The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black

by Eden Unger Bowditch

  Faye’s parents wanted to give their daughter every opportunity to exercise her talents. They also wanted to protect their belongings from overly capable little hands. So, they had a special table, just her size, built for their daughter, placed on the far, far side of the lab so she could do her own work and, more important to them, not interfere with theirs. Faye was no longer provided unlimited access to her parents’ equipment, but she was still allowed to wander around, taking notes and observing the work going in the laboratory.

  Though not everywhere in the laboratory. In the back, there was a room with three very large locks. This room was off-limits to Faye, and it had always been so. Faye could always tell when her parents would be headed to the secret room. They would either begin to speak in whispers, or suddenly receive some missive that they would read, heads together. Then would come the double nod, and off they would go, disappearing behind the great wooden door. Her parents spent hours every day in that room. The answer was always “no” when Faye wanted to follow them in. It was perhaps the only insurmountable “no” that had ever come into Faye’s otherwise perfect life. And life had otherwise been perfect. It really, really had...

  The Vigyanveta family laboratory was connected to the Vigyanveta family house that sat on the Vigyanveta family estate. The Vigyanveta family house was a magnificent mansion that had been in the Vigyanveta family for eleven generations. It was surrounded by meadows and orchards full of mango trees and bael trees. There were virtual forests of bamboo and wildly colorful gardens bursting with rhododendrons, ginger, begonia, balsam, clematis, lilies, blue poppy, and orchids brought from the northeast and tended to in greenhouses and beautiful glass bells. There was even the Vidya Vigyanveta orchid, developed by Faye’s great-great-grandfather. And of course, there were the most beautiful roses, like the Viveka Vigyanveta rose—known as the most elegant, stunning rose in India—developed by her great-great-great grandmother. There were vegetable and herb gardens full of cabbages, tomatoes, brinjal, tulsi (basil), mint, and fenugreek. There were groves of banana and tangy pepper trees, and all around, little waterfalls that fell into clear pools on which lotuses and water lilies floated. Huge green and red and blue macaws, toucans, and peacocks (including her favorite white peacock) roamed freely around the land, as flamingoes bathed (before the monsoon season) in the numerous ponds. There was so much property that Faye could walk for an hour and still be on the Vigyanveta family land.

  Faye lived, for all intents and purposes, like a princess. There were servants and assistants to attend to her every need. She had only to ask for something—or sometimes, just look as if she might possibly ask—and it would be in front of her before she could get upset about not having it. There was just one thing nobody seemed able to provide.

  “I would like a friend,” Faye declared one day, standing beside her father’s desk.

  “You have many friends, my little marmelo,” her father said, distracted by his work.

  “I have no friends,” she said, fiddling with her silver chain, which held an old family heirloom. She had worn the necklace for as long as she could remember. It had been in the family for generations, she had been told. When she felt insecure, she held it close. It had, after all, survived a very long time.

  “Mali is your friend,” said her father.

  “He is not. Mali is the gardener.”

  “Play with his son, little Surya. He can be your friend.”

  “Little Surya is thirty-seven years old, and he’s been the head gardener in Ootacamund since I was five,” said Faye. “There are no friends here, Father. There are only servants.”

  “Well, I will tell them they must entertain you,” her father said. “I will insist they be your friends.” He gave her a quick smile, then dashed into the back room. She could hear the locks turn, one by one.

  Faye never had any problems in school because she never went to school. She had always been tutored. When she was small, she had a series of teachers from France and Spain, and one from Germany. For the last couple years, she had been taught by her father’s students.

  When she came down to the library for breakfast one morning, she thought that the very round man in the black trench coat and black turban, who also wore a monocle with a very dark lens, was her new tutor.

  “Are you here for me?” she asked as she was served sweet tea flavored with honey, cardamom, and vanilla.

  “Am I..?”

  “Are you?” Faye said, sipping her tea.

  “Am I what?” asked the man, indignantly.

  “Are you my tutor?” Faye knew she was wrong before she asked, but she thought he might tell her what he was actually doing in her library.

  “Tutor a child?” He almost spat out the words. “I will have you know that I am here on business, and it is most certainly none of your business.”

  When Faye’s parents came in, they were immediately and obviously quite agitated, though Faye couldn’t tell whether it was by her presence or the man’s. Her mother pulled Faye close as if to protect her somehow.

  Faye clutched the silver chain that hung from her neck.

  “Go to your studies, Faye,” her father urged, dismissing her with a sweeping wave of his hand. “We must speak of things that are not of your concern.”

  As the three grown-ups left the room, walked through the door of the lab, and into the back room, Faye followed. She listened as the door closed behind them and the three locks turned. Even then, Faye had suspected there was something important about the meeting, but she had had no idea then how that meeting—the meeting that she was not, in fact, even allowed to attend—would so change her life.

  Though Faye Vigyanveta had taken a ferry several times to go from the continent to England, she had been on a real ship only twice before. Faye had been only three months old at the time, and now had no real memory of the experience. This time, she told herself, she would never forget.

