space," I insisted. "She's an astronaut." I proudly showed off my NASA t-shirt.

They coughed. "Oh, is she?" They looked to my dad for confirmation, then said to me, "What about your dad? Is he an astronaut, too?"

"He's a—" My face scrunched up as I thought real hard about the pronunciation, to no avail. "He does space math."

This time, Dad laughed, too. "I'm an astrophysicist."

"How long is your wife away for? We should do dinner."

"She's stuck at the international space station for another month or so."

They turned to me once more. "It must be tough to be away from your mom for so long."

"Yeah, but Dad and Miss Kelly take care of me," I replied, too young to think anything of it.

"The nanny," he added quickly, holding up his hands.

"Surely your wife could have stayed home? At least until he's in school?"

"We're homeschooling. We tried part-time preschool. He wasn't a fan."

"It was boring," I added helpfully. So was kindergarten. I already knew how to read and do basic math. There wasn't another option with accelerated learning but with kids my age; my parents didn't want to upset my psychosocial development by sending me to a grade full of students way older than me.

"Julia's been really engaged with our lessons," Dad said, offering her a proud smile. She returned the smile shyly, as if unused to receiving praise.

Her parents were happy to accept this free extra education. "Yes, she's always coming home with new and interesting facts."

They let her continue to come over, but they never did finalize that dinner invitation.