T-minus Twenty Years
"Mom keeps some butterscotch candies hidden in the knickknack jar," Molly said, as she observed Arthur rummaging about in the larder, searching for anything sweet to eat.
Molly got up from the couch to assist him in his quest, tossing off her blanket. She was always cold. Even in the summertime.
Arthur noted that his new stepsister had called his mother—her new stepmother—"Mom." That resonated with him. Plus, Molly was enabling his sweet tooth. She might be all right after all.
Molly pulled a glass jar out from the dark recesses of the pantry. It originally had held expensive yogurt; the glass jar was beautifully decorated for something with such a temporary purpose. Mom had cleaned it up and put it to new use. Her crow-brain had filled it with buttons, pennies, safety pins, paper clips, and butterscotch candies individually wrapped in tight plastic shrouds.
"I didn't even know she had these," Arthur said, pulling out two candies.
"She forgets about the jar," Molly said, returning it to its hiding place behind the canister of oatmeal. "I refill the candies from a bag she hides from herself, so she won't be too tempted to eat them all at once. The amount of candy in that jar remains constant."
"What happens when the source bag is empty?"
"I buy another bag." She smiled. "Mom sneaks a butterscotch or two every now and then. I'm glad she does. She needs a break from time-to-time. We all do."
"Do you want one?" he asked, offering her a candy, surprising himself with the gesture. He had nurtured a resentment for Molly up to now. She always seemed so distant.
"You have both of them," Molly said. "I feel a little lightheaded. I'm going to lie down for a little while."
"Suit yourself." He smiled. "More for me."
She sat back down, threw the blanket back over herself, and lost herself in a science book until sleep conquered her.
T-minus Fourteen Years
"Only a few more miles," Mom said. She was driving, listening to alternate rock on the radio. You could tell from her taste in music that she was younger inside than she was outside.
What if all adults are still young on the inside? Arthur thought. That sounded like an awful fate; to be forever young inside while your body grew older. It sounded like the plot of a horror movie.
"There's a place about sixty miles ahead," she told them. "It has a kitschy statue of a giant man taking a nap as its mascot. Every roadside place seems to have a gimmick. Steep red roofs, beavers, sleeping giants. Are you hungry? They make tacos to order at the Sleeping Giant place. Really good tacos. The kind you'd expect from a decent restaurant, not just a side-of-the-highway place. I used to get them when I took this road for work, back in the day. It was part of my travel ritual."
"Sounds awesome, Mom," Molly said. She was sitting next to Arthur in the back seat.
"I think I can make sixty miles," Arthur replied. "The way you drive we'll be there in about forty minutes."
"The way I drive." Mom smiled as she shook her head. "Keep an eye out for signs to Six Gala. That's the last city before the Sleep Giant."
"Weird name for a city." Molly considered. "I guess it refers to the apple orchards around here. This area is very agricultural. Lots of open space."
"We can look at the horses and walking steaks as we drive past the fields," Arthur replied.
"They're called cows," Molly said, shaking her head playfully. "You are such a carnivore. You should at least try not eating meat. Do they have vegetarian tacos at this place, Mom?"
"Yes, they do, sweetie. I wouldn't take us to a place that didn't have a vegetarian option for you. They make delicious fried avocado tacos. That's actually what I'm going to get."
"I'm really hungry now," Arthur replied. "My stomach is growling."
Molly quietly pressed something into his hand.
It was an unwrapped butterscotch.
How she had managed to free the candy from the noisy plastic wrapper without making a noise he never figured out. But Molly was like that. She had stealth.
He pretended to yawn, plopping the candy in his mouth.
I have the feeling Mom knows about the candies, he thought. And that she likes Molly and me sharing a secret, enough to not call us out on pilfering her secret candy stash.
T-minus Eight Years
It couldn't have been easy for her, Arthur thought, gently placing a blanket over Molly. She had fallen asleep on the couch, her quantum mechanics textbook in her hand. She had an exam in a few days. She was pushing herself to graduate next semester, working to make money for tuition, and studying.
