Leaving The Genius’s World Chapter 06

Leaving The Genius’s World Chapter 06

The first year after I left, the four of them kept looking for me.

Theo dropped several projects he’d already committed to and hired a private investigator.

He went to cities I’d mentioned, contacted people I’d known in school, and checked places I’d worked.

Owen and Wyatt couldn’t sleep. After cracking a hard problem, they’d still turn to tell me-out of habit.

Back then, I never understood a word. But I’d still get all wide-eyed and say, “Wow, really?”

But now, no one was ever on that couch.

Once, Owen had a stomach attack. Wyatt searched the house and found a storage box under my bed. Inside,

common medicines, bandages, stomach meds, and allergy pills were sorted by name. Every compartment

had a little label I’d written.

[When to take it.]

[Who can’t take it on an empty stomach.]

[Which one expires soon.]

Wyatt just sat there with the box in his lap. For a long time, he didn’t move. Then he dropped his head against

it and stayed like that.

Sadie had changed too. For the first time, she looked at Theo like she didn’t recognize him.

“Theo, you’re dropping projects for Audrey? She could barely get through calculus. Is she really worth this?”

Theo’s eyes were red. “I used to think every problem had an explanation. But after she left, I hit one I can’t

solve.”

He looked at the SAT notebook, now taped back together.

“I don’t know why I miss her. I don’t know how I saw her every day and never really looked at her.”

“Maybe love isn’t something you can prove with a benchmark.”

Sadie’s lips moved,

Theo only said, “Just treat what I said in the lab like I was a bastard. Don’t bring it up again.”

I didn’t know any of this then.

I rode the Southwest Chief all the way to Chicago.

No plan. No destination.

I stayed in Chicago for a few weeks, trying for the first time to find my own place, take public transit alone,

decide where to go each day.

That was where I saw a cultural heritage preservation organization recruiting an English materials assistant

and resident volunteer.

The project was in Egypt.

The old me would’ve asked Theo first, “Do you think I can do it?”

This time, I filled out the application myself. A month later, I flew from O’Hare to Cairo. Then I took a car to

Luxor.

The first time I stood on the West Bank of the Nile, I learned that “desert” wasn’t the monotonous stretch of

yellow I’d imagined.

Near the river were narrow green farmlands and date palms.

Farther west, the green ended like it had been cut with a knife.

The brown-gold desert stretched all the way to the Theban Mountains.

At noon, the limestone cliffs bleached white under the sun. Wind blew through dry wadis, lifting fine sand

into collars and shoes.

At dusk, the ridgeline suddenly turned orange-red.

I really didn’t understand complex algorithms. But I started to discover I had abilities they’d never valued.

Take a tomb mural. If you ask Al, it will answer “ancient death ritual.” But the answer can be more delicate and moving. What really matters in that painting isn’t the word “death.” It’s how a family imagines the one who left can still eat, walk, and be remembered in another world.

The model sees patterns. People see longing.

After working there for a long time, I suddenly understood.

I’d been measuring myself by their strongest scale all along. That was the mistake.