Schrödinger's a Quack

Tragedy struck early in Stella’s childhood.

Her mother, Clara, was a brilliant professor of quantum physics at the local university. She was renowned for her sharp mind and tireless dedication to her work. Her father was snuffed out in an instant on a rain-slicked road. Clara’s shock and grief pushed Stella from her mother’s womb too soon. She began life as a fragile, tiny fighter in an unkind world.

Clara was a devoted mother, but her career demanded much of her time. As a professor, she taught classes during the week, her voice echoing through lecture halls as she explained the mysteries of quantum physics to eager students. On weekends, she often traveled across the country. Her suitcase was a constant presence in the hallway, packed and unpacked with practiced efficiency. Stella spent those weekends reading books, drawing pictures, or staring out the window, waiting for the sound of Clara’s car pulling into the driveway. Despite the loneliness, Stella admired her mother’s intelligence and strength.

When Stella was six years old, Clara married Daniel, a kind-hearted engineer with a gentle smile and a knack for fixing things. It was a small ceremony at the courthouse, with Stella standing beside them in a frilly dress that itched at the seams. Daniel taught Stella how to ride a bike and made her laugh with silly jokes.

Eleven months after the wedding, Ben arrived. He was a chubby, giggling infant with big blue eyes. Stella adored him from the moment she saw him. She would sit by his crib, singing soft songs or telling him made-up stories about brave knights and talking animals. Stella began to believe that maybe the hard times were behind them.

Just three weeks before Stella’s fifteenth birthday, Daniel slipped in the shower. By the time the paramedics arrived, it was too late. The family she had come to love was broken again.

As she sat in her room, staring at the walls covered in old drawings and photos, Stella wondered how much more she could bear. Life was fragile, unpredictable, and unfair. The quantum theories her mother tried to explain didn’t help it make sense to Stella. She had to keep going anyway. Ben and their mother needed her now more than ever.

Ben struggled with the loss of his father. His once-bright eyes grew shadowed. His laughter became rare. His small hands trembled during quiet moments. Clara enrolled him in therapy.

Stella retreated from the world like a turtle pulling into its shell. She spent hours alone in her room, staring at the ceiling or flipping through old photo albums. Her heart ached for the family they used to be. School became a blur of faces and voices she barely noticed. Stella built walls around herself, too raw from loss to let anyone in. The house, once a haven of warmth, now felt like a museum of sorrow, each corner holding memories of those they’d lost.

Clara turned to alcohol. At first, it was a glass of wine to dull the edges of her grief. Soon bottles piled up in the kitchen, and her eyes grew glassy. Stella noticed her mother’s sharp wit dull, her steady hands shaking, but she didn’t know how to help. Clara, driving home late one night, crashed her car. She added prescription painkillers to her routine.

Money grew tight as Clara’s ability to work faltered. Her lectures at the university became sporadic, and her speaking engagements dwindled. Bills piled up on the kitchen table, unopened and menacing. Stella took on odd jobs—babysitting, tutoring, even mowing neighbors’ lawns—to help make ends meet.

One spring afternoon, a letter arrived that changed everything. It was an offer of a full scholarship to one of the country’s most prestigious universities, a place known for its towering libraries and brilliant minds. Stella had never imagined leaving her small town, let alone attending such a renowned school. The thought filled her with dread. Ben and Clara needed her.

Clara insisted Stella accept it, her voice firm despite the tremor of her hands.

“This is your chance,” she said, her eyes pleading. “You deserve more.”

Stella resisted, her heart torn. She argued with her mother late into the night, her voice rising with fear and guilt. How could she leave Ben, who still woke from nightmares? How could she abandon Clara, who seemed to waver between strength and fragility? But Clara wouldn’t budge. For months, she brought up the scholarship at every opportunity, her persistence wearing down Stella’s defenses.

The turning point came during Christmas dinner, a modest meal of roast chicken and mashed potatoes, rolls, and all the trimmings served on the same chipped plates they’d used for years. The dining room was lit by a string of mismatched holiday lights, casting a warm glow over the table. Ben, now eleven, chattered about a school project, his face brighter than it had been in months. Clara, sober for the evening, smiled faintly, her hands steady as she passed the gravy. In that moment, Stella felt a spark of hope, a sense that maybe things could get better.

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding, and announced, “I’m going to take the scholarship. I’m going to the university.”

The room erupted in joy. Ben whooped, nearly knocking over his glass of milk, and Clara’s face lit up with a pride Stella hadn’t seen in years. For the first time in months, Stella felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, this was the right choice.

Over the spring and summer, Clara’s mental health began to improve. The midnight manic episodes of pacing lessened. The days she spent lying in bed, too heavy with despair to move, became rare. She attended support groups to face her struggles with addiction. Ben, too, seemed to find his footing. He found tools to manage his anxiety. Stella’s heart swelled with relief. She felt confident that her mother and brother would be okay without her. The family was finding its way.

As summer turned to autumn, Stella’s room turned from a sanctuary of dreams into a collection of cardboard boxes and memories. She folded her clothes carefully, tucked away her favorite books, and slipped a photo of her, Clara, and Ben into her suitcase. On the morning of her departure, Clara’s eyes were misty but proud. Ben hugged Stella tightly with his small, fierce arms.

“You’ll come back, right?” he whispered.

Stella nodded, her throat tight.

“Always,” she promised.

With a final wave, Stella climbed into the car. As the house disappeared, she felt a mix of fear and excitement. The road ahead was much like the quantum theories her mother once explained: full of possibilities and uncertainties. Stella was ready to face it with her family’s love and her own quiet strength.

Stella’s first few weeks at the university felt like a new world where her past finally loosened its grip. The campus was alive with energy. Students hurried across the quad, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. Professors scribbled equations on chalkboards in lecture halls that smelled of old wood and fresh ideas. She threw herself into her studies. Literature classes introduced her to novels that spoke to her soul. Science courses, echoing her mother’s passion for quantum physics, challenged her to think in ways she never had before. The troubles faded into the background, not forgotten but softened by distance.

For the first time in years, Stella felt like she belonged.