Believer

I wore an alien shirt to my grandma's funeral; it depicted a UFO with a small green alien inside. My mom said it was disrespectful to grandma Gwyn. She tried convincing me to cover it up with her cardigan. That day, friends and family looked me up and down as if I was a being of unknown origin. If they knew about the bond I shared with grandma maybe it wouldn’t have bothered anyone; I know she would have understood the gesture. Our connection didn’t form right away; as a matter of fact, there were times when I was scared of her and feared going to her house.

I was an only child to two affluent parents who constantly reminded me they didn’t have time. My dad worked at the Howard Hughes Corporation, a major real estate development agency in Las Vegas. Because of his connections, we were one of the first families to buy a house in the brand new Summerlin community in 1991. My mom founded a direct sales cosmetic business and capitalized on the housewives in our suburban neighborhood. She recruited grandma Gwyn’s two sisters into the business who ended up moving to Summerlin too. Grandma Gwyn and grandpa Earl stayed perfectly content living in the middle of nowhere on their five acre piece of desert on the outskirts of Vegas. As a kid I was dropped off at their house so my parents could tend to their business obligations. The thirty-minute drive to their house felt like five hours; plenty of time for my six-year-old mind’s eye to imagine myself falling onto a cactus, stepping on a snake or getting stung by a scorpion in that dust filled wasteland. Since I didn’t dare go outside and get eaten by a pack of coyotes, there wasn’t much to do. They had their routine and they stuck to it. Dinner at five, card games at six, and grandpa asleep in bed with a book while grandma sat in her rocking chair in the living room to watch TV by seven.

The first time my impression of grandma was shattered was on a night when the hot wind whispered into every crack of the house and the moon was gone leaving only the inky black sky that consumed everything around the little house. Grandpa was fast asleep, I sat in the living room playing solitaire on the coffee table and grandma creaked in her rocking chair watching Jeopardy on the cardboard box shaped TV that only picked up basic cable. The squeaking abruptly stopped. I looked back at her and she was sitting straight up staring at the TV. She picked up the clicker and changed the channel to 02. Deafening black and white speckled static spasmed across the screen. The static clutched onto grandma for a few minutes. I stared back and forth a few times between her and the ominous static. It finally loosened its grip on her, she looked at me and asked, "Honey, do you hear that?" A lump grew in my throat. I strained to swallow, "I like Jeopardy," I said hoping desperately she'd change the channel so our world could go back to normal. She got up, opened a drawer on the end table and mumbled something that ended with, “…I hear them.” She took out a little black book then went outside and sat on the porch leaving me with the blaring static. I grabbed the clicker, turned the TV off, and retreated to the safety of the living room couch under a blanket. She sat out on that porch the rest of the night staring at the sky and scribbling in her book. I fell asleep. Later that night my parents woke me up, “Time to go home,” dad said. I was scared to be alone with her again after that incident but having convinced myself it was a bad dream I figured I’d be okay.

Weeks later my time spent there shifted back to normal except grandma went outside more often. Boredom fueled my bravery and I began going outside with her. I was safe as long as I stayed protected by the halo of porch light and didn’t stare too long into the black void beyond. After dinner one night grandpa said, “I got a present for you two. Go look outside.” There was a telescope waiting on the porch. Looking out at the infinite universe became one of our new favorite pastimes. “There’s life out there in that universe,” she told me once, “Aliens.” I laughed and said, “That’s just in the movies, grandma.” I could tell she wasn’t joking. She told me that thousands of years ago accounts of angels, demons, and god were alien encounters. People didn't know how to comprehend the flying saucers or alien creatures so they interpreted it the best they could and turned them into deities. Hearing this mysterious theory in the middle of the raw wilderness was too much. I wanted to run to the house and hide under the covers like I do when I sneak scary movies at home, but at the same time I wanted to peek too. I was fascinated.