Staying local for college had at least saved Molly money on rent. Mom was happy to have help around the house. Mom didn't move with the same energy she once had. They had a great partnership: Mom cooked, and Molly cleaned the dishes.
Arthur ate. He was on the track team; he liked eating. He needed the calories.
Molly's eyes moved beneath her eyelids.
Dreaming about far distant space again, he guessed.
"I want to see a nebula one day," she had told him.
"The Hubble telescope has some nice pictures."
"Not pictures. I want to see one for real."
"Maybe one day they'll have rocket ships that can take you to one. You'll have to take a lot of butterscotch candy with you. It'll be a long journey."
Molly's Dad and Arthur's Mom had gotten married when he and Molly were in single digit years. Barely six months after the wedding, Molly's dad died. Bladder cancer, Arthur remembered. He didn't know until it was too late. That left Molly stranded in her new family, with a brother who still regarded her as the outsider.
He was ashamed to remember those months.
"I'm sorry," he had told her, the day after she found the candy for him.
"No worries," she said as she handed him a large bag filled with all sorts of candies.
"You got these for me?"
"You're my candy co-dependent." Molly grinned. "Co-dependents are always better than enablers, in my book. We don't tend to judge what we are."
"I'm sorry about the way I treated you," Arthur reiterated. "I was wrong."
"It's okay," she reiterated. "Every moment shapes us. Don't discard bad memories, nor the shameful ones. They help make you who you are, too. Just use them to make you better. Not bitter."
She had looked away as she spoke. She was still struggling with her father's death.
He had given her a shoulder hug. "You're an awesome big sister," he told her. He opened the bag. "Which is your favorite?"
She pointed to a lumpy chocolate filled with a coconut-flavored goo.
He methodically picked every one of those out and handed them to her. Her little hands could barely hold all of them.
"Finally," he said, "I have found the other person who likes coconut filled candy. I figured they had to be making them for someone other than me."
T-minus Six Years
Molly graduated with her astrophysics degree with honors. She was applying to graduate school.
Arthur and Mom took pictures of her standing on a staircase at her college in her regalia.
She stumbled a little, catching herself from falling, as they took the photos.
"Hey, astrophysics girl," Arthur had called out. "Maybe you should master gravity here before planning to defy it out there."
"I'm fighting gravity," she told him, as she straightened her back. "But just so you know, gravity always wins in the end."
As he took the photographs, Arthur noticed that she looked tired. More tired than she should be. As they walked back to the car, he reached into his pocket and handed Molly a butterscotch. "You need a sugar boost," he observed.
She unwrapped the candy, practicing her magic of not making a sound with the crinkly wrapping. "You're next for this graduating ritual, Mr. Freshman," she said, plopping the candy into her mouth. "Let me know when you need help with that physics homework."
T-minus One Year
"In 1785, Antoine Lavoisier stated the Law of Conservation of Mass," Molly said. "Which said?"
It was the summer after Mom had died and they were driving to the Sleeping Giant place with its sparkling bathrooms, rows of gasoline pumps, and excellent tacos. It was the first time they were making the trip without Mom.
"Conservation of Mass: Matter is neither created nor destroyed," Arthur answered. Molly loved talking physics; she was overjoyed to discuss the laws of the universe with him.
Arthur was driving, studying aloud with her as the miles were swept beneath time.
"In 1842, Julius Robert Mayer stated the Law of Conservation of Energy," Molly prodded.
"Energy is neither created nor destroyed."
"And Einstein? The Law of Conservation of Mass-Energy?"
"The total amount of mass and energy in the universe is constant."
"You'll make an 'A' on your physics exam. I can sense it." She settled back into the passenger seat, pulling a blanket over herself.
"Well, I am being tutored by Dr. Molly, Astrophysics Girl." He smiled.
Molly seemed suddenly vacant.
