Dad is working.
He’s always working.
My friends’ dads only work during the week. They come home for dinner. Not my dad. He’s always working. Nights. Weekends. All week long.
“But you promised,” I whine.
Dad hates it when I whine, but I can’t help it. I can see the beach and the waves and the people through the window. And he did promise we could go to the beach today. He promised.
Dad crouches down next to me and opens his arms.
I step into his hug without thinking. He works a lot, but I know he loves me.
“I did promise, little lamb, and I’m so sorry, but something came up. Something urgent—that means that it can’t wait. Besides, the beach isn’t safe today. There are far too many jellyfish out there.”
I stiffen. It hurt so bad when that jellyfish stung me last time. I remember the purple flags that were up all over the beach that day. I’ll never ignore that warning again.
Dad releases me and stands up, turning toward his lab, like always. I drag myself toward the family room. Maybe I can watch a cartoon or something. Except when I pick up the remote for the television, it’s sitting on the windowsill and I look outside.
There aren’t any purple flags. The flags are green. Bright, dark green. I frown. “Dad?”
He pauses with his hand on the doorknob—about to disappear. “Yes?”
“Why do you have to work? What’s wrong?” I don’t ask why it’s more important than I am, but I want to. My lower lip trembles.
Dad’s sigh is heavy, which probably means he’s mad. His work really is important. I know that, but I’m not sure why. He releases the door and walks toward me. He sits on the couch and pulls me up next to him. “You’ve been sick before. You know how lousy it feels.”
I nod.
“Here in the United States, we have medicine when that happens. We have lots of different kinds of medicines, actually. Some help remove the sickness that makes you sick, and some make you feel better while your body eliminates the illness. But in some places, they can’t afford either kind of medicine. In some places, when people get sick, they suffer a lot more than we do. And often, they die.”
“Like mom died?”
He swallows. “Not very many people are in a position to help those sick kids or their sick mothers.” He frowns. “People might contribute money to help pay for the medicine, or they could even go overseas to try and help treat a few of them.” He shrugs. “But it doesn’t really solve the problem.”
“So are we going over to help?”
Dad squeezes my hand. “Not right now, no, but my training at school makes me uniquely capable of helping people. What I’m trying to do is make medicine that will be cheap, accessible, and that will save those kids’ lives.”
“Why does it have to be you?” I glance sideways at the green flags flapping happily in the wind. “Why can’t someone else’s dad do it instead? Maybe only this week?”
“Oh, little lamb.” He scoops me up and puts me on his lap. His hand brushes my hair back behind my ear. “I know you want to see me more often. I know it’s hard for you to understand why I’m always busy. I could spend less time working on this, this week, this month, this year. I won’t lie about that, not to you. But sometimes in life, because of the gift of our intelligence, or because of our hard work, or because of a bizarre fluke of luck, we’re the ones who are in the right place. We’re the ones with the right skillset to do something hard. Sometimes we’re the only ones who can accomplish what needs to be done.”
“And you’re the lucky one?” It doesn’t feel very lucky.
He laughs. “Not lucky in the way that you’re thinking. Not like I found a pot of gold.”
“How then?”
“I’ll give you an example. If a lady by the name of Marie Curie hadn’t been born in Poland or had scientist parents, and if her mother hadn’t died when she was ten, she might not have worked quite so hard, or learned quite so much. She was so cold one winter—without money for proper lodgings or heating—that she wore all of her clothing at the same time to keep warm. But thanks to her dedication and sacrifice, she was able to discover radioactivity. She was the first woman to receive a Nobel Prize.”
Marie Curie. That sounds familiar. “Didn’t she die from radiation?”
Dad looks like he accidentally smashed his finger. “Okay, well how about this one. If two parents by the name of Augusto and Michaela Odone hadn’t had a son with adrenoleukodystrophy, they would never have studied as hard as they did. They never would have financed an international meeting of scientists and discovered a treatment for that rare illness.”
“They saved a lot of kids? Like millions?”
Dad frowns. “It’s not always about the total number of people you save. They could have simply enjoyed the time they had with their son. Or they could have had a son who wasn’t sick at all, but neither of those things are what happened. Sometimes the world places us in a position to help others, and when it does, it’s our job—” He shakes his head. “No, not our job. It’s our duty to rise to that call. To do whatever it is that we’re uniquely situated to do.”
“You have to save the world, because you can?”
Dad nods slowly. “One day this will make more sense. And one day, you might be in a position to do the same.” He kisses my forehead. “I promise that we’ll go to the beach this week. I’m so close to the answers we need, little lamb. I promise.”
“Okay.” I turn on cartoons, but I don’t find anything good. While a dumb cat chases a smart mouse all over the screen, I can’t help but hope that I’m never like my dad. I don’t want to be in the right place. I’d prefer not to be lucky.
Because it sure seems like saving everyone else is a crappy job.
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