Read Where'd You Go, Bernadette: A Novel for Free Online
Authors: Maria Semple
us around to visit our parents. Dad made a treasure machine. I still don’t understand how it worked, but when it was time to get picked up, you got to put in a coin and out would drop a treasure, matched perfectly to you. A boy who liked cars would get a Hot Wheels. Not just any Hot Wheels, but one he didn’t already have. And if a girl was into baby dolls, she would get a bottle for her baby doll. The treasure machine is now on display in the Visitor Center because it’s an early example of facial recognition technology, which is what Dad was doing in L.A. when Microsoft bought him out.
We parked illegally, and Mom swanned across the Commons carrying the take-out bags, with me at her heels. We entered Dad’s building. Looming above the receptionist was a jumbo digital clock that counted down:
119 DAYS
2 HOURS
44 MINUTES
33 SECONDS
“That’s what they call a
ship clock,
” Mom explained. “It’s how long until Samantha 2 ships. They put it up as motivation. No comment.”
The same clock was in the elevator, the hallways, and even the bathrooms. It ticked down that whole meal in Dad’s office, where we sat on the inflatable balls he uses instead of chairs, our take-out containers wobbling precariously on our knees. I was telling them about all the different kinds of penguins we were going to see on the trip.
“You want to know the coolest part?” Mom chimed in. “There isn’t assigned seating at the dining room, and they have tables for four. That means the three of us can sit down and if we pile the extra chair with our gloves and hats, nobody can sit with us!”
Dad and I looked at each other, like, Is she joking?
“And penguins,” Mom quickly added. “I’m wildly excited about all those penguins.”
Dad must have told everyone we were coming, because people kept walking by and peeking through the glass, but acting like they weren’t, which is what it must feel like to be famous.
“I wish this was more of a celebration,” Dad said, glancing at his email. “But I have a video conference with Taipei.”
“That’s OK, Dad,” I said. “You’re busy.”
*
From Dad
Dear Ms. Loundes,
First off, we’re thrilled that Bee has been accepted to Choate. While I’m an Exonian myself, my wife, Bernadette, always said her happiest days were spent at Choate, and Bee has wanted to attend ever since she was a little girl.
Secondly, thank you for the kind words about Bee. We agree, she’s extraordinary. However, we are strenuously opposed to her skipping a grade.
I have just looked over her application, and I realize there is no way you would know the essential fact about Bee: she was born with a heart defect, which required a half-dozen surgeries. As a result, she spent her first five years on and off at Seattle Children’s Hospital.
Bee entered kindergarten on schedule, even though her little body was having difficulty keeping up. (She was in the zero percentile for height and weight during this time; she is still struggling to catch up, as you saw for yourself.) Yet her profound intelligence was already making itself known. Teachers encouraged us to get Bee tested. Really, though, Bernadette and I had no interest in the gifted-child industry. Perhaps because we both went to prep school and Ivy League universities ourselves, we did not fetishize them like other Seattle parents. Our primary concern was that our daughter know a modicum of normalcy after the sickening circumstances of her first five years.
It was a decision that has richly benefited Bee. We found a wonderful neighborhood school, Galer Street. Sure, Bee was “ahead” of the other kids in her class. In response, she took it upon herself to teach the slower kids to read and write. To this day, Bee stays after school and helps in homework lab. She didn’t mention that on her application, either.
Choate has marvelous facilities. I’m certain Bee will find more than enough to keep her from “growing bored.”
While we’re on
We parked illegally, and Mom swanned across the Commons carrying the take-out bags, with me at her heels. We entered Dad’s building. Looming above the receptionist was a jumbo digital clock that counted down:
119 DAYS
2 HOURS
44 MINUTES
33 SECONDS
“That’s what they call a
ship clock,
” Mom explained. “It’s how long until Samantha 2 ships. They put it up as motivation. No comment.”
The same clock was in the elevator, the hallways, and even the bathrooms. It ticked down that whole meal in Dad’s office, where we sat on the inflatable balls he uses instead of chairs, our take-out containers wobbling precariously on our knees. I was telling them about all the different kinds of penguins we were going to see on the trip.
“You want to know the coolest part?” Mom chimed in. “There isn’t assigned seating at the dining room, and they have tables for four. That means the three of us can sit down and if we pile the extra chair with our gloves and hats, nobody can sit with us!”
Dad and I looked at each other, like, Is she joking?
“And penguins,” Mom quickly added. “I’m wildly excited about all those penguins.”
Dad must have told everyone we were coming, because people kept walking by and peeking through the glass, but acting like they weren’t, which is what it must feel like to be famous.
“I wish this was more of a celebration,” Dad said, glancing at his email. “But I have a video conference with Taipei.”
“That’s OK, Dad,” I said. “You’re busy.”
*
From Dad
Dear Ms. Loundes,
First off, we’re thrilled that Bee has been accepted to Choate. While I’m an Exonian myself, my wife, Bernadette, always said her happiest days were spent at Choate, and Bee has wanted to attend ever since she was a little girl.
Secondly, thank you for the kind words about Bee. We agree, she’s extraordinary. However, we are strenuously opposed to her skipping a grade.
I have just looked over her application, and I realize there is no way you would know the essential fact about Bee: she was born with a heart defect, which required a half-dozen surgeries. As a result, she spent her first five years on and off at Seattle Children’s Hospital.
Bee entered kindergarten on schedule, even though her little body was having difficulty keeping up. (She was in the zero percentile for height and weight during this time; she is still struggling to catch up, as you saw for yourself.) Yet her profound intelligence was already making itself known. Teachers encouraged us to get Bee tested. Really, though, Bernadette and I had no interest in the gifted-child industry. Perhaps because we both went to prep school and Ivy League universities ourselves, we did not fetishize them like other Seattle parents. Our primary concern was that our daughter know a modicum of normalcy after the sickening circumstances of her first five years.
It was a decision that has richly benefited Bee. We found a wonderful neighborhood school, Galer Street. Sure, Bee was “ahead” of the other kids in her class. In response, she took it upon herself to teach the slower kids to read and write. To this day, Bee stays after school and helps in homework lab. She didn’t mention that on her application, either.
Choate has marvelous facilities. I’m certain Bee will find more than enough to keep her from “growing bored.”
While we’re on