"You look more exhausted from studying for my exam than me," Arthur noticed.
"I'm a little tired," she confessed. "How long to the Sleeping Giant place?"
"About forty-five minutes," he replied. "Unless you want me to break the Law of the Speed Limit."
"No." Molly smiled. "I'm craving that taco. I don't want it delayed by a speeding ticket."
"There"s butterscotch in the glove box," he reminded her.
She opened the glove box, took out two candies, and noiselessly unwrapped them. She handed one to him. Then her eyelids closed, as fatigue rushed over her and abducted her to sleep, her head against the headrest, the unwrapped candy sitting in the palm of her hand.
T
"You can beat this, Molly."
Arthur pronounced the statement over her frail body as if his words alone could cure her.
"I am in hospice, Arthur. It's an exclusive club. They don't just let anybody in," she answered, squeezing his hand. "Cure isn't an option for me any longer. My victory conditions have changed. I'm afraid that my original quantum state isn't working so well anymore. But, on the bright side, the complexity of my disease is about to be reduced."
"Always with the science," he noted, trying to appear cheerful.
He recognized that she was trying to reassure him. Trying to convince him that tears were not warranted. In her own overly intellectual way.
"I am coping, Arthur," she told him. "The only way I know how."
She was comfortable now, he recognized. They had removed most of the machines from the room. She seemed relieved by that. Her pain was buried under multiple medications. She had the final luxury of coherent thought.
She couldn't eat anymore. He fiddled with the butterscotch candies in his pocket, knowing he could no longer offer one to her. She had never taught him how to unwrap the candies noiselessly, he suddenly realized.
"Maybe a miracle, Molly?" he whispered.
"I have no body left to occupy anymore, Arthur. The cancer has eaten it all away. My miracle will not be a medical recovery. My miracle will have to take another form."
"You were on the road to recovery," he objected, optimism still torturing him.
"That road is closed," she acknowledged weakly. "Do not grieve. I am going to the heavens, Arthur. This planet isn't my terminal destination. It can no longer hold me here."
It was beyond amazing. Molly was trying to comfort him, Arthur recognized. It should be the other way around. But here they were, with Molly's dying body surrounded by light while he felt the heavy blanket of grief enshrouding him.
Molly was very tired, very thirsty. She could no longer swallow. Arthur dipped a cloth in cool water and held it to her lips. She sucked in the moisture. Every breath was a monumental victory. The doctors, the nurses, and the priest paced in the hallway.
There was nothing they could do.
"I am looking forward to becoming stardust," Molly told Arthur. "To being part of the beginning again. My carbon, my nitrogen, my oxygen, my phosphorus, my sulfur—all of me will find new homes. From stardust we came, to stardust we return."
"You can finally see that nebula," he said. "The one you always wanted to see."
She gave his hand the softest, sweetest squeeze. "Good-bye, Arthur."
With that, she slipped away.
The galaxies were waiting to reclaim her energy.
T plus Infinity
Nebula NGC 3603 sparkled like jewels thrown into a corner of the cosmos.
The Gulliver, an automated deep space exploration vessel, was on its travels; it was 20,000 light years from Earth. As it journeyed, the ship captured fantastic images of NGC 3603. Stars in all stages of life sparkled in the dust and gas clouds of the Nebula. The stars glittered like diamonds, citrines, rubies, and sapphires set against the velvety darkness. The cosmic dust around them was hued in scarlet, smoke, and butterscotch.
The Gulliver swept the vast sea of open space as it moved, harvesting, and compressing hydrogen molecules to produce energy and feed its massive Ram Augmented Interstellar Rocket engine.
As it moved amongst the darkness, the Gulliver had no way of knowing that within the interstellar gas it scooped up as propellant contained the shadows of stolen butterscotch and the molecules of a daughter of the stars once named Molly.
Molly, who knew that her creation had occurred when the first ray of light flooded the darkness.
Molly, who knew that having been created, she could never be destroyed.
