“I like to play with computers, and I like watching movies.”
Poppy is so easy to talk to that I barely notice Braden leave the room. I’m a little surprised he doesn’t want to stick around to hear about me so he can corroborate any facts I happen to embellish, but then, maybe he wants to speak to his father and smooth things over.
“What kinds of movies?” Poppy asks.
“Science fiction and dystopian future.”
“Ah, dystopian is so dark and popular with young people,” he says. “What scares you about the future?”
“Being mind-controlled by computers. That’s why I have to understand how computers work.”
“It’s getting scary how much control these networks of computers and databases have on us,” Poppy says. “I’m writing a screenplay about a group of vigilante hackers.”
“That sounds so cool. I like movies about the individual who takes down big government control.”
“I know, right?” He squeezes my hand. “Writing a screenplay makes me feel like a god, like I can change the story and make the good people win.”
“Except there’s always another threat on the horizon.”
“Never a happy ending where you can rest on your laurels.” He sighs long and looks up at the ceiling. “The eternal battle between good and evil, eh?”
“I like happy endings,” I declare, realizing how enjoyable it is to converse with him.
“Except there are no endings. Only beginnings.” He succumbs to another round of coughing. “Today, we are beginning something. Me and you. Me and Braden. It doesn’t matter how long it lasts, as long as we are beginning.”
“You mean a new beginning?” A tiny ray of hope sparks in my heart. I’m not so useless after all. My own family might not want me, but I can bring joy to this old man’s last Christmas.
“New, old, what does it matter? You are beginning a conversation with me, and I with you. I like you, Samantha Leah Powers. Amend that. I love you, and I wish Braden had come to me much earlier.” He shakes his head sadly. “I hope he and his father will begin a conversation. Not with regrets. Those are worthless, because there’s no use looking backwards.”
“Do you know what happened between them?” Curiosity is one of my hallmarks, and I can’t help trying to milk the information.
“It’s not my place to tell you, little one.” He pats my hand, and I’m reminded that I’m supposed to be sixteen and his great-granddaughter—not a college educated ex-con with plenty of regrets.
“Sorry for asking.” I look into the clear blue eyes that have seen so much, both joy and sorrow.
“No need to be sorry. That’s a regret you don’t need.” He closes his eyes, possibly to rest, and then says, eyes still closed, “I enjoy talking to you. You’re very wise for your years. Where do you go to school?”
“I’m homeschooled. Taught by my mother.” In reality, I’m college educated with a liberal arts degree, which is useless as far as job skills are concerned, but it comes in handy when making conversation. I’m really good at bull sessions and sounding like an expert—jack of all trades and master of none.
“Your mother must be a brilliant woman. Tell me about her.” Poppy’s voice fades, and his breathing grows shallow.
I can tell he’s tired, but I fill him in on some of my mother’s positive traits. “She’s a driven woman, and she believes in seeking success through hard work. She makes me study not only math and science, but world literature, history, social sciences, the classics, and philosophy.”
“How did she meet your dad?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
He laughs at my joke. “Do you know what your dad does?”
Oops. I wonder if he knows and wants to confirm that I know, or he’s truly in the dark.
“He doesn’t talk about his work.”
“He shouldn’t,” Poppy says. “He’s a good man, and our country needs men and women like him. You’re a smart kid. Maybe one of these days, you’ll be a superhero like him, too.”
Superhero?
Braden’s grandfather believes he’s one of the good guys? But maybe the world needs vigilantes since criminals are always getting away on technicalities.
