A Brilliant Mind

He looked at his mom and said, "Sometimes, life doesn't make sense. What sense was there in Dad dying so young? Why did I think Lucy loved me when she didn't? Why did I think Liz was the real thing when my 'Spider Senses' were tingling and telling me otherwise? And why can't I stop thinking about this woman who's maybe ten years older than me?"

"Don't ask me," she said. "I've been asking similar kinds of questions all my life."

"And what have you concluded after all these years of asking?"

"Ha! Don't ask me," she said again before both of them laughed. It was either laugh or cry and laughing seemed a whole lot better.

Monday was uncomfortable for both Liz and Bingham. Fortunately, she sat near the back and didn't flaunt the huge ring on her left hand and when they did speak, it was cordial but professional.

Once class was over, Bingham had to wait out the rest of the day so he decided to go home and ride his bike over to Pebble Beach. It was downright chilly but the salty air felt so refreshing the tradeoff was worth it. He sat down and stared at the Lone Cyprus Tree again and hoped it might help him unravel a mystery more complex than The Theory of Everything—women.

What was it about them that so fascinated men? At the most basic level, women were nothing but atoms and molecules chemically interacting. But when those atoms and molecules got arranged in a particular order, the result had driven men crazy as long as men and women had been on earth. Bingham didn't believe in Adam and Eve, but love—whatever it was—was perhaps the most real thing to him in an otherwise cold, often-uncaring universe. And yet trying to describe it or understand it seemed to be the holy grail of life itself. He wondered why there wasn't a Nobel Prize for discovering the true nature of love then decided it was time to head back, shower, and then do his best to at least try and better understand the one women who'd captivated his so-called brilliant mind for the last couple of weeks. It seemed hopeless, but he was helpless to resist so he got in his car and drove to the dance studio.

He arrived a little early again and stood there watching her work with an older couple. Both looked to be in their seventies yet both of them seemed to be very much in love. When they finished, Monica said, "It's been such a pleasure working with you both. Congratulations again on your 50th anniversary!" They thanked her then walked away hand in hand.

She saw him and waved energetically. "Hey, there! Last lesson. You ready?"

He walked over to her and smiled. He pointed toward the couple that was leaving and said, "That's what I want. Right there."

"Then you better get a move on because getting to the 50-year mark requires an early start or some incredible genetics."

"And maybe a little luck?"

Monica laughed said, "Luck and a whole lot of hard work. Even the best marriages can be challenging." A kind of whimsical look appeared on her face before she said, "But if you really love the other person, there's no greater happiness on earth. Not money, not houses or land. True love really is a many splendored thing."

She looked over at him and said, "Okay, Tanner. Shall we boogey?"

Bingham laughed knowing they would be waltzing or fox trotting or something similar rather than dancing something from Saturday Night Fever. "I'm ready when you are," he said.

She grabbed a remote, clicked a couple of buttons, and the music came on.

Bingham bowed slightly and said, "May I have this dance?"

For the next hour they whirled one another around the room with Monica initially doing the whirling until Bingham could lead. From then on, he assumed the lead role and did so quite well in their own private little world of dance.

"You have been such a good student," she told him when their time was up. "I've thoroughly enjoyed working with you, Tanner."

"The pleasure was all mine," he assured her. He was perspiring lightly from an hour of dancing, but that was separate from the wetness on his palms.

"Monica? I was wondering if by any chance you have a date yet for Valentine's Day?"

"Me? Ha! It's only been a few days since we last discussed it so, no, no date. Why? Did you find some handsome, single Navy captain to escort me to the dance?"

"No, sorry. No luck there. But I do know a nerdy scientist who suddenly found himself without a date and, well, he's a decent enough guy. I could introduce you if you'd like."

"A scientist? I've never dated a scientist before. What's his specialty?"

"Physics," Bingham said.

"Oh, a modern-day Einstein?" she said cheerfully as she started putting things away for the night.

"Not exactly," he said although that comparison had been made hundreds if not thousands of times already.

"You said he's a decent guy so I suppose if he's someone you'd vouch for, it couldn't hurt to at least meet him. I do so love that dance at NPGS." She set something down then said, "Oh, can he dance?"

Bingham laughed and said, "He's been told he's not bad—and recently at that. Does that help?"

