Title: Leaving Los Angeles
Author: Zubeneschamali
Rating: K
Summary: One-shot. Thirteen-year-old Charlie Eppes is heading off to college.
Disclaimer: I do not own them in a box, I do not own them with a fox. I do not own them in a house, I do not own them with a mouse. I do not own them here or there, I do not own them anywhere. I do not own them short or tall, I do not own the Eppes at all.
A/N: Thanks to Lady Shelley for maintaining "Running the NUMB3RS."
This story is dedicated to all of the college students out there leaving home for the first time.
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"Charlie, are you in here?"
He could just hear Mom's voice over the pounding of "Ana Ng" on his headphones. Reluctantly, he pulled the headset off and called back, "Yeah."
A moment later, Margaret Eppes entered the garage, hands on her hips. "Don't you think you should be packing?"
He shrugged and toyed with the chalk in his hands. "The movers are doing most of the packing, aren't they?"
"Well, yes, but you still need to separate out what you're taking with you on the plane from what they're going to pack, and from what's going to stay behind. I know it's hard, but you can only choose three or four cartons of books to take with you," she said, eyes twinkling.
He rolled his eyes. "Mom, I know. I'll be in in a few minutes okay?"
"That's what you said three hours ago," she replied knowingly.
"I was going to, but then I got a new idea and I had to see if it worked."
"Charlie, your ideas will still be there next week. In three days we're leaving, and there's a lot of things we still have to do."
"I know." He scuffed the worn-out toe of his shoe across the cement floor. "I'm just not ready yet."
"That's the point," she said patiently.
"No, no." He looked up at her almost pleadingly. "I'm not…I'm not ready to leave. To leave here."
Her expression softened. "Sweetie, I know it's hard. I remember when I left home to go to college, I was so excited about getting away from my younger brother that I couldn't wait to leave, but I also remember that it was hard to say goodbye to all the people and places I had grown up with." She came towards him and gave him a warm smile. "I thought you would have been taking rides around the neighborhood this week, visiting all of your old spots. It can help if you say goodbye."
He shook his head and turned back to the chalkboard. "That's just it," he muttered in a low voice.
"What's it?" she asked.
"It's…" He finally voiced the thought that had been plaguing him for the past week, every time he thought about leaving California. "It's like I'm dying or something."
"Oh, sweetie." She came forward and put her arms around him, briefly pulling his head to her shoulder before drawing back and looking him in the eye. "Neither you or I will be dying for a very long time yet, okay?"
He shrugged one thin shoulder. "I know, but that's what it feels like. I mean, everything will still be here next week, but I won't. People will go to school, they'll come home, they'll walk across campus, they'll look up at the mountains, and…" He trailed off and bit his lip, knowing how self-centered it sounded but saying it anyway. "And it'll be like I was never here."
She squeezed his upper arms and gave him a gentle smile. "It's not like you're going into exile; you know you'll be coming back. In just a few months, really. And then there's summer breaks, and—"
He twisted away from her and turned back to the chalkboard. "Yeah, but it won't be the same. It'll be visiting, it won't be home."
"Well, now, that has its plus side, too. Charlie, it's good to live in different places, to see what the world looks like somewhere besides southern California. And yes—" she lifted a hand to hush him as he started to speak— "I know you've traveled quite a bit for someone your age and that you've seen a lot of places. It's not the same as living there, believe me."
He doodled a random pattern on the corner of the chalkboard, not knowing how to reply. He didn't want his horizons broadened; he wanted to stay with the familiar, the comfortable. Oh sure, Professor Fleinhardt had persuaded him that mathematically speaking, he needed to stretch his wings and get his undergrad degree from a different institution than CalSci, where he'd already spent so much time.
He just wished that he didn't have to leave Pasadena to go to Princeton.
"Besides, you never know. You might come back here permanently. I'm sure CalSci would love to have you as a professor someday."
He rolled his eyes. "Mom…" Did all mothers get that tone of voice when they proposed something for their children's future that seemed perfectly logical to them, even though their kids knew that wasn't the way the world really worked? It was the same tone she used when she suggested that someday they would all be going to Dodger Stadium to watch Don play. Not that Charlie didn't believe that was possible; if Don was good enough to get a full scholarship to UCLA to play baseball, surely he was good enough to make it into the majors. Of course, he would need to work on that tendency of his to swing at low and outside pitches, but the college coaches could help him with that.
Margaret came closer, obviously itching to take the chalk out of his hands but restraining herself from doing so. "You know, your brother suggested that we all go for a hike this weekend. One last trip up Mount Wilson."
Charlie scoffed. "He can take a trip up Mount Wilson anytime he wants. He's still going to be here."
"Living in the dorms, even if it's only half an hour away, is still very different from being right here. I would be surprised if your brother came home any more often than you."
He figured that was probably right. Unlike him, Don had been chafing to get out of the house and on to college for months now, to the point where it had taken a stern talking-to from their father to keep his grades up in that final semester of high school. Of course, he was eighteen years old and didn't have to bring his mother along with him to college. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"Of course, I don't think he actually thinks you'll come along on the hike." She gave him a pointed look. "He thinks you're much too interested in this chalkboard to pay any attention to what's going on around you."
That sounded like Don. His brother had never let him forget that one time he walked home so oblivious to his surroundings that he didn't even notice the car screeching to a halt as he blindly walked across its path. Of course, he'd never let him forget it because it made for good blackmail material, but still.
Charlie did notice his surroundings; he noticed everything. He noticed the way the palm trees stood tall against the clear blue sky, the graceful curves of their bright green leaves fountaining over their textured trunks. He noticed the silver-green agave plants, each serrated leaf bearing the imprint of the ones surrounding it in their tightly-packed original cluster. He noticed the yellow-green jacaranda leaves that turned to deep green when their royal purple blossoms came forth in the late spring, lining the walkways of campus with their beautiful colors well into summer. He noticed the sienna-and-sage mountainsides soaring above Pasadena that turned to burnt umber and olive in the desiccation of August.
He knew that New Jersey had none of these things.
He also knew when he was being goaded. Putting on his best innocent face, he asked, "But how can I do something fun like go on a hike when I still have so much packing to do?"
She pursed her lips. "Well, you can't do either one out here in the garage, can you?"
He knew she had him, and he finally gave in. "All right," he said, putting down the chalk.
"That's what I want to hear," she said, putting an arm around him and guiding him towards the door. "Honey, I understand the impulse to hide from the world back here, but sometimes you have to face that things change. No matter how much you don't want them to."
He felt a shiver run down his spine, accompanied by a disorienting moment of déjà vu. But he brushed it off and went on. "Can we eat at In-and-Out tonight?"
"That's a fine idea." She gave him a little push, and he slipped through the door in front of her, blinking in the warm sunshine, while Margaret firmly shut the door behind them.
Inside the garage, the chalkboard remained, equations half-finished, for another day.