Not long after the telescope arrived grandma, once again, took apart then realigned my view of her. The sky was on fire, ablaze with glowing stars that swirled against the black canvas of the earth’s atmosphere. On this night I stowed away my fears in order to venture out further into the desert and took the telescope up a hill that was a few yards away from the house. Grandma was my anchor, sitting on her chair on the porch captivated by her black book. I was navigating the stars through the telescope when I saw a blue orb moving in the night sky. Then I realized I could still see it without the telescope. I turned towards grandma to call her over but she was gone. I ran up to the front door and it was locked. I looked through the window on the door and saw grandma going from room to room, shouting my name. Then grandpa came out and yelled, “What’s going on?” I pounded on the door but they didn’t hear me. “Brooke!” They both yelled over and over. “The orb, they’re coming,” Grandma yelled. Who is coming, I thought? I looked behind me, disoriented, I was no longer safe. The unrecognizable desert threatened to suck me in like a black hole. Was it the orb I saw in the sky? Was it filled with aliens, mad at me because I didn’t believe in them so they were coming to prove me wrong? I ran over to the side door. Crying, pounding, I yelled “I’m outside!” Grandpa unlocked the door and I ran into his arms wailing, safe once again. After I calmed down, I sat on the couch and he brought me cookies and milk. He led grandma into their bedroom and closed the door. “What’s all this about an orb? I can’t support your beliefs if you lose touch with reality Gwyn.” Grandma sobbed, “I thought she was inside. I left that poor girl out there.” A few minutes went by and they checked on me. Grandma hugged me tight, “I’m sorry baby girl.” She smelled like clean linen. “I saw the orb too,” I said. She smiled and tucked me into the couch. Mid-yawn grandpa said, “It was probably just a satellite.” After that night I convinced my parents to let me stay at a friend’s house instead of my grandparent’s, but that only worked a few times. I didn’t tell anyone what happened. Like the last occurrence, I thought it couldn’t have really happened and no one would believe me even if it did.

A few years went by with no incidents. Bit by bit my tiny safe zone surrounding the house expanded. Grandma would sit on the porch etching in her book while I treaded ever deeper into the desert. I was Magellan charting unknown territory with my fanny pack, flashlight, pocket knife and magnifying glass. The veil over that obscure realm was lifted and I saw it for the first time as a lush ecosystem full of life. I studied the wildlife, rocks and plants, which later turned into material for research papers and show-and-tell at school. Eventually I grew up and didn’t need a babysitter. I’d get in my car and go over there to spend time with them. After grandpa fell asleep, grandma and I would stay up late watching X-Files or looking through the telescope. One of my fondest memories is during one of those nights when we were on the porch drinking iced tea and looking at the stars. She turned to me and said, “I’m glad you’re not afraid anymore. There’s something for you out in that desert, honey. You’ll find it someday.” I wondered if she was referring to my recent decision to major in Biology in order to have a career studying and protecting the Vegas desert, but I hadn’t told anyone about that.

After the funeral grandpa told me to follow him to his car. He said, “Don’t let anyone get to you. Gwyn would have loved your shirt.” He handed me a locked box which grandma instructed him to give to me after she passed. I opened it as soon as I got home. There was a stack of Mutual UFO Network magazines we used to look through together, some of her old jewelry and the black notebook. I held the book in my arms and sobbed. I would have kept those pages a secret forever if it meant I’d get to continue exploring the desert while she sat on the porch scribbling in her book. It took me weeks to open it. The day I finally loosened the elastic closure and looked inside I discovered my grandma was an artist. Pencil was her medium of choice and the pages of the little black book were her canvas. There were drawings of UFOs; some were cartoon-like, others were realistic, intricate blueprints of the inner workings of space crafts. Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster and other cryptids also adorned the pages. I was touched when I found sketches of me out in the desert with my flashlight. She also drew some of the rocks and plants I found and gave to her. There was a bookmark ribbon that led me to a page with a note:

“Darling Granddaughter,

You are brave, intelligent, and kind. May you never lose the twinkle

in your eyes when you wander and discover new things.”

Underneath the note were long strings of numbers that I’d never seen before. I looked on the Internet and found that they were coordinates near her house. I decided I wouldn’t fear this final expedition with grandma, even though it would be our last. I didn’t know what to expect so I made sure to be prepared. I waited till morning and on that bright sunny day I loaded my car with a shovel, water, a hat, and my trusty fanny pack full of tools. The coordinate location was about 300 yards away from the house. There was nothing there. Just a piece of the land as vast and empty as the rest of it. What’s out here, I thought. I looked up at the sky as if I’d find the answer there. “Might as well start digging.” I said aloud. It didn’t take very long till I hit something hard with the shovel. I unearthed a box and it was filled with cash. I sat and counted the entire thing. $20,000. I looked in the box again to check if I missed anything. There was a note:

“I told you there would be something for you out in this desert and you found it.

Love,

Grandma Gwyn.”