"It does, but I have one more question. When you said 'nerdy' just how nerdy to you mean? Broken glasses? Sweater vest? Pocket protector?"

Tanner laughed again ten said, "I guess nerdy and scientist tend to get thrown out together pretty often. I don't know anyone who knows him who'd actually call him a nerd. Then again, you'd have to decide that for yourself, I suppose."

"Why are you smiling like that, Tanner? What are you hiding?" She was being very friendly and playful and he loved how she was smiling at him. "Is he famous or something? Do I possibly know him?"

"Again, the famous part kind of depends."

"Uh-huh. And the 'do I know him' part?" she asked with raised eyebrows and her ever-present smile.

"Yes."

"I see. Is this possibly-nerdy scientist who was recently told he's not a bad dancer significantly younger than me?"

"I hate to split hairs, but what does 'significantly' mean to you?" he asked kind of sheepishly.

"Oh, I don't know. Someone who's maybe...your age?"

"In that case, yes, he is indeed significantly younger than you, but he does at least know how to dance a little bit and he thinks you're quite possibly the most beautiful woman he's ever seen."

Monica burst out laughing so hard she had to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry, Tanner! I didn't mean to laugh, but I couldn't help it. I'd been thinking this was leading up to you telling me that you might just be the nerdy scientist which is fine. But me being this 'most beautiful woman' person? Sorry, but that's just funny!"

"Not to me," he said with a look that spoke of the purest kind of sincerity.

Monica stopped laughing immediately and said, "Tanner, are you serious? You can't be serious, can you?"

"I am. I'm totally serious about everything I said to you, Monica."

Monica, who'd never once been at a loss for words since he met her began to stutter and stumble. "Tanner, this is...I mean...I'm so much older...I can't imagine...this doesn't make any sense...why would you..."

"Because I can't stop thinking about you," he told her.

"Um, well, that's very sweet of you to say," she blurted out. "But what happened to your date? The one you cared enough about to learn to dance?"

"If you'd let me buy you that cup of coffee, I'll be happy to explain it all to you and I promise it will all make sense. Or at least you'll understand how I feel." He smiled at her in the hope it might help his case.

"I'm not opposed to having coffee with you, but, well, I'm kind of all sweaty here," she said.

"You're much to pretty to be sweaty. I believe the proper term is 'slightly glistening'."

This time she laughed because he had such a wonderful sense of humor.

"You really don't mind sitting with me...like this?" She looked down at her beautiful body as though it was some kind of foul thing so it was Tanner's turn to laugh.

"You look perfect to me, Monica."

"I don't...smell perfect," she said trying to be funny back.

"That's the last thing I care about," he told her truthfully. "Can I maybe help you close up?

Ten minutes later Tanner was opening his car door for her. She thanked him and slid in.

"Okay, first things first," she said. "Tell me about your date and what happened."

Tanner told her the entire story from soup to nuts. "I'm sorry," she said. "Or at least I think I am. For you, I'm sure I am."

"Don't be. She's a wonderful girl and she really loves this Dan guy. He broke her heart but she never stopped loving him. I was her rebound guy and nothing more."

"Still, I'm sorry this happened to you."

There was a coffee shop just three blocks away and they were already pulling up to it as Monica said, "I want to hear about your work, Tanner. I don't know anything about physics, but I have heard of black holes and the Big Bang. Does that count?"

"It does in my book," he said smiling at her as he put the car in park. "Stay right there and I'll get your door for you."

Monica surprised him when she didn't order decaf. "I'm a night owl. I'm normally up until at least 2am so regular is fine."

"Me, too," he told her as he paid for the coffee. "Must some kind of sign from the cosmos, right?"

Monica laughed and said, "Let's sit in the far corner...just in case."

"Okay, so what do you do in the world of physics?" she asked before taking a first sip.

"Oh, my. Talk about boring you to death. You'd probably enjoy watching paint dry more than listening to me talk about my work."

"Try me," she said pleasantly.

"Okay, you asked for it," he warned her. "Well, gravity has plagued physicists for as long as we've studied it."

"Gravity? You mean Newton and the apple gravity?"