  The ship they took went from Glasgow and crossed two continents over several days, and Faye quickly discovered that she loved the sea. Though she had always dreamed of flying, and being what felt like miles above the water on the premiere deck of the Astoria, she could imagine herself soaring over the ocean, so high she could not even feel the spray on her face from the crashing waves. The train that followed was another exciting ride. She was treated like a queen by the staff of the dining car, who brought delights for her tongue that she happily devoured. Faye enjoyed every minute of the journey to Dayton, Ohio in America.

  Well, not every minute. She was moved to extreme grumpiness when she thought how she had been forced into this trip without even being consulted. She had been given mere hours to pack a small bag of anything she wanted. She packed some of her sketches and her favorite notebook, an old birthday card a cousin had sent her mother which had her favorite painting on the front, a small glass hummingbird that she kept on her desk, and a miniature silver spoon that had been hers as a baby. She was sad when she thought about the elephants and the monkeys and all the secret places that belonged only to Faye in India. None of the servants came with them—servants she had known her whole life, servants whom her father had known his whole life, too. Faye wondered what life would be like without them. Would new servants be provided?

  “I wouldn’t mind doing things for myself,” she had told her mother. As soon as she said this, she felt her throat close around the words, but not in time to stop them from coming out. It was as if her body was trying to prevent her mouth from saying anything that might cause her more hardship. Wasn’t it enough that she would have to become accustomed to new servants? That she would have to tell new servants how she drank her tea and how warm she liked her bath?

  “Well, we’ll have to see,” her mother had said. Faye could see her mother was distracted and worried. By her mother’s faraway look, Faye guessed that she didn’t know what to expect in America, either.

  At the harbor, in the crowd of welcoming onlookers, Faye immediately recognized the man in the blac
k hat and black suit with dark glasses. She waved, and then realized it was not the man she had mistaken for her tutor. That man had been very round, but not very tall. This man was both round and tall. In fact, the reason she noticed him among all these people was that he stood at least a head above everybody else. That, and his hat.

  Instead of the black turban, he wore what appeared to be a woman’s bonnet. The hat was lacy, and had a large, black, gemmed, rose-shaped brooch in the front. The hat was tied in a large bow beneath the man’s chin.

  “Is that a style here in America?” asked Faye. From the look of the crowd, she thought not.

  “In style? In America?” Her mother suddenly smiled. “I don’t let you out enough, do I?” The two of them shared a laugh, the first in a long, long time.

  Faye looked at the funny-looking man again. This one didn’t have a monocle. Instead, he wore what looked to be the kind of protective eyewear one uses when welding metal with a torch, only the lenses were very dark.

  The family climbed into the carriage driven by the floral hat-wearing man in black. “Our home will be at One Chestnut,” Faye’s father said to the driver. “Oh, but I suppose you know that.”

  The driver seemed to make turns at every block. Faye could have sworn they were traveling in ever-widening circles. All of the streets seemed to be named after trees, which fit the many trees scattered everywhere.

  “My Aunt Susan and Uncle Milton lived down that way!” exclaimed Faye’s mother as they drove through a pleasant neighborhood. “Uncle Milton still does. Right down there on Hawthorn Street.” She spoke of how much she loved summers with her cousin Katharine, an only girl with four older brothers. Faye imagined she must have really loved having Faye’s mother there, too. She certainly loved it when Katharine visited them in India.

  “Can we stop for a visit?” Faye asked hopefully. Her mother gave her a weak smile, then looked back out the window.

  They drove for well over an hour, and then stopped right behind another black carriage.

  “The girl stays,” the driver said, adjusting the bow beneath his chin. “The doctors descend. The other carriage will take you to the laboratory.”

  Faye’s father cleared his throat. “Oh, well, it is not as I had anticipated. I thought we’d be going to the house first. It’s so close—”

  “The girl stays here.”

  “But I don’t want to stay,” said Faye, clinging to her mother. “I want to go to our house. With you.”

  “Rajesh,” Faye’s mother said, turning to her husband.

  “The girl stays,” the driver said again. “The doctors go to the laboratory.”

  “It will be fine, dear,” her mother said, peeling Faye’s fingers from her arm. “You go with the nice man—”

  “What nice man?” Faye asked.

  “You go with our driver, Faye,” her father said. “There is much preparation we need to do.”

  Faye’s mother kissed Faye on the forehead, then looked down at the silver crest Faye had around her neck. “I’m going to take this, Faye—”

  “But it’s mine! Father gave it to me!” she said. Her mother unhooked it from the chain.

  “You keep the chain,” her mother said, “but I’ll need to take the amulet.”

  Faye was miserable. “Am I going somewhere so unsafe you’re worried about family heirlooms?”

  “You will go to the schoolhouse,” the driver said.

  “Schoolhouse?” Faye repeated in disbelief. No one had said anything about school.

  “Oh, yes, we thought you’d enjoy a bit of school,” her father said, cheerfully. “Perhaps you will find some friends.”

  “Can’t I just get tutored at home?”

  “The girl stays at school,” said the driver.

  “Oh.” Faye’s mother appeared confused for a moment. “Well...” She looked at her daughter, offering nothing more than a limp impression of a smile. “That will be a nice experience for you, Faye dear.”

  “Mother, I don’t want to stay at school. I don’t want to go to school. I want to—”

  “Descend immediately, please,” the driver said. Faye’s parents looked at her apologetically, but, as far as Faye was concerned, clearly without any real remorse. Faye could not believe they were just leaving her, abandoning her to a fate unknown. She felt a bit ill and most definitely unhappy about the whole thing. More unhappy than she had ever been in her whole life.

  “I’m not going!” shouted Faye.

  “Young lady—” her father began, but Faye did not wait to hear the rest. She grabbed the handle to the car and threw it open. Her mother reached for Faye’s shoulder, but missed. Falling out of the carriage, Faye scrambled to her feet and began to run.

  She ran faster than she ever had, tears streaming from her eyes and blinding her. They spilled into her ears like cold wet fingers, muffling the sound of her own breathing.

  It didn’t matter. She had no idea where she was, where she was going, or what she would do when she got anywhere. She just ran, as if her life depended on it, which, as far as she knew, it did. She ran and ran and ran.

  She ran for perhaps all of twenty seconds before she was lifted bodily from the ground.

  “Let me go, you big, stupid, ugly lunatic!” she screamed, knocking the floral hat askew and kicking the coachman in the shins. He simply threw her over his shoulder and, without a word, carried her back to the coach.

  Her parents were no longer in the first carriage, and now sat in the other one. Hidden somewhat by the high-backed driver’s seat, the other driver seemed to be wearing, from her upside-down, wholly undignified position, something remarkably like bunny ears. This did not amuse. These idiotic maniacs, she thought. I hate them all. Slung like a potato sack over the man’s shoulder, she felt as if she was choking on a stone that had grown in her gut, and now rolled down into her throat.

  As the second carriage drove off, Faye watched her parents as they waved. She flapped her hand limply back at them, clutching at the crest that was no longer there. She tugged at the chain. School? She could not imagine.

  Still, she certainly spent the carriage ride doing so. The images she conjured up were nothing less than horrible. By the time they arrived at the schoolhouse, Faye was full of dread. She looked around. The big ugly carriage, driven by Mr. Crazy Lady’s Hat, was clearly in the middle of nowhere. Dayton had not been much to look at, but at least there were people. With the exception of the occasional tractor being pulled by a team of horses, there was nothing anywhere around here. And now Faye was being guided to some old farm. They stopped in front of what seemed to Faye like a storage hut or a servant’s house. She looked around and did not see a proper house, or what she imagined to be a proper school.

  “This is it,” said the driver, pulling on the reins as the carriage came to a stop. He got down from his seat and removed Faye’s trunk.

  Faye did not climb down. She remained in her seat, hoping to be taken back to her parents, back to the ship, and back to her home. Instead, the driver opened her door and stood aside. When she didn’t move, he picked her up as easily as before and placed her on the ground. He closed the door, got back in, and drove off, leaving Faye sitting on the ground in a cloud of dust from the dirty road.

  “Are you all right, dear?” asked a very lovely woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere, kneeling down so she was on face level with Faye.

  Faye opened her mouth to complain, but the anger, the fear, and the humiliation finally merged, and the stone in her stomach dropped and hit bottom. She burst into tears. The woman held Faye in her arms until the sobbing eased. Then she helped Faye to stand, and the two of them dragged Faye’s trunk into the little barn which, Faye quickly realized, was her new school.

  “I’m Miss Brett,” said the woman, “and you must be Faye. Come, help me take the biscuits out of the oven.”

  Faye’s eyes lit up. She followed Miss Brett into the house. For the first time in her life, Faye was going to see the inside of a kitchen o
ven.

  The kitchen, as a whole, proved to be a laboratory of discovery for Faye.

  “Goodness,” Faye had commented as Miss Brett broke the eggs into the bowl, “your American eggs are quite different from ours back home. Are you sure these eggs are all right?”

  Miss Brett sniffed the eggs before she began to whisk them.

  “Yes, dear, they’re fine,” she said. “I collected them this morning.”

  “Only ours in India, the albumin, the whites, see, they really are white and quite a bit firmer than the ones you have here.”

  Miss Brett stopped whisking and looked at Faye. Gently, she said, “These will be, too, sweet angel—they just haven’t yet been cooked. The whites of the eggs are clear when the eggs are raw.”

  Faye was stunned. “All eggs?”

  “Yes, all eggs.”

  Miss Brett caressed Faye’s head before handing her the bowl to pour into the batter. The girl had never seen a raw egg before. How remarkable.

  And so the afternoon began. Faye and Miss Brett made a batch of butter biscuits, and it was Faye’s job to add the slabs of butter to the top of each one. At first, Faye had feared that, in America, biscuits would be globs of wet goo, until she learned that the globs of disgusting pastry batter would be baked into delicious biscuits.

  “Just by heating them in the oven,” Faye said, amazed. She had been familiar with heat being the catalyst of change in the laboratory, but nothing she had ever created there would have found its way into her mouth. Faye smiled as she placed remarkably even dollops of butter on the top of each glob.