When Gong Gong took me to the aquarium when I was a kid, we’d spend the majority of time in front of the seahorses. He’d always have a new fun fact for me. Seahorses are like underwater butterflies as they, too, figure out ways to blend in with their surroundings. They’re terrible swimmers, but what they lack in speed they make up for in dexterity. It’s the males that give birth to thousands of baby seahorses.
“If you’re not too old, I’m not,” I say, crossing my arms in anticipation. “I’m impressed that you still have any fun facts left. I didn’t think that was possible. Let’s hear it.”
“You know why I love seahorses so much?” he starts.
“This sounds like the start of a bad joke. You love that they’re constantly eating?” I guess, not remembering this specific fun fact.
“Oh. Yes. But that’s not it. You must not remember. Ah, well, you were young,” Gong Gong says. “They remind me of your grandma.”
“Those,” I say, nodding toward a two-inch-long seahorse, “remind you of Grandma?”
Gong Gong holds his arms up as he wiggles his body. “Every morning, seahorses greet their partner with a little dance.”
“You’re not serious,” I say.
“It’s true. Their morning waltz reinforces their bond.” Gong Gong bends down to smile at the seahorses. “So every morning, she and I danced. Just a little cheek to cheek. She insisted on dancing every morning,” he says. “When I got too busy or too serious, she’d still make me do it. I’m glad she did.”
“Grandma didn’t let you get away with anything.”
“No, she didn’t. You know, you’re like her in many ways. You’re both ambitious. She’d decide what she wanted to do, then follow through with it until she got it. She made literal plans, wrote them out in her planners, and referenced them every day. She loved to work, loved getting ahead. She’d test different schedules until she found the most efficient one.”
I inhale sharply. Will the word “test” make me think of Rooney every time I hear it? “I wish I had the chance to know Grandma,” I say.
“She loved you very much,” he says, his eyes glistening. “Did you know that seahorses mate for life?”
“Probably for survival reasons,” I guess.
“I like to think there’s something bigger at play,” Gong Gong says. “Little seahorse soulmates. It makes me happy to think about.”
“As scientists, we want clear, definitive answers. The question of whether fate is real or not doesn’t fit into that category.” He’s studying my face when I look up at him. “Rooney believes in fate.I don’t.” I debate whether to tell him this last part. “She thinks I’m on the other end of her red string. Does that sound strange to you?”
Gong Gong inhales slowly through his nose as he thinks. “I think we believe what we need to believe to give our lives meaning,” he says. “Or we genuinely believe in something because that’s what we’ve been taught, and that shapes how we view and live our lives. Like with me and your grandma, in my bones, I know we were soulmates. It wasn’t love at first sight for her. But when we got to know each other, it felt… big. So, no. Rooney’s red string is not so strange to me.”
“She puts so much emphasis on signs. It’s an unrealistic expectation I don’t know how to live up to.”
“And you’ve seen no signs? No clues at all?” Gong Gong asks, gently prodding.
“Clues from the universe?” I ask. “I guess there have been a couple of odd coincidences.” I think of having picked Rooney’s Fate Note. “Well, maybe there have been a few.”
I think back to all the instances Rooney listed off at Hugh’s. My breath becomes shallower as it dawns on me that those might be what she meant by signs. They’re personal. Meaningful. And my intuition feels like it’s trying to say something. Maybe there have been signs all along. I just ignored them or dismissed them as something else. Maybe I didn’t want to see them.
“The only difference between fate and free will is perspective,” Gong Gong says. “To some, like you, life is the sequence of choices you make when you decide how to live it. Small decisions add up. For others, it’s the individual moments that have meaning. Both are right.”
“You can’t believe in one thing sometimes and another thing at other times only when it’s convenient for you,” I say.
Gong Gong lifts his shoulders. “Why not? Are we not complicated, contradictory beings? I want to be at the aquarium with you. I also want to be home making ice cream. Just because something is the way it is doesn’t mean it can’t ever become anything different. For her, and for you. Our main goal, when you really boil it down, is to get through the day and live to see another one.”
I frown. “You’re oversimplifying it.”
“And you’re trying to troubleshoot too much,” Gong Gong counters. “It’s not one or the other, and a relationship isn’t a mission. Unlike a spacecraft, you can launch a relationship and see what it does when it’s in a completely new environment. If something fails, it isn’t a crisis. You can learn what the problem is, adjust, and try again. The stakes aren’t quite as high as they are in space.”
“It’s not only the fate thing. This thing between us is so strong. Too powerful, almost. Rooney will live a lot of her life on the road for her art, which is incredible. But I wouldn’t be able to go with her, and Mom and Dad always have ‘one more expedition’ left in them.”
“When your parents traveled, they didn’t do a very good job of keeping in touch,” Gong Gong says. “I should’ve done more about that.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “When they left, we talked to them, what, once a week? If that. They were busy.”
“Something gives me the sense that Rooney would never be too busy for you,” he says. “Didn’t you tell me that she tried to find you, too, after New York?”