"That's the one," he replied. "So...at the Big Bang, what we nerdy physicists and cosmologists call the 'four fundamental forces'—gravity, electro-magnetism, the strong nuclear force and the weak nuclear force—appear to have been combined in one 'super force.' In an incredibly short time after the Big Bang—millionths of a second short—gravity broke away from the other three forces which then quickly followed suit leaving four, separate, distinct fundamental forces. Gravity is by far the weakest of the forces and yet it's the most troubling."

"How so?" Monica asked already pretty much lost.

"Well, scientists have figured out how to quantize or apply a quantum theory to the other three forces. But gravity refused to play. No one, not even Einstein or Hawking could figure how to do that. It just defied all attempts to do so. This effort to find a quantum theory for gravity that could tie it back in with the other three forces became the holy grail of physics. It was called 'The Theory of Everything.' For the last five years, I've done nothing but work on solving that problem." He saw she was listening intently so he said, "Clear as mud?"

"Well, you did warn me," she said politely. "So...did you have any success?"

"A little," he said modestly.

"Okay, so did you do your work at NPGS?"

"No, MIT actually. My father just passed away—from cancer—and I came home when he was close to the end."

"Oh, Tanner. I'm so sorry. My husband died from cancer, too. I hope someone finds a cure one day. That disease takes so many lives far too young. Especially children. It's just...wicked."

"Yes, it is," he agreed.

"Okay, so now I know why you're not taking this other young woman, what you do for a living, and why you're in Monterey. But what I don't understand is...why me? Tanner, I'm 37 years old and you're...young. Very young."

The revelation of her exact age momentarily threw him, but he managed not to let his surprise show. "I'm not Einstein, but I do understand relativity and age is one of those things that's well...relative."

Monica laughed politely as he continued speaking. "I told my mom about you and she said..."

"You told you mother about me?" she asked not sure what to make of that.

"Well, the subject of Liz—the other girl—and the dance came up and I told her there was someone I found to be both beautiful and intriguing and...even fascinating. I also happened to mention you were a bit older than me so..."

"A bit? Oh, my. Tanner? I'm almost afraid to ask, but...just how old are you?" She held her breath and winced in anticipation of his answer.

"Twenty-five," he told her.

"Oh, my goodness! Twenty-five? Did you really just say twenty-five?" she repeated with utter incredulity.

"It's not like a have disease or something," he replied close to feeling defensive.

"Oh, no. I...I didn't mean it like that. Please forgive me. It's just that when I actually heard you say that number out loud, it shocked me. I was hoping you might say thirty but you don't look thirty so..."

Tanner didn't mention he'd just experienced a similar shock. Instead, he smiled and said, "How do I look to you?"

"In terms of age?" she asked hesitantly.

"No. How do I look to you? Do I look unattractive or unappealing or..."

"Uh-uh," she said stopping him with a shake of her head. "I told you when I first met you how handsome you are, Tanner. That hasn't changed. But neither has my age nor the way I look."

"I'm glad," he said.

"You're glad? I don't understand."

"Yes, I'm glad the way you look hasn't changed, Monica. You were beautiful when I saw you for the first time and I'm glad you haven't changed."

She smiled and said, "Oh, you're smooth, Tanner. I have to give you that." She looked at him for a moment then said, "Thank you. That was really nice of you to say."

"You're welcome, but I didn't say it to be nice. I said it because it's true."

"I'm too old to blush but were I a young woman...my face would be redder than my hair."

"Why do people make such a big deal out of age, anyway? Why aren't other things far more important? Don't misunderstand. I love numbers. Maybe even to the point of being well, nerdy, about them. But numbers are just numbers. They say nothing else about us beyond when we entered the game of life and how important is that? To my way of thinking it seems rather trivial. Maturity, experience, outlook, education, having things in common—those things matter. But numbers? Not so much. At least in my humble opinion."

"But age often tells us a lot about what we might have in common. You know, culturally for instance. Music, television, books, events we lived through and shared with others our own age. It may not be critically important, but it seems foolish to dismiss it as trivial."

"Okay, I'll cede the point. Partially, at least. How about this? Let me take you to the Valentine's Day dance. As friends. I'd like to have dinner with you before too, if that's okay. Let's just see what we might have in common and go from there?" Tanner's head was cocked slightly to the side indicating he was hopeful.

"Tanner, I...I don't know. You're just so much younger than me. And you really are very handsome. There have to be dozens of beautiful young girls around here. Girls like this Liz. Girls who would jump at the chance to go out with you."

"But I don't want to go out with them. I want to go out with you, Monica. Not them. You."

She was studying his eyes and all she could see was honesty and tenderness and sincerity.

"Okay. I'll go to the dance with you. And dinner sounds nice, too. But just as friends, okay?"

"Deal," he said cheerfully. "But when I win you over you have to agree to a second date."

Now it was Monica who was tilting her head only hers was tilted down. "You mean if you can win me over, right? There's a whole lot of space between us, you know."

He reached over and put his hand on hers. She didn't pull back so he smiled then said, "If only you knew how right you are. It seems like there's currently just this table between us. But because matter is mostly space between atoms held together by the strong nuclear force, there's really nothing but space between us. Well, that and your resistance. But I'm going to start chipping away at that—starting right now."

"Why do I feel like I'm already in over my head?" she asked sweetly.

"Well, if I can come up with the theory of everything, then I can do anything, right?"

"I thought you told me you're were working on your theory of everything?" she said reminding him of his own words.

"Right. I did say that. Okay. Fair enough. But my point stands. I'm determined to win you over, Monica. You and your heart. And when I'm really determined I tend to get what I want."

"I guess we'll have to just see about that, won't we?" she said still not having moved her hand. He was stroking her fingers with his and a time or two she stroked back.

"I guess I should get you back to the studio so you can get home."

"Oh, right. Yes, I suppose we should get going, huh?" Her voice had lost its toughness and Bingham felt her squeeze his hand softly before letting it go.

He walked her to her car and after she unlocked it, he opened it for her. "I had a very nice time tonight," she told him. "I just want to be honest, Tanner. Not that I haven't been honest, of course. It's just that I really don't see how this could ever go anywhere. I am looking forward to the dance, though, and that means I'm going to have to hurry up and get a gown. But what concerns me the m..."

She hadn't taken her eyes off of him and he hadn't heard a word she said. For the first time in his life he felt 'possessed.' It was as though some external power took control of his body and willed him to it. Without warning, he put his hands on her face and kissed her while she was in mid-sentence.

"Tan...ner, what...are you..." Her initial shock and resistance wast short-lived as he continued kissing her until just moments later when she kissed him back.

The entire thing lasted less than five seconds, but it left Monica reeling as he slowly pulled away from her while keeping his hands on her pretty face.

"You were saying?" he asked very quietly.

"I was?" she replied barely above a whisper.

"You were," he told her. "Something about buying a dress maybe?"

"Right. Yes, a gown. For the dance. The one you're taking me to."

"I really like you Monica. I hope you'll at least give me a fair chance."

Her eyes stayed locked with his as they spoke, their faces just inches away.

"I think fairness is important," she replied not knowing what else to say. "Otherwise, it would be unfair, right?"

"Please don't be unfair with me, okay?" he asked his voice also very quiet.

"I...I won't," she barely managed to say.

He slowly lowered his hands then said, "I had a nice time tonight, too," before breaking eye contact.

He helped her get in then said, "Goodnight, Monica."

"Goodnight, Tanner," she said as though she were in a mild state of shock.

"Oh, before you leave..." he said.

"Yes?" she said quickly.

"Could I possibly get your cell number so I don't have to call the studio?"

"Oh, um...sure. Let me just get it for you."

He held his out in front of her and said, "No need. Just put your number in mine, please."

She seemed to be recovering as she reached out and took it. "Of course." She smiled and entered her number and gave it back to him. "That should do it."

"Okay, now I can let you go," he said smiling broadly at her. "Have a good night, okay?"

"You too," she said smiling back at him in an odd kind of way. Perhaps she hadn't recovered yet.

He waved while continuing to smile as she drove away then got back in his own car and headed home unable to think about anyone or anything but her. She so consumed him that he was unable to not send her a short text: "I really did have a wonderful time tonight. Can't wait to see you again. The nerdy scientist."

Monica's heart raced when she saw the text shortly after getting home. She read then said out loud, "Why do I fee like I'm 16 and just got asked to the prom by the cutest boy in